Flowers are often used as gifts, but for this gang profiled in the Chapel Hill News, flowers are a way to show eternal gratitude:
Members of the Over the Hill Gang can’t remember a time when they didn’t know each other.
They introduced themselves as Cleavon Atwater, John Napoleon Neville, Ed Foushee and James Atwater (brother of Cleavon).
Then they offered up the names they go by: Cheese, Slim, Sweet Ed and Pig.
“I should be a hog by now, but I’m still Pig,” James Atwater said, cracking up all of them — an easy thing to do.
They are all natives of Chapel Hill or Carrboro and graduates of Lincoln High School. Most of them have lived here all their lives — with the exception of time spent in the service; and Slim (John Neville) lived in Kansas City and Jersey City for periods of time.

They range in age from 66 to 72 and recognize a debt they owe to the elders who watched over them and guided them as they grew up.
They think it was 1992 that Slim came up with an idea for how to show their appreciation to several dozen people who helped them keep their noses clean.
“We want them to know that they didn’t give up on us and we’re not giving up on them,” Sweet Ed Foushee said.
“Our motto that we put on the cards we give out is: For the love of helping others,” Slim said.
At Thanksgiving they take baskets of food to those who need a little extra; on Christmas Eve they deliver flowers; on Valentine’s Day they deliver a rose and a card; and of course, Easter lilies are given out around Easter.
“We give from the heart,” said Slim, “because it feels good inside. Doing things for credit is wrong.”
They learned a lot about right and wrong from these elders who were a part of the village that raised them.
“Look at when we were raised up, and the percentage of our classmates who succeeded and look at it now — it’s heartbreaking,” Cheese said. They feel that the village order is gone with few people watching out for young people like they used to do.
“My mother was always trying to explain to me about going to the wrong place,” Sweet Ed said. “She said if you go to a juke joint, you don’t have to do anything to get into trouble, it’s just being there” that can lead to trouble.
He told a story about a time that he learned that lesson. There had been a vacant house near his house where kids would go and throw rocks. His mother had warned him to stay away from the house. One day he could not withstand the lure of the forbidden and went over to the house, inching his way closer and closer as a group of kids hung around until that awful moment when someone threw a rock.
A neighbor lady was watching.
“She said, ‘I saw you,’” Sweet Ed said. “They all knew that I’m Flossie and Arthur’s son.”
He knew she would call his mother so he high-tailed it home to tell her first because he had not done anything wrong (in his young mind). He ran home and told his mama, who told him that she wasn’t going to “whup” him for throwing a rock or breaking a window.
“She whupped me for being there,” Sweet Ed said.
“Uh-huh,” and “That’s right,” his friends said, laughing and shaking their heads in sympathy.
None of them could get away with much.
Pig, who was an “A” student, had the habit during high school of ditching afternoon classes. When the weather was warm, he and others would leave in the early afternoon after English class and go swimming in the nearby creek. In the wintertime they would go to a friend’s house and play basketball. Whatever the weather, they would spend afternoons playing until school let out.
“Then we’d go home like we’d been in school all day,” Pig said. It lasted a while.
“Then one day somebody saw us out there playing and told on us,” Pig said, laughing and shaking his head at the memory of the punishment that followed.
However they may have felt about the “tattlers” back in the day, these days, they thank the teachers, principals, neighbors and elderly relatives who kept them on the straight and narrow.
“Slim brought the program to me,” Cheese said. “I said I’d contribute to it, but he said, ‘No, you do it. You’ve gotta get out there with us.’”
“It’s not about the money but the spirit,” Slim said. “Nobody does more than anybody else.”
When asked for names of the recipients of their gratitude, Slim closed his eyes, held his head down in one hand and started listing off the names: Iola Bynum, Katherine Council, Kuma Thompson, Mary Hubbard, Betty King, Willis Barbee, Mr. and Mrs. Alfred Barbee, Mae Curtis Mitchell, Mrs. J.C. Barnett, Lucretia Farrington, Lula Nicks, Mary Atwater, Nello Lindsay, Ruth Atwater, Ruth Strowd, Ethel Rivers, Betty Jones, Rebecca Clark.
He stopped and straightened up saying he’d gotten one side of town, then went back to it: Clara Matthews, Vernon Webb, Garland Cotton, Lola Farrow, Mr. and Mrs. Clarence Hargraves, Mr. and Mrs. R.D. Smith, Ezekiel Burnett, Virginia Davis, Tamer Miller, Bodie Neville, Doris Cotton, Helen Edmonds, the Rev. John Manley, Pearline Gardner, Odessa Cotton, Dorena Foushee, Minnie James, Melvin and Dolores Farrington, Andrew Merritt, Mrs. Light, Dorothy Riggsbee, Milton Bynum, Lou Tuck.
Slim said he still lists the ones who have died during the past year. Many have died since they began the program.
Those who remain look forward to their visits.
“They come every holiday,” Helen Edmonds said. “Oh, it just lightens me! It’s a pleasure to see them, they’re nice fellows.” They were friends of her late husband’s and are her friends, too. She said that when she voices a need to them any time of the year, they arrive to help.
“They visit the widows and the elderly. They’re very nice, the gang. Slim’s a cousin of mine. Those guys, they make my day,” Edmonds said.
Rebecca Clark looks forward to their visits as well.
“Those four young men are friends to my sons,” Clark said. “They’re always doin’ so much when so few young men are doin’ worthwhile things.” She noted how things have changed. “You can’t tell a parent anything about a child now,” she said. When she has tried in recent years she has ended up with trouble because parents won’t believe that their children can do wrong or they don’t care.
“You can’t help your neighbors now,” Clark said. “It’s not a village any more.”
“Those on the list are who we really appreciate,” Slim said. “People who meant so much in our lives. For me, it’s a God-given message to make people feel good. Sometimes I think we feel better after we do it than they do.”









