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Viewing 10 - 18 out of 105 Blogs.
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Boon-docks? There was a song in the 50's called Down In The Boon-docks. It declared “People put me down cause that's the kind of town I was born in”. Another song proclaimed Someone was born on the wrong side of the tracks. Now I don't know much about the other side but I grew up almost sitting on the tracks. That was a long time ago, and I'm not saying how long for sure. I'll just say I remember steam engines. Do your own math. There was only one car per. family , if that many. Daddy took it to work and the rest of us walked. Everyone rode the big yellow school bus. No seat belts, not much heat and no AC. The school had radiators and no AC. My home had a teeny bit of heat and no AC. Stores and businesses had heat but no AC. We were all in basically the same circumstances didn't matter if you were across the tracks or in the boon-docks.
Food was raised in the garden that was plowed with a horse and turning plow. Mamma canned the veggies. We had a hog and chickens to feed and then to eat. Our horse was Ol' Dixie and I loved that old horse. Ol' Dixie loved me too. No one sat around and watched TV. Main reason for that was we had no TV. We all worked together on most of our chores and we did have chores. We never even considered arguing about it. Playing was great especially in the summertime. We didn't need a bunch of toys. We climbed trees, made mud pies, waded ditches after rain, played softball with a board and old sock full of beans, played hop-scotch, jumped rope, and ran up the roads barefoot. I have no idea what the heck most of the toys are today. I was going to buy my Great Niece and Nephew Christmas presents one year and that was an awful ordeal. I picked up things and had no idea what they did. I tried to go by price but everything was expensive. I saw a Barbie doll and thought I had found the perfect thing for my 8YR. Old niece. It was pretty but I didn't much care for the clothes it had on, When did dolls start having skimpy sheer clothes on. Then that blamed thing started making noises and twitching and moving. Scared the heck outta me so I put it down fast. I figured I had broken that thing for sure. Another lady standing there with one in her cart told me, “That's a computerized Barbie.” WHAT!! Oh Good Grief! Am I that old that I don't even know what toys are. Embarrassing to say the least. I gave up and put money in cards for them. When I was 8 I doubt if I would have been as happy with money as I would have a gift to unwrap no matter the cost. I never had more than a penny for penny candy. Remember the little penny candy sacks? You could get it full of candy for a penny. One penny was enough for all of us to have some candy I love the boon-docks and I love the tracks and trains. Nothing much has changed with me for many a year. I don't much like change. Is that a sign of age, being set in my ways? NAWWW! Couldn't be.
Tags: Bus Heat Garden Plow Horse
Roy Fay was his name. Most towns have a Roy Fay but very few towns take care of him the way Altus did. From as far as I can remember Roy Fay was a permanent fixture in Altus.
Roy Fay had always been homeless as far as I knew. He lived on the streets of Altus and pilfered food out of the stores garbage. Once he got hold of some spoiled bologna and cheese that Seamans Store had thrown out. Someone found him on the street near death from food poisoning. The Dr of the little town took him in his hospital and pumped his stomach out saving his life. Doc Pillstrom was a man who would say anything that popped in his head. After Roy Fay recovered Doc told him he had "cheese fever and bologna fits". That stuck with Roy Fay and from then on if he heard anyone was sick he would declare they had "cheese fever & bologna fits". Everyone had that malady if Roy Fay knew they were sick.
Roy Fay could spell one thing SPE- Double E. I don't know where he got that, someone probably had said that to him and it stuck. Every word that had been invented was spelled, SPE-Double E.
Roy Fay would declare to anyone who would listen, I'm getting' married next Tuesday". Yep in his mind he was getting' married next Tuesday, aside from the fact that his future wife was non existent.
Roy Fay was fascinated with ambulances hearing them often. He would say there had been a bad wreck in Russelville.
He had a wagon that was pulled by a a very large horse named Tony and a smaller mule named Judy. He used them to plow gardens for a lot of people. He charged a 'hunnert' dollars to plow your garden. No one ever cheated him. They paid him well. To have cheated him would have made you not very popular for miles around, indeed so unpopular to be a candidate for a tar and feather episode.
