Growing Up
in the Northern Neck

Kay F. Davis

Copyright © 2024, Kay F. Davis

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher, except for brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This book is dedicated to my father, Marvin Thomas Davis,
who instilled in me the value of work, and gave me a place to dream.

Contents

Foreword

World of Nature

Northumberland County

Callao

Locust Lane

Family

Neighbors

Religion

The Bible

God and Jesus

Spirit World

Education

Woodland Academy

York Academy

Northumberland High School

Fantasy

Fairy Tales

Idealistic Characters

Adventure Stories

Women

Beauty

Magazines

Relationships

Romance Novels

Time Travel

Generational Changes

Humanities

Choosing a College

About the Author

Foreword

This book is about my childhood and adolescence in Virginia’s Northern Neck, a peaceful region of forests, farms, and rivers.

In this book, I describe the community of nature in which I was raised, my religious background, my beliefs about women and education, my thoughts about women’s roles in society, my need for a fulfilling fantasy life, and my desire to have a career. 

I wrote this book in 2020, about 2 years after the death of my mother. I spent many months reflecting on my relationships with my parents, and my upbringing in this region. In 2024, I decided to publish the book so that others could learn more about living in the Northern Neck.

I was a curious, and mostly happy, child. Like many creative children, I escaped into my fantasy world of music, books, films, and TV. Like most introverts, I preferred to be alone or talk to my small circle of friends.

I was raised in a family of tradesmen and homemakers. As a child, I conformed to my family’s expectations to get good grades and graduate from high school. As an adolescent, I seemed unable to find a mate to conform to the expectation of marriage.

My life path was simple. As a young woman, I would live at home with my parents. If employed, I would work in an administrative or retail job. I might move to a home of my own if I met someone to marry.

I decided early on that I would contemplate marriage as long as I could live in a location of my choice, with money and a compatible mate. By compatible, I meant a trusting friendship, mutual love, and great chemistry.

Unfortunately, my family history indicated that I would probably marry an abusive male and have little recourse if the relationship did not work out. Juggling work and children, I would not have the time, or the money, to attend college. 

My escape into a middle-class lifestyle, in which I would be a well-educated single woman with financial independence and choices, would only be possible if I went to college and moved away from the small town in which I was raised. 

This was not as daunting as it sounded. I would live in a city nearby. I would have money to spend on clothes, books, and CDs. The men would be cuter and more worldly. They would be well-educated and respectful of women. There was the possibility, as well, that I would travel. 

Instead of staring into space each night, or looking at the field across from my home as the crops changed with the seasons, I would visit other states, and perhaps even different countries, someday. The possibilities were, seemingly, limitless–as fun and as fascinating as my dreams, and purse, could manage.

World of Nature

The Northern Neck is 70 miles southeast of Fredericksburg and 70 miles northeast of Richmond. The Rappahannock River bounds the area on the west and the Potomac River on the east. 

People in the Northern Neck work in the forestry, farming, and fishing industries. Some work in office or retail positions, while many work in the trades. 

Commuters drive to nearby cities. Some people carpool and leave their vehicles in lots. Vans take commuters to Dahlgren and Washington, D.C. 

Some residents go to Rappahannock Community College (RCC) in Warsaw. There is an adult education center in King George and Kilmarnock. There are Tidewater campuses in Glenns and New Kent. 

People in the Northern Neck get their associate’s degrees in law enforcement, nursing, and business administration. Students often obtain financial aid or get tuition reimbursement from their employers to take classes. 

With the advent of distance learning, locals also take classes online. Class credits can be applied toward bachelor’s degree programs at Virginia universities. 

Social life consists of meeting at church, school, or sporting events. Locals prefer to interact with other locals. Like most people from small towns, they resist change and feel that people from different areas want to move in and change their lifestyles. 

Northumberland County

There are five counties in the region: King George, Westmoreland, Northumberland, Lancaster, and Richmond. We lived in the middle of it all in Northumberland County. 

Northumberland County has about 12,000 people. It consists of seven small towns and a few suburbs. A new high school was built about 20 years ago to accommodate the local population. 

Callao

Callao is a town of 2,000 people. It has one stoplight, two gas stations, three banks, and seven restaurants. There is one supply store, a few real estate offices, and an ABC store. Locals usually shop at Walgreens and Dollar General for groceries and household items. 

The town staple, Callao Supermarket, has closed. Family Dollar and Dollar Tree took over the old building in 2023.

My hometown is Callao, Va.

People from my high school hung out in Callao. On Friday and Saturday nights, they drove their pickup trucks with huge wheels into town to show them off. 

There was an established route for this activity. The drivers started at the Callao Dairy Freeze. They drove through town and made a U-turn at the stop sign where the light now is. They drove back through town and circled behind the Callao Dairy Freeze. 

They drove again through town. Along the way, they pulled into parking lots to speak to friends sitting in cars. It was not uncommon to see cars parked at the Callao Fire Department, Callao Supermarket, and the banks while driving through Callao. 

Back then, jacked-up pickup trucks were a status symbol. Boys showed off their trucks, and the girls sitting next to them, to prove they were popular, could get girls, and could afford these monster trucks. They liked to see everyone from above the crowd.

Callao is less active now. The community remains, but without the nightlife of my youth.

Locust Lane

I grew up in a neighborhood 4 miles from the town of Callao. Our street address was Rt. 1, Box 164C. We received a new address from the United States Postal Service when the street was named Locust Lane. 

Before that, my parents lived in a two-story white house on Sandy Point Road in Westmoreland County. They raised four children at this home before moving to Northumberland County. 

My father, Marvin Thomas Davis, worked for J.C. Moss & Son, a Chevrolet dealer in Kinsale, for 31 years. He didn’t make much money–probably a salary in the 10s. 

To supplement his income, he worked on his friends’ cars on Saturday mornings. He didn’t charge them much–20 dollars, perhaps, for a 2-hour job. Maybe he wanted something to do on weekends. 

My mother, Frances Morris Davis, gave birth to three daughters and two sons. When I was born, my four older siblings ranged in age from 11 to 19.

My siblings graduated from high school. After graduation, they chose to marry and work in the trades, such as farming, fishing, and cosmetology. They were emotionally distant as adults, perhaps due to the age gap between us.

