|
Viewing 91 - 99 out of 105 Blogs.
| Page:
|
|
|
11 |
|
Remember those crisp white shirts that men wore? All starched and ironed so neat. There was no permanet pressed then. I still love to see those white shirts. I like the pastels but nothing looks cleaner and neater than a basic white shirt. The clothes were washed on a wringer washer, hung on the clothes line to dry in the fresh air and sunshine. The clothes were brought in after they dried smelling so fresh and full of sunshine. They were then all, and I mean virtually all, sprinkled to dampen for ironing. Mama had a empty bottle that had been washed thoroughly. The cap was punched full of tiny holes, the bottle was filled with water, and the cap replaced. This was the sprinkler. The next day was usually ironing day so the sprinkled clothes were put in a plastic bag of some kind and stored in the Ice Box. Later it was an electric fridge but we still called it an Ice Box. Ironing was usually my job and I really didn't mind. I still don't mind ironing and making things look fresh and crisp. Crisp even without starch like then. The starch was different chore aside from the rest. Ours was Faultless starch that came in a box. It was a powder that had to be mixed with water and heated, yes heated, on the stove. I remember the starch smelled almost as fresh as the outside. The clothes were dipped in the starch and wrung out before hanging on the clothes line. If I was allowed to help I usually wound up with it all over me, even in my hair. I can't remember if they were wrung by hand or put through the wringer. When they dried they were very stiff. Ironing jeans and pants was not easy. We put creases in them and it was a chore to get them straight. When I wore Can-Can slips Grandma would starch them for me and hang them on the line. When they were dry they could sit up on end and they sounded like paper rattling I wore at least three at a time. I remember once getting in the car with my date on prom night and I couldn't sit near him because my dress took most of the seat. We wore floor length formals then with lots of net overlay. Then there was the nylons women wore with that dreaded seam down the back. We needed someone to stand behind us to see that the seam was straight. No panty hose either. We had to wear a contraption called a garter belt that attached to the tops to hold them up. I still think those were very elegant with the straight seam in the back. I can remember trying to paint a seam on the back of my leg when I had no hose. Needless to say it didn't work very well. I guess no one wears hose now whether panty hose or other but I still do. I probably wear lots of things that no one else wears anymore. Heck I don't care if I'm not in style, I have my own style and I'm happy with it Thank You very much. In my years I've seen many many styles and fads and I know if I wait long enough I'll be in style again because things change fast. I don't like change so I just go about my way not knowing or caring what the current style is.
Tags: Memories
It would be hard to explain the love of a Mother. I miss Mama so much it hurts. God gives us to our Parents and our Mom's are the main care giver while Daddy was the bread winner. Most Mother's didn't work outside the home when I was growing up. I was in high school when Mama started work in the school lunch room where I still saw her every day. It was the lunch room then not cafeteria as it is called now. A mother is someone who loves unconditionally and places the needs of her children above her own, on a personal level, and not only with words, but also actions. A mother is a person who seeing there are only three pieces of pie for four people, promptly announces she never did care for pie. Mama ate the back and wings of fried chicken and made us think that's what she wanted. A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us; when trouble thickens around us, she still will cling to us and hold us up. Mama Prayed for me as long as she lived. She Prayed when I had no idea she was Praying but I know her Prayers of protection , when she couldn't even see me, were definitely answered. A few years before Mama died she told me how she laid in bed sometimes half the night Praying for her kids. Mama loved country music but she let me listen to Rock and Roll and Elvis on the old gray radio and even said she liked it. Mama played the harmonica ,which we called 'French harp', and my how she could make it talk. She had a gallon freezer bag with all her French harps in her purse. She had several keys that she played in. When we were kids I remember her sitting down in her old tattered rocking chair and playing when ever she had some time to unwind. There were times then when I didn't want to hear it but oh how I would love to hear it now. Some mothers are kissing mothers and some are scolding mothers, but it is love just the same, and most mothers kiss and scold together. I never knew just how much Mama loved me or what that love meant until I became a Mother. I then remembered all the ornery things I did and all the worries I caused Mama. There was no way to repay all the hurt, worry, and trials I caused her ,not that she would have wanted me to, but there is a hole in my heart that can never be refilled now that she is gone. On the other hand a big part of me went with my Son when he died. No explaining that either. Some heart-aches are never ending because a Mother's love is the most powerful love under God's love for us. Mama was famous for saying things like, "When I was your age, kids had it much harder, I didn't get to go and do half the things you kids did...,just because everyone else is doing it doesn't mean...,I didn't have all these things you kids take for granted.. I had to walk miles to school and I "wanted" to go....,if I had sassed my Mother the way you do me she'd have...., how many times have I told you...,No means No..,..” , did you wash your ears?....,because I said so....,.And one I've never really figured out, Stop that "bolixing" around..., you are gonna keep "bolixing" around....,look at him/or her bolixing around. I don't have the faintest idea what "Bolixing" around meant but I do know it wasn't good. Mama would say "I'll swan" for a lot of things. It was kinda her form of cursing and as close as she ever got to a swear word.