Shortly after the food poisoning the Harbottle family took Roy Fay in and he lived there until both Mr and Mrs. Harbottle both passed away. After that a group was formed called friends of Roy Fay who cared for him.
When I was 18 I went to work in Pillstrom Nursing Home (formerly Pillstrom Hospital). I worked on the 3/11 shift. I had to put all the patients to bed after supper. I weighed about 100 lbs. Roy Fay came every evening with a bucket to pick up the scraps for his hogs I think. He also got to eat. We had our supper together and then that dear man would go and put the biggest ones to bed for me. He would just pick them up like you would a baby and lay them in bed. He was a life saver to me. The Administrator was a family friend and she hired me but she told my Mamma that she didn't think I'd ever be able to do it. Well when Mamma told me that I made it my business to prove her wrong. Without Roy Fay I would never have made it.
I remember Roy Fay fondly and I'm not the only one. Lots of people loved Roy Fay.
Tags: Mules Homeless Poison Friends
Brenda and I made lots and lots of mud pies. There was a perfectly delicious spot for this under the edge of the porch at Brenda's house. There was room enough for us to sit there cross legged as long as we desired. We made all kinds of pies in all kinds of molds. And yep we ate parts of what we cooked and were very indignant at those who didn't appreciate our efforts. We didn't need to wait for rain to make mud we made our own and we used all kinds of flavors. Milk was a good one it made a creamy kind of caramel color and didn't taste bad either. Auntie knew we were under there playing in the dirt but it took her a while to figure out that we were snitching ingredients and molds from her kitchen and making pie. Of course she “DID” find out in due time.
Someone milked their Cow Pet every morning and evening when she was fresh. The milk would be covered and left on the screened back porch until Auntie got around to straining it and putting it into gallon jars. We usually got at the milk in the evenings before Auntie took care of it.
This one time we got some and decided we didn't have enough so we went back for more. We already had mud on our hands. Trouble was Auntie already had it in jars and sitting in the Ice box. Well that made it harder but we were not thinking along those lines. We had to get a chair to get to the jars. Of course we couldn't get the jar open but we left mud evidence.
We got back under the house and got to thinking about the mud on the jar and decided we'd better get ourselves back in there and clean that off the jar before Auntie came in from the garden and discovered it. Back in there we went bent on covering our tracks. When we got there we discovered the mess was worse that we had thought. I mean to tell you mud was everywhere from the door to the jars and everywhere in between. Of course we were not thinking too clear or we would have washed our hands before attempting to clean. Good Grief!! We got a dishrag and started swiping around and were just making a bigger mess so we stood back and discussed it for a while.
I said, “Brenda what we have to do is take them jars out of there so we can clean them before we put em' back”. She agreed with me and here we went. Now let me tell you those gallon jars were a lot more than we could handle. I can't remember our age but we were not very big I do know that.
Brenda got up in a chair and proceeded to hand the jars down to me. I reached up and she kinda' pushed the jar out. It hit right about my belly and down I went with Brenda right behind the jar. I had all the wind knocked out of me and was rendered as helpless as a kitten. I suspect Brenda was in almost the same shape cause' she wasn't doing anything but sorta snubbing. When Brenda and the jar rolled off me of course now the lid came off easy. Might have saved us a little bit of trouble if we could have gotten the lid off before.
Well I guess you know that was when Auntie came on the scene. There we were wallowing in milk and mud on the floor too winded to even defend ourselves and there she was standing in the door with pins and needles shootin' outta' her eyes. Oh my goodness were we in trouble now. We knew it but we couldn't even get up and run.
I don't remember the clean up at all but I suspect we didn't do it. What I do remember is the butt whackin' and the cleaning up of us. I'll tell you for sure that part wasn't very pleasant. Nope not pleasant at all!!!!!