We lived in a small house for a family of seven. I shared a bedroom with my parents. Though I had a twin canopy bed in the corner, I preferred to sleep between my parents. I felt safer there at night. 

My siblings shared two bedrooms. After my sisters moved out, my mother moved my twin canopy bed into their old room. My brothers’ room became a guest room until I moved into it during college. My mother took over my old room after that. 

My father was a local commuter. During the 1980s, he rented a room in Clinton, Md., while he worked in the transportation division at Smithsonian Institution. He joined the Suitland facility in 1978.

My father lived in Prince George’s County, Md., for 14 years and commuted for 6 more. He returned to Callao full-time upon his retirement in 1998.

Family

My parents had me when they were approaching middle age. After my siblings moved out, my mother and I were at home alone during the week. We saw my father on weekends.

My father was a practical type. He dropped out of middle school and went to work early. His jobs varied. He delivered newspapers, worked at a lumber yard, helped his grandparents farm, and eventually became a mechanic. He learned by doing. He took classes through work when he needed training. He didn’t think a college education was necessary.

My father was an introvert. He seldom expressed his emotions, but he was a kind caregiver to me during childhood. He often told me that I was too “big-headed”–that is to say, full of ideas. Usually, these ideas were out of the realm of possibility, at least for his generation and pocketbook. 

My mother left high school in 10th grade. She read often and kept mentally active through word games. She learned from her vast book collection and television programs. She spent many hours working on crossword puzzles and had an extensive vocabulary. She taught me new words each time I visited her. 

My mother kept the peace between family members and held everything together. I remember her being quiet and soft-spoken. She was tolerant and slow to anger. My mother’s weak spot was my father. He was able to make her angry.

I was their fifth and youngest child. I was 3 years old when my parents moved to Callao.

I was a small baby with a round head. My mother told me I liked to crawl. I especially wanted to spend time in her kitchen.

My mother had several pictures of me from the Sandy Point house. I sat in chairs, took cans out of cabinets, and crawled under the table to select a french fry. My mother also had pictures of me sitting on my parents’ bed or in the protective arms of my parents.

My parents, Marvin and Frances Davis, in the 1980s.

Neighbors

Our neighborhood at Locust Lane consisted of a few farmhouses and several doublewides. We were surrounded by fields and forests.

The most colorful neighbors lived across the street from us. The middle-aged couple had a daughter in Falls Church. She and her husband brought their carload of kids down to Callao to visit their parents on weekends.

From Friday night through Sunday night, the daughter’s husband shot weapons of various types at thin sheets of plywood. He tacked the plywood sheets to a tree behind the house and showed his son how to shoot guns at the plywood targets. 

My mother found the shooter dangerous. She restricted me from going outside on weekends. She was afraid to do her yard work in front of the house. 

We did not have a telephone in the 1970s, so my mother must have asked someone to call the police several times to get them to go to the house. 

I remember watching a deputy show up at the house in the middle of the shooting one day. He carefully stepped out of his car, placed his hand on his gun holster, and tiptoed around the left side of the house. It was apparent he was afraid he would be shot. 

After a few minutes, he walked more confidently to his squad car. After his departure, the shooter continued. The police did not halt the shooting. 

My mother was annoyed that the police did not respond favorably to her request to order the shooting to cease. To irritate her further, the shooter and his family used to pile into their car on Sunday evenings, leave the home across the street, and laugh and scream at us as they drove up the road by our house. 

After a few years of this, my mother wrote a petition and sent it around to other people in the neighborhood. Most of them signed it. This included a weapons expert for the Naval Surface Weapons Center in Dahlgren. She filed a court case in Northumberland County. 

In the 1980s, my father bought a Fisher stereo for me from Hecht’s at Iverson Mall in Temple Hills, Md. I loved to listen to radio stations; my Men at Work Business as Usual cassette; and the Dire Straits Money for Nothing cassette, which included the song with the lyrics, “I Want My MTV.” 

In the summer months, I used to play my stereo in the afternoons with the windows open. The neighbor stated that “Miss Davis” played her stereo so loud that he could hear it whenever he walked outside. 

This is the only rebuttal the neighbor had in court to my mother’s complaints about the shooting on weekends. When my mother testified in court, she stated that he must have feared being hit by a “flying record.” 

My mother was proud of herself for bringing this case against the neighbor. The outcome was the judge told the shooter to seek other places to shoot weapons. He even told him to contact the local police so that he could use the police shooting range.

The judge warned that if the shooter continued, and someone was shot, the shooter would be brought up on criminal charges. As a result, the shooter stopped shooting targets in the neighborhood.

The neighborhood gun scare reminded us that the days of leaving our doors open during the day, our windows open at night, and being outside whenever we wanted, were over.

Religion

For people in the Northern Neck, religion is a group-oriented educational experience and a safe way to socialize and meet new people. Preachers are lecturers, social workers, and psychotherapists for the communities they serve. The Bible is their primary source of spiritual guidance. 

My parents belonged to Yeocomico Episcopal Church in Westmoreland County. Family members were baptized within that church.

After my parents moved to Northumberland County in 1973, they ceased to attend church regularly. They were busy with a new phase of life and responsibilities. 

Three of my siblings got jobs, married, and moved to towns nearby. They became Baptists when they married. My other sibling went to college in Richmond and ceased to go to church.

The Bible

When I was a child, I received a King James version of the Bible. It had a white leather cover with a zipper around it. I kept it in the box in which I received it. Despite the Shakespearean jargon, the Bible was a sacred book. My family thought I should read it occasionally.

My mother kept a much larger King James Bible in plastic wrap in the living room. It had the names and matching gemstones of each of her five children embedded into the leather cover. She moved it into her bedroom when she was older. I don’t think she read it much after that. Perhaps she found its presence in her room comforting. 

I grew up within the Christian faith, but I did not adopt a church as my own. Instead of attending Sunday school, I studied the Bible with my oldest sibling on weekends. She and I read passages and discussed them before bedtime. 

Of the two Bibles I owned, I favored the Good News Bible. Written in plain English, it was easy to read. My oldest sibling gave me a copy for Christmas. It had a gold-striped cover and stick-figure illustrations.