Mama could hear through walls and she never lost that ability. Just try and whisper clear across the house, whispers never helped. I thought she could also see and hear through walls as well as the back of her head. She seemed to read my mind as well. You just can't get away with anything with Mothers.
Mothers deserve all our appreciation and love. If you have your Mother alive and well then you are Blessed beyond all understanding. Love her, respect her, obey her, and if she is elderly visit her often. I regret not visiting Mama a lot more than I did.
As important as Mothers are to us it is amazing how they are taken for granted. Mother's Day shouldn't be the only time you arise and call them blessed. Love your Mother's un- conditionally as they love you. Jesus loved his Mother greatly and provided for her even as he hung dying on the cross.
Tags: Mama
Daddies have a different role than Mother's do in our lives. Daddy was away working in the coal mines in Oklahoma most of my young life. He stayed in Henrietta from Sunday evening until Friday night. It was hard on us all. I missed him terribly and I know now how hard it had to be on Mama having to take all responsibility of things like she did. As soon as his Friday shift was over he and other men would head home to Arkansas getting home late. Week-ends for Daddy were not restful. In the summer he raised a big garden helping to provide food for us. He plowed, planted, cultivated, and harvested on those week-ends. We had a hog to butcher and veggies from the garden. I loved following Daddy as he walked behind the plow that was hooked to our horse Ol' Dixie. Not much rest for either of my parents as they raised and provided for my Brother and I but on Saturday night they usually took us to the show in Ozark to watch what usually was a western. As I got to my teen years I was less apt to want to stay home but Daddy wanted us all with him while he was home. If I talked him and Mama in to taking me to a party or a teen dance they sat in the car and waited on me to get ready to come home. If they waited to be able to watch me for safety or if it was to save gas in the car I don't know but I suspect it was a bit of both. Growing up wasn’t simple or easy or anything like those 50's TV shows. I’m pretty sure no family is like this, actually. There’s always drama, bullies, secrets, tragedies, and everybody seems to pull through somehow. I loved my daddy more than words could say as a kid, I wanted to be beautiful to him, to be smart and worthy of his attention. We can get away with more with our Daddies than we can with our Mama's probably because they aren't there as much. I remember Daddy getting after me for something and I'd take off running. Here he'd come after me vowing to bust my britches. Now I know Daddy could have caught me in an instant but he never quiet did. I remember one day stopping and looking back at him, I'm sure with a mischievous grin, and he started laughing.
My Daddy was a small statured man. 5/7, size 7 shoe, 160 lbs. Small to some but a giant to me. I thought he was 10 ft. tall and could do anything in the world. Daddy was quiet and gentle most of the time. Slow to anger but scrappy when provoked. Daddy had a hard life. Had to quit school in the 2nd grade and work on Papa's farm. Papa seemed to think that girls needed to be in school but as he put it, Boys needed to work not push a pencil.