Tags: Mud Milk Mess
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STORMS
Posted On 02/13/2015 13:31:49
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I used to be afraid of storms. Seems the lightening and wind never bothered me, it was the thunder. But I think what scared me the most was the storm cellar my parents took us to when it was storming. They would bundle Norman and I up and carry us up to the corner house to the closest storm cellar. I can still feel the bouncing as my Daddy ran with me. I don't think Norman minded it much he just didn't like to be woke up. Daddy and Mama would wear rubber boots because that old cellar always got water in the floor. It sat there and got stinky. The smell in there was almost as scary to me as anything. Well not quiet. There were frogs and lizards, and who knows what else down it that dark old hole. The door was pulled up and there were about six steps straight down. Mama and Daddy carried us down there real fast like and someone would shut that big old door behind us. The sound of the door slamming down was so frightening to me. It crashed down and then bounced a few times while the tin on it would clank and clang. There would be a whoosh and my ears always popped. Someone usually had a coal oil lantern for light. But that thing cast eerie shadows on everything and I'd clinch my eyes shut so tight it hurt. On each side of the small room were concrete benches built in where we all sat. Once I touched the wall behind me and it felt slimy and cold. I jumped almost out of Daddy's lap and shrieked. The thunder sound in there was deafening and Daddy would hold his hands over my ears. Daddy told me many times, “Honey that is just God laughing as he rolls a potato wagon over Heaven”. Of course I trusted God and I believed my Daddy, but I just hated that darned ol' cellar. There were others in there who were adults including my Mama, who were probably more scared than I was. It was mostly the sounds, smells, and critters, that I was more scared of. One night a woman said, “Oh my goodness, I'm so afraid something will land on the door and we can't get out”. Now let me tell you from then on I did everything possible to not have to go in that cellar. I was scared out of my skin. “Will it Daddy, will we get trapped in here”? “No Clydene”, he always said. When they thought the storm was over someone would peek out the door and check. Sometimes they would say “It's OK” but sometimes they would close the door with another clang and we'd be there for a while longer. I said many times “Lets don't go there anymore” but we did of course. It wouldn't have taken much wind I suspect to blow our house down on top of us but I wasn't told that little bit of info. For obvious reasons. Well I never got over hating that storm cellar and I vowed that when I was old enough to be my own boss I'd never set a foot in one of them durned things again. And By Golly I haven't. Nope! I love storms and if it is daylight I watch them. If it is dark I go to sleep listening to the rain on the roof, and listening to the thunder and seeing the lightening flash in the windows. And I recall My Mama and Daddy wanting to protect us the best they knew how. When it is storming my Heart over flows with love and gratitude for my wonderful, loving Parents. I've been so Blessed!!!!
Tags: Afraid Cellar Running Roof
Grandma had a button jar' sitting on her dresser. Every button she could find went in that jar. Any garment that was discarded she cut all the buttons of first and added to her jar. Some of the buttons were very old. There were glass buttons, wooden buttons, pearl buttons, shiny buttons, many color buttons, and just plain white shirt buttons. They made a beautiful display on her dresser and they were important to Grandma. Sometimes she would spruce up one of our garments with a change of buttons and some new ribbon or something. Almost like having a new garment. To Grandma these buttons were as good as money sometimes. Seeing that we had no money that makes sense. She took scraps and parts of dresses or shirts and whipped up some really pretty dresses for me. I always got to pick my buttons and boy was that a great production for me. So much fun!! When I picked out one then we had to pour the buttons out on a towel and see if we could find matching ones to have enough. If not I picked again and etc. till I had my buttons. I loved 'pickin out buttons' because I got to run my hands all through the usually smooth buttons.
