Down on The Farm in Vox with the Queen Bee

Joseph Gregory "Grigg" Eaddy (1888-1959)

These family stories were shared by Mabeline "Queen Bee" Eaddy Evans in a series of posts about her family history. This information was compiled in collaboration with Ms. Bee by Josh Dukes.

My father, Joseph Gregory Eaddy, was born in 1888 in Vox, a farming community in South Carolina outside of Johnsonville and Hemingway. My mother, Mabel Florence Hanna Eaddy, followed in 1900. Together, they built a legacy grounded in love, faith, and hard work, raising 14 children. I am blessed to be the youngest—the baby of this big, beautiful family.

Growing up, I had eight brothers: Spigner, Frank, J.W., Danny, David, Nedo (Bubby), Wyman, and Hoyt.   Along with these amazing brothers, I was also surrounded by the love of five wonderful sisters: Hazel, Emmie Bell, Florence Penelope, Betty, and Maudine  This tight-knit family provided me with a foundation of care, respect, and devotion. While we may not all be here today, I know they are together celebrating Father’s Day 2024 in Heaven.

Our family grew over the years as my brothers and sisters married, and I came to love their spouses as much as my own siblings. They became a cherished part of our family, and I hold each one dear in my heart:  Spigner and Annie Lou, and later Harriet; Frank and Iris; Hoyt and Judy;  Danny and Margaret, and later Ernestine; Wyman and Marilyn; Nedo (Bubba) and Nell; J.W. and Billy; Hazel and Nort Staver; Betty and Orban Ray then later Dan Ray; Emmie Bell and Thomas (Son) Brown.

As for me, I’m Mabeline Bee, the baby of this incredible family. I’m so grateful for each one of
them, and I cherish every moment we shared together. Even though time has passed, the memory of our family continues to live on in our hearts and memories.

William Chalmers Eaddy (1859-1927) and Thursey Mozell Hanna (1867-1941)
Joseph Gregory Eaddy's Parents.
W. C. Eaddy gave his son the farm in 1915 as a wedding present

I feel great joy in sharing the story of my parents, Joseph Gregory Eaddy and Mabel Florence Hanna Eaddy. Daddy and Mama Always demanded respect, truth, honesty, kindness, smiles, and laughter. They would always say, "You must forgive! Look at what was done to Jesus. He forgave all. You must forgive if you want God to forgive you and answer your prayers."

I remember my daddy as an old-time country preacher. My mama married my daddy in 1915.  In the 1800s my Granddaddy Eaddy owned this awesome farm.  He gave this part to my dad when he married my mama. They built a 12 room home and raised 14 beautiful children. 

All the land on the Vox Highway from the Vox Crossroads up to just before you get to Sonny Turner's old store, that all belonged to my Granddaddy Eaddy, and Great Granddaddy Eaddy. Maybe even farther back than that. 

John Morgan Hanna (1864-1942)
died tragically from a fire caused by his pipe

What we called "back on the swamp", where the big lake was, was land that Granddaddy John Morgan Hanna owned.  That’s where Frank built his home, Danny built his home, Spigner built his home, and Nedo had just a parcel of land on the big lake.  Daddy’s part was in what they called the 80s. Wyman had the land at the Crossroads. Hoyt lived on the homeplace and took care of Mama. I owned the next 14 acres. Emmie Bell had the next parcel of land, but her home burned down, so I gave her some land to build a new house.  As for Betty and Hazel, they inherited $85 each instead of land."

In 1942 before I was born, my granddaddy Hanna, Mama's daddy, was sitting under a big old tree with a pipe in his mouth. He used to love sitting out there, just taking in the day. Well, one afternoon, he must’ve dozed off, pipe still in his mouth, like always. The pipe fell out while he was sleeping, and it set the grass on fire. Next thing he knew, the fire spread to his clothes. My granddaddy died right there under that tree. It was a sad, sad day for our family. Ever since then, they always said—"never smoke when you’re falling asleep."

