Peninsula In Passage

During the Revolutionary War Cornwallis and his men marched through Driver. The story goes that they learned that Turner and his neighbor Jno. Darden were at odds. The soldiers built a tall wooden pen and locked both men in it until they spoke to each other again. According to Dr. Billy Jordan “That was the one good thing the British did.” “Driver was a terrific place to grow up and to be,” Palette says. There were church picnics to Ocean View. Two trucks, one from Beech Grove, one from Berea, their beds cushioned with hay for kids to ride in, drove to Ocean View. I was one of a handful of kids that went to Glebe and we were always invited. We yelled and waved at the other cars on the way and we encouraged our drivers to race each other. On the way back we’d stop at Treasure Milk Shake at Alexander’s Corner for ice cream. Berea and Beech Grove had Christmas pageants on the same day at different times so people could go to both. After the play, we would gather at their Christmas trees and get gifts and there were always gifts for me too under the tree. It was a sweet time. I remember Cap’n Juny Brinkley who was born about 1898 or so. He lived on a workboat pulled up into the mud behind Annie Lee Jone’s house – the Woodard- Jones house - on Bennett’s Creek. I would walk with my father through woods to a path that led to the boat to take potatoes, meat and other food to him. Cap’n Brinkley always wore overalls and a long sleeve shirt with sleeves rolled up. His overalls were always stained with paint splatters and tobacco juice spit. He always had a two to three day beard, a ruddy complexion and the most beautiful blue eyes with always a twinkle in them. He did odd jobs, house painting and worked as a mechanic on farm equipment. His brother, Glenn Brinkley, ran a store on the crossroads I remember Charlie Harrell, the fish man. My mother used to get her fresh fish from him. He drove

The 1716 Jones house was believed to be

a beat up old pickup truck with a canvas top stretched over poles in the bed of the truck. A scale hung from one of the poles. He had fish lined up neatly on ice in the back of the truck – spot, flounder, butterfish, and trout. He’d call around the neighborhood – everyone seemed to know what day and time he’d be there. Always wore a dark suit, shirt and tie and a dark hat. Had blue eyes, white hair and a bushy white mustache and was slender, about medium height. He’d always tip his hat to the ladies and always spoke like a gentleman. I was crazy about him. Charlie had a son Will, a promising athlete who was stricken with a paralyzing disease in his late teens and couldn’t walk any more. His fingers were bent almost backwards but he had beautiful handwriting. Charlie would lift him into a car or the fish truck and Will drove. Will was a mathematician and tutored me through algebra so I could graduate from high school. He was also good with small appliance repairs and radio repairs. Charlie and Will lived in small white house with a hip roof off the road to Planters Club. Just the two of them in a small house – neat as a pin. the oldest frame house in Virginia.

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