I was not supposed to open the jar without Grandma there to help me but it was sooo pretty sitting there that I couldn't resist picking it up and shaking it or turning it upside down and rolling it like a kaleidoscope. Well of course one day I went too far with my rolling the jar around. The lid flew off,- at least that was what I wanted everyone to believe. Actually I had been taking the lid off and it was loose so of course it flew off! Oh My Gosh, buttons flew everywhere, under, over, around and everything in between. Now what to do. I knew I was in trouble if I didn't get those darn buttons all picked up and I thought I had till Grandma got up in her room that night and stepped on one of them. She didn't say a word till the next morning and she showed me her foot with a red spot on it. I fessed up. I got a scolding but that was all. I found out later that Grandma thought she had probably dropped the button herself. She was so proud of me for telling her the truth that she didn't have the desire to punish me more severely. I was learning I guess because there had been incidents in the past where I held my confession just as long as I could and got in to lots of trouble.
I was taught to always tell the truth, but I wouldn't have had to that time. I'm glad I did though. Even at that young age telling the truth no matter the consequences made me feel good.
Tags: Buttons Jar Pretty Spill Truth
Grandma had two crocks with lids. They were about three gallon containers. She used them constantly. She made buttermilk, sour pickles, churned butter, made sauerkraut. When a hog was killed and the sausage was made she cooked patties and packed them in the crock with hog grease. They kept all winter. I know there were other things she used them for but you get what I'm saying. The crock was essential to our survival it seemed.
I loved those sour pickles, and I mean they were sour. I would remove the lid and fish out a big pickle and munch on it. My mouth is puckering now just thinking of those good pickles.
But you know me. I couldn't do anything without making mischief and I almost really messed up one evening. Brenda was there and the two of us could get in messes together that would never happen with just one of us. We were not supposed to put our hands down in the crock at all. There was a slotted spoon for that. But of course we did just what we were not to do. Not being satisfied to go one at a time we both soused our arms up to our boney little elbows in those pickles. But that was not even the worst of it. We both seized on the same big pickle at the same time. Yep, no one but us could have done that. We were both stubborn too so we both hung on for all our mite. Neither of us would turn the pickle loose to take our hand out and both would not come out at the same time. We kept messing around till we turned that blasted thing over. "Good Grief Brenda now you done it and I'm tellin' too." " No you done it." After we carried that on for a while we finally decided that we were in for it unless we could do something fast. Well heck fire all of them didn't spill so we just picked um up and put the suckers back in the crock. Yep we did!! We set that crock up and noticed that a lot of the water spilt out too so we got some water and poured in. I saw Grandma put salt in there so we got some salt and poured a bunch in. Heck no one will ever know the difference. Ha That's what we thought. First time Grandma opened the crock there on top was sticks and all kinds of trash. She took some pickles out in a bowl and brought them in. When we had supper someone took a bite of pickle and I guess it didn't taste good. The jig was up. No use in me not telling the whole story because everyone was looking at me and I knew they knew by golly. Grandma was upset and Mamma was past upset. It was tanning the hide time. Yep I heard Grandma say to Mamma later, Well I'm just glad they didn't break the crock. I think she saved most of the pickles too. Another near disaster was in the books. Oh My Gosh!!!!
Tags: Pickleswatersalttrash
Patience is a virtue they say but I sure don't have much of it sometimes. Persistence is the one I am better at. You know, If at first you don't succeed try, try, again. Yeaw, sure. If at first I don't succeed I get flustered, if the second time I still don't succeed I get a full blown case of persistence by golly.
I have lots of evidence of that too. Some very recent. I get rip roaring headaches sometimes through no one fault but my own.
I was mad as an old wet hen one day at my husband. I was trying to make up my bed and I was thinking I'd like to kick his pants. I kicked my foot out pretending I was kicking the snot out of him and my foot came in contact with the bed rail. OMG!!! I thought for sure I had broken my foot but it turned out just a toe was damaged. My little pinkie turned black by the next day and swelled up till I couldn't get a sock on much less a shoe. Pain pills please!!
Then there was the time I was hurrying to chase him down so I could give him a big piece of my mind and ran smack dab in to the door as he shut it. BIG TIME HEADACHE. Pill time headache.