Daddy was so proud when we finally got a little old truck for traveling. Before that, it was mules and wagons. They’d go into town once or twice a month to buy big bulk bags of flour, sugar, rice, and other needs. I got to pick out the flour bags because when they were empty, Mama would sew me a Sunday dress out of them.  We liked to say that Vox was about 50 miles from Myrtle Beach. We always got a treat and went there once a year, especially when Daddy was living. Mama loved the water. Growing up was such a special time.

We didn’t eat much fast food back then. We drank Kool-Aid, and the older folks drank coffee. Lemonade was for special occasions, and we managed to have tea too. Soda pop was only 5 cents—oh, how we prayed to find five pennies!  We’d collect glass bottles to take to the store. We’d use the deposit money to buy penny candy—25 cents could get you a whole lot of candy back then, and they even gave you a brown paper bag to carry it in.

We ate “meat sandwiches” made from whatever we could get off the farm. Peanut butter and homemade jelly sandwiches, grilled cheese, hot dogs, pot pies, but mostly home-cooked meals like grits, eggs, and bacon. Meatloaf, fried potatoes, string beans, butter beans, and cornbread. Oh, and Mama’s homemade biscuits—nobody could make them like her. And every Sunday, we had fried chicken, butter beans, rice, and homemade potato salad. Hallelujah, it was good! Our meat mostly came from the farm, raised, killed, and prepared by us. We’d pack it in salt and store it in the smokehouse, all ready for winter. We also had our own garden, growing fresh vegetables right at home. Daddy and the family did a lot of fishing and hunting to make sure we have food on the table—-and shared with neighbors.  We enjoyed watermelon, homemade biscuits, and meals made from the hogs, chickens, and cows we raised. My daddy would often remind us of the Bible verse, "The righteous will never be forsaken, nor their children begging bread." And my mama made sure we never went hungry.

Mabel Hanna Eaddy with sons Frank, Danny, and Spigner (above) 
and daughters Emmie Bell, Mabeline, Betty, and Hazel (below)

Before every meal, we all had to bow our heads, and Daddy or Mama would say a prayer. We prayed a lot for the chickens too, especially since we relied on them so much. For breakfast, we’d have eggs—boiled, scrambled, or fried—and hot biscuits with some jelly. And of course, on Sundays, we’d have the good old fried chicken. If you know what I mean, those chickens gave their lives so we could eat. Prayer and reading God’s Word was a big deal in our home. It was a must. Learning to obey God and knowing His Word was our way of life. God was our helper.

After the farm work was done—like feeding the chickens and milking the cows—we’d go outside to play. We played games like hide and seek, Red Rover, Red Light-Green Light, Mother May I, Kick the Can, and Ghost in the Graveyard. There were no cell phones, no Wi-Fi, no hair straighteners. We had this big black Bell telephone outside, standing on a long chain in the yard. You’d pull it in an emergency when you needed help. I still have it standing in my yard today. Later, we got a regular telephone, but it was a party line. Everybody knew everybody’s business!  At night, our entertainment was listening to the radio—Paul Harvey and the news. There was no one like him. Preachers preaching the gospel and good gospel music—that’s what we listened to.

Let me tell you about my mama. My mother birthed 14 children. She was born in 1900, got married at 15, and had her first child when she was 16. She had her last child at 44. That tells you right there that I’m the baby of 14 children, born in 1944. Daddy worked in the cotton fields, and Mama worked at home. I used to smile when I’d tell people that my daddy planted more than just cotton seeds on the farm. Now, Mama never graduated from high school, and she never learned to drive a car. But she had the wisdom, the understanding, and the common sense that only comes from God. She was truly a blessed woman of God.

Eaddy family siblings and spouses

I remember many Mother’s Days. Sunday mornings, the cows had to be milked, and Mama would be sitting there with the big gallon jug in her lap, full of cream from the milk. She’d be shaking that jug until it turned into butter. After the morning chores, we’d go to church. When we came home, we’d all sit around the table, and there, in the middle, would be a big pan of fried chicken. Alongside that, there was butter beans, potato salad, coleslaw, and hot biscuits at the corner of the table. Daddy would say the blessing, and then he’d remind us, "Don’t forget to give your mama a hug, she did a great job."

