3-29-10...DON'T EVER GIVE UP
There was a time in my life when I gave up on life. Nothing seemed to matter to me at all. I was broken down by cruelty, circumstances, heartbreak, and abuse. I was working every day and not sleeping or resting. I literally went on like that for six long months. I did not sleep a wink. I was running on empty, no hope for anything. Like a zombie I floated through day after day, night after night, hour after hour, and minute after minute. I know I held down a full time job but I have no idea or any recollection how. I lived on coffee and cigarettes. People I worked with tried to help me but didn't know how. I was a long way from Family or anyone who loved me. I might as well have been locked up in prison because I had no control over my destiny. I was told what to do, what to say, what to wear, how to act and I did it like a puppet with tight strings.
I don't remember a whole lot about that time in my life except that I must have had a will to survive. Somewhere way down deep in my soul the real Clydene was still there fighting to get out. I had turned off everything in my mind except what I was told was supposed to be there.
Someone told me one day that I could be knocked down with a feather. I tried to eat that day at lunch but it came back up. My stomach couldn't take it after six months of nothing.
Seldom was I ever allowed to drive myself anywhere. I was not allowed to talk on the phone or answer it when it rang. I was never left alone. I have no idea why but one day I had driven myself to work. It was cold and snowing. A big truck was passing me on the Interstate. I looked over at the big wheels rolling and I thought, “I can swerve my wheels and I will go in to those wheels and I can rest.” So I turned my steering wheel to go in to the truck and I hit some ice. It spun me the other way and off in the median. That slick spot saved my life. Coincidence? Luck? Of course it wasn't. It was a Higher Power that put my car in that slick snow. Think what you will but I know what happened. I was snapped out of my stupor and from that day on I started caring and I started fighting for my life. It wasn't easy and it didn't happen over night but I fought my way back to life as I had known it.
Times have not all been peachy or rosy since but I have not ever got down that low since and I never will. I still have a lot to do before I can quit. YEP!
Monday, March 29, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Peter Cottontail
3-28-10...EASTER MEMORIES
Someone sent me something yesterday that was playing “Here Comes Peter Cottontail” and boy was I transferred back in time to those wonderful Easter Sunday's. Not so much about the song but the memories is brought with it.
We always had Sunrise services at our little Church rain or shine. It was usually always cold. Then we would come home to Mamma's Fried Chicken dinner and all the trimmings. Only on Easter Sunday we also had colored eggs on the table. The night before Mamma and Daddy helped us color the eggs which was quiet a production and always a family project. We didn't hide eggs we just colored them. We were not taught that there was an Easter Bunny. Heck we were farm kids. We knew very well where the eggs came from.
My up-town cousins got those beautiful Easter Baskets and were told the Easter Bunny left them. Mamma told us not to try and tell them the difference because that was the way they celebrated Easter.
I always yearned for one of those beautiful baskets of goodies that my Parents couldn't afford. I only asked once and from then on I accepted the fact that we couldn't get one.
One Easter My Daddy had been in Oklahoma working in the coal mines all week and when he came home that Friday night he decided that his kids were gonna have an Easter Basket while they were still young enough to enjoy it. He bought me a red one and Norman a green one and hauled it all the way back to Arkansas that Friday night.
Mamma always let us sit up till Daddy got home on Friday night if we could manage to stay awake. I always did but Norman being only four usually couldn't.
We would run out that screen door and let it slam back just about the time we heard Mamma yell, “Don't slam the door” and off we'd run to meet Daddy. We would usually pounce on him and he'd pick us both up and hug us close all the way down in to the house. This night Daddy got out of the car and reached in the back seat and brought out those wonderful baskets. Daddy wasn't a big man but he handed us our baskets and picked us both up basket and all.
Oh My Goodness when we got in the house we both just sat them down on the floor and stared at them in awe. They were big and just chock full of goodies. Right in the middle was a huge stuffed animal. Mine was a purple bear, and Norman's was a blue bear. The beautiful colored cellophane paper wrapped around them was bright and colorful. That was the most magnificent thing I had yet to see in my short life and when we took our bears out and mashed their bellies they sang, “Here comes Peter Cottontail hopping Down the Bunny Trail. Hippity hop and Easters on it's way”. Oh my the tears are running down to my chin and I have big goose bumps right now just remembering that. Now everytime I hear that cute little song I get all gushy and the Memories come flooding back. Memories like that are wonderful aren't they?
Click here in case you would like to hear Peter Cottontail again.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v5W7SUhojrA
Someone sent me something yesterday that was playing “Here Comes Peter Cottontail” and boy was I transferred back in time to those wonderful Easter Sunday's. Not so much about the song but the memories is brought with it.
We always had Sunrise services at our little Church rain or shine. It was usually always cold. Then we would come home to Mamma's Fried Chicken dinner and all the trimmings. Only on Easter Sunday we also had colored eggs on the table. The night before Mamma and Daddy helped us color the eggs which was quiet a production and always a family project. We didn't hide eggs we just colored them. We were not taught that there was an Easter Bunny. Heck we were farm kids. We knew very well where the eggs came from.
My up-town cousins got those beautiful Easter Baskets and were told the Easter Bunny left them. Mamma told us not to try and tell them the difference because that was the way they celebrated Easter.
I always yearned for one of those beautiful baskets of goodies that my Parents couldn't afford. I only asked once and from then on I accepted the fact that we couldn't get one.
One Easter My Daddy had been in Oklahoma working in the coal mines all week and when he came home that Friday night he decided that his kids were gonna have an Easter Basket while they were still young enough to enjoy it. He bought me a red one and Norman a green one and hauled it all the way back to Arkansas that Friday night.
Mamma always let us sit up till Daddy got home on Friday night if we could manage to stay awake. I always did but Norman being only four usually couldn't.
We would run out that screen door and let it slam back just about the time we heard Mamma yell, “Don't slam the door” and off we'd run to meet Daddy. We would usually pounce on him and he'd pick us both up and hug us close all the way down in to the house. This night Daddy got out of the car and reached in the back seat and brought out those wonderful baskets. Daddy wasn't a big man but he handed us our baskets and picked us both up basket and all.
Oh My Goodness when we got in the house we both just sat them down on the floor and stared at them in awe. They were big and just chock full of goodies. Right in the middle was a huge stuffed animal. Mine was a purple bear, and Norman's was a blue bear. The beautiful colored cellophane paper wrapped around them was bright and colorful. That was the most magnificent thing I had yet to see in my short life and when we took our bears out and mashed their bellies they sang, “Here comes Peter Cottontail hopping Down the Bunny Trail. Hippity hop and Easters on it's way”. Oh my the tears are running down to my chin and I have big goose bumps right now just remembering that. Now everytime I hear that cute little song I get all gushy and the Memories come flooding back. Memories like that are wonderful aren't they?
