In her research, Aunt Iva Ross Lange wrote: "Although I have no written source, it was said that Reuben Benson Lewis, Jr (our maternal Great Grand Uncle) built the house we lived in at Lowland. He was married at the time to Harriet Hopkins. They moved into the house at about the time their daughter Dillie Luella was born - 3 Oct 1882. Mrs. Dillie married Tom Campen and they raised their family just across the road from our house."

The house itself was quite interesting. Unlikely as it may seem in this day and age, the plumbing consisted of a huge cistern to collect rainwater which I used to think was a swimming pool, a pump in the kitchen and an outhouse out back. I always made quite sure that I completed all bodily functions before we left to visit with Grandmama - Marion Ophelia Lewis and Granddaddy - Coolidge Martin Ross. With good planning, a lot of determination and a little luck, I was able to manage the entire afternoon visit without having to walk down the path to the outhouse. Besides the fear of snakes or possibly falling in, I’ve yet to find an outhouse that was pleasant to linger around.

Chamber Pot

If one were familiar with the concept of an outhouse, they naturally would be familiar with the chamber pots or slop jars as my relatives called them. There was a time when every home had them. They were a necessity of the times. While a trip down the path to the outhouse was the preferred and acceptable daytime solution, it was the custom back then for ladies to not have to go out into the night or inclement weather to the outhouse. The jars were typically made of an enamel metal pot and lid with a handle for carrying to the outhouse for emptying in the morning. Some fancy models were ceramic but either model made for a very cold seat during the winter months. They were stored under the bed, where they could conveniently be located and used in the dark.

Chamber Pot Chair

But need being the mother of invention at some point fostered an upgraded model. Someone had the brilliant idea to cut a hole in the bottom of a wooden chair under which the slop jar could be inserted making for a much more comfortable experience. Of course, man continued to improve upon the design until we arrived at the marvels of today’s toilettes.

One day in 1982 one of my clients – a retired disabled Army Coronel - whom I supported for my employer - Lanier, had his word processor installed in his home until his office could be completed. I had called upon the elderly gentleman to conduct his training. Throughout his home there were various items he had accumulated during his career. As he described it, he had ‘a bunch of interesting stuff’ preferring to not call it a collection because that in his mind, implied organization. At any rate he was showing me some of his interesting stuff, he grinned cunningly when he produced a straight-backed chair with a hole in the seat which was covered with an ornately decorated piece of leather.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked feeling confident I would be stumped for an answer.

“Of course,” I replied, “That’s a chair for an old slop jar.”

He was amazed that someone in my age group should be familiar with such an item. What he did not know is that at that time the plumbing in the Ross homestead in Lowland still consisted of a pump in the kitchen, slop jars under the beds and a path out back to the outhouse.

My Grandmama and Granddaddy Ross never had indoor plumbing in their home. This used to puzzle me as a child. At first, I suspected that they must be too poor to afford it. Then, ‘Why didn’t their children, Dad and his brothers update the plumbing for them?” I now realize that Granddaddy just simply did not see the need. They were not too poor. At some point while Dad was building Mom’s dream home in Arapahoe, he ran short of funds. After much soul searching and left with no other options, he asked if Granddaddy Ross could loan him some money. A man that can produce $2,000.00 from a secret hiding place in the brick chimney to loan to his son, certainly could afford indoor plumbing. They just had never known or needed anything different.

Peaking in the window

In July of 2017, my family made a trip to North Carolina in support of my interest in researching and gathering information for documenting our family tree. One day, Uncle Bobby - Bobby Ray Ross gave us a personal tour of Lowland and the old Ross homestead. The house while overgrown almost looked as if the occupants had just walked out that morning. The paint was peeling, and the boards were weathered. Riddled with termite infestation, no one risked entering even though the grandchildren pleaded to us to let them explore.

We could peak through the broken windows, with lace curtains fluttering in the breeze, and we could see the furniture in place, family pictures upon the walls. Grandmama’s old wringer washing machine stood in the kitchen ready for wash day. A jar of canned string beans was sitting on the table as if on the menu for the evening meal. That day, Uncle Bobby told the grand children how Granddaddy Ross did not believe in banks and had kept his money hidden behind a brick in the chimney. He told them how when Granddaddy Ross was in the hospital on his deathbed, he asked Uncle Vance to go to the chimney on the house and go so many bricks down and so many bricks across, take that brick out and he would find some money behind it. Uncle Vance followed the instructions and found $5,000.00.

The children, especially my grandson, Griffin were fascinated with the cistern. Long abandoned, the metal covering rusted through in places, it contained tadpoles and frogs. After listening to his Uncle Bobby’s description of the purpose of a cistern and then discovering the tadpoles, Griffin knowingly announced to all that would listen that there were “tadpoles in the sister”.

After we returned home from our family trip, I collected photographs from all and combined them with some pictures from earlier years and made a short video. If you would like to see more of the old Lowland homestead, type the following link into your internet browser.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1xHd9mKgmDxQdXk12dOlBKwan2320khYo/view?usp=drive_link

So yes, elderly disabled gentleman whose name I no longer recall, I know what a slot jar chair is, and Griffin knows all about ‘sisters with tadpoles’.

I cannot in clear conscience leave this account of the old Lowland homestead and continue without first mentioning that during our family tour, I discovered that while the fireplace bricks no longer serve as a secret bank (we checked) and kittens no longer reside under the house, the mosquitoes are still rampant, larger than ever and extremely vengeful. AND, it is still wise to relieve oneself prior to visiting – unless you want to use the outhouse or go to the head of the road to Uncle Carol's house.

She has stood strong against elements . . . . . .

The Ross Homestead following Hurricane Ian (2022)

When I, Cathy Ross Brewer received this picture from my Uncle Bobby on October 1, 2022, I responded ‘so sad’. It is of the old Ross homestead in coastal North Carolina surrounded by the waters of Hurricane Ian. This morning I woke at 5:43 AM with the image on my mind and a feeling of regret for my initial response. After tossing and turning – unable to get it out of my mind, I gave up at 6:20 AM, got myself a cup of coffee and fired up my computer to execute my right as a woman to change my mind.

I take it back. It’s not ‘so sad’. It is absolutely AMAZING!

What an accomplishment, she is still standing. Understood to have been built by a great uncle in the early 1880’s she has been in the family for almost 150 years. She has weathered hurricanes and tropical storms - Mathew, Floyd, Hugo, Hazel, Florence, Irene, Dorrian - just to name a few. Her paint is chipping, the chimney bricks are tumbling, the floorboards are sagging, windowpanes cracked, porch posts leaning, the roof is rusted, bushes, weeds and trees have invaded her space and the termites have feasted. Yet, she still stands and now has added Hurricane Ian to her list of conquests.

She would have been disappointed and embarrassed to know my initial response was that of pity – so sad, I had responded. How dare I. She has protected her family through many years. For more than three decades she has stood with no family within, but she continues to care for the memories of those that came before.

She stood strong against elements and time and embraced my ancestors in her arms and whispered, “you’re OK, I’ve got you”.