Let me tell you about the best gift God ever gave me on this earth—my daddy. He was a cotton-picking farmer, and boy, he had me out there picking that little white stuff out of them sticky balls they called cotton. I couldn't believe it! Oh, did my knuckles bleed, and I mean really bleed!  You wanna know what Daddy said to me? He said, "Young lady, there’s two things you cannot do!" He looked at me and said, "You cannot pick cotton and talk at the same time." Ha-ha. "Don't laugh, that ain't funny. Pick that cotton and talk when we’re weighing it out at the end of the day!"  He sure gave me some great advice. You know what? By the end of the day, I had more cotton. And when they weighed it... I had more money! So, I got my money, ran to the store, bought me some bubble gum, chewed it, and talked. And by the time the lights went out, I had fallen asleep still talking!

Now, being the baby of 14 kids, you could hardly get a word in edgewise. But as I grew up a little, and started to talk more... well, you wouldn't believe what came out of my mouth. Things I heard the old folks say. They always told me I had the "gift to gab." That means I could talk a lot. So, I’ve used that gift all my life. And you know what? I really did learn to talk nice, with kind words.  I remember it so well. I was 14 years old when things started to change, but those memories from growing up—they’ve stayed with me all my life.

Joseph Gregory "Grigg" and Mabel Florence Hanna Eaddy

Here is the story behind the picture of momma and daddy - standing together in front of a house. It was taken just a few days after my daddy got out of the hospital. He had been really sick, and we were all so relieved to have him back home. Now, our family had just finished adding a bathroom to the back of our big 12-room house. It was such a blessing—something we had all been waiting for, and it felt like a gift to finally have it. Daddy was so excited about that new bathtub. He couldn’t wait to use it.

In that little bathroom, there was a potbelly stove to keep it warm. Well, the fire was lit, and it got a little too hot and set the wall on fire. And wouldn’t you know it, on the windiest day in March, that fire spread and ended up burning our whole house down. That was 1957.

We went to stay with my brother Frank and his wife, Iris Eaddy. This picture here—it was taken right in their front yard. Now, I’m telling you this to say something important… One day, someone asked my mom, after everything we owned had burned up and was gone, "What was the dearest thing to you?" She looked at this picture, smiled, and said, "I’m holding the dearest and most precious gift from God in my arms." She loved my daddy so much, and to her, she was his most precious gift too. After all that, we came back to the farm and lived in the old packhouse. We made do until the house I’m living in now was built by my brothers, family, and friends—72 years ago.

My daddy would be celebrating his 136th birthday in 2024, if he were still with us He went to be with the Lord when I was 14 years old, on September 3rd. That day is special to me because I will be 80 this year, and I remember how he loved God, took care of his family, and taught us all about Jesus. He loved his baby girl, and I was certainly spoiled by him.

One day, after my daddy passed away at our home, we finally got a TV. Oh, what a day that was! We watched Gilligan’s Island and American Bandstand. And don’t forget The Lone Ranger and Tonto—Gunsmoke too. But we didn’t get to watch TV until all the work was done. We worked in the yard, tended the garden, and after school, you had your chores to do. Come Saturday morning, though, we could watch some cartoons. And here I am now, holding this electronic device where you can push a button and talk, share, get information, and even pray for people. What a miracle this is! Times sure have changed, but I’m glad for the memories of how we grew up.

Vox School, 1940s

School? Let me tell you, if you acted up in school, you got in trouble there, and by the time you got home, somehow your parents already knew. I’m telling you, it was like magic! Paddling was allowed in school, so you behaved yourself—or else.  And if you missed the bus? Well, you were walking to school. We had this great little schoolhouse about a mile down the road. It wasn’t far, but you sure didn’t want to be late.  School was mandatory, no skipping out. We said the Pledge of Allegiance, prayed the Lord’s Prayer, and listened to our teachers. We knew better than to act up around grown-ups. If you disrespected anyone, you’d get your behind “woke up” real quick—and you’d hope to remember it the next time. It wasn’t called abuse, it was called discipline.  What your parents said might as well have been the gospel. You obeyed—yes, you obeyed. There was no talking back to adults, none of that. If someone got into a fight, it was just a fistfight, and afterward, you’d be back to being friends.