Click here in case you would like to hear Peter Cottontail again.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v5W7SUhojrA
Saturday, March 27, 2010
GRANDMA'S BUTTON JAR
3-27-10...GRANDMA'S BUTTON JAR
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.
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.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
THE OL' LILAC BUSH
3-25-10...THE OL' LILAC BUSH!
The wind is blowing 90 to nothin' out there and rain is pouring. Another burst old ol' man winter trying to push his way back in. Spring might be delicate right now but I've noticed it always wins this time of year. There is the bright yellow of the Golden Rod, and the vivid red of the fire bush. Right in the middle are the beautiful Daffodils with their heads standing high. Yesterday I noticed my Little Lilac bush was all budded out. They are supposed to bloom after five years. It has been there seven years and has yet to bloom. I looked closer and that little bush is just covered with the little purple shoots that will soon be a big fragrant flower. My very first lilac blooms. Oh I've had other Lilac bushes but this one is special to me and I had just about given up on it. I am so excited by this that I can't contain myself till the blooms grow and burst forth. My favorite flower in the world.
Now the whole reason I hadn't given up and dug the little puny thing up is where I got it.
Mamma grew up on the side of the hill above where she finally moved with Daddy after marriage and she told me so many stories about a big lilac bush that was in the woods near her house. She had escaped there many times to avoid two younger sisters who looked to her for more than she should have been expected to do. You know that older child thing where you are supposed to let the younger sibling tag along. Mamma said she would go to the lilac bush and crawl underneath and fantasize about so many things that she would never have. That Lilac bush was more like a tree from pictures I have seen. Must have been magnificent in full bloom.
The place had grown in to just a thicket over the years and Mamma hadn't thought much about it. One day she and her two sisters had tried to get to where the bush had been but was unable. Mamma talked about how she would love to get a sprout from it. I grew up and was away from home for 20 plus years and never thought about that bush until Mamma talked about it again after she got so sick. I came home to stay in 1999 and Mamma was very ill. I decided I had to get her a sprout of that lilac bush somehow.
I went there every time I could through one whole year trying to find a way in to where I thought it would be. Sometimes that spring I could smell the lilacs. I love the smell. I finally hacked my way to it one early fall morning. Of course it was not a big magnificent thing anymore. Really just a bunch of sprouts around a dilapidated bush. I couldn't tell my Mamma that so I dug two sprouts and brought them home with me. I planted both in Mamma's yard. One died but the other one was thriving. Mamma got worse and had to go to a Nursing Home when we were no longer to give her quality care at home. We had to sell the house for financial reasons but I dug the Lilac bush up and brought it here. That spring I went back up on that hill and picked a few scrubby lilacs to put in Mamma's room. She was so thrilled and would reach over and gently run her hand over them. I held them close for her to smell. It made her happy to have a lilac from the Ol' Bush.
Mamma died that very November. I have coddled my bush ever since and just couldn't make myself give up. Now seven years later I will finally have some blooms if this old cold weather will cease.
I have been feeling my Mamma's presence so strongly lately all around me. Well Mamma your ol' bush is gonna bloom again for you. I'll bring you a bouquet'!!!
The wind is blowing 90 to nothin' out there and rain is pouring. Another burst old ol' man winter trying to push his way back in. Spring might be delicate right now but I've noticed it always wins this time of year. There is the bright yellow of the Golden Rod, and the vivid red of the fire bush. Right in the middle are the beautiful Daffodils with their heads standing high. Yesterday I noticed my Little Lilac bush was all budded out. They are supposed to bloom after five years. It has been there seven years and has yet to bloom. I looked closer and that little bush is just covered with the little purple shoots that will soon be a big fragrant flower. My very first lilac blooms. Oh I've had other Lilac bushes but this one is special to me and I had just about given up on it. I am so excited by this that I can't contain myself till the blooms grow and burst forth. My favorite flower in the world.
Now the whole reason I hadn't given up and dug the little puny thing up is where I got it.
Mamma grew up on the side of the hill above where she finally moved with Daddy after marriage and she told me so many stories about a big lilac bush that was in the woods near her house. She had escaped there many times to avoid two younger sisters who looked to her for more than she should have been expected to do. You know that older child thing where you are supposed to let the younger sibling tag along. Mamma said she would go to the lilac bush and crawl underneath and fantasize about so many things that she would never have. That Lilac bush was more like a tree from pictures I have seen. Must have been magnificent in full bloom.
The place had grown in to just a thicket over the years and Mamma hadn't thought much about it. One day she and her two sisters had tried to get to where the bush had been but was unable. Mamma talked about how she would love to get a sprout from it. I grew up and was away from home for 20 plus years and never thought about that bush until Mamma talked about it again after she got so sick. I came home to stay in 1999 and Mamma was very ill. I decided I had to get her a sprout of that lilac bush somehow.
I went there every time I could through one whole year trying to find a way in to where I thought it would be. Sometimes that spring I could smell the lilacs. I love the smell. I finally hacked my way to it one early fall morning. Of course it was not a big magnificent thing anymore. Really just a bunch of sprouts around a dilapidated bush. I couldn't tell my Mamma that so I dug two sprouts and brought them home with me. I planted both in Mamma's yard. One died but the other one was thriving. Mamma got worse and had to go to a Nursing Home when we were no longer to give her quality care at home. We had to sell the house for financial reasons but I dug the Lilac bush up and brought it here. That spring I went back up on that hill and picked a few scrubby lilacs to put in Mamma's room. She was so thrilled and would reach over and gently run her hand over them. I held them close for her to smell. It made her happy to have a lilac from the Ol' Bush.
Mamma died that very November. I have coddled my bush ever since and just couldn't make myself give up. Now seven years later I will finally have some blooms if this old cold weather will cease.
I have been feeling my Mamma's presence so strongly lately all around me. Well Mamma your ol' bush is gonna bloom again for you. I'll bring you a bouquet'!!!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
JUST SOME THOUGHTS ON MY LIFE
3-22-10...THOUGHTS ON THINGS I'VE LEARNED
Over the years I have learned a lot of things. I certainly have learned that I am hard headed and stubborn. I'm sure not proud of that fact but it IS' a fact. I'd like to think that I've learned lots of more worthwhile things. Like knowing that it is much easier to laugh than it is to cry. I learned by doing, by seeing,by listening, but most of all by experiencing. I've learned that if I failed it was not my Parents fault or anyone else' for that matter. There is a song by Johnny Cash vowing that Mamma tried.
Mamma and Daddy taught me right from wrong and gave me the tannings if I didn't listen. So Whatever has gone wrong is MY' fault.
