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Viewing 37 - 45 out of 105 Blogs.
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I learned a lot of lessons from a hard experience. Some of them were funny at the time, others were not funny till years later. I decided it was cool to smoke cigarettes in the 7th. Grade. I had dabbled with them before when I was much younger with bad results. This time I thought I was grown up and I wanted to keep up with the 'cool' kids. I was tired of being a square which is what we were called if we had strict parents and wouldn't join in with things we knew were wrong. But heck I knew lots of grown ups who smoked. It looked sophisticated to me. I had even seen cigarettes in the Home Ec. teachers desk drawer. Of course She didn't want us to know she smoked and we never saw her smoke. My friend Pat and I were in the home ec. Building one day alone. Now I have no idea if we sneaked in or how we came to be there alone but we were. I said, “Pat, Teacher has some cigarettes in her desk drawer”. “Aww Clydene she does not” she answered. “Well I'll show you”, I said. I opened the drawer and rummaged around till I found the cigarettes. “See Pat, I told you. Lets smoke one”. Pat was all for it. There was even a book of matches and an ash tray there with the cigarettes. We lit up with difficulty. I even had mine flaming up at one time. Don't know how that happened. We waltzed our little smart elec fannies in to the living room and sat down on the couch and just puffed up a storm. About the time I got choked I looked over at Pat and she was white as snow except for a green tinge around her eyes. My eyes were watering till I couldn't see a thing then I got sick. Pat looked out the window and exclaimed that the teacher was coming. “Oh my gosh Pat we gotta get rid of these and get outta here”, I said. “What are we gonna do with them Clydene” she answered. “Oh Heck fire Pat, I'm sick and I can't see a thing”! We took off running to the kitchen sink to run water over the cigarettes. I couldn't see so before I got there I heard the teacher coming in the door and I smashed that dang thing in my hand and of course it burned. I screeched like a wild animal of some kind just as our teacher got inside. In the meantime Pat has vomited all over the place but at least she had gotten her cigarette put out. What happened? Well not much. The teacher did tell Miss Sula Kate on us and we did get a good talking to but Teacher got almost the same treatment when Miss Sula Kate told her she had no business having the cigarettes in her desk. There was no nurse in schools at the time so Miss Sula Kate doctored and bandaged my hand. Oh and by the way she told me I deserved a burned hand for what I did. I know now that I did deserve it. Yep, some lessons I learned the hard way.
Tags: Cigarettessickburnedteacher
Every family has at least one Aunt Bertha and every family has a bossy lady who tries to be the head of everything. My Great Aunt Bertha was both!
Aunt Bertha was married two times and never had any kids. Her first husband was Bob Dalton. She was married very young to him then she married Bob Page, Yep another Bob, and he died after only 6 years. She lived the rest of her life alone and it couldn't have been easy then but she worked and bought her own home. If it needed repairs she did it. Roof or whatever it was. The house is still here in the town of Mulberry but it certainly doesn't look like it did then.
You talk about feisty, Good Grief That don't begin to describe Aunt Bertha. A dare devil in her younger years, a holy terror in her later years. Not rude or brash just straight and to the point. Don't try any nonsense with my Aunt Bertha cause' she'd get you fast.
Aunt Bertha was my Grandma's sister and thought she was the only one in the family who had enough sense to make any kind of intelligent decision. She bought a whole set of Dr's books used in their schooling at that time and by golly she thought she was a Dr and knew more than any Dr of that time. To tell the truth she did know more than some of them.
Her Mother, My Great Grandma, lived with her after a while. Then her Sister, my Great Aunt Bea, moved in after her husband died. My Grandma who was another Sister moved in eventually. Their Brother, my Uncle Hooker, even lived there for a while and Uncle Hooker's son Pat lived with them for several years. Aunt Bertha was the head Lion and ruled. I didn't think much about it then but I'm sure there was a lot of conflict at times. I spent nights there occasionally and every time I went to the bathroom she would come in to see what I was doing. She was a little 5 ft. lady that weighed 90 lbs soaking wet but man was she wired and loaded for bear.
There was a loving gentle side to Aunt Bertha as well and that is the side I saw most often. She'd work cutting spinach or picking cotton all day and always gave us a nickle out of her earnings. She bought material and sent it to my grandma so grandma could make my Mamma and her two sisters a dress to wear to school. They didn't have a dress at the time and were wearing a bloomer type thing that grandma made out of a flower sack.
Aunt Bertha is the one who named me when I was born. I told her often that she could have chosen a prettier name.