Daddy's Mamma died when Daddy was still a baby and Papa remarried. The step mother was not good to Daddy. I was told that Papa didn't know about this and I choose to believe that because I loved my Papa.
Daddy left home when he was 15 to escape his hard life. He lived with his Sister and her family and joined the CCC camp since he couldn't get in the regular army with only one eye. Later he went down in the dark coal mines the only work he could get with his education. He worked in the mines for 27 yrs. I had a great life growing up in a house full of love and laughter. We never had much but our lives were full and I never suspected we were poor. I know Daddy was hurt when he couldn't give us things we wanted. We had what we needed and some things we wanted. I don't remember ever complaining much or even missing what I couldn't have. It was just the way of things and I accepted it. Daddies as well as Mama's are much different now a sign of the times maybe. When I was growing up things were done at a much slower and more simple pace. My wonderful Daddy is in Heaven now waiting for, and looking down on me. I'm sure I gave him a lot of grief in his later years and I'll be eternally regretful for that. If you still have your Daddy I hope you appreciate and love him un-conditionally as I'm sure he does you.
Tags: Daddies
MY TREE HOUSE
My tree house was not a house but just a tree. I climbed way up almost to the top of a big Elm (we called it Ellem') tree so high you felt like you could touch the sky. There in my 'spot' there was a somewhat flat limb where I sat. There was a slightly rounded limb just right to lean back in, and a limb to rest my feet on. To top that there was three limbs in front of my seat' to lay my stuff' on. Just like my own private club house. I wrote in my diary, wrote poems, watched birds close like, even watched tiny little bird eggs hatch one day. The Mama bird stayed home with the kids and the Daddy bird brought food and fed his family. Just like my Mama and Daddy I thought. I had to use a ladder to climb up to the bottom limb so I could catch it and swing myself up to begin my climb. Oh what great times I had up there all secure in my own little world surrounded by that wonderful private chair' all my own. Only problem was I was not allowed to climb trees. Nope! Brenda climbed trees, Norman and Paul climbed trees, but Daddies little girl was not supposed to climb trees. Daddy wasn't home and I always suspected that Mama knew I climbed that tree. Never got around to asking though because if she didn't know then my get away was gone. Sometimes I would get skinned up on the bark getting up or down but not much attention was ever paid to that. That is just what kids do, They get skinned shins and bruises all the time. YEP! Sure nuff do. But lets talk about that ladder that I had to have to get up and down. One day I was up in that tree and Norman and Paul took my ladder down and took off through the pasture laughing their heads off. Well this is a fine kettle of fish I'm in now, I thought. Those little varmits anyway, and where the heck is Brenda when I need her? HUH? Brenda was sick that day but to my thinking that was no excuse. Heck fire no excuse at all. I decided not to go hollering right then and get caught in a tree, I just sat there thinking maybe the boys would come back and help me. HA! Wishful thinking on my part, they had probably already forgotten about me. Now often I sat up there half a day (and that is the reason I suspect Mama knew where I was) but knowing the ladder was gone I got antsy real fast and I wanted down from there. NOW! I tried to occupy myself watching the birds, lookin at the sky for odd shaped clouds, but heck there weren't any clouds. I got bored with that fast. I looked way over on the other side of the tree and there was a huge wasp nest just covered in those mean ol' red wasps. OH NO!, gotta get down from here now. I started to climb down farther and shushed a lizard off one limb but the next limb had something on it I was not going to fool with, No way No how was I gonna' try to go around a tree frog. NOPE!! I started climbing up again. I was getting pretty well flustered by now so I was really getting the scrapes and bruises fast. I was caught in the middle of a wasp nest and a tree frog. Well the wasp nest won out, I wasn't having me none of that frog! Nope! I had no idea what time it was and my mind was runnin' away with thoughts of never getting outta' that dad blamed tree again. In reality it was only about fifteen minutes but to me it was days and days. I started cryin'. I snotted and blubbered, and sobbed. Then I started screamin' to the top of my lungs, HEELLPP!!! Somebody help me!!! Of course Mama was there in a second. "Clydene, What in the world are you screamin' about?" she said. "Mama, I can't get down, the boys took my ladder. When I get my hands on them they are gonna' be sssorrryy!" Sniffle, slobber, sputter. Well during all this bellerin' and splutterin' My Daddy drove up. WOOPS! "Mama just go back in the house and don't tell Daddy where I am" I said. My Daddy had already seen me though and probably heard my screeches way up the lane. The jig was up! Mama was setting the ladder up and I was scramblin' down that tree quicker'n'a wink. If that tree frog was there I sure didn't see it cause my eyes were on Daddy. "Now Clyde you have to let Clydene be a kid, You are too protective of her, she can climb this tree as good as the boys can, didn't you see how she came down?" Daddy didn't say much but I saw pride in his eyes. Yep he was proud of his little girl just wasn't about to say it to me. Well I had climbed a tree when he said I couldn't. I knew that was wrong didn't I? Sure I did. I wasn't proud of me myself right now. Daddy just hugged me tight and we all went in the house. I got a lecture about not minding my Daddy and the boys got one for taking my ladder. They still thought it was funny I suspect. Now I think it is funny too. Didn't then,NOPE, Do now. YEP!