Some of the things we face now were so much easier in my youth if in fact they were faced at all. Things have gotten so complicated now and I still cling to the things that were so much more simple. Our philosophy was slow down and live life, smell the roses because they are here a short time just the way we are and it would be such a shame to miss that sweet fragrance. Now some seem to live on the plan or get them before they get you. How sad.
I have pity parties at times. I know they are a waste of my time as well as anyone else' time but I still find myself knee deep in them. Good Grief! How stupid is that? Sometimes it is heartbreaking to remember my past but most time my heart is warmed by it. When I face something now that I think is impossible I just have to stop and remember the difficult times my parents had and I realize how easy I've had it. Boy I get off my pity party fast.
The love my Parents gave me sustained me through many times when it felt like no one loved me. They taught me my self worth, and that No one is better than me but I am better than no one. When I was under the teaching and example of my Parents it was easy to see the good in everyone now it is hard to find good in some people. I am ashamed to say that there are some that I have never found any good in no matter how hard I try.
Trying to tell the youth what we have learned from experience usually falls on deaf ears. I didn't always listen either it just doesn't seem like I had as much to learn as youth do now. I learned so many things the hard way even with my Parents right there to guide me.
I am not as fast or alert as I once was so I've learned to slow way down so I don't make so many mistakes. Age does that to you don't ya know!
There are not enough words in the dictionary to express how very much the people who have been in my life have meant to me. My Parents, My Brother Norman, My sweet Son Richard who gave me so much Joy. To my friends that have come and gone throughout my life and left a part of them with me. My Friends of here and now who are so very important to me. All I can say is Thank you for being there. Thank you for being such a vital part of my life. I appreciate you all more than you'll ever know!!! My Parents taught me to tell everyone that are close to me, I Love You every chance I get just in case one time is all I've got. SOOO!! I LOVE YOU!!!
Over the years I have learned a lot of things. I certainly have learned that I am hard headed and stubborn. I'm sure not proud of that fact but it IS' a fact. I'd like to think that I've learned lots of more worthwhile things. Like knowing that it is much easier to laugh than it is to cry. I learned by doing, by seeing,by listening, but most of all by experiencing. I've learned that if I failed it was not my Parents fault or anyone else' for that matter. There is a song by Johnny Cash vowing that Mamma tried.
Mamma and Daddy taught me right from wrong and gave me the tannings if I didn't listen. So Whatever has gone wrong is MY' fault.
Some of the things we face now were so much easier in my youth if in fact they were faced at all. Things have gotten so complicated now and I still cling to the things that were so much more simple. Our philosophy was slow down and live life, smell the roses because they are here a short time just the way we are and it would be such a shame to miss that sweet fragrance. Now some seem to live on the plan or get them before they get you. How sad.
I have pity parties at times. I know they are a waste of my time as well as anyone else' time but I still find myself knee deep in them. Good Grief! How stupid is that? Sometimes it is heartbreaking to remember my past but most time my heart is warmed by it. When I face something now that I think is impossible I just have to stop and remember the difficult times my parents had and I realize how easy I've had it. Boy I get off my pity party fast.
The love my Parents gave me sustained me through many times when it felt like no one loved me. They taught me my self worth, and that No one is better than me but I am better than no one. When I was under the teaching and example of my Parents it was easy to see the good in everyone now it is hard to find good in some people. I am ashamed to say that there are some that I have never found any good in no matter how hard I try.
Trying to tell the youth what we have learned from experience usually falls on deaf ears. I didn't always listen either it just doesn't seem like I had as much to learn as youth do now. I learned so many things the hard way even with my Parents right there to guide me.
I am not as fast or alert as I once was so I've learned to slow way down so I don't make so many mistakes. Age does that to you don't ya know!
There are not enough words in the dictionary to express how very much the people who have been in my life have meant to me. My Parents, My Brother Norman, My sweet Son Richard who gave me so much Joy. To my friends that have come and gone throughout my life and left a part of them with me. My Friends of here and now who are so very important to me. All I can say is Thank you for being there. Thank you for being such a vital part of my life. I appreciate you all more than you'll ever know!!! My Parents taught me to tell everyone that are close to me, I Love You every chance I get just in case one time is all I've got. SOOO!! I LOVE YOU!!!
Monday, March 22, 2010
I'M NOT POOR
3-21-10...I'M NOT POOR!!!
I think some people always see the glass half empty instead of half full. I am guilty of that myself at times, just not always.
I remember a girl on the school bus saying that my family was 'poor people'. Heck fire I didn't know what poor people were but I certainly was not one of them and I told her so. Told her she better shut her mouth. She said, "Poor, Poor, Poor" and I socked her in that mouth of hers. Well I told her I would if she didn't shut up. She should have shut up. No one had ever told me that I was poor before so I asked my Mamma what poor people meant and I'll never forget what she told me. She said "Clydene poor could mean a lot of things but it don't mean us. We are broke and don't have enough money but broke and poor are two different words". Mamma went on to tell me that the girl who said that to me was poor not me. "But Mamma she has anything she wants" I said. Mamma was patient with me and tried but I was only six years old and just couldn't really grasp full the meaning. My Mamma said it though so by golly for me that made it true. I told the girl that she was the one who was poor not me. She wasn't convinced but I suspect she didn't want another jaw boxing so she never bothered me again.
Later in my life that incident has come back to me many times when someone was trying to put me down. Wealth is not determined by how much we have but by our state of mind. I could look at our old weathered house with cracks in the walls that let in the cold and see a palace. My one doll that was made from an old sock was the greatest toy in the world, my four dresses my Grandma made out of feed sacks were a wardrobe fit for a princess.
It all boils down to how you look at things. Sometimes I have to be jolted a bit to get that thinking back in my head. I get to thinking well poor old me and I see my Mamma telling me I wasn't poor unless I thought I was. Nope I'm not poor. Never was and never will be. I have a wealth of upbringing that will never let me down. I'm rich! Yep!!
I think some people always see the glass half empty instead of half full. I am guilty of that myself at times, just not always.
I remember a girl on the school bus saying that my family was 'poor people'. Heck fire I didn't know what poor people were but I certainly was not one of them and I told her so. Told her she better shut her mouth. She said, "Poor, Poor, Poor" and I socked her in that mouth of hers. Well I told her I would if she didn't shut up. She should have shut up. No one had ever told me that I was poor before so I asked my Mamma what poor people meant and I'll never forget what she told me. She said "Clydene poor could mean a lot of things but it don't mean us. We are broke and don't have enough money but broke and poor are two different words". Mamma went on to tell me that the girl who said that to me was poor not me. "But Mamma she has anything she wants" I said. Mamma was patient with me and tried but I was only six years old and just couldn't really grasp full the meaning. My Mamma said it though so by golly for me that made it true. I told the girl that she was the one who was poor not me. She wasn't convinced but I suspect she didn't want another jaw boxing so she never bothered me again.