She had curly and unruly hair like mine. My Grandma always said I looked like Aunt Bertha and my Daddy said I acted like her sometimes. HMMMM! Guess I got a lot from my Aunt Bertha. HUH?
Tags: Auntbossyknow All
When we were kids we were rough and ready. Got lots of scrapes and bruises that we just wiped down and kept going. Not much fazed us at all. In the summer our feet got so tough we could run up a shale road, through briars. We could scrape under barbed wire tearing our clothes and our hide as we went and never feel it. We didn't run to the Dr. every time we got a scrape. Some of the things that were done to 'heal' us were not pleasant at all. I hated Merthiolate. If you are not familiar with what that is you are lucky. Daddy thought it was a cure all and I would do anything to keep it off me. It was in a small bottle with a little glass thingie to put a smear of it on your wound. It was red, and it would stain. If a drop of it was put on a scratch on my face I walked around for several days with a red splotch on my face. I hated it! It also burned like blue blazes. One day I was running like a rabbit through the barbed wire gate that was open and lying down on the road coming from Brenda's house I fell in to the barbed wire. In my scrambling to get up I just got tangled up worse in the strands of the wire. It was sticking all in my legs. One of my knees was bleeding profusely in big drips. Thank God I didn't get it in my face. Anyway I couldn't get out of the wire. I started screaming for Brenda to come and help me. When she got there it scared the tar outta' her. She told me “Clydene I'm going to go get Mama”. “NOOO! , Brenda don't get anybody. You help me”. Well she tried but we were just succeeding in tangling and cutting me more. “Clydene I gotta' get somebody”, she said. “NO Brenda they will put that ol' thialate'( that is what we called it) on me and it burns! No You help me”. Well it so happened that Auntie saw us and came running. “Brenda go get Lucille and hurry”, she said. I was hollering no, no no, but Brenda went anyway. Darn her hide! When Mama, got there they finally got me loose. They took me in Aunties house, washed me with warm water, and poured that darn thilate' all in my wounds. Oh My Gosh I was on fire and I was screaming and fighting like a wild cat. It stopped burning, I was washed and more thilate' poured in, screamin and kickin' again and so on. Used all Auntie's thilate' and all Mama's thilate', next day got more at Hall Parks store and here we went again. I was bandaged at night to sleep and that durn thilate' was always there the next morning until I noticed it wasn't burning near as much. One day it didn't burn nary' a bit. My cuts were healing real good my Mama declared. And they did heal. I still have about five big scars on my legs, the worst being the one on my knee which is white and big slightly raised on the middle of my knee. My Papa was always ready with his backer' juice to put on our wounds but he was not allowed to help with the barbed wire cuts. I hated that darn Merthiolate but it was always there. My throat was painted with it when it was sore even. But Hey! It worked and no Dr. I remember stepping on rusty nails, glass, and lots of other things because in the summer I never wore shoes except to Church. That darn stuff worked! I haven't seen any in years. Seems like I heard it was outlawed as dangerous or something. Well I'm here to tell you the only dangerous part of it was the stinging pain it caused.
Our Sunday School lesson one Sunday was about maintaining a control over your tongue. Well I think I would need to sew my lips closed to accomplish that and still my stupid tongue would find a way to loose itself. I try very very hard to keep my tongue from overruling my brain but the darn thing just keeps flapping and rolling stupidness out. My mouth opens and I never know what's gonna fly out. My mouth overloads my brain often.. At the time I really need to keep my mouth shut it just erupts in to stupidness and goes spewing out like a volcano.Someone gave me a gift once. Now I swear I thought it was a prank gift. You know a white elephant gift? I burst out laughing and said “Oh this is sooo, stupid.” The hurt look on her face should have jolted me back to reality but Nope! Not me. I just kept on making comments and having fun. Heck I thought that was what was expected of me. Hey this is a joke, Right? Well, Duh! No it was not a joke. I started spluttering and back tracking trying to cover up my stupidness. Every word that spouted outta' my mouth just rammed both my feet deeper down my throat. One day a friend had gotten a new dress. I didn't particularly like the dress but of course I wouldn't have said so. When we got where we were going there were other ladies all around us. I looked down and saw what I thought was her slip showing and very politely pointed it out to her. She informed me that was part of the dress and was not her slip. My mouth went in to high gear then and I said, “Oh my goodness, are you sure? I've never seen such a thing. Something is wrong with that dress”. We were both embarrassed and she was miffed. Good Grief me and my big mouth. That comment, "sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me"' is a stack of nonsense. I've had sticks, And fists, but some of the words have hurt so much worse. I don't know why I have so much trouble controlling my tongue. Just shut your mouth for goodness sake, why is that so difficult for me. With both feet crammed down my throat all the time it's a wonder I can even talk at all. When I look back on some of the stupid things I've said and done I get so embarrassed I could just crawl in a hole. “Words can be medicines; they can also be poisons. Words can heal; they can also kill... It all depends on how I use them. I've been biting my tongue a lot lately. I'm learning slowly but surely that sometimes my opinion is best kept to myself. One of the hardest things I am learning is to Just keep my mouth shut because my tongue is very sore from biting it.