You had to stay close enough to home to hear your mama calling you when it was time for dinner. You'd better be home when the street lights came on! We didn't have many street lights in the country so that meant be home at dusk! We ate around the dinner table and actually talked to each other. And prayer before each meal? That was a must.  You didn’t hear curse words on the radio or TV. And if you cursed, you’d better do it where no one could hear, or you’d be tasting a bar of soap real fast. It wasn’t abuse—it was a lesson learned. Some kids even thought it was funny, all those bubbles coming out of their mouths! “Please” and “Thank you” were just part of how we talked to people every day. If something important needed to be shared with a neighbor, our mama would send us down the road, walking or riding our bikes, to let them know.

Joseph William "J.W." Eaddy (1924-1946)
died from an accidental gunshot wound

My brother J.W.—I wish you knew his story. It’s a short one, but it stays with me.

He was the first in our family to go to Bible college, studying to be a minister in North Carolina. Graduated with honors, too. He and his wife, Billy, were on their way home after graduation. My mama said they were so excited, so full of joy. On the way back, they wanted to stop in the mountains, to wash their hands in the clouds. I can picture it so clearly—the two of them, full of life, climbing up that mountain.

J.W. helped Billy up the mountain first. They had an old hunting gun with them because the area was full of snakes. Once she was up, she couldn’t pull him up with her. So, he handed her the gun. The barrel, though—it was pointed at him. And then the gun went off.

By the time Billy could get down the mountain and find help, it was too late. He died from the gunshot wound. They brought his body to Tomorrow’s Funeral Home. My mama and daddy, our whole family, we grieved hard. We always remembered him as our "preacher man," because that’s what he was going to be.

Nedo Eaddy (1935-1994)
Missionary and US Army Chaplain
was killed on mission in Costa Rica

Years later, my other brother, Nedo, and I both graduated from college, too. But Nedo’s story—it’s just as tragic. He'd moved to North Carolina in the mid-1970s after his time as an Air Force Chaplain.  He founded the Brunswick Christian Center.  His preaching style was less fire and brimstone and more like a teacher.  He was real spunky.  He cared more about others than he did for himself.  

He went to Costa Rica to help build a church that could seat 10,000 people. He took the money he got when the highway bypass came through and bought out the church where I was pastoring in Calabash, North Carolina.  It was right in the middle of Highway 17 when they were widening the highway. He divided that money from the sale among seven preachers and their churches. He believed in the work he was doing down there in Costa Rica.  

But thieves broke into the mission one night. It was in a high crime area near San Jose and they had a guard, but he must have left his post and they got past him.  Nedo had a gun for protection, to protect him and his daughter LyNell, but they overpowered him. They took the gun and shot him. Then they did something I can hardly say—they chopped him up with a machete. Nedo was the first American ever murdered in Costa Rica, that we know of. The government got involved because he was an American, a chaplain in the Air Force. But they never found his killers.

Nell, his wife, and their daughter LyNell went down to Costa Rica to claim his body. But there wasn’t much they could do. His body was so mutilated, they had to cremate him. He was the only one in our whole community that had ever been cremated at that time. His ashes rest in the family cemetery now.  I remember, when it all happened, I was living with my brother in North Carolina, working in the church. That highway changed things for us. But we carried on, even with all the sorrow. 

Then there was my baby brother Hoyt, who tragically died in a tractor accident while mowing grass at the mailbox. My brother Frank, who came to help, passed away just two days later on my birthday. These memories are heavy, but they are part of the history of our family, and I hold them close to my heart. 

Hoyt, Frank, Emmie Bell, Nedo, Hazel, and Danny Eaddy

This farm, our homeplace, has been a constant in my life. The values my parents instilled in me—the love of God, family, and community—are gifts money cannot buy. I carry these memories with me, and though I am the only one left of my 14 siblings, I take comfort in the family I still have—my son, my grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. I thank God for the legacy left behind by my parents and the love they shared with each other and with us.

