The Silent Strength
Of Sarah Bland
She's l»e<kii a live loo long lo turn her
back on living'.
By DAVID KINNEY
She lives in Graham in a rambling
two-story house off Gilbreath Street
Extension near the super-highway.
She’s lived there most of her life. About
the length of a football field away
stands a chimney amidst the scattered
ruins the fire left of her momma’s
and daddy’s house.
That was a long time ago. She was
born in that house over a century ago.
105 years ago on Nov. 30. That was
long before the highway, long before
there w'ere even cars. And now like
the weather - worn, sagging house in
which she sits. Sarah Bland is a relic
of a time long past.
With sightless eyes she stares up¬
ward. sharing thoughts and memories
gleaned from her long life with her
God. But even now she refuses to
retreat into that sanctuary reserved for
the aged, the long dead past. Sarah
Bland’s been alive too long to turn
her back on living.
"I know a mess of things,” she says
in a voice that’s still strong and firm.
More than anything else, she’s a strong
woman, her strength coming from a
lifetime filled with rough, bone-numb¬
ing work.
‘‘I’ve had a hard life. I’ve walked
from here to Swcpsonvillc. put out
two washes a day, put a ton of bresh
on my head and walked back home
to kindle my fire."
She’s also walked to Haw River,
Burlington and other nearby Alamance
County communities to put in a day’s
work for white folks, come home and
worked for her own family. But the
hard work only tempered her strength.
No matter how rough it was. it failed
to wear away her joy in living.
Sitting in a straight - back chair
before an open fire in the kitchen
hearth, she laughs easily, wrinkled dark
lips folding back to reveal bright tooth¬
less gums. Or she may break out in
song, a high - lopped shoe tapping
lightly on the worn linoleum floor.
The words and tune pour out easily,
mellow with only a touch of roughness:
"There’s a light in the graveyard, out¬
shine the sun. Look away beyond the
tomb; Oh do Lord, do Lord, do re¬
member me. . . .’’
An olive toboggan hides the sparse,
kinky white hair that crowns her head.
A brown cardigan sweater on her
shoulders and a worn, gray blanket on
her lap ward off drafts that seep
through the rough - hewn kitchen walls.
Served Two Governors
Sarah Bland sits before the fire and
reminisces. She and the fire arc old
friends.
On her birthday there was a party
prepared by Alamance County Com¬
munity Action Program (ALCAP)
Senior Opportunities and Services.
There was a cake, and standing nearby
were dignitaries ranging from the
mayor’s wife to a state senator. Be¬
side her were presents and messages
sent by local, state and federal officials.
Mrs. Bland really enjoyed the cake.
If she had a tooth in her head, she
admits it would be a sweet tooth. And
although she is a simple woman, she
was not overawed by the presence of
important people. Why should she,
when she has worked for two governors
during her lifetime.
"I worked in the house for Gov.
Thomas Holt in Haw River. He wasn’t
anything then. I cooked for Gov. Glenn
in Statesville. Elmer Long, a lawyer
in Graham, got me to do it. These
white folks got together and Gov.
Glenn needed a cook. So Elmer Long
thought about me, and I went up to
Statesville." she recalls.
Mrs. Bland stayed in Statesville five
or six months, not seeing her husband
or home until she returned for good.
Holt was governor from 1891 to
1893. Robert Glenn was elected to a
four - year term in 1904. Lawyer Long
became a lieutenant governor.
With firelight illuminating the ebony,
time-etched features of her face, Sarah
Bland told the story of her long life.
Although hard of hearing, she needed
no coaching to remember names, dates,
people and places, conjuring up the
past to appear before her sightless eyes.
The daughter of Judy and Isaac Ruf¬
fin, she was born on Nov. 30, 1867.
‘‘They belonged to Judge Ruffin in
slavery times. My father waited on him.
They called him Judge Ruffin’s body¬
guard. whatever that means. My
momma was a house girl.”
It was in that house across the field,
its location marked only by the fire¬
place chimney and a pile of rubble,
that Sarah Bland grew up.
Af a Candy Pull
She went to school, grew into young
womanhood and enjoyed the same fan¬
cies and frills in which girls throughout
history have found pleasure. It was
at one of these activities, a candy pull,
that she met the man who was to be¬
come her husband.
John Allen Bland came to Graham
from Pittsboro with the Coopers, a
white family on whose farm he tended
the horses.
"I didn't know anything about him
until 1 met him at the candy pulling.
And then I run him down."
After the candy pull, everybody
played a game. "I'm fishing. What for?
A sweet kiss." John Allen Bland said
he was bound to make the young girl
his wife.
He asked her to marry him. Since
she was still going to school, her mother
said no. she was too young. So they
made plans to run away and get mar¬
ried. plans which Judy Ruffin over¬
heard and thwarted.
"He said he was going to have me
anyway," she remembers.
So finally, her mother gave in and
they were married in her house. That
was in 1882.
"I was about 15 or 16 years old.
I hadn't even put on long dresses or
anything."
The first long dress she ever wore
was the one she put on for her wedding.
Its memory still burns bright across
well more than a normal lifetime, and
she can still recall in detail its blue
color with white satin front. The groom
14
THE STATE. FEBRUARY 1973