I was using my electric mixer one day whipping up chocolate cake batter when he said I was making so much noise he couldn't hear the TV. I raised up my hand to lay down the law to him. Thing was I still had the mixer in that hand and it was still running. Chocolate batter all over me and everything else. Hey, has anybody got any potent pain pills handy?
If he complains about something that I have done my best at and says , “Mamma never did it that way”, now that's coming completely unglued time, killing a man time, the worst headache I ever had time, give me a whole bottle of them darn pills time!!!
Hey, Now I know why I have so many headaches. Anyone got any suggestions?
Tags: Mad Husband Pain Toe
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OL' TIP
Posted On 01/27/2015 12:28:41
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As I look out my kitchen window across the field there are trees and a fence. There is a small outbuilding of some kind there also and it looks for all the world like the view from our back porch when I was a child. That view was the big persimmon tree where Brenda and I played, ate green persimmons, made a fort of saplings underneath it. We spent many a day in that special place where we told secrets, hid our goodies, and watched the sow have 6 little piglets one day. Fascinating. A paradise all our own. The railroad track was just to the right and that was where we first met Ol Tip. Tip was a big beautiful Collie dog of unknown age. He was walking down the track. We heard a train coming and started calling the dog to come to us, which he did. Waggin' his tail and lickin' our faces. He was skinny and started drinking out of the glasses of kool-aid we had brought out with us. We poured both glasses out in an old pie pan we had been making mud pies in. He drank it all and kept licking the dirty pan. Brenda go ask Auntie for something to feed him. No she will tell us to run him off. She wont let us keep him. Then I'll go ask my Mama. Clydene how many times have I told you not to pet strange dogs. She came with me to see the dog and I guess she had in mind to run it off and save us from a mean dog. Ethel, Come down here Mama hollered. Auntie came and either cause' Tip won them over or because we begged so convincingly Tip got to stay. He lived at both houses. He was at the bus stop with us every morning and there to meet us every evening. We both claimed him but I sure thought he loved me more. I did all I could to keep him at my house and Brenda did the same. Even the boys got in on this and it soon was an all out war between the clans. One day Brenda and I had a knock down drag out brawl. Scratchin' and clawin' and smakin', and even some of my famous bitin'. We were like two wild cats. Of course the boys ran and got our Mamas and the fight was over, but not for long. We would let it go for a day or two and here we would go again. Mama told me one day,"Now Clydene if this don't stop your Daddy is going to give Tip away". Oh No Mama, I love Tip and he's mine. Clydene he was a stray and Brenda loves him too. You two are going to have to share him or he can't stay. I guess Auntie told Brenda the same thing cause' the fighting stopped. At least it stopped till' I heard Brenda outside one day calling Tip. "Brenda, shut up, Tip is here eating his supper. You shut up Clydene, He's my dog and you know it. Tip got started out there and I was callin' him back, Brenda was doing the same. Poor Ol' Tip got so confused, he'd start toward Brenda, I'd call him and he'd turn toward me. We just kept on till' Tip just turned and ran off the other way. Tip ran out to the Railroad track and started running up the way where we had first saw him. We both watched in horror as a train bumped him and threw him over in the grass. He's dead we both hollered and ran toward him. We were both cryin' and slobberin' all the way. When we got there Tip was laying on his side whining and his leg was bleeding'. We fell down on our knees there in the grass and stickers of some kind. Brenda grabbed hold of me as usual. (In crisis grab Clydene) I threw my arm around her and we cried and hugged for a long time. The boys and our Mama's came. Auntie went and got an old quilt that we had for a pallet in our fort. She rolled Tip over on the quilt and she and my Mama Carried him over to our fort which was the closest place. Tip wagged his tail and looked at us with love in his big brown eyes. Auntie got a straight board and Mama got some rags and they made a cast for Tips leg and tied it on with some elastic. Most dogs would growl or bite when they are hurt, but not Ol' Tip. Nosireee. Tip knew we all loved him and wouldn't hurt him. That night Brenda and I got to stay in the fort with Tip. The next night our Parents had a serious talk with us and we learned a hard lesson. We were so busy being jealous that we almost got Tip killed. Maybe He was running away from us and our bickering over him. We all worked at nursing Tip back to good health and he once again was our faithful companion but he walked with a limp the rest of his life. That was our reminder of how we had acted and we were sorry. We loved each other but we had our squabbles just like all kids do. Didn't matter though. I could call Brenda right now and ask for anything and she could do the same. The bond is strong in our family. Very strong! YEP!!!!
