Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SATURDAY, September 4, 1993 TAG: 9309040193
SECTION: CURRENT PAGE: NRV1 EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY
SOURCE: JOANNE ANDERSON STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: BLACKSBURG LENGTH: Medium
\ Kate Estes Hoge begins her nonagenarian decade Sunday with the sense of humor, wit and "cussed determination" that have gotten her through 90 years.
"Oh, honey, I've always kept busy, and I'm still learning," she says, in the accent of her native Virginia.
Standing straight at 5-feet-7, Hoge shakes hands as firmly as a chief executive officer and as warmly as a Southern hostess.
Her white hair is pinned back neatly except for a few stray strands that have escaped the teeth of her tortoise shell combs. A laugh creeps into almost every sentence.
"I can't remember much any more," she states, before launching into a diatribe about politicians, embargoes, corruption in government, the lack of morality on the soap operas, the news reported by Dan Rather and Connie Chung and the content of the "Maury Povich Show."
"Well," she laughs, "I remember the things that make me mad."
Things that make her mad also propel her into action.
Six years ago, she granted an open-space easement to the town of Blacksburg that would preserve 32 acres of farmland near downtown, including one of the loveliest hillsides still in the corporate limits. The easement virtually guarantees that the land remain undeveloped, regardless of future ownership.
"It was purely selfish," Hoge confesses. "I just could not bear the thought of a road cutting through that land."
"Oh, honey," she continues, "I write to the congressmen, but they never answer me. I'm thinking of writing to President Clinton, but my hand shakes so badly that I can't read what I've written."
It seems everything is amusing or interesting to Hoge. The papers and articles all over the dining room table are left out so they don't get misplaced.
The needlework and certificates on her couch have been framed recently in her "getting ready to die" preparation. "If I have them framed, people won't be so apt to throw them away, I figure," explains Hoge.
A young Kate Estes came to work in Blacksburg the year Queen Elizabeth II was born, 1926. The following year, she married John Hampton Hoge Jr. and moved into the imposing brick house he owned on Hemlock Street. From the front porch, they could look across the corn fields and watch visitors coming down the road to the house. Her home for 66 years now looks out on a wooden privacy fence some eight feet high across the street.
To their friends, the Hoges were Hampton and Kate; to each other they were Rusty and Jack, respectively, nicknames from younger days. Hampton died in 1957.
After getting fired from Montgomery County schools for teaching as a married woman - it was acceptable when she was single - Kate went to work for the Farm Security Administration, President Franklin Roosevelt's program for taking people off relief and putting them back to work.
"I never met the man Roosevelt," states Hoge, "but I always thought of him as my friend. I was in the pantry when I heard on the radio that he died. My eyes filled with tears, and I thought `What will we do?' "
She claims the country "wouldn't be in this mess today if there was honesty in the government."
Hoge attributes her longevity to staying busy, having good genes and using her mind. And she's fiercely independent.
Offers by relatives to run errands or help with her shopping are firmly declined. She drives, does her own shopping, prepares meals, visits people and manages her daily business affairs as a local landowner and philanthropist.
Independence is a great virtue. "Well, honey, I had six brothers, half of 'em older and half of 'em younger. At least one of them was pulling my hair or tripping me up or annoying me in some way all the time. I wrecked a car in college because they never let me practice driving our Ford T-model."
Kate's nephew, Keith Estes Jr. of Blacksburg, and two of his cousins have planned a birthday party in her honor. "When we asked her who should come, she replied that all her friends were in the grave. Then we got a 200-person guest list! The count for the shindig now stands at 112."
They don't get together much - they don't have the time. They must have busy-ness in their genes. "We're a real busy family," states Estes. "And Aunt Kate is pretty busy herself. . . . She's quite a lady."
Keywords:
PROFILE
by CNB