Later in my life that incident has come back to me many times when someone was trying to put me down. Wealth is not determined by how much we have but by our state of mind. I could look at our old weathered house with cracks in the walls that let in the cold and see a palace. My one doll that was made from an old sock was the greatest toy in the world, my four dresses my Grandma made out of feed sacks were a wardrobe fit for a princess.
It all boils down to how you look at things. Sometimes I have to be jolted a bit to get that thinking back in my head. I get to thinking well poor old me and I see my Mamma telling me I wasn't poor unless I thought I was. Nope I'm not poor. Never was and never will be. I have a wealth of upbringing that will never let me down. I'm rich! Yep!!
Friday, March 19, 2010
JUST WHAT I AM
3-19-10...I AM JUST WHAT I AM
Memories are what we draw on to remember people places and times in our life that made us either happy or sad. I choose the happy ones especially on a day when I tend to be sad or down about the things of now. Life was so simple when I was growing up. Probably due mostly to the fact that my Loving Parents took care to make me happy and protected. I just didn't know things were hard. That is a gift my Parents gave me that can never be replaced. That warm, safe, feeling loved, and wonderful youthful feeling. My Parents gave my Brother and I that and I will be forever thankful to them. We had everything we needed and often some of what we wanted.
I am sure that my Mama and Daddy had arguments and little hurts with one another but they were very careful to not let us see that. They always presented a loving peaceful atmosphere for our home.
We lived at the end of a dead end road right beside the rail road tracks. Trains came through and because the crossing was just up the way they blew their mournful whistle right in front of our house. We got used to the sound and usually never paid any attention to it.
In the late 40's and 50's was when I grew up here. Things were so different then. It was 60 + years ago and our world was different and more simple. We made our own fun down there. My Auntie lived right across the Pasture and my cousin Brenda and I had so much fun. In and out of capers.
We didn't know about the harsh realities of life in the world that surrounded us but somehow we were prepared and ready for it when it came.
We were spanked when we needed it and we always seemed to know that we did need it. We were loved, hugged, cuddled, and given a secure feeling even though things were bad.
Daddy worked in a coal mine and was gone all week. He worked hard and the work was dangerous. But he provided for us. We were proud of our Parents no matter what.
My Brother and I were taught love and respect for each other as well as for everyone else around us. Daddy said often, “You are as good as anyone in the world. But you are not better than anyone else”.
Our Parents were there for us as long as they were alive. At times now I can feel their presence all around me and I still want to make them proud of me. They gave us a rich life filled with everything we needed to make places for ourselves in this world. We are still simple people. Not much money but we are happy that way. Don't need more than we have. We never wanted what we couldn't have and still don't.
I owe all that I am to those two wonderful people who brought me in to this world and loved me unconditionally. I miss them so badly sometimes that it hurts. Oh how I'd love to have them to talk to sometimes. My best friends in this world.
Memories are what we draw on to remember people places and times in our life that made us either happy or sad. I choose the happy ones especially on a day when I tend to be sad or down about the things of now. Life was so simple when I was growing up. Probably due mostly to the fact that my Loving Parents took care to make me happy and protected. I just didn't know things were hard. That is a gift my Parents gave me that can never be replaced. That warm, safe, feeling loved, and wonderful youthful feeling. My Parents gave my Brother and I that and I will be forever thankful to them. We had everything we needed and often some of what we wanted.
I am sure that my Mama and Daddy had arguments and little hurts with one another but they were very careful to not let us see that. They always presented a loving peaceful atmosphere for our home.
We lived at the end of a dead end road right beside the rail road tracks. Trains came through and because the crossing was just up the way they blew their mournful whistle right in front of our house. We got used to the sound and usually never paid any attention to it.
In the late 40's and 50's was when I grew up here. Things were so different then. It was 60 + years ago and our world was different and more simple. We made our own fun down there. My Auntie lived right across the Pasture and my cousin Brenda and I had so much fun. In and out of capers.
We didn't know about the harsh realities of life in the world that surrounded us but somehow we were prepared and ready for it when it came.
We were spanked when we needed it and we always seemed to know that we did need it. We were loved, hugged, cuddled, and given a secure feeling even though things were bad.
Daddy worked in a coal mine and was gone all week. He worked hard and the work was dangerous. But he provided for us. We were proud of our Parents no matter what.
My Brother and I were taught love and respect for each other as well as for everyone else around us. Daddy said often, “You are as good as anyone in the world. But you are not better than anyone else”.
Our Parents were there for us as long as they were alive. At times now I can feel their presence all around me and I still want to make them proud of me. They gave us a rich life filled with everything we needed to make places for ourselves in this world. We are still simple people. Not much money but we are happy that way. Don't need more than we have. We never wanted what we couldn't have and still don't.
I owe all that I am to those two wonderful people who brought me in to this world and loved me unconditionally. I miss them so badly sometimes that it hurts. Oh how I'd love to have them to talk to sometimes. My best friends in this world.
MEMORIES THAT REMAIN
3-19-10...MEMORIES THAT REMAIN
This morning I got up all out of sorts. This time of year is always hard for me. Usually just coming here to The Hill and meeting and greeting my Great Friends is enough. This morning it wasn't. Sooo. I say to myself I'll revive some wonderful memory of my past. But that was not working either. I'm not one to let life defeat me and stay in gloom very long but heck fire I was so deep in the mire this morning I thought I was surely going to sink.
I couldn't help thinking about all the sickness and heartache in the world. Indeed right here on The Hill we have lots of it. My life has some too. Now how in the world to get all this put away where it belongs? Seems everything just happens at one time usually . WHY? I wish I knew. Oh My I wish I knew. But every since I found the blog section here on the hill and figured out how to use it, I have had a friend to grasp on to. Not so much A Friend, but more like a place of refuge. That is what The Hill has become to me. You see my friends, You are always there. I can come here anytime and find someone to talk to. I can find a place to Pray with and for others. I can find a cherry note or graphic or message. I can receive a hug, a giggle, maybe even a tear or two.
