Edie Hand: When Being the Strong One Gets Lonely

On this episode of Our American Stories, Edie Hand grew up on 40 acres of rolling hills in Burnout, Alabama, where some of her happiest memories were made inside an old family barn. There were horses to ride, mud pies to make, sweet potatoes waiting after school, and brothers to run around with. Her beloved grandmother Alice was never far away. To Edie, the barn was more than a building. It was the place where she felt safe, free, and certain that a little girl could grow up to become anything she wanted.

Years later, Edie found herself longing for that place and for something she had wanted since childhood: a closer relationship with her mother. Everyone thought of Edie as "the strong one," but being strong could be a lonely thing. With the old barn gone and many of the people who filled it now gone too, Edie shares a deeply personal story about mothers and daughters, the burden of always being strong, and what it means to spend a lifetime searching for home.

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:10):
This is Lee Habib, and this is Our American Stories,
and we tell stories about everything here on this show,
from the arts to sports, and from business to history,
and everything in between, including your stories. Send them to ouramericanstories.com.
They're some of our favorites. And you've heard from Edie
Hand before on our show. Today, you're going to hear

(00:30):
a little bit about Edie's own life story. We love
telling you stories of family, stories of mothers, and the
importance they play in in their children's lives for better
and for worse. Here's Edie with her own story.

Speaker 2 (00:50):
I recall a simpler time in my life in Burnout, Alabama.
It was so small that we used to laugh and say,
we know Burnout's burnt plum out. I remember going out
back of the house and I would be making mud pies.

(01:10):
My brothers would come up, and I'll never forget how
they said, so what are you cooking today, Edie? Or
they called me Edith. And I said, I'm making a
new mud pie. You want to try it? I remember
they sat down on the little pieces of wood on
the rocks, and they put that mud in their mouth.

(01:32):
They got sick from eating that dirt, and running to
the house to tell Mother that I'd fed them mud pies.
It wasn't funny to my mother, but it was funny
to me. It was those little things. I remember going
to the barn with the boys, and we'd saddle up

(01:52):
our horses. We had two Shetland ponies and a quarter horse.
It was a wonderful place to grow up. It was
40 acres of rolling hills. We had the garden with
different chores to do. The boys did more in the garden.
I was more helping mother with laundry. My mother would

(02:16):
always have us baked when we got off a school bus,
I remember, was baked sweet potatoes and chocolate doodad cookies.
She would want to hear about what we had done
in school for the day. I remember we had a
cold glass of milk with that. That was... It's just
remembering home. That was home to me. And we all

(02:40):
need some place we can call home, either physically or
a place we can go back to in our mind.
And that is a place for me. And I think
the barn, I used to think, this is the place.
You know, it was just simpler times, but it was

(03:00):
the place of the most joy, I think, of feeling free,
and you could be anything you want to be. But
the barn just spoke to me in a way of,
I like the openness, I like the lofts, and you
could dream. It was a place to dream. You could
look out through the holes, see the sky, or you

(03:23):
could jump out of the barn and be in a
pile of sawdust or hay, and we played kick the can.
relay runs that we would see how fast we were,
you know, go from one tree to the next. It
was just nothing big but those simple games that I
cherished the most that I would call, this is the place.

(03:48):
I think that place is where I found me. My mother, Sue,
was a homemaker. When I was young, she just lived
for her children. She loved to dressed me up beautifully.
I was her baby doll. And of course, I was
her first child. And the boy's always so handsome. Now,

(04:12):
she didn't come to the barn and do the things
with us, but my grandmother Alice did. She was a tomboy,
my grandmother was. She could ride, she could milk cows,
she could do anything. But my mother was the one
that always had everything just right in the home. was
always dressed perfect. My mother taught me about being proper,

(04:35):
good manners. It was always important to be a lady.
So I grew up with a lot of old school
manners with her. She was always very proud of my
accomplishments in life. I didn't get to be as close
to her as I wanted to be. She was closer
to the boys. I think my mother was closer to

(04:59):
the boys because they were more needy and she would
say you're strong you're like mama you're like Alice you
don't really need anybody you just get out there and
do it but what I wish my mother had noticed
was that I didn't either so I always just was

(05:24):
strong everybody said it so I must be strong I
think it made me a loner. It was a good quality,
but I don't like being alone. My grandmother Alice, she said,
please always love your mother. She loves you dearly. She

(05:49):
just doesn't know how to connect to you. Your mother
loves you. And sometimes there's just no real explanation other
than just the comment of it because what people don't
realize I think is is that it is important to
take the time to explain to someone and talk to

(06:12):
them don't hide behind feelings I think I suppressed mine
through the years to be almost 70 years old and
to see that the little girl in me still wants
to go to a place. Since the barn is gone,

(06:35):
my grandmother's gone, most of my family's gone, there is
no place that I feel quite at home anymore, but
I'm looking for it. I'm going to find another place,
because my grandmother said I could do hard things, and
I will, and I do.

Speaker 1 (07:00):
And great job on the production by Robbie, and thanks
for just a beautiful piece of storytelling from Edie Hand,
and that barn is a place to dream. And at
70 years old, she's looking for that place. She suppressed
her feelings, and she was the strong one, and it
made her a loner. Edie Hand's story, here on Our

(07:25):
American Stories. Lee Habib here and I'd like to encourage
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(07:47):
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