Tags: Ladder
My favorite time of year is Here at last and well worth waiting on. Beautiful, refreshing Fall. A time when God gathers all the beauty from his paint box and spreads his hands to pour it down on the earth in colors that cover trees bushes & grass with so many bright colors we don't even miss the greens and pastels of Spring and Summer.
The air has become crisp and fresh smelling. I love the smell of the first fire in someones fireplace floating to my nostrils as I stand in the early morning air. The days are changeable as the wind. One day summer forces it's way back with warm winds that remind you it has not yet given up it's hold over the earth but just wants to be remembered. Wants to remind you, “I'm still here. I will not go far. I'll be back”. The next day winter might try to force its self on to the scene and tries to leave fall behind. But not to be winter. You just go back in to hibernation for a spell and let Fall have his turn. Fall seems to struggle to make his self known. Summer is behind and winter is ahead seeming to squeeze the life out of Fall. The last of the harvest is being hurried before the ground becomes dormant for the Winter. Bright Orange Pumpkins, yellow and green squash, and delicious red tomatoes and apples are in the farmers markets and road side stands. Farmers are hurrying to get that last cut of hay from the fields before cold days ahead squeeze its life down to lie till Spring. At the same time their ground is being prepared to lie dormant until spring when the whole thing starts over. Daddy called it 'laying by' for winter. The animals coats become thicker on their bodies preparing for cold icy days ahead. Wooly worms crawl, squirrel's scamper to gather winter food and bed, and those pesky bugs try to get in the house where it's warm. Fall has a distinctly different smell as everything changes. Sights and smells are refreshing and new. The sweet taste and smell of cinnamon, bacon frying, a fall sweater, and heat coming on for the first time. The smell of fresh plowed ground that you don't smell much today. It was a Fall smell always dear to me as my Daddy 'layed away' the garden for the winter. These smells are just so unique and smell is so much more distinct on a fall morning. Then there is the sound of Geese honking through the sky making their way to greener places. The sound and smell of wood as it burns in the fireplace . Rain on the roof is much more distinct.The animals coats become thicker on their bodies preparing for cold icy days ahead. You watch and wait for the first frost ushering in brisker winds and different sounds floating on the air. Fall is my nostalgic memory time for some reason. Could be because I grew up in the Country where smells and sounds carry even more clear across the land to reach me. Someone once told me that a smell is the sense most linked to memories. I believe that to be true but I also want to add sounds to that scenario. I believe smell and sound fits together like my hand in a glove on a cold morning. It is the middle of summer right now and I don't get along well with summer so anticipating Fall with that morning nip in the air and cold nights when I add more cover on my bed is a welcome reprieve that helps me finish these hot sticky days I need to endure now. For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; ...