Looking back, I see how blessed we are as a family. My parents left a lasting legacy. I am the last of their children, but our family continues to thrive with many grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and even great-great-grandchildren. I am proud of our history and thankful to God for all He has done for us.

Maybeline Eaddy and Bascom Lee Evans III 

As I sit on the porch today, with the wind blowing just as mama said it would—cool and refreshing—I think of the life we had here on the farm. My husband, Bascom Lee Evans III, who was my first date at my Sweet 16th birthday, has since gone to be with the Lord.  God sent me an angel from heaven to make my life complete while I was here on earth when he sent him. From the time we started writing love notes when we were just 14 years old in 1958, to our wedding day on December 27, 1962, our love had been a constant. 

My mother’s brother, Uncle Jode Hanna— he’s the one who walked me down the aisle at my wedding. It was a special moment for me, but you know what’s funny? That was the only time he ever set foot in a church. 

We went through high school, off to Bible College, got married, had three beautiful children. Our life together was a real journey, the kind of journey only a fairytale story in a book could truly capture.

I’ll never forget how he sat on the porch during rehab, before his condition got worse. You could just feel that all he thought about was his family. Papa’s love for us was so great. He loved his family, and he always talked about his friends. We were together "until death do us part," and there was a very special love between us that words cannot fully describe. He knew it was the end here on earth. Saying goodbye was so hard, but we had made so many memories on this journey.

On Christmas Eve 2016, he was in the presence of Jesus, as the Bible says, "To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord." Before he left, I said, "Thank you for all our memories. I will keep the faith, be faithful, pray for our family, and we will all be together again. Give Lisa, her baby, and all our love. You are a great dad."   I cherish the memories of us sitting and rocking on this porch together.

Maybeline Eaddy Evans

I want to take a moment to share with you about my precious children—each one of them is such a blessing that God has brought into our lives. They are the joy of my life, and even the memories we’ve shared together have a light that warms my heart.

Let me start with my oldest daughter. Oh, she was truly the joy of my life. Always keeping her mama straight! We miss her so much—Lisa Evans Dean, who has gone to be with the Lord. She’s up there now, sharing heaven with her father and her daughter. But even with the heartache of losing her, I find joy in the memories we made.

My son, Bascom Lee Evans IV, is recovering from brain surgery. Though he forgets some
things, he remembers the love of his family, and I am proud of the man he has become. He has a son, Joseph Lee Evans V, who carries on the name of my father, and our family continues to grow with grandchildren and great-grandchildren. And now, joy comes every day, knowing that God healed my son. He had brain surgery, but God brought him through, and he’s such a blessing to me. Bascom Lee Evans is always looking after his mama—calls me over for dinner every night. I wish you all could get to know him; he’s a special one, for sure.

Then there’s my daughter, Jeannie Evans Rea. She’s just wonderful—full of life and beautiful inside and out. She takes such good care of her family, including her dog and, yes, even a pig! Jeannie lives up in Michigan, but she still calls to check on me every day. I thank God for her and the love she shows.

As for me - I worked at General Motors and served as a chaplain there. My husband and I, we would start churches—build them up—and then turn them over to the denominations. That’s always been part of our calling. Right now, I know I’m continuing the ministry of Leo, the Church of God, which has been around for 88 years.  For 60 years, I traveled and worked with the Queen Bee program and Bee Kids. That was such a big part of my life and ministry. I don't know exactly what God has planned for me next, but I do know this—it’s going to be the greatest years of my life.

You see, I’m just a country girl. But I’ve got a Doctor of Divinity degree, and I’ve been a professor, teaching Bible college for many years. Along the way, I’ve been involved in so many other things too—helping homes for women and children in crisis, and even setting up a pregnancy center for unwed mothers.

It’s been quite the journey, and I’m grateful for all of it.

So, from down on the farm in Johnsonville, South Carolina, I send love and prayers to all. This is a great day, a day of remembering and giving thanks for a family that has stood the test of time. God has been good to us, and I will always keep the lights burning on the cross in the yard, shining for Jesus, as a reminder that He is the way to our eternal home in heaven.