I liked the Beatitudes. I carried them to elementary school in a small red booklet. The verses seemed like poetry to me. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven,” said Jesus. “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.” 

In adulthood, I developed the belief that the Bible is an excellent work of world literature with numerous interpretations. It has been passed down through generations as a sacred text and reference work for ancient history. In recent years, it has become as important for its literary value as for its historical content. 

God and Jesus

One of my favorite religious movies was The Ten Commandments, Every Easter season, my mother and I tuned in at 7 p.m. on Sunday night to watch the movie’s portrayals of Moses and Nefertari. 

Each time I watched the film, I faded out after an hour and a half. The highlight of the film was the portrayal of the queen.

The book of Deuteronomy teaches us ten commandments. One of the most important commandments is the phrase, “Honor thy father and mother.” I spent most of my life considering the instructions of my parents.

Religion introduced me to the concept of a higher power. I came to believe in a mystical God sitting in a white robe on a throne in the sky. He could see our actions from this lofty place and punish us physically for bad behavior. Instead of each of us controlling our destinies, God directs our lives; therefore, we should be obedient to God.

I believed that Jesus is God’s son. He came to earth as a teacher and had many disciples. One of the disciples, Judas, betrayed Jesus. As a result, a criminal, Barabbas, was released from prison. Through the murder of Jesus, we received salvation and eternal life. 

The movie, Jesus of Nazareth, had a harrowing scene that depicts the crucifixion. It disturbed me. I didn’t understand what Jesus could have done to deserve such criminal violence. The scene served as a graphic reminder that speaking up for a cause can result in a brutal backlash.

My religious beliefs developed over time. Instead of the judgments of a white-robed elder, and the untimely death of his son, I came to believe in a higher power in nature that connects us spiritually. It can be felt in the powers of the weather and in the daily cycles of the earth. Maybe this is the spiritual presence that Christians sense in the world around them. 

Unlike God and Jesus, who can be reached through prayer, praying to nature does little other than relieve our troubled minds. Like our bodies, which age and return to earth, nature will someday claim us in death. 

The good news is that modern medicine can extend our lives. Illnesses result from malfunctions of the body, not punishments for bad behavior. We can advocate for ourselves with physicians and control our medical care. Moreover, we can choose the physicians that best meet our needs, and cease to visit doctors who don’t take good care of us.

Spirit World

Some people feel that spirits exist. They hire mediums that connect them to the spirit world. They see visions, hear voices, and talk to the dead. Sometimes, they are dismissed as psychiatrics. 

Others believe in reincarnation after death. They believe spirits hover in time until they find a new place to exist. People who believe in reincarnation say they have been reborn. Some remember their previous lives. 

I remember a movie from my childhood. It was called The Reincarnation of Peter Proud. The story took place in New England.

A professor, Peter Proud, remembered the locations, homes, and life events of a tennis player named Jeffrey Curtis. His wife, Marcia, murdered him because he drank a lot and had affairs. She drank as well, but she got away with his murder. 

A generation later, Peter Proud showed up in her hometown. Marcia believed Jeffrey Curtis had returned from the dead to haunt her through Proud. She ended up shooting him. He drowned at the bottom of the same creek. 

My mother had many books about past lives in her den. She liked books about psychics, telepathy, and reincarnation. We watched many movies on these topics, like The Reincarnation of Peter Proud.

I did not become a believer in reincarnation, despite the media surrounding it. For many years, I spoke to psychics, who had the unique ability to read me and the spirit world around me. 

Education

In my 30s, I took a class in human development at the University of Virginia (UVA) Northern Virginia Center. The course looked at how developmental theories describe each phase of human life. 

The most significant theorist, in my opinion, was Erik Erikson. He viewed life as a series of eight stages of psychosocial development. Each phase pertained to our individual growth in the context of the world around us.

In Erikson’s view of the first three stages of life, caregiving must be consistent to establish trust. During these phases, children develop control over their bodily functions and their external environments. Inconsistency results in an atmosphere of distrust. Insecurity results as children grow.

In stage 4, which covers ages 6 to 11, children develop a sense of confidence in their abilities and receive positive reinforcement for their accomplishments. An example would be getting good grades and receiving accolades for them.

Stage 5, which includes ages 12 to 18, covers the middle and high school years. In these years, we build confidence in ourselves and our abilities. This results in the development of our own personal identity, which we present before the world.

My early and middle childhood years were spent at private schools. My private school education was in the Northern Neck and Middle Peninsula. There were disciplinary issues in elementary school that reoccurred at my public high school. Fortunately, I had a stress-free middle school experience.

Woodland Academy

I went to Woodland Academy from kindergarten through 7th grade. It was a private school with small classes held in a cinder block building in Neenah. 

I received a solid foundation for learning at Woodland. I received good grades in school. My teachers pointed out, however, that I needed to speak up more in class.

During my elementary school years, my mother and I used to gather in front of our large Zenith television set in the evenings. On Washington, D.C., stations, we watched scary movies such as Coma, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, and Invasion of the Body Snatchers. 

I remember going to bed one night after watching Invasion of the Body Snatchers, nervous that I would lean over my mattress and see a dog with a human face peering up at me. 

I came home from school in the afternoons and watched Godzilla and King Kong. Halloween frightened me each October. 

One of the Woodland attendees was a fan of monsters. He checked out school library books like Dracula, Frankenstein, and a book called Monsters. He liked to pick his nose while reading them.

One of my cousins was a Woodland classmate. She visited my house sometimes after school. She was a petite girl with blonde feathered hair and gold glasses. She used to sing at local events. She wanted to work in the country music business in Nashville. 

My cousin was friends with me, and with two other girls in class. These girls picked on me during school bus rides. One of them sometimes cajoled me into giving up my food from lunch.

An older sister used to pick on her younger sister on the bus. At school, I became a victim of the older sister’s picking. In 7th grade, she pulled a dead snake from a glass jar on the science shelf and shoved it into my desk. When I returned to the room, I reached in to pull out a book. Instead, I pulled out the snake.