Two things happened this morning as I wallowed in my mire. First I looked at my gallery on the hill and some of those pics. brought back such sweetness in to my raw heart. There is that old house where I grew up. The house with draft holes all over to let in the cold air. The linoleum on the floor that would sometimes literally puff up and stand like a magic carpet when those cold winds blew under the house and up through the cracks in the floor. Curtains that would stand straight out and flutter like a ghost was blowing on them. The ol' stove where Daddy sat up all night to keep wood fed in and keep us warm. Then later the little gas stove where Daddy still had to sit up and watch. The gas pressure would go way down or the gas would freeze up in the lines.(yep sure did) Daddy had to be there when the gas was coming through the lines again so he could relight the stove and keep us from dying in our sleep from gas fumes. I saw a pic. of my Daddy sitting down on his feet with his knees up to his chin holding on to me or picking cotton, strawberries, etc. to make extra money that we needed badly. I remembered Daddy sitting like that in front of our Christmas tree picking out nuts for us to eat. We got nuts(that were sold in paper bags uncracked) and fruit and candy only at Christmas. What a treat!!! I remembered getting up on cold mornings and our bear feet hitting that cold floor, hopping around and hurrying out to get our shoes and socks that were sitting by the fire to keep warm. Then smelling the aroma of bacon frying and coffee brewing to the sounds of My Mama singing Amazing Grace. All the time still wishing for that good warm feather bed with the many quilts and the hot water bottle wrapped in a towel that Mama had so lovingly put by our feet before we went to sleep. All sweet loving memories of a time we didn't have a care in the world even when we sat down to the dinner table to a big bowl of mashed or fried potatoes and a big pot of pinto beans with fat back cooked in them. YUMMY! Still love them. All we had then, A treat now.
Then the second thing happened. I got an email from my friend from school days with a song by Bob Dylan of all people. A Hymn saying all the things I had in my mind. Wow! The lord knows just what we need, just when we need it!!! I'm adding the words here but can't figure out how to add the song so Look for it on my page later. Yep! I'm feeling better and I thank you my friends for being here when people in my life are not there for me. I love you, I love The Hill, I'm totally Thankful to TC and EB for creating this wonderful place for us where we can be safe. I feel closer to You all than I do some of my family. STRANGE?? Maybe, but true.
If anyone reading this has a need of the Heart right now, I'm betting that you can have it met right Here On The Hill where so many loving people will be there for you. We are all one big Family here and I am so Thankful this morning
I gaze into the doorway of temptation's angry flame
And every time I pass that way, I always hear my name
Then onward in my journey, I come to understand
That every hair is numbered, like every grain of sand
I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summer's dream, in the chill of a wintry light,
In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space,
In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face
I hear the ancient footsteps, like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, there's someone there, other times it's only me
I am hanging in the balance of the reality of man
Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand
This morning I got up all out of sorts. This time of year is always hard for me. Usually just coming here to The Hill and meeting and greeting my Great Friends is enough. This morning it wasn't. Sooo. I say to myself I'll revive some wonderful memory of my past. But that was not working either. I'm not one to let life defeat me and stay in gloom very long but heck fire I was so deep in the mire this morning I thought I was surely going to sink.
I couldn't help thinking about all the sickness and heartache in the world. Indeed right here on The Hill we have lots of it. My life has some too. Now how in the world to get all this put away where it belongs? Seems everything just happens at one time usually . WHY? I wish I knew. Oh My I wish I knew. But every since I found the blog section here on the hill and figured out how to use it, I have had a friend to grasp on to. Not so much A Friend, but more like a place of refuge. That is what The Hill has become to me. You see my friends, You are always there. I can come here anytime and find someone to talk to. I can find a place to Pray with and for others. I can find a cherry note or graphic or message. I can receive a hug, a giggle, maybe even a tear or two.
Two things happened this morning as I wallowed in my mire. First I looked at my gallery on the hill and some of those pics. brought back such sweetness in to my raw heart. There is that old house where I grew up. The house with draft holes all over to let in the cold air. The linoleum on the floor that would sometimes literally puff up and stand like a magic carpet when those cold winds blew under the house and up through the cracks in the floor. Curtains that would stand straight out and flutter like a ghost was blowing on them. The ol' stove where Daddy sat up all night to keep wood fed in and keep us warm. Then later the little gas stove where Daddy still had to sit up and watch. The gas pressure would go way down or the gas would freeze up in the lines.(yep sure did) Daddy had to be there when the gas was coming through the lines again so he could relight the stove and keep us from dying in our sleep from gas fumes. I saw a pic. of my Daddy sitting down on his feet with his knees up to his chin holding on to me or picking cotton, strawberries, etc. to make extra money that we needed badly. I remembered Daddy sitting like that in front of our Christmas tree picking out nuts for us to eat. We got nuts(that were sold in paper bags uncracked) and fruit and candy only at Christmas. What a treat!!! I remembered getting up on cold mornings and our bear feet hitting that cold floor, hopping around and hurrying out to get our shoes and socks that were sitting by the fire to keep warm. Then smelling the aroma of bacon frying and coffee brewing to the sounds of My Mama singing Amazing Grace. All the time still wishing for that good warm feather bed with the many quilts and the hot water bottle wrapped in a towel that Mama had so lovingly put by our feet before we went to sleep. All sweet loving memories of a time we didn't have a care in the world even when we sat down to the dinner table to a big bowl of mashed or fried potatoes and a big pot of pinto beans with fat back cooked in them. YUMMY! Still love them. All we had then, A treat now.
Then the second thing happened. I got an email from my friend from school days with a song by Bob Dylan of all people. A Hymn saying all the things I had in my mind. Wow! The lord knows just what we need, just when we need it!!! I'm adding the words here but can't figure out how to add the song so Look for it on my page later. Yep! I'm feeling better and I thank you my friends for being here when people in my life are not there for me. I love you, I love The Hill, I'm totally Thankful to TC and EB for creating this wonderful place for us where we can be safe. I feel closer to You all than I do some of my family. STRANGE?? Maybe, but true.
If anyone reading this has a need of the Heart right now, I'm betting that you can have it met right Here On The Hill where so many loving people will be there for you. We are all one big Family here and I am so Thankful this morning
I gaze into the doorway of temptation's angry flame
And every time I pass that way, I always hear my name
Then onward in my journey, I come to understand
That every hair is numbered, like every grain of sand
I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summer's dream, in the chill of a wintry light,
In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space,
In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face
I hear the ancient footsteps, like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, there's someone there, other times it's only me
I am hanging in the balance of the reality of man
Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
THE WAY IT WAS
3-15-10...THE WAY IT WAS
What about the costs of things today? Terrible HUH? I can hardly afford to go anywhere for fear of running out of gas. And food is another thing. MY Heavens!!!
Maybe we should have stayed the way it was when I was growing up. Work hard and play less. Raise the food we eat. Walk more places. When I was in school lunch was 10cents and was a good balanced meal. No junk food. Also we rode the school bus or walked. NO ONE had a car to drive to school and cruise around afterward. Entertainment was all the kids gathering at someone's house for a fudge party. Grandma's and Mothers made our clothes out of pretty flour sacks you could buy at the local store. Pollution had not even been invented yet. We breathed in clean air and ate undoctored food. Milked a cow, gathered the eggs, canned our own food we grew out in the garden. etc. It didn't take much to make us happy back then.