 Thoughts
I've been thinking this morning. Now I know a bunch of people who would say, “OMG! Watch out she's thinking again”. They are probably right cause since I was a youngun' too much thinkin' always got me in trouble. Usually I took somebody with me so they are leery! What I am thinking this morning is different though. It is reflective thoughts. Yep I have em'! One of them this morning put me in to deep thought. Why in the world does it take us many years sometimes to appreciate and enjoy some things we have heard. I said heard, because it seems we hear, but don't learn. If that don't make sense to you I'm'a'gonna' try and explain. I love the fall of the year but never thought to consider why. After all these years I finally know and appreciate the why. When I was a kid and we and went to Ozark in the fall of the year, on the way home there was a hill that you just came upon. The trees would all be changing and my Mama would say, “Just look at those trees up there, all the colors. Don't it just look like a big bouquet?” What in the world is she talking about I always thought. “Oh Mama that's just trees, how could it be a bouquet of flowers”. I thought she was just being silly. “Clydene you can see bouquets anywhere if you just look, she'd say. Can't you see how pretty that is?” Well of course I couldn't see nothing but a bunch of trees then. Mama loved the colors of fall. Now I realize that is the reason I get such a cozy feeling when the trees start changing. I'm most certainly seeing my Mama enjoy it. Takes me back to wonderful times. One thing I never got used to at the time was the color yellow. Mama thought I looked good in yellow. She dressed me in a lot of yellow. I didn't mind when I was younger. Heck I really didn't much care if it was any ol' putrid color. Didn't matter to me either way. When I was old enough to care though I didn't like yellow. Anything but yellow but please not yellow. Well it took me a lot of years but the past few I have just started to love the color yellow. Mama used to tell me that I looked like a ray of sunshine in yellow. Now I appreciate yellow and every time I wear yellow I remember Mama. I suspect I was just being contrary when I argued about yellow but I never got the chance to say “Mama I love yellow, Thank you for dressing me in yellow”. Memories are made of things like this. Every time I think of a ray of sunshine I remember Mama's sweet face. A treasure she gave me. Mama was not one to stick up for herself. She would let anyone just walk all over her and take it. She taught me to turn the other cheek and get along with every one. But Daddy, on the other hand, would say, “Don't start a fight, try to get away from it, but don't let anyone think they can push you around either. If they keep pushing you have to defend yourself. If you don't they will just keep picking on you”. Both my Mama's and my Daddy's advice hung with me. I'm feisty, but will not look for or provoke trouble. When I was putting on my shoes and socks this morning I could just see and feel Daddy teaching me how to put them on and tie them up. He taught me by putting on the right foot first. There is no way in the world I can put my left shoe and sock on first. Can't do it! Has to be the right foot because Daddy taught me that way. Habit? Yes probably. But how do we learn these habits? Think about it. Same with our favorite foods. They are our favorites because we grew up that way. No one in the world will ever be able to fry chicken and make biscuits like my Mama. Not even me. But fried chicken and biscuits brings my Mama back to me. I see her standing at that old cook stove frying that chicken and I can smell those buttermilk biscuits baking the oven. Good times are what memories are made of in our childhoods. I can remember some hard times too, but they just don't out weigh my good memories. I'm so happy I realize what made and forever keeps these memories in my heart.
As Daddies garden was harvested Mama canned veggies. When I was old enough I was recruited to help and learn. The hardest thing was the corn. We canned it on the Cob cut off the Cob, cream style and whole kernel. No freezer then.
Canning corn was an all day job sometimes stretching in to several days according to how much there is. I would trudge out to the garden behind Mama who was carrying a number 10 wash tub. Norman was helping as soon as he could reach up in those tall stalks and pull the ears. When the tub was full we carried it back to the house and put it under the shade of the walnut trees. I can remember my side of the tub would drag on the ground sometimes. My shorter arms pulled down on Mama I'm sure.
Next was shucking, washing, and put in pans to blanch. Lots of water was drawn from the well as we worked. Next pack it in jars and pack is the word. No air space or it would all rise to the top. A bit of water and a teaspoon of salt per quart was put in the jar with the corn then a table knife was pushed down around the edges to let the air out before the hot lids and rings were put on. A jar with air left in could burst in the canner.