One day, my cousin’s mother visited my mother. She said my cousin had noticed I was being bullied at Woodland. She encouraged my mother to complain to the teacher or principal so it would not escalate.

My mother had an in-person meeting with the principal. However, the behavior remained the same.

I have struggled with aggressive personalities like these for most of my life. When I angered them, I usually received verbal abuse and threats of physical violence. When I could not avoid them, I had to learn to speak up for myself.

Izod Lacoste was in fashion in the 1980s. The shirts had a crocodile emblem on the front. My mother thought Izod Lacoste polo shirts were too expensive. The only store that sold Izods locally was J. T. Harris in Tappahannock. 

Pink and green shirts were in style, but I don’t recall having them. My mother bought JCPenney fox shirts and Sears dragon shirts in dark colors. She said it didn’t make any difference which emblem was on them.

I still have those shirts. My mother lovingly handwashed them to preserve them. They are in storage bins in the attic. 

Calvin Kleins and Levi’s jeans were in fashion then. My mother bought Lee jeans and Wranglers instead. I had to endure the harassment of my classmates over the different labels. 

“We would have to go to Richmond to buy Calvin Kleins and Levi’s,” she said. She could find Lee jeans and Wranglers in Tappahannock. 

My mother didn’t think I should have to wear brand names to school. For conformity, she could have sent me to St. Margaret’s, an all-girls school in Tappahannock. The girls wore uniforms.  

My mother gave me sports clothing each Christmas from catalogs. I had a maroon and yellow button-up Redskins jacket and stocking cap with a face mask. I had a green Eagles jacket lined with silver fur and a stocking cap with a face mask. I had a pair of thick green Eagles gloves. I had a blue Cowboys button-up jacket with silver sleeves. 

My mother liked to go to Richmond. We went to Thalhimer’s  and Miller & Rhoads downtown. I rode the escalators up and down. My mother complained about the high prices and lack of quality.

“The dresses,” she said, “were not even good enough to wear to a dog fight.”

I didn’t wear dresses often. I had to wear them for May Day. My oldest sibling made a dress for the May Pole dance. One year, I appeared as Heidi. Another year, I was Belle Boyd, a Confederate spy.

We used to shop at French’s in Tappahannock. I liked the aisles of cereals, mixes, and drinks. I remember getting Little Hug fruit drinks. They were packaged in plastic barrels with peelable aluminum foil tops. 

I purchased Crazy Cow cereal. The chocolate coating dissolved into the milk to make chocolate milk. This was my favorite afternoon snack, along with apple butter toast.

My mother bought potted meat and deviled ham. I was not fond of it, but I carried it to school sometimes. My mother bought Spam, a type of ham, in a can. She fried it and made sandwiches for herself with mustard. 

Two twins were in an upper grade. The girls used to sing a song about food, with different accents:

Fried ham, fried ham,

Cheese, and bologna,

And after the macaroni,

We’ll have onions,

Pickles, and pretzels,

And then we’ll have some more

Fried ham,

Fried ham, fried ham!

My mother wrapped cheese sandwiches in waxed paper to take to Richmond with us. She poured Sunny Delight into bottles. She carved the cheese from wheels of Longhorn Colby. We purchased them from Safeway in Tappahannock. 

I went to Safeway with my mother from time to time. She bought meat from this store. For dinner, she made homemade mashed potatoes with hamburgers and brown gravy from cornstarch.  

My father had thinly sliced ham and turkey for sandwiches on the road. He also ate a lot of bologna. She packed his meals on Sunday nights. He left for work by 5 a.m. on Mondays, carrying his barn-shaped black lunch box.

In later years, I would have loved the vegetarian dream dinners my mother made nightly. Her dinners consisted of whipped or boiled potatoes; fresh turnips; green beans; battered onion rings; mashed yellow squash; corn on the cob; corn fritters; sliced tomatoes with mayonnaise, salt, and pepper; boiled carrots; and lettuce, tomato, and boiled egg salad. 

The vegetables came from my father’s vegetable garden. He prepared the soil with his tiller each spring and planted about twenty rows of vegetables on the right side of the field behind the garage. The garden gave him an excuse to drive home on Wednesday nights to visit us. 

Like most children, I believed in Santa Claus. I was very disappointed to find out he didn’t exist. 

On Christmas Eve, my mother put me to bed. She entered the living room and moved around for an hour or two. Since we didn’t have a fireplace with a chimney, I thought she let Santa Claus in the front door. I never heard the reindeer alight on the roof. I assumed they were somewhere above me.

In the morning, I rose and went down to the living room. For a low-income family, we certainly had enough. I received games, balls, a bike, and a mini pinball machine.

During Easter, I thought a white rabbit brought a wrapped basket of chocolates to the back door and gave it to my mother. I eventually learned that the Easter Bunny did not exist either. It was, again, just Mom.

By the time we reach middle adulthood, we learn that our parents are both our caregivers and participants in our fantasy world.

For a low-income family, we had plenty for Christmas.

York Academy

I went to York Academy in Shacklefords for 8th and 9th grades. The school was in the Middle Peninsula. My classmates were from West Point, Williamsburg, King William, and King and Queen. 

I could have gone to Westmoreland County public schools with my Woodland classmates. But I decided to break with them after 7th grade. 

York Academy was in a brick building with outdoor corridors. We had to walk around a courtyard to get to each class. The building was torn down to make way for a lumber yard. The gym remained for a while. 

I received a good education at York. I even made some friends at school.

One of my friends lived in New Kent. She was a chubby girl with a brown perm and a black Trans Am. She liked heavy metal music and had a few boyfriends.

My friend got a job during high school filling prescriptions at her uncle’s pharmacy. She wanted to become a pharmacist.

Our mothers took us to Regency Mall in Richmond. Our favorite stores were Rave, Sam Goody, and Spencer Gifts. We went to Ridge Cinema once and saw Top Gun together.

I played basketball for the York Confederates. I was the team’s center for 2 years. I enjoyed playing because I got to travel. The team bus took us through Tidewater and Hampton Roads. 

Everyone played well. But we were not aggressive like the girls on other teams. The Southampton forwards were two twins. They were the best players in the league. 

