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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.
I saw a web-site called These are a Few of My Favorite Things. It has pictures of beautiful and precious things like flowers and kids. Very nice but I wonder what they would do with pictures of Some of My Favorite things?
There are my favorite jeans torn out at the pocket and waist. Throw away my bestest' most comfortable jeans, You've got to be Kidding right? I'll keep wearing them till they fall off me.
Then there are my favorite shoes. They've been with me for a very long time. I've walked on them, threw them across the room, and tried to ignore them. I noticed that the soles are coming off. I've glued those soles back on till they won't stick anymore. But throw away my most comfortable shoes? There is just no way. I'll wear them till I walk out of them.
My favorite "Jammie's" have been washed so many times they are thin as paper and the elastic at the waist is stretched thin. Throw away my favorite "Jammie's"? Heck fire no. I'll sleep in them till I get up some morning and poof they are gone.
I have a favorite cup for my coffee. How dare anyone use my coffee cup..that would be worse than using my tooth brush Euw. As a matter of fact I've had several favorite cups because I break them and lose them.
I have a favorite spot to sit at the dinner table. That is my chair don't try to sit there. If you do I won't be able to enjoy my meal. That is a time when I would rather not have to use my manners.
Things and people grow comfortable with time and you hang on tight. There are some things and people that become Favorite Things right away. As a kid I had favorite friends. We squabbled at times but always in the end those favorites stayed. Probably because I was their favorite.
I've always had my favorite foods and that hasn't changed. As a kid we had lots of pinto beans, fried potatoes, cornbread,and a slice of a big red onion. Everything but the cornbread came from Daddies garden. That is still my favorite meal. Boy would I chow down if I had some now straight from Daddies garden.
Like my favorite shoes, Jammie's, cup, place at the dinner table,etc. things change with time and space. Things wear out, fade away, break, and leave.
Nothing remains the same not even my favorite meal. Food is just not as tasty anymore mostly because of our environment. Daddy's garden produced a type of home grown that does not exist anymore. No additives, fast growers, or chemicals. It really was "home grown" and not what is grown now.
Favorite things? I have lots of favorite things and favorite people. Some of them are gone now and new faves have come along. I imagine there will be many more too numerous to even comtemplate. Favorite things aren't always attractive to anyone else. My Favorite people are not necessarily yours.
There were five girls in my class all through school. Pat and Ruby were close friends, Betty and Billie were close friends. That left me and I had a special friendship with all of them. I felt Blessed to be the "Middle Child" so to speak. So if I was to develop a "Favorite Things" web site I don't think very many people would be interested. Now ain't that a crying shame? Here is my favorite Bible verse
Isaiah 41:10 10 Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.
Tags: Jeans Jammie's Beans Home
Happy Father's Day to all Daddy's and Grandpa's. I hope you are given a little extra Love today. Daddy's are special and mine was extra special to me. He was quiet and always gentle with me but he could be feisty if pushed too far.
I can still see my Daddy sitting on the end of the couch, his spot, most times with both feet pulled up under his chin. Daddy never tied his shoes when he got up he would just step in his shoes and off he'd go. I asked him once, "Daddy why don't you tie your shoes". He said it just took too long. Guess that's right. I wonder what Daddy would have thought of the Velcro on my shoes now.
In my mind I can see Daddy in the garden behind the house working. Sometimes plowing with Ol' Dixie and sometimes harvesting what he grew. Daddy would hitch up Ol' Dixie and off he'd go up and down in the two acre plot plowing it deep and bringing up all the good moist rich dirt. Then he laid off the rows all neat and straight. It was quiet a production and I was there all the way. Took every step my Daddy and Ol' Dixie took. Ol' Dixie was a gentle horse and I loved her. Daddy would sometimes lift me up to sit on her even though I was too young to learn to ride I thought I was really in high cotton up on that horse. Daddy worked hard to provide for us. We never had quiet enough and even though I know now that hurt him at the time we never knew we had less. When I was very young Daddy worked in the coal mines in Oklahoma and was gone all week. I missed my Daddy a lot and was so happy to see him when he came home on Friday night. Daddy never wanted to see us hurt in any way and babied me something awful. I loved it. On the other hand he taught me to be tough, to not take a lot of "Stuff", off of anyone. He told me many times, "Always laugh honey then you won't have to cry". Daddy wanted me to be tough all right but you should of seen him one day when I fainted. Daddy turned white as a sheet and was across the room fast enough to catch me before I fell. I was a grown woman at the time. Daddy never stopped trying to protect me.I saw tears in Daddies eyes many times because I was hurt in some way. He never spanked me but once that I remember and that was when I stole something. I was only about 6 or 7. I've never forgotten that. It upset me so bad to have My Daddy spank me.