Mama only had one old canner so the watch and wait started now. The pressure gage was set for 10# pressure and corn had to be processed for 90 minutes. It had to be watched closely and the burner adjusted so the pressure wouldn't rise to the red danger zone. Pressure cookers now are much easier and don't require as much watching but the old kind were dangerous in non-experienced hands. When the time was up the pressure had to be let off slowly before the lid was taken off and the jars removed. That process was repeated over and over in that hot kitchen. No AC then.
After all the corn was canned that Mama deemed enough there was lots still on the stalks. This was allowed to dry and then the next task started. I was in on that also. For that I worked with Daddy.
He had a big barrel of some kind and the corn was taken off the Cob and put in the barrel. This was a slow and difficult process which was hard on the hands. Daddy wore gloves but I never could work with gloves. The cob was picked up and rubbed back and forth in your hand until all the corn was removed and in the barrel. This corn was fed to chickens, hogs, and horses. It was crunchy and I was known to chew a few pieces myself.
Corn was corn and there wasn't but one kind planted. Daddy called it field corn and we ate the same kind the animals did. As far as I know there was no fancy corn then. If there was we didn't have it and what we had tasted fine to me.
By the end of the harvest Mama had the fruit closet on the back porch full of all kinds of veggies, fruit, and sometimes some pork from the hog. You can't tell me that the stuff you buy in the store is just as good. No it does not even compare. I canned food up until a few years ago and I gave it up for not being physically able. I miss the great times of canning beside Mama and planting with Daddy. I didn't mind the dirt under my fingernails or the sweat in the hot kitchen. I learned and did on my own later. Would I go back to those more simple times? In a heartbeat. Yes I enjoy all my modern conveniences like AC but I miss the past with all my family and those carefree summer days of my youth. Don't we all?
In the town where we shopped in the 50's was a shoe shop. Not a shoe store to sell shoes but a shoe shop to repair shoes. I doubt that such a store exists now. I remember the gentleman who ran the shop but can't remember his name. He had a thriving business.
I wore down the heels of my shoes long before the shoes were worn out. I can remember that lots of times I wore my Sunday shoes so That I could watch as a new half sole was applied to my school shoes. He could even stretch shoes a bit so I didn't out grow them so fast.
I remember once that the shoe man, as I called him, suggested to Daddy that metal taps could be applied to the heel and the heels wouldn't wear out as quick. Mama was against it for various reasons. Too much noise, sliding down, getting in trouble in school, just to name a few, but I could wrap Daddy around my finger with a sob, a smile, and a couple of, please, please.
I had heard a famous tap dancer and heard him tapping on the radio. Now I was'a'gonna do that just like him. Sure I was!
I did get scolded in school for showing out with my taps and I did fall and skin my elbows falling on the concrete porch. One day I even got my tap hung up on a nail and tore it almost off plus part of the rubber sole came off. That did it for the taps. Daddy got the damaged sole replaced and brought the shoes home minus the taps. Thus ended my tap dancing career.
Dryers was the store where you bought new shoes. Mama usually took me in there so I couldn't talk Daddy in to anything.
We didn't get shoes every time we had a whim but got them when we needed them. I had Church shoes, white in summer, black in winter, and school shoes. I needed school shoes badly I guess. Mamma was sick so Daddy took me to Dryers Shoe Store to buy my shoes.
I sat down and Daddy told the lady what we needed. Everyone knew the difference in Church and School shoes then even the clerks in the stores.
She brought out several pairs for Daddies inspection. I spotted a pair of red shoes and I wanted them. The lady put them on my foot and I knew right away they were too tight. I also knew that Daddy would squeeze them at the toes to see if they were long enough. I scrunched up my toes as far as I could and Daddy felt where my 'Toe' was and he was satisfied. I got my red shoes and had been wearing them to school for about two weeks. They really hurt my toes but I wasn't about to say anything.