The girls on the bus loved to sing. They brought their boom boxes for this purpose. They favored “I’m All Out of Love” by Air Supply and “Total Eclipse of the Heart” by Bonnie Tyler. I was not a fan of these singers. Sometimes, it was a relief to exit the bus for a bathroom break. 

I remember going with the team to a women’s basketball camp at UVA in Charlottesville. We received coaching tips during the day and watched a women’s basketball game in the afternoon. 

The rewards for playing basketball were traveling weekly, receiving construction paper cut-outs from pep rallies, and getting good old-fashioned exercise.

With friends and exercise, my middle school years were happy.

I knew I would need self-confidence to move from a private middle school to a public high school. I made the move for three reasons.

First, the bus ride to and from York Academy was about 2 hours each way. I was usually home by dinnertime, but I was tired from the ride.

Second, my mother had to drive out at night in order to pick me up around midnight when I played basketball. She was occasionally spooked out, she said, while sitting in the parking lot at the Little Sue in Center Cross. This is where the mother of one of my classmates dropped me off after basketball games.

One night, she encountered a Little Sue patron loitering around her car after the store closed. Soon after that, she requested that I ride with another group of girls so that she could park at a church closer to home.

By the time we got home and went to bed, it was 2 a.m. In 3 hours, we had to rise and prepare for our daily drive to Warsaw to get the morning school bus. After 2 years, this routine had become exhausting.

Third, my father wanted to cease paying for private schools. He thought we could save money if I attended Northumberland public schools.

Coincidentally, my mother had become a school bus driver for York Academy and was working in the school library during the day. In retrospect, I think my father was threatened by her job acquisition. By encouraging me to attend the local public high school, he could keep my mother at home.

Northumberland High School

I thought I might make some new friends at Northumberland High School. Upon entry, however, I felt ostracized by some of the cliques. Their ostracism was about competition more than grades. They also resented private school attendees invading their territory.

The leader of a group of bullies threatened me physically at school. Thankfully, she was a vocational student, so I only saw her during homeroom. 

Her former boyfriend went out with me a few times in 10th grade. This may have been one reason for her negative behavior toward me. Fortunately, I was friends with him. We enjoyed watching TV together.

Northumberland High School was a bigger environment than York Academy. I was not used to handling crime at school. 

I used to leave my locker open. It was easier to get books out between classes. I learned my lesson at the end of 10th grade when someone took my geometry book. I told my teacher that the book was in my locker until the end of the year. 

My mother gave me some cash one weekend to go to Richmond. I forgot to remove it from my purse before returning to school on Monday. I put my purse in the girl’s locker room and went to gym class. Once again, I did not lock my locker.

When I returned, I noticed that my locker had been opened and my purse had been rifled. The cash was missing. Unfortunately, I did not call the police. 

It is no surprise that my friends at Northumberland High School were from other schools. One of my friends lived in Burgess. She had come to Northumberland from Chesapeake Academy in Lancaster. She became valedictorian. 

She had shoulder-length brown hair and was bookish but athletic. She ran cross-country in the fall and track in the spring. She wanted to become a lawyer. 

Another friend lived in Burgess. She was from Baltimore. She was short and plump. She had short blonde hair and wore jeans and sweatshirts. She liked to sing songs from the 1980s in class. 

The two girls showed me a beach near Reedville on the Chesapeake Bay. We went there sometimes during the summer of 1987. 

We stopped at a store in Sunnybank for Ruffles chips and sodas. I brought my boom box with me. My Heart cassette, Bad Animals, provided a backdrop for our conversations.

We talked and laughed as we ate lunch and tanned ourselves on the beach. Looking out at the speedboats on the Bay, we discussed school, boys, and our plans for the future.

Another friend from Burgess had short, reddish-blonde hair. She was a nervous eccentric who wore pink-and-green polo shirts with turned-up collars. She had relatives in Caroline County. After school, she applied for a job at Kings Dominion. 

In history class, we read our American history textbook and answered questions at the end of each chapter. There was an occasional lecture, told with many jokes.

Our history teacher said we should remember the Battle of Little Big Horn because General George Custer was “creamed.” This is how we got “Custer’s cream pie.” 

I learned to remember historical facts with funny sayings. As a child, I remembered the colors of the rainbow by reciting the name, “Roy G. Biv.” As an adolescent, I recalled an important event in history with a joke about a popular dessert.

I did not try the classes of the high school’s other history teacher. He was a Civil War historian. His students preferred his daily lectures to our history study hall. 

My best friend was from Heathsville. She was short and gregarious. She wore striped button-up blouses with upturned collars and suspenders.

She and I used to joke about our classmates. We continued our conversations over the phone. We were fans of the Beauty and the Beast television show. We also liked made-for-TV movies.  After graduation, she worked at McDonald’s in Kilmarnock.

When I was in high school, I wore long-sleeved pink, fuschia, and turquoise button-up blouses with white A-shirts beneath. I liked striped or faded jeans and my white vinyl tie-up shoes. I had big, permed hair, which I dyed red. I wore blue eye shadow and eyeliner. 

I loved classic rock music in the 1980s. I had several Heart cassettes and records. My favorite Heart album was Greatest Hits/Live.

In the summer months, my mother could hear “Crazy on You” and “Barracuda” blasting from the back of the house. The cassette had a live rendition of “Mistral Wind.” I imagined being at a Heart concert when I played it.

I heard on the radio that Heart was performing in Hampton. I wanted to see them at the Hampton Coliseum, but I never went to a show.

One of my favorite stations was in Lexington Park, Md. The DJs played American and British pop. Richmond stations played classic rock. Hampton Roads stations played electronic dance music. 

I liked a Kilmarnock station because it played R&B late into the night. The show was called “Quiet Storm,” named after a song by Smokey Robinson. A DJ used to play the song, “Quiet storm blowing, Quiet storm blowing,” at the beginning and end of every program.

Quiet Storm relaxed me at night. The songs kindled in me feelings of love. I hoped I would meet some compatible mates in the future.

My GPA was good enough to become a salutatorian, but there was resistance to giving the spot to me. My competitor was a popular boy from Heathsville. He had attended Northumberland schools since childhood. 

I explained this disagreement over GPA in unflattering terms during my few minutes at the podium. I said it was “the happiest day of my life” to conclude my high school experience. 