I'm guessing losing half their blogs doesn't matter to those who have never written many and those who weren't much interested in blogs, or maybe even those who haven't been on NOTH very long. I can't say that for a fact, I'm just guessing but for me and maybe a few more who has been writing steadily from the start, who had many posted here, just maybe it might mean something. It means a lot to me. Pages from my life were recorded in those blogs. Pictures of me and my family were recorded in those blogs. I put my heart and soul in to them and I am deeply hurt that they were just destroyed all at once with no warning. I'm tired of being told things like, all sites do it, I saved mine, etc. doesn't mean a thing to me. There has always been the clean up. I never cared about my comments and messages but I thought Blogs and pictures in the gallery were never touched. They never had been touched before and that is what hit me hard I just wasn't expecting it. I had comments on those blogs that meant a lot to me as well. I'm certainly going to save all my pictures now. I lost a bunch of old B&W's a while back so I don't intend to lose more.
I used to write lots of blogs. I stuck to the rules, just wrote about my childhood,sweet and honery things. I quit writing because the rules got too strict for my taste. I felt that my freedom of speech was being taken away.. I very seldom comment on a blog. I read some with interest and agreement. Others I don't read because I'm either not interested or I don't agree. Recently one I strongly agreed with I felt I wanted to comment on, agree with. I went about my way after commenting. I came back one day and there were these nasty and hurtful comments that I took offence to. It is my opinion that Obama is the worst President we have ever had. I hate his policies and I hate what he stands for but I DONT HATE Obama as a man. I don't hate him because he is black. He has a soul same as me and I Pray for him, STILL, I hate his policies. If you like Obama as your President then write your own blog expressing those views. I'll go on by that blog and keep my mouth shut without any name calling, racism comments and the most childless one: calling others childish.
I was raised to love everybody. Mama told me often that when someone was being nasty that I don't know what made them act that way so I should just try to not let it bother me. I was raised in Church, became a born again Christian when I was ten. One of the Lord's Comandments is that we love one another as we love ourselves. I've come to realize that I can love someone the Godly way but hate their ways. I'm supposed to be a witness to others. I don't spout bible verses word for word but I know the Bible and I know how God wants me to behave. I fail Him every day and I am Forgiven because I ask. My religious views ARE MINE and should be respected. I have wonderful and loving friends who don't believe as I do. We don't argue about it, we just love one another as friends.
I have never understood why people reading blogs can't just go on to another one if they don't like what they are reading and not go spouting hateful hurtful things. You can like Obama all you want but don't attack me because I don't like him. Try being a grown-up. Out of the thousands of members here there are very few who want to write blogs I am one of those few. I think maybe fewer still read them. I am reminded why I've all but left this site behind. There are several reasons but this is one of them.
Tags: Hurtful Opinions
I used to love walking up the dirt roads all around my house and listening to the sounds and smells coming from the houses of neighbors. Down where my house was we could only hear and see Brenda's house, or maybe a train. If I heard a sound from there I pretty we'll knew what and who it was. Brenda did have a close neighbor on the other side. We often went through the garden gate and climbed a mulberry tree. I don't remember mulberries smelling nice.
I loved the sound of ice cubes clinking in a glass, a fork raking on a plate as they ate a meal, and dishes on a table or in the dishpan to be washed. I always said to myself "I wonder what they had to eat for supper"? Lots of beans and potatoes just like we had I think.
When someone had clothes on the clothesline and there was a breeze I could smell that fresh smell. Not many things smell as good as clothes dried outdoors in the sunshine. And they were always hung out to dry. No electric dryers, for that matter no washers unless you had one of those' fancy' ringer washers. Mama was tickled pink when she got her first ringer washer.
Sometimes I'd hear a radio playing country or Gospel music or broadcasting the news. There is a big difference in the news then and now also in music. If I heard talking I could never understand what they were saying. That didn't really bother me I just enjoyed the soft sounds of voices.