One night I was sitting in the floor barefoot and Daddy said, "Clydene what is wrong with your toes"? "Nothing Daddy Why"? The jig was up. My toes were an awful sight I guess because Mamma and Daddy both had a fit as they examined my toes. When they figured out why my toes were that way. Daddy said, "Clydene why in the world did you get those shoes if you knew they were going to hurt your feet"? I told him that I wanted those red shoes and I knew he wouldn't let me have them too little. Mamma and Daddy both told me ,"Clydene they had other sizes I'm sure. You could have still had the red shoes". Well heck fire I didn't even think of that. Shoot fire!
They couldn't afford another pair of shoes right then so My Auntie bought me another
pair. No they were not the red shoes I wanted but I wore them anyway.
I was about nine then and should have known better but I wanted that pair of red shoes and cost my Parents more money later. GOOD GRIEF!!!
I used to love summer because we were out of school but I missed my school pals too. There were a few other kids around and we all had a good time. We walked all over with no fear of being abducted or bothered in any way. We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's, X-boxes, no video games at all, no 150 channels on cable, no video movies or DVD's, no surround-sound or CD's, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet or chat rooms.......WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!
Summer was a wonderful time be a country kid. Probably for a city kid also but i don't know about that cause I never was one. It meant NO SCHOOL for three whole months, running barefoot, sleeping in the front yard, riding our bikes to the store while collecting beer and pop bottles along the way to trade in for a few pennies worth of candy, eating strawberries, carrots, and tomatoes straight from the garden grit and all. It also meant more chores but we got them done morning and night, then ran like wild little Indians the rest of the day. We built forts, caught pollywogs in the culvert, waded the ditches after a rain,climbed trees, dug big worms for fishing, and life was not dull, and I NEVER heard the words spoken, "I’m bored." We made our own fun, and knew better than to lay around the house or Mama would give us something to do. Sometimes she sent us out to the garden to gather things that were ready for harvest. I didn't mind any of it except the sticky, itchy, okra. I loved the crispy fried okra though so I'd cut it to enjoy it cooked. Let me fry you some before you say yukky.
All moms were acquainted with our mom and treated us like their own. If their kids were in trouble—so were we, if they were hungry—so were we, and so on. Everything and everyone was shared back and forth in the little area. I learned vitally important lessons too from the way others worked and played on their particular parcel of land. I even learned how to make a great piecrust, buttermilk biscuits,cornbread, and Devils Food Cake, from Mama when I was too young and short to reach the cabinet. Remember those cabinets with the flour bin on the side, a white work space, a place for condiments on top, and for pots and pans on the bottom? I'd love to have one now.
All summer we played and worked at things like the garden. I loved the garden and watching things grow. I remember planting a couple of dry pinto beans in a pound coffee can, which was shorter than now, and being completely thrilled to watch it grow. We had a big yard to play in and lots of trees to climb. We run and jumped and got all those skinned knees from sliding down on the hot dirt in the road. We'd jump up then and run some more with blood running down all mixed up with the dirt. I don't remember ever running crying to Mama with a skinned knee because I knew she would wash it off and put that dreaded Methiolate on that burned worse than the bloody knee. Out in the garden I remember stickers that seemed to jump out and stick to my feet. I'd just sit down and rub a hand full of dirt on them until they came out then up I'd get and head out again. We were tough and our feet were tougher from running barefoot. Those summer days were carefree, fun, and happy for a bunch of ragamuffin kids that saw no danger. I'm not fond of Summer now because I don't like the heat but it didn't bother me then. I'd get out of bed and outside I would go to check and see if Brenda was out yet. Mama usually had to call me back in to eat breakfast and do my chores. After breakfast and chores we all congregated to decide what we'd do first. Dark didn't even phase us and we'd keep going until we were called in to get cleaned up for bed which was a chore in itself. Sometimes we got a second wind and Mama had to quieten us down and threaten us with a 'whipen' if we didn't hush up "right now"! When we did finally get quiet we had no problem sleeping soundly because we were tired. What great memories!
| Page:
|
|
|
11 |
|
|