My unpleasant salutatory address was received with surprise. There were a few letters to the editor about it in the Northumberland Echo. 

I was a moody, temperamental teenager. Had I been more mature, I would have written a more positive speech about growing up in the Northern Neck.

I graduated from Northumberland High School in 1988.

Fantasy

My father took me to Story Book Land in Northern Virginia in 1974. The theme park featured rides and activities based on fairy tales. 

While looking for photos to use in this book, I found a picture of my father holding my hand outside the entrance. This is an interesting photo because my father did not read bedtime stories to me or play games with me. He did not actively encourage me to fantasize.

I like to remember him as a sensible guide through Story Book Land and life. He provided, through his lifelong work experiences, a real-world alternative to daydreaming.

At Story Book Land with my father in 1974.

Fairy Tales

The Brothers Grimm were known for their mythical tales of the Black Forest in Germany. In their story, “Little Red Riding Hood,” a child encountered a wolf on a path in the forest. The wolf encouraged her to step off the path and pick flowers for her grandmother. Naively, she picked some flowers and took them to her grandmother’s house.

The wolf posed as the girl to gain entry. When the girl arrived at the house, the wolf appeared as the grandmother and gobbled her up. She descended down his stomach and found her grandmother. A hunter helped them escape through a C-section in the wolf’s stomach. 

In “Little Red Riding Hood,” the girl succumbed to the instructions of the wolf to veer off the traditional path of life. Because she disobeyed the instructions of her mother, she ended up being held hostage by the wolf at her grandmother’s house.

In my life, the acceptable path from childhood to old age was to remain at home, or marry, and live like my ancestors before me. It was dangerous to move away from this life path–to work, go to college, and travel to other places.

People were not always what they seemed. And, if something went wrong, there would be no familial presence to guide me or greet me later. I would become a hostage in the life I had created for myself.

I decided to take the risk and veer off the traditional path–for a while.

Coincidentally, a fairy tale ride, the Big Bad Wolf, was built at Busch Gardens Williamsburg. The roller coaster was active for 25 years. It was my favorite ride in middle school.

Story Book Land closed in 1981.

In my story, “Little Red Riding Hood” lived in Callao.

Idealistic Characters

When I was a child, I had a dog named Lance. He was part German Shepherd, part Collie. Unlike most German Shepherds, Lance had floppy ears. I expected him to have pointed ears, like Rin Tin Tin on TV.

In fact, Lance was cuter. He was a fluffy redhead with hazel eyes. Lance sat patiently as I taped two pieces of cardboard behind his ears, but they didn’t hold up for long.

Lance had a doghouse. His name was painted in black over the door. Lance learned how to jump and extend his paw. He was not always this obedient. When washed with dog shampoo, he immediately wallowed on the ground, getting dirty. 

With my dog Lance.

Lance was named after a mythical character in a story about

Great Britain’s early history. His name was Sir Lancelot. Books stated that he was the best knight in the court of King Arthur.

The king had a castle in Cornwall. He selected the most skilled men to join him at a round table. The men went on quests and kept the kingdom safe. 

The knights of the round table were idealists. They believed in improving relations between people, building their athletic prowess, and displaying courage under stress. 

I liked to believe I shared their idealism. I set up a round table in my mother’s kitchen with stuffed animals as my knights.

With my “round table” of knights.

The community college had a reading room filled with books. When I had to do library research for school, I looked up information on index cards in the catalog. I browsed the shelves for books and found articles in magazines. 

On one trip, I discovered a book of King Arthur stories. I became fascinated by all of the characters. I read their tales of adventure and romance and decided to learn more about them.

My mother’s Funk & Wagnalls encyclopedias introduced me to European countries. I loved to read about the sites associated with King Arthur in Cornwall. 

The Isles of Scilly are visible at Land’s End, off the coastline. This is where King Arthur may have died during a battle. Tintagel, home to Richard, Earl of Cornwall, is Camelot. Dosmary Pool is where Sir Bedivere returned Excalibur, King Arthur’s magical sword, to the Lady of the Lake. 

From a book I read later called King Arthur, His Knights, and Their Ladies, I learned that Uther Pendragon posed as the Duke of Cornwall so that he could have sex with the Duke’s wife, Igraine. King Arthur was born from the liaison. When the book said, “He held the lady in his arms the whole night through,” I imagined a man and woman hugging before a fire. 

Adventure Stories

I loved to stay home from school in the winter. I built snowmen. I watched cartoons and read books. Jack London’s Call of the Wild was a favorite.

I thought I was adventurous in the snow. I played on a flat wooden sled that my father got from his landlady in Maryland. It was red, gold, and black and had a yellow rope.

With my wooden sled and Dallas Cowboys gear.

I imagined snowmobiling in the drifts. I looked in my mother’s catalogs. Snowmobiles cost around $3,000 to $6,000, which was the cost of a car. My parents declined to pay for one. Perhaps when I traveled, I would find one to ride.   

My mother warned me to avoid the ice when I went outside. Despite this warning, I went around to the side of the house. My mother used a spigot in the spring and summer to water her flowers. Water from the spigot had turned to ice. 

I slipped and fell. I lay on my back for a few minutes, staring up at the sky. When I tried to get up, my lower back hurt. I went in and told my mother. I stayed home from school for a week.

I remember one other time I fell on the ice. My mother and I had just returned from a visit. We were walking up the sidewalk to the back steps. I felt my mother’s feet slip out from under her. I was holding her hand and went down as well. We were able to get up and go in without injury this time.

I learned that ice was dangerous. I also learned that I sometimes did what my mother warned me not to do.

I learned through a book called Avalanche by Arthur J. Roth that snow could be dangerous too. A mound of snow hits a man and buries him alive. After many days, he makes his way out. I imagined how terrible it must be to be trapped in the snow.

I tried, unsuccessfully, to build an igloo in the snow. I found out that igloos are absent in Virginia and, apparently, rare in Alaska. They are most likely found in Northern Canada. I had to make do with snowmen.