At dusk when all the soft yellow glow of lights came
on in the homes that really fascinated me. I would wonder what they were doing in that house all warm and secure just the way I felt in my house.
Brenda was usually with me and I don't think she really paid attention at least she never seemed to. We were always trying to think of a way to stop in front of Ashmore's house because we knew she would call us in for Red Kool Aid and cake. From the road in front of their house there was always something that smelled good. Often that would be the distinct smell of bread rising. Yummy! Across the road it was usually coffee brewing that we smelled.
At the end of that road on the corner there was usually a man sitting in a wheel chair. He always spoke to us and had a big smile. From here we started back home unless we were going to Hall Parks Store. No more houses on that road until you got to the store except the house out away from the road where sometimes we bought butter.
The freedom I felt then was so sweet. I never even thought that someone would hurt me like kids do now. I knew Jesus walked beside me, never doubted that.
I miss my childhood and get so homesick for all those sights, sounds, and smells. I miss the feeling of being surrounded by Loved ones and Good Neighbors
Tags: Dirt Roadsmemories
I don't know how kids feel today but going back to school for me was always exciting especially in Grade School. I loved the summer fun down in our little valley with Brenda but I also missed all my friends and classmates. After a few weeks of the newness I probably was wishing I could be back to sleeping in and running in the pasture and the lane between our houses, but for now I want to be with my school pals.
There was no phone, E-mail, text, and just no contact with them until school started again so this was like a new beginning.
We wrote letters and how to write them was pretty much drilled into us at School. Spelling, writing upright, crossing your 't's and dotting your 'i's' was taught. We were taught how to address the envelope all prim and precise which I still do. This of course is probably one of the reasons that more senior people nowadays spell better (although I'm always using spell check).You would think nothing of sitting down with your lead pencil and writing to Grandpa, Grandma, Uncle or Aunt, and of course your school pals. No instant messaging, twitter or skype to keep people up to date on your day to day activities, it was a sheet of BlueHorse paper and a pencil with a good eraser.
The hardest part was saying something different in every letter, there was no copying and pasting. You simply wrote a letter. Maybe a week before school started Mama and Daddy, yes both my parents, took me to Ozark for my going back to school necessities. There wasn't a big long list of things we were required to have. On our list was, paper, pencil,school glue,a box of crayons, and scissors. Now that is a very short list but we were not deprived and learned just as well. SIMPLE, SIMPLE. Now what is wrong with that? I got socks, underwear, and one dress at Coley's store and a pair of shoes at Dryer's shoe store. Other things were bought when there was money to do so. I am happy that I grew up when I did and went to school in more simple and laid back times. I'd really hate to have to go to school in the today's troubled times.
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GRAVITY
Posted On 06/25/2014 11:10:28
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I guess gravity is a great thing in most instances but when it comes to my body I don't much like it. It starts slowly. So slow that you never even see it. It creeps up on you like a bad seed. It grows until it completely covers your whole body and wraps around like a clinging vine. If you know about vines some of them are beautiful but you have to keep them controlled and tamed down lest they take over like a brier patch.
Well I sure didn't keep my vine controlled on my body. All at once I looked in the mirror one day and there I was in all my glory completely consumed in a vine of gravity. The first time I recognized this gravity vine I was overwhelmed so badly that I tried to ignore it. Ignoring was not an option I found out. Once you know something is there and realize there is not a cotton-pickin' thing you can do about it it just lurks close to you and shows it's ugly side constantly. Like a blood sucking leech it takes hold and pulls everywhere until the dropping and sagging starts.
Your chin drops down to your neck. The skin under your arms drop down and flop around like jello. No more pretty short sleeves cause you gotta hide the flab. A ladies chest drops down around her naval. Her stomach drops down on her thighs. Knees drop down to the shin. Now your face drags around like silly putty and flops around. Belly laughter is no longer possible it is now more like whole body shaking as you laugh. No matter how big or small, fat or thin you are, it will be the same. Your gravity has quit working. Everything is just giving away and dropping and there aint' a thing you can do about it unless you go under the knife and come out looking like a bug eyed praying mantis. No thank you, buggy eyed people scare the heck outta' me. I keep my nose in the air now so the 4 chins don't show. Heck even my eyelids are drooping down. Well heck I don't want anything cut on that hurts so as long as I can see no thanks. No way no how. I'll just learn to like what I see in the mirror and if someone don't like it they have the option to look the other way. Their snooty eyes are probably bugged anyway and I don't wanna' look at them either. Nope!!
Tags: Vines Consumed
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