PROGRESS? Is that what they call it? Things are certainly not better to my way of thinking. Don't get me wrong, I have enjoyed all these modern conveniences in the second part of my life. But do I miss the way it was? YOU JUST BETCHA!!!!!
What about the costs of things today? Terrible HUH? I can hardly afford to go anywhere for fear of running out of gas. And food is another thing. MY Heavens!!!
Maybe we should have stayed the way it was when I was growing up. Work hard and play less. Raise the food we eat. Walk more places. When I was in school lunch was 10cents and was a good balanced meal. No junk food. Also we rode the school bus or walked. NO ONE had a car to drive to school and cruise around afterward. Entertainment was all the kids gathering at someone's house for a fudge party. Grandma's and Mothers made our clothes out of pretty flour sacks you could buy at the local store. Pollution had not even been invented yet. We breathed in clean air and ate undoctored food. Milked a cow, gathered the eggs, canned our own food we grew out in the garden. etc. It didn't take much to make us happy back then.
PROGRESS? Is that what they call it? Things are certainly not better to my way of thinking. Don't get me wrong, I have enjoyed all these modern conveniences in the second part of my life. But do I miss the way it was? YOU JUST BETCHA!!!!!
CRYING FOR HAPPY
3-15-10...CRYING FOR HAPPY
I have been thinking a lot about my Mother lately with Mothers day approaching. I got to thinking about something that happened when I was about 4 yrs. old. While I sometimes cry because I miss my Mother so much today I have laughed till' I Cried. My Mama used to wash clothes on a wringer washer on the back porch. I was there with her this day as usual. You who are familiar with wringer washers will understand but for you 'younguns' who dont know what that is::::: That's another story. Anyway, Mama was feeding clothes through the wringer one day and she got her hair caught in the wringer. Well I thought it was funny. Mama looked so funny to me standing there with her head to the ringer and of course I didn't know that she was in trouble. I'm telling you, the more she hollered the more I laughed. I thought we were playing a game and boy was I having fun. Mama was yelling at me to unplug the washer so the wringer would stop and she could get her hair removed, (Which was another funny happening too) I didn't know what she wanted but I did finally sense that this was "NOT A GAME AFTER ALL"!! I still didn't know what to do so I just stood there. Mama finally got her foot in the cord and pulled the plug. Then she had to release the wringer (another thing you"YOUNGUNS" will not understand). While she was accompolishing this task I got tickled again which I don't think Mama was too happy about. Anyway she finally got her hair released (at least what was left of her hair) and we walked up the lane to my Aunts (who was older and wiser) and My Aunt examined and doctored Mama's head and we stayed there till' my Daddy got home. Mama never did get to the point where she really "laughed" about the wringer episode, But she did Smile when it would be brought up through the years. And right now I am sitting here seeing my Mom's beautiful face and her sweet smile. I am feelin her Love so strong that I am now crying again. "Crying FOR Happy Memories" And that is a great thing to be doing on Mother's day or any other day. I Love and Miss You Mamma!
I have been thinking a lot about my Mother lately with Mothers day approaching. I got to thinking about something that happened when I was about 4 yrs. old. While I sometimes cry because I miss my Mother so much today I have laughed till' I Cried. My Mama used to wash clothes on a wringer washer on the back porch. I was there with her this day as usual. You who are familiar with wringer washers will understand but for you 'younguns' who dont know what that is::::: That's another story. Anyway, Mama was feeding clothes through the wringer one day and she got her hair caught in the wringer. Well I thought it was funny. Mama looked so funny to me standing there with her head to the ringer and of course I didn't know that she was in trouble. I'm telling you, the more she hollered the more I laughed. I thought we were playing a game and boy was I having fun. Mama was yelling at me to unplug the washer so the wringer would stop and she could get her hair removed, (Which was another funny happening too) I didn't know what she wanted but I did finally sense that this was "NOT A GAME AFTER ALL"!! I still didn't know what to do so I just stood there. Mama finally got her foot in the cord and pulled the plug. Then she had to release the wringer (another thing you"YOUNGUNS" will not understand). While she was accompolishing this task I got tickled again which I don't think Mama was too happy about. Anyway she finally got her hair released (at least what was left of her hair) and we walked up the lane to my Aunts (who was older and wiser) and My Aunt examined and doctored Mama's head and we stayed there till' my Daddy got home. Mama never did get to the point where she really "laughed" about the wringer episode, But she did Smile when it would be brought up through the years. And right now I am sitting here seeing my Mom's beautiful face and her sweet smile. I am feelin her Love so strong that I am now crying again. "Crying FOR Happy Memories" And that is a great thing to be doing on Mother's day or any other day. I Love and Miss You Mamma!
Thursday, March 11, 2010
CHICKEN DAY
3-11-10...CHICKEN DAY
Now days I would probably be considered a delinquent or something when I was growing up. Times have changed so dramatically in my life it has been hard to keep up at times. It hasn't stopped either and sometimes I wish time would just freeze and stop going over the top with changes.
When things get too complicated or start getting tough the best thing I know to do is retreat back to my childhood and revel in the good memories. Today is one of those kinds of days.
Chicken day in March is one of my fondest. Daddy ordered 50 each time from a hatchery in another state. There would be catalogs sent in the mail. Daddy didn't need to look at the different kinds, he ordered White Rocks. They were big white chickens and Daddy said they were the 'best' layers ever. He ordered straight run meaning mixed sex made no difference. Most of the roosters were used for frying and the hens were for laying eggs. When the hens got through laying, 'layed out' Daddy called it, they were eaten too. Nothing wasted. Feathers made pillows. Not as soft as duck feathers but used.
The chickens came on the train. They were in crates with wire mesh and some kind of cardboard. We went to the train station in Ozark to pick them up. Had to be there or they sat on the dock and a lot of them died.
You could hear chicks peeping a long way off because there were many people there to pick up their chicks. I was always so excited to get to go with Daddy. I didn't always get to go but often I did. I can see it like it was yesterday everyone lined up to get their chicks. The dock was about head high and I had to stay back or I'd get run over by the people waiting. Of course I did usually get in some ones way and one day it was a big old man who Daddy said was acting rude. (Daddy said it another way but if I repeat that here he will probably thump me on the head ) The guy bumped in to me and threw his arms out and that dang crate of chickens sailed right over my head and busted to smithereens. The old guy looked at me like he would like to pinch my head off so I ran to get to my daddy and lo-and-behold ran into another man who dropped his crate of chicks. His didn't spill Thank God but he looked mad too so I found my Daddy fast.