From snow and ice adventures to summer sports, I loved to be outdoors. During 5th grade, my mother asked my father if she could buy a Sears Fun-Kart for me since I had been getting good grades in school. He consented, and she ordered one from Sears. I loved to ride my Fun-Kart. I imagined I was learning to drive. 

I liked to watch the stunts of Evil Knievel on TV. He drove motorcycles off ramps and landed without crashing. I placed a piece of plywood at an angle over a brown metal toolbox. I pedaled over the plywood and lifted my bicycle into the air. I fantasized that I was performing the same stunts.

I had a turquoise bicycle that I rode around the driveway. Occasionally, I pedaled a mile to Orem’s Store on the corner of Mundy Point Road and Rt. 202, now Hampton Hall Road. I rewarded myself with tall glass bottles of orange and grape soda.

Women

I was blessed with good health during my first quarter of life. In my teenage years, my only ailment was tonsillitis. I took penicillin for 2 years, but I became immune to it. 

I ended up having a tonsillectomy at Chippenham Hospital in Richmond in 1987. We had a hospital room for half a day. A nurse came in and made telephone calls while I was trying to sleep. She said she used the room as an office. 

Despite the fact that the surgeon had told me not to drink ice water after surgery, the nurse brought in a styrofoam cup full of ice water. Not thinking about it, I drank the ice water–and stifled a scream. My throat came alive prematurely. Within minutes, I was in tears. 

The ice water antic, the continual ringing of the phone, and the repeated entries and exits of the nurse annoyed my mother. My parents checked me out early. I spent the next 2 weeks recuperating at home. 

I used to watch soap operas with my high school friends. We watched The Young and the Restless and The Bold and the Beautiful. We made weekly phone calls about the plot lines. 

My throat was sore for half a month, but that did not keep me from taking calls from friends. It was nice to know that my opinions mattered, though my surgery had temporarily removed my ability to speak normally. 

Beauty

Soap opera discussions kept me busy. So did testing toiletries. Shampoos, soaps, body lotions, shaving creams, deodorants, and razors kept me occupied. I spent many hours primping in the bathroom, my boom box playing the latest music from the 1980s. 

I thought I looked great in my bikinis and bathing suits. I shaved my legs and showered frequently. With perfumes from Roses, I smelled good too. 

Makeup appealed to me. I bought Maybelline mascara at Roses and a lot of eye shadow. 

Red blush was too much for my already bright red complexion. I sunbathed so much, in the yard and at the beach, that I had to apply Noxzema to soothe my sunburned skin. 

With a triangular wedge, I applied beige liquid to my porous skin. The makeup disguised the fact that my skin was very oily. I used astringent to cleanse it before bedtime.

To manicure my fingernails, I used a nail clipper, nail file, and apricot cuticle softener. After prepping my nails, I painted them fuschia. Sometimes I used clear nail polish. I did not paint my toenails. 

For a brief time, I experimented with pink Lee Press On Nails. I glued them to my nails and flashed them around, like Kay Chancellor on The Young and the Restless. I didn’t have a silk jacket to wear, like the women on the show. I had a powder blue silk pajama top. That was good enough. 

Because I sweltered in the humidity of the Virginia summers, my father placed an oversized air conditioner in the window of my bedroom. It made the room so icy that I wore winter pajamas at night. I slept under a quilt and blankets. 

When I went across the hall to the bathroom, I felt the intensity of the heat. I could hear the overhead fan rumbling in the attic as cool air was pulled into the open windows. This fan was for my parents. 

My mother disliked air conditioning because it bothered her arthritis. Fans gave her colds. I asked her if she could put central air in the house. She said the overhead fan was the equivalent of central air. To use it, however, we had to keep the windows open. 

Magazines

Meanwhile, my beauty efforts continued. I became fascinated with Muscle & Fitness magazine. I found it on the magazine rack at Roses. The women and men were gorgeous, with thick muscles and well-oiled skin. 

Many female bodybuilders posed in the issues. I bought a few of their exercise tapes. There were many males, as well, flexing and posing.

I liked to dream that I could acquire a bodybuilder’s physique. I would have shapely arms, shoulders, legs, and buttocks. My pecs would not be too defined so that I could accentuate my soft, ample bosom. Later, I would add a set of deltoids to create a shapely back.

My mother purchased a DP weight set for me. My father helped me mount it to the wall in the basement. I fancied myself capable of reaching the level of a bodybuilder.

I remember watching music videos and 1980s movies on an older sibling’s videocassettes. I admired the pair of sexy legs on the ZZ Top “Rough Boy” video. I wished I’d had curvaceous thighs and round buttocks like that. I admired the calves of the dark-haired actress in the purple robe who attempted to lunge out of the way of The Terminator. I admired the shapely body of the blonde actress in the Black Widow pool scene. 

I am amused to look back on photos of me at that age. I was absolutely scrawny. I tried “Wate-On,” a chocolate drink. It didn’t make me look better. 

I never achieved the goal of looking muscle-bound and beautiful. However, I have achieved a fair amount of muscle tone in my legs from weight machines. My arms are accentuated, but thin.

I am not fond of free weights and seldom use them. I prefer weight machines because I can track my progress and achieve better definition.

A scrawny girl, I dreamed of becoming a bodybuilder.

Relationships

I have been a romantic for most of my life. I believe in physical and emotional chemistry between two people. This is what causes

“love at first sight.” 

I believe in “soulmates.” But they must be cultivated with compatible people. I have not met my soulmate, but I would have loved to experience the relationship. 

As an adolescent, I dreamed of meeting a man who would “sweep me off my feet.” He would be about 5’10” to 6’ tall. He would be handsome and trustworthy.

My fantasy lover would have dark curly hair. I imagined him in a white cable-knit sweater. I was pushing a baby stroller. He would rescue me from abuse and offer love and children. 

I made fairy tales a part of my life because I liked the idea of being saved. If something was wrong, I thought of the “knight” as a rescuer, offering marriage or companionship as a way out of poverty, or to extract me from a hostile environment. 

Romance Novels

I read a lot of teen romances. I made a set of characters of my own, as well, with names and physical appearances. I imagined adolescent crushes among them and developed storylines for love, work, and relationships. Romance novels kept my dreams alive of compatible love and romance.