Daddy was my protector, friend, ally, and to me the larger than life hero in my life. I miss my Daddy even more than ever now that I am older. I'm homesick in a big way. Don't miss a chance to hug and tell your Daddy how much you love him because things can change in a heartbeat and you will wish you had. I'm sure I never said it enough and I regret that. I Love And Miss You Daddy.
Living down that old dead end dirt road as I grew up was a great childhood. We were happy, we had most everything we needed and some of what we wanted. A smell like pinto beans cooking can transport me back in time and open up the windows to my youth. I can see Mama standing at the stove stirring the beans. I can see me as I stand on a box to reach the cabinet as Mama taught me to make cornbread. I still make it the same way today. I loved to cook then and I still love it today. Stuff we cooked then was mostly home grown. Not much store bought things. I long for a dinner eaten off the table sitting across from my Daddy like I used to.
I see Daddy mowing the lawn with that old wooden push mower or maybe plowing the garden with Ol' Dixie. I love to tag along and "Help" him feed the chickens, horse, pig, and cow down in the barn.
I look up and I see Brenda running across the pasture and I run to meet her. I see Norman and Paul climbing the trees in the yards or along the lane that connects the two homes. I see Auntie drawing water from the well that is way down by the RR Tracks or maybe drawing from our well to give the cow Old Pet a drink.
I see us walking to Hall Parks or Keys store with maybe a nickel,or maybe not, for ourselves. Sometimes we bring back something Mama has sent us to get.
Laying in bed on cold mornings listening to the voices of Mama and Daddy. I can't hear what they are saying but the soft buzz of the beloved voices rings in my ears. I smell coffee brewing and bacon frying just before one of them comes to my room and tells me to "Get up now"! I just snuggle down in the covers and lay there until I'm told more firmly to "Get up right now" and I say "I am up".
I see Mama rocking my baby Brother Norman while she feeds him. She is trying to get him to sleep and I'm standing on the wooden rockers jabbering till she tells me to "Hush Clydene". Sometimes I get my toes rocked on, scream out and Norman starts crying.
We play ball in the pasture in front of Brenda's house. We need to watch because Ol Smokey is in there and he is a mean Ol' thing.
So many memories can materialize in my mind by a smell, a sound, and a vision and I'm back there in my childhood as a skinny little kinky headed girl. I become that girl again. She is right here inside my mind and I'm hanging on to her as tight as I can. Sometimes I look in a mirror and think, Who in the world is that ol' wrinkled up prune? Where the heck did that smooth faced, black haired, skinny little girl go. In my heart I'm still that girl growing up. “Hey I'm still here”, I want to shout at that dad' burned mirror. Stop lying to me, come on now, that aint me. It don't have to be me that I see there in the mirror. I can be that girl again anytime I want to if I keep her alive. Sure nuff can. So there you ol' mirror. I don't have to listen to you. That girl was lively, no aches and pains, no worries either. Well by golly I'm 69 and I've earned the right to be a girl again. I can certainly do it as long as I don't lose the desire. I love taking a trip down memory lane once in a while. It is so refreshing and I often need to be refreshed.
I remember how anxious we kids would be by May for school to be out for the summer—we were always free in those days by Memorial Day since we had no days off for teacher’s conferences, snow days, etc., during the school year back then. We were a hardy bunch who would wade mud and sometimes a bit of snow, out to the bus, or walked to school in it if we were within a mile. And teachers stayed after school to meet with parents for conferences. We only had ten days off (counting two weekends) for Christmas break, and a few days off around Easter time. And yes, they were Christian Holidays to be celebrated as such, not called, Winter break or Spring break.