Everyone set their crates down and went chicken catching. Now I was in my element then. I was smaller and more agile and was out doing all of the men. I caught a bunch of them that the men couldn't run down and ran back and put them in a cardboard box they had found. I fell a couple of times and I was filthy. Had chick poop all over me and had blood dripping from some scratches but boy howdy was I having fun. The men were all commenting on that scrappy little girl and Daddy was strutting like a Banny rooster in a coop full of hens. He was so proud of his little girl. Daddy was still telling that story when he was old and sick. Told everyone who would listen. If they didn't want to listen he told em' anyway. One good thing in all the confusion that man who I had caused to spill the chicks seemed to forget all about why they were spilled.
It was a job raising those chickens and I'll tell that later. It would make this too long. But I'll say this, When I go buy a chicken at the store and fry it up, or buy eggs and cook them, it sure makes me wish for eggs, and chicken the way it used to taste. No Comparison. NOPE!!!
Now days I would probably be considered a delinquent or something when I was growing up. Times have changed so dramatically in my life it has been hard to keep up at times. It hasn't stopped either and sometimes I wish time would just freeze and stop going over the top with changes.
When things get too complicated or start getting tough the best thing I know to do is retreat back to my childhood and revel in the good memories. Today is one of those kinds of days.
Chicken day in March is one of my fondest. Daddy ordered 50 each time from a hatchery in another state. There would be catalogs sent in the mail. Daddy didn't need to look at the different kinds, he ordered White Rocks. They were big white chickens and Daddy said they were the 'best' layers ever. He ordered straight run meaning mixed sex made no difference. Most of the roosters were used for frying and the hens were for laying eggs. When the hens got through laying, 'layed out' Daddy called it, they were eaten too. Nothing wasted. Feathers made pillows. Not as soft as duck feathers but used.
The chickens came on the train. They were in crates with wire mesh and some kind of cardboard. We went to the train station in Ozark to pick them up. Had to be there or they sat on the dock and a lot of them died.
You could hear chicks peeping a long way off because there were many people there to pick up their chicks. I was always so excited to get to go with Daddy. I didn't always get to go but often I did. I can see it like it was yesterday everyone lined up to get their chicks. The dock was about head high and I had to stay back or I'd get run over by the people waiting. Of course I did usually get in some ones way and one day it was a big old man who Daddy said was acting rude. (Daddy said it another way but if I repeat that here he will probably thump me on the head ) The guy bumped in to me and threw his arms out and that dang crate of chickens sailed right over my head and busted to smithereens. The old guy looked at me like he would like to pinch my head off so I ran to get to my daddy and lo-and-behold ran into another man who dropped his crate of chicks. His didn't spill Thank God but he looked mad too so I found my Daddy fast.
Everyone set their crates down and went chicken catching. Now I was in my element then. I was smaller and more agile and was out doing all of the men. I caught a bunch of them that the men couldn't run down and ran back and put them in a cardboard box they had found. I fell a couple of times and I was filthy. Had chick poop all over me and had blood dripping from some scratches but boy howdy was I having fun. The men were all commenting on that scrappy little girl and Daddy was strutting like a Banny rooster in a coop full of hens. He was so proud of his little girl. Daddy was still telling that story when he was old and sick. Told everyone who would listen. If they didn't want to listen he told em' anyway. One good thing in all the confusion that man who I had caused to spill the chicks seemed to forget all about why they were spilled.
It was a job raising those chickens and I'll tell that later. It would make this too long. But I'll say this, When I go buy a chicken at the store and fry it up, or buy eggs and cook them, it sure makes me wish for eggs, and chicken the way it used to taste. No Comparison. NOPE!!!
Monday, March 8, 2010
THE BEE TREE
3-7-10...The Bee Tree
Do you know about robbing a bee tree? If you do then you probably know there is no good way to do it and the best way is not to attempt it at all. But of course I Was in on the attempt once. Once was sure enough.
I was just newly married, only 19 years old. Me and my husband at the time were visiting with his sister and her husband only a couple of years older.
Now the usual thing was to go very early in the morning or late in the evening in the early fall. Mornings they were not very active or. Evenings in the fall they were in the hive and not as prone to attack. You wanted to catch them all there and not flying in and out. You were supposed to be able then to 'chase' them all off. Yeaw, right!!! Who ever made up those rules had a few screws loose.
We were all sitting there visiting, it was mid evening(first mistake) and some nut decided that we wanted some fresh honey. It was late summer. Second mistake. Off we went.
We all wore big wide brimmed straw hats with a scarf tied around them and under the chin. We were covered on every bit of skin and I was already sweating profusely. We had all the standard equipment. A stick with a coal oil soaked rag on it to be lit for 'smoking the bees' and keeping them away from us. Now the bee keepers today wouldn't go near a bee tree dressed like we were. I guess they must be more allergic to bee stings now than we were then. Well it's a thought!
My sister-in-law and her husband knew where the bee tree was but that's about all they knew. We could hear the droning of the bees way before we got there and I was getting a little bit weary and wanting to chicken out. I was hot and I didn't relish getting stung by a darn bee. Of course you could never call me chicken and get by with it so I just kept my mouth shut and proceeded on.
When we got close enough to see the tree it looked like smoke coming out of a spot way up on the tree which we discovered later was bees.
Now you were supposed to get up in the tree and stick your smoke stick up to the hole and scare the bees out and they are supposed to fly off leaving the hole clear for removing the hive. This is where our stupidity caught up with us.
It was a big old tree and none of us wanted to climb it so we decided to cut the darn thing down to make it easier. Good Grief!!
The men used a cross cut saw that was in the truck already and it didn't really take long to fall the tree. That they did know how to do. The bees had remained calm until that tree hit the ground. The bees flew away but they didn't stay long and they were mad. The men were busy robbing the tree and us women were supposed to keep the smoke going to keep the bees away. They didn't go far and when I heard them coming back it sounded like a chain saw. I looked up and by golly I took off running. To heck with this. I knew they rest were running just as hard behind me. The men had honey all over them and had the bucket with part of the hive. The bees followed us. We got a bunch of stings and most of them were in our backsides. Them suckers stung right through my thick blue jeans. We got to the truck a whole bunch faster that we had gotten to the bee tree and we scrambled in. One of the men put the bucket in the back of the truck. That was not a good idea because those mad bees followed us right on up the road. When we got back to the house, which was a couple of miles, we were afraid to get out of the truck. We sat in that dang hot truck with the windows rolled up, and it was a hot day, until way after dark with those darn mad bees sitting on that bucket of honey. They finally flew away a few at a time and we were free. We all had a bath in a wash tub one at a time because the men had honey all over them and we had picked it up from them while sitting in the truck.
That was my first and last robbing of the bee tree. I can say I did it and we probably got about ½ pint of honey for our trouble. Man was that stuff good though.