I found Johanna Lindsey’s Western novels at Roses. At Waldenbooks in Regency Mall, I bought Bertrice Small’s Skye O’Malley series. 

In these novels, Skye O’Malley struggled to find a husband worthy of her raven beauty. First, there was the anally active Dom O’Flaherty. Her family members selected him and disrobed her for his viewing pleasure. I remember thinking this scene was incestuous because everyone could see her naked and judge her before the marriage was consummated. 

Skye O'Malley had relationships with Niall Burke, Geoffrey Southwood, and many other characters. While Skye felt love for some of her men, there was much violence in her sex life. 

I wonder why violent males become heroes. I have read many romance novels in which the heroine is captured and raped. She barely escapes mortal injuries. This was the type of relationship that young women read about in 1980s best-sellers. 

In historical romances, the framework is based on real events and people. Innocence and purity are something to be sullied, not savored. Relationships with mutual feelings are rare. 

On my mother’s bookshelf, I found a book called A Priest & A Girl by Robert Daley. A priest developed a romantic interest in a flight attendant. Despite his commitment to the Catholic Church, he had an affair with her in France. Their romance lasted because he gave up his vow of celibacy to live a secular life. 

This was the type of person that appealed to me in adolescence. I wanted someone quiet, peaceful, and capable of celibacy until finding a compatible partner. 

It’s a shame no one has made a movie of this book. Shot in New York and France, the film would be about the personal and professional lives of both lovers and their eventual meeting. The film would be beautiful, and bittersweet.

Time Travel

When I was 13, I discovered Somewhere in Time. It was a feature film before it became a TV movie.

A playwright named Richard Collier met Elise McKenna, an actress born a hundred years before him. Through hypnosis, he went back in time to 1912 so that he could meet her. A penny from 1979, found in his pocket, carried him back to the present. 

I liked movies about traveling through time. The romantic story of meeting someone from the past appealed to me. 

In the 1980s, miniseries were based on wars and their aftermath. I remember learning about the French Revolution by watching A Tale of Two Cities and The Scarlet Pimpernel. 

Civil War enthusiasts loved North and South. It received high ratings. The Blue and the Gray, a better movie, was an even better book by John Leekley. It has a great scene about the Battle of the Wilderness in Fredericksburg. 

The most popular miniseries during my adolescence was The Winds of War. There was a sequel, War and Remembrance. Viewers of these films appreciated both the horrors of World War II and the romantic relationships depicted in movies about that era. 

Generational Changes

The Northern Neck region remains a conservative place for women.

In the 1980s, women married fresh out of high school or after community college. They obtained secretarial positions in local or state governments, insurance agent jobs, or real estate agent positions. 

Some women ventured into the trades, becoming workers in seafood factories or farm hands. Most stayed at home with their children. If they were not married by their early 20s, they remained at home with their parents.

As a high school student, I had an inquisitive mind. Instead of settling into a job as a cashier at the new Food Lion in Tappahannock, I dreamed of going to college, marrying a handsome man after that, and traveling to other countries.

My dreams, however, waned as the realities of adulthood became clear. There was no romantic interest on the horizon. As a single woman, I would have to work. I wondered how I would make a living.

I saw an ad in the Northern Neck News during my junior high school year. It was for a dishwasher job at Lowery’s Restaurant in Warsaw. I thought of getting this job to pay for my cassette tapes and gas for their car.

My father thought I should apply for some administrative positions within the U.S. government. Some of his family members were government office workers in Washington, D.C. It was acceptable for me to work in a similar profession.

He took me to Prince George’s County one morning to take a civil service exam. The score was sometimes needed to apply for U.S. government jobs.

I did well enough to apply. I looked at some job listings afterward, but I didn’t see anything that interested me.

After high school, I decided to prepare for college.

Humanities

After graduation, my mother took me to Dahlgren to look for work. We went to the Naval Surface Warfare Center to get a job sheet. I noticed a technical writer vacancy and wished I could apply for it. However, it required a bachelor’s degree in English.

My mother took me around to several Navy contractors. They, too, had technical writer jobs, but the positions required a college degree. 

Fortunately, I was an A student in English. I liked reading and storytelling. I decided to take the humanities path and get my bachelor’s degree in English.

Choosing a College

I spoke to my parents during junior year about going to college. Both seemed uninterested in providing funding. I asked if I could attend a university out of state or out of the area. My mother was particularly against this. She thought it would be unsafe and too expensive.

After a year of haggling with my mother, she relented and said she would help me financially if I wanted to attend VCU in Richmond. An older sibling had completed his degree there. She thought I might also like it.

I sent for an undergraduate catalog. I found many exciting classes, especially in religious studies. I liked the idea of taking academic courses to learn more about religion.

In the religious studies program, I could take Old Testament, New Testament, and Intertestamental Literature and Thought. I could take the Bible as Literature. There were classes in ancient Egyptian history and the history of the ancient Near East. These classes were cross-listed with history.

In history, I could take European History and American Intellectual History. I could use the department’s museum internships to prepare for a full-time job.

I decided to attend VCU starting in the spring of 1990. My mother agreed to pay my living expenses as long as I received financial aid for tuition.

Working with a financial aid counselor, my mother helped me secure a Pell Grant for every school semester. The grants paid my tuition. My mother paid for my books and rent.

I graduated from VCU in the spring of 1993. My undergraduate education broadened my horizons considerably. I used my undergraduate degree for the next 7 years to obtain entry- and mid-level jobs in print publishing.

I decided to obtain my M.A. degree in English from UVA in the summer of 2001. My graduate degree doubled my salary and turned me on to a new career path in Web publishing in Northern Virginia.

A job loss, crime, and sudden health problems led to my return to the Northern Neck in 2007. Since then, I have worked from home on social media projects and books.

It was great to have the experience of learning and living away. I would recommend college to anyone who desires to grow professionally and see more of what the world has to offer.

Kay F. Davis

March 18, 2024

About the Author

Kay F. Davis is a Virginia native. She has lived for 35 years in the Northern Neck. 

Kay has a B.A. and M.A. in English. She is a print, Web, and social media editor. 

Send an e-mail to Kay at nnknative@gmail.com.

I am still a child at heart in the Northern Neck of Virginia.