Tags: Dog Fighttreelessons
My Grandma sewed all the time. She loved and enjoyed it. Her liking to sew was a bonus because it sure was helpful to our family. She made clothes for us. She made quilts, pillows, sheets & pillow cases, rag rugs for our cold floor, and after we wore those things out she patched and mended them for us to use again. She made the most beautiful crocheted doilies you ever saw and made scarves with beautiful embroidery pattern on them. If she made my Mamma and me a dress she put in a wide hem on mine. I grew so fast that hem was let down many times to accommodate my long legs.
Since my Grandma loved to sew so much she wanted me to do it too. That just was not my thing then or now. It just never caught on to me. Mending and button sewing is my limit.
Grandma was passionate about me making a quilt and I just kept refusing to try. I guess my brain finally kicked in to the fact that this would make my Grandma very happy and I finally agreed to make a quilt.
First thing we did was gather up all the scraps we could to cut the blocks from. Grandma cut them out that first day and she talked to me as she cut. Most of the pieces I knew as my families clothes. Grandma and I talked about each piece. I outgrew this and Norman completely tore this up past mending. Your Mamma wore this when, Whatever, this is my old dress, and this is your Daddies shirt. She told me that one day I would look at this quilt and remember this day and how my family had looked when they wore these original things. I didn't know or understand the significance of that then but I sure do now.
I think I was about eight when we first started this project. Grandma made the tiniest stitches and she wanted me to do the same. My stitches never got as neat or nice as Grandma's but they certainly improved with time as you can tell by examining the quilt now. It was a hard process that took to my teen years. Sometimes I got flustered and wanted to quit but the hurt look on my Grandma's face took care of that every time.
Now came the actual quilting. The quilt was put in the frame and stretched tight. First Grandma added the cotton on the backside and usually an old sheet on that and basted the outsides and down the middle. I tried to find a picture of the old quilting frames we used but could not. They were hung from the ceiling and let down to chair level when the quilting took place. As each area was done the quilt was rolled up to the next section and so on till you reached the last section. Someone was on each side of the quilt. Sometimes just My Mamma, My Grandma, and me but other times lots of ladies would be there for a quilting bee. When the last section came and only two could really quilt it was my Grandma and me who finished it. Next was the hemming and we did that together too.
Over the six or so years this project went on I learned a lot of values of what was important and what was not. I learned a lot about love, perseverance, and priorities. And I learned that Family is so important to me. I learned respect and thankfulness like I may not have known before.
Yesterday I was putting some things in my cedar chest and there was that quilt all packed in a quilt bag and protected. It has never been used much and I felt Grandma right there beside me telling me not to give up, not to say I can't but say I'll try, Yes you can do it Clydene, You can do anything you want to do bad enough. I just got to thinking, here I am seventy years old and there is a piece of my history. That quilt was started 62 years ago, can you imagine that? It was hard for me but I took that precious quilt out of it's protective cocoon and laid it out on my bed for all to see and touch. I examined all the little squares and remembered my family in them just like my Grandma told me I would. I cried and I laughed as I remembered all those days that my Grandma took her time with me and loved me enough to want this for me even though she can't be here to see it. Why did it take me 62 years to experience this? I don't really know but I do know I needed that yesterday. Thank You Grandma for all your love and sacrifice for me. I'll enjoy this quilt for a long time to come. I love You Grandma
Tags: Grandma
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