These days, it may be the third week of June before they turn the kids loose. By that time, we’d be on our second skin peel from sunburns we’d already gotten runnin’ the fields, and floatin’ down the ditch. And our feet would be callused so hard, we could run on hot gravel an’ never feel a thing.
We would be in the garden by the third week of June too, and have peas and beans already comin’ on. The tomatoes would be green yet, but corn would be up eight to ten inches and honey bees would be all over the clover comin’ through the grass in our lawn—we loved to catch those bees in a big ol’ fruit jar with a slit in the top so they could breathe. When you’d shake the jar, they’d really buzz. Now I know how mean that was.
By mid to late June, all the ditches had usually dried up except for maybe some black mud that was sticky and stunk but we still cooled our feet in them. Such simple pleasures we had in our country-childhood adventures.
I still can name every family living on that back road in my day. I can see all their faces too, young and old on both sides of the tracks.
We girls had no idea we were of the feminine gender then since we ran like wild Indians day and night, and were true Tom-boys. Only one I remember was a girlie-girl, and I was in great awe of her. She could cook and clean house by the time she was ten and I admit to being a bit jealous of her. She even had beautiful long curls that were always clean and shiny, and to this day, I’ve never seen dirt under her fingernails, (tee-hee!) My hair would be powdery with gray dirt just like the boys, and what the ditch water didn’t wash off as we floated down would always be a hassle with Mamma trying to dunk me in the tub before bed every night to get the extra pound or so out.
Before school would start in the fall, Mamma would have to take a scrub brush to my feet to get the excess dirt out of the barefoot creases before she could put those nice, white, little anklets and sturdy brown shoes back on her wayward daughter. And in my day in grade school, we had to wear dresses everyday with ties that made a bow in the back, and have our hair curled and fussed over each morning after breakfast, junior high & high school too—NO PANTS were worn…..I must admit, I HATED IT until at thirteen, I discovered I was a girl! Now, that was a pretty depressing thought at the time, as I recall.
By the end of May, we were being taught about family and those patriots who had sacrificed for us so we could live FREE in a country without dictators or kings! (Remember, this was sixty-some years ago, and times are a changin’ rapidly now—and not for the better, I fear.) We were taught what it all meant from the cradle up, and I still get teary when I hear Taps played. After the ceremonies, the families would decorate all their relative’s graves with flowers that were already in season by then. I remember My Aunt's Iris, Snap-dragons, roses, and Peonies were picked for the occasion every year. Many a tale was told standing at those graves of folks we were kin to, but never knew. We were hearing our history, and getting an education about our families, though, as kids, we were oblivious to most of it until later years.
Grandma made the quilts that covered us each night. She sewed the pieces together with needle thread & might. She made the feather bed where we lay our selves down The pillows stuffed with feathers, were passed all around. We were tucked in and covered, clear up to our nose Till we looked like a cocoon from our head down to our toes. We slept warm and snug in that ol' cast iron bed, with springs That would squeak every time you moved your head. Many quilts were piled high, hot bricks for your toes. Some Vicks upon your chest, your back and up your nose. You'd lie there warm as toast, till nature would kick in, Unwrapped you would be then do it all again. There were so many quilts that if you moved and squirmed You'd be liable to get tangled at least until you learned. But the very worst thing I think that you could do Would be to turn over with so many covers on you. One night I flopped and flounced moving all about Lifting up those covers and that's when I found out. When you are weighted down with covers and you try to move, Your like to wind up on the cold floor with them on top of you!!!!
Tags: Quilt Sewing Feather Bed
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YOUTH?
Posted On 03/15/2014 16:14:57
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The young girl stood so straight and true. Shoulders erect, eyes of blue. Proud in stature, fair of face And curls that hung clear to her waist. She was carefree, happy, pure of heart Fresh and pretty, lively and smart. Nothing that hurts, nothing to fear. She's young, she's unspoiled and held so dear. Fresh and new gets ruined one day, When age creeps up and has it's way. On the face are lines and splotches and grooves, Gravity kicks in, straight becomes stooped. And what once was there, now here has moved. Long hair that was black as the dark of the night Is short and stubby and mostly all white. Her gait is stooped, painful and slow. But as she moves her diginity still shows. In her heart she's still young and gay, And that girl is there, she's here to stay. In her mind she still thinks and feels Like that fresh young lass with such a strong will. Clydene Thomas Overbey 11-01. @ 2010
Tags: Girl Sags Grayage
Recalling things takes a lot out of me these days because my memory is not as good as it was. Remembering also puts so much back in to my life that the effort is well worth it. Sitting down and trying to remember a specific thing is impossible almost. It is smells, colors, words, people and so many things that trigger a memory. Sometimes the memory is so fleeting it is gone in a few seconds but sometimes it starts so many things to roll through my mind that is is staggering. I hope my memory is the last thing that goes from me. I'd be lost without all my lovely memories. Brenda and I made so many memories that they boggle my mind at times. We had such a full life full of twists and turns, in's and outs, and giggles and tears. There are things I'd rather not remember sometimes because those were the times we were on the outs and fighting over some stupid thing. Once we both decided we liked the same boy. We had google eyes over a boy that will remain unnamed here. He was probably the ugliest thing you ever laid eyes on. His voice was a big whine and his ego was as big as his stupidness. The less likely one in the world that we would both fall madly in love with. I think we were 10 years old so of course it was puppy love but no less hurtful none the less. We argued and fought like wild cats. Our Daddies thought it was comical but our Mamma's tried to talk us out of it. I said, “Brenda you know he likes me best you are just stubborn”. She'd say “No Clydene he likes me and can't stand you”. It started as just words but before you knew it a full blown cat fight broke out in my bedroom one day. Mamma broke it up and made us apologize to one another and sent Brenda home. The next day in school we carried the battle on and had to be separated again. The Teachers shamed us and asked how we thought the boy felt about our silliness. I think he liked it fine to tell you the truth but he would never have said so. We completely stopped talking to one another. One day in school we literally got in a fight over him. I mean literally because he was in the middle. We were both a good head taller and outweighed him several pounds so when we started tussling over him he got the worst of it. In the battle somehow his glasses got knocked off his face and he started swinging. We both were standing there with our mouths open because we were shocked that he had the nerve to dare to hit us. Of course he couldn't see and all the poor thing could do was swing and try to get rid of the two crazy things that had hold of him. He swung his fist, hit Brenda in the nose, came back with it and hit me smack dab in the eye. Now he'd done it! We could fight one another but woe to the one who dared to touch either one of us. If the teacher hadn't come on the scene we planned to hurt that little pip squeak. How dare he hurt Brenda, How dare he hurt Clydene!!! That was the end of that great love affair for both of us by golly. I don't think in all the coming years we ever fell in “LOVE” with the same boy again. Heck no, That was too much trouble and got us in way too many messes! I'm just so relieved and happy that we didn't break the poor boys glasses. Our Parents would have had to pay for them and they certainly couldn't have afforded that. Brenda and I loved one another unconditionally but we fought too and the fights were humdingers!!!!
Tags: Pip Squeak Glasses Love
There they sit side by side
Grandma ans Grandpas old rocking chairs.
Holding nothing but memories good and bad
lots of laughter and lots of tears.
They are old now, the paint is cracked,
Oh how they squeak when moved.
The memories they hold are a part of my life.
On the floor is the rockers grooves.
I used to sit there on Grandpa's lap
listening to the stories he told.
And in Grandma's lap I ate cookies
she'd baked in the old wood stove.
They rocked together over the years
and took life in its stride.
Then came one day one rocker grew still
and Grandpa was ever more sad.
We went each day even after we grew
with families of our own.
Then the dreaded day came both rockers were still.
My Grandma and Grandpa were gone.
Tags: Grandmagrandpacookies
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