Do you know about robbing a bee tree? If you do then you probably know there is no good way to do it and the best way is not to attempt it at all. But of course I Was in on the attempt once. Once was sure enough.
I was just newly married, only 19 years old. Me and my husband at the time were visiting with his sister and her husband only a couple of years older.
Now the usual thing was to go very early in the morning or late in the evening in the early fall. Mornings they were not very active or. Evenings in the fall they were in the hive and not as prone to attack. You wanted to catch them all there and not flying in and out. You were supposed to be able then to 'chase' them all off. Yeaw, right!!! Who ever made up those rules had a few screws loose.
We were all sitting there visiting, it was mid evening(first mistake) and some nut decided that we wanted some fresh honey. It was late summer. Second mistake. Off we went.
We all wore big wide brimmed straw hats with a scarf tied around them and under the chin. We were covered on every bit of skin and I was already sweating profusely. We had all the standard equipment. A stick with a coal oil soaked rag on it to be lit for 'smoking the bees' and keeping them away from us. Now the bee keepers today wouldn't go near a bee tree dressed like we were. I guess they must be more allergic to bee stings now than we were then. Well it's a thought!
My sister-in-law and her husband knew where the bee tree was but that's about all they knew. We could hear the droning of the bees way before we got there and I was getting a little bit weary and wanting to chicken out. I was hot and I didn't relish getting stung by a darn bee. Of course you could never call me chicken and get by with it so I just kept my mouth shut and proceeded on.
When we got close enough to see the tree it looked like smoke coming out of a spot way up on the tree which we discovered later was bees.
Now you were supposed to get up in the tree and stick your smoke stick up to the hole and scare the bees out and they are supposed to fly off leaving the hole clear for removing the hive. This is where our stupidity caught up with us.
It was a big old tree and none of us wanted to climb it so we decided to cut the darn thing down to make it easier. Good Grief!!
The men used a cross cut saw that was in the truck already and it didn't really take long to fall the tree. That they did know how to do. The bees had remained calm until that tree hit the ground. The bees flew away but they didn't stay long and they were mad. The men were busy robbing the tree and us women were supposed to keep the smoke going to keep the bees away. They didn't go far and when I heard them coming back it sounded like a chain saw. I looked up and by golly I took off running. To heck with this. I knew they rest were running just as hard behind me. The men had honey all over them and had the bucket with part of the hive. The bees followed us. We got a bunch of stings and most of them were in our backsides. Them suckers stung right through my thick blue jeans. We got to the truck a whole bunch faster that we had gotten to the bee tree and we scrambled in. One of the men put the bucket in the back of the truck. That was not a good idea because those mad bees followed us right on up the road. When we got back to the house, which was a couple of miles, we were afraid to get out of the truck. We sat in that dang hot truck with the windows rolled up, and it was a hot day, until way after dark with those darn mad bees sitting on that bucket of honey. They finally flew away a few at a time and we were free. We all had a bath in a wash tub one at a time because the men had honey all over them and we had picked it up from them while sitting in the truck.
That was my first and last robbing of the bee tree. I can say I did it and we probably got about ½ pint of honey for our trouble. Man was that stuff good though.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
WHY DO I CRY
3-3-10...WHY DO I CRY?
Some have expressed how they are amazed at how I can recall my Childhood in such clarity. I didn't really think much about it until others noticed. I thought for a while it had to be because my childhood was so happy. Uneventful but happy. There was never much to cry or be sad about then and we tend to remember the happy things more readily.
But in my older years I have taken to crying about every little thing. I hate it. Always standing around blubbering like an old cow in front of whoever happens to be around. The least little flicker of memory and off I go again like a leaky faucet whether I am alone or in a crowded place. Like this morning in the grocery store when I smelled an old memory of a little grocery store I went to with my Mamma and Daddy and the water works started. A sad commercial, a not so sad commercial that reminds me of something, frustration about something or somebody, knowing someone is wrong and they wont listen. I even cry when I'm happy or excited. GOOD GRIEF! A smell, a song , a color. The list goes on and on. It just don't take much to make me cry.
My x husband never allowed me to cry for any reason and if I did he slapped me silly and I cut it off instantly. I thought maybe that is my reason for crying so much now. But there are times when crying just makes me feel good. I'll say, “I've had a good cry and now I feel better”.
I remember hearing somewhere once that women are just plain cry babies and didn't need a reason to cry. Well I am not sure if that is true. Maybe Men are just better at hiding it than we women are. Surely to goodness Men cry often. I know a bunch of soft hearted men, my Brother being one. So who knows the truth of it. I just know that It gets embarrassing sometimes to be bawling like a lost calf and have a stranger say. “What's wrong honey, Can I help You”?
Some have expressed how they are amazed at how I can recall my Childhood in such clarity. I didn't really think much about it until others noticed. I thought for a while it had to be because my childhood was so happy. Uneventful but happy. There was never much to cry or be sad about then and we tend to remember the happy things more readily.
But in my older years I have taken to crying about every little thing. I hate it. Always standing around blubbering like an old cow in front of whoever happens to be around. The least little flicker of memory and off I go again like a leaky faucet whether I am alone or in a crowded place. Like this morning in the grocery store when I smelled an old memory of a little grocery store I went to with my Mamma and Daddy and the water works started. A sad commercial, a not so sad commercial that reminds me of something, frustration about something or somebody, knowing someone is wrong and they wont listen. I even cry when I'm happy or excited. GOOD GRIEF! A smell, a song , a color. The list goes on and on. It just don't take much to make me cry.
My x husband never allowed me to cry for any reason and if I did he slapped me silly and I cut it off instantly. I thought maybe that is my reason for crying so much now. But there are times when crying just makes me feel good. I'll say, “I've had a good cry and now I feel better”.
I remember hearing somewhere once that women are just plain cry babies and didn't need a reason to cry. Well I am not sure if that is true. Maybe Men are just better at hiding it than we women are. Surely to goodness Men cry often. I know a bunch of soft hearted men, my Brother being one. So who knows the truth of it. I just know that It gets embarrassing sometimes to be bawling like a lost calf and have a stranger say. “What's wrong honey, Can I help You”?
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
MAMMA'S FLY SWATTER
3-2-10...WOES OF A FLY SWATTER
If you have never run threw a full grown row of cow corn at night with only the light of the moon to guide you than you should do that. We thought it was the most magnificent thing that was ever invented. We had never heard of maze but that was it. Just a way for us to have fun down there with not a lot to do. We made fun out of anything. But the night we did some damage to Daddy's corn, although unintentionally, that fun thing stopped abruptly. Oh boy was that fun while it lasted though. Well, except for the night we came head on with a skunk and her babies. A skunk is bad enough but with babies, Psew awful. But that's another story. I started out to talk about Mamma's flyswat.
In the winter when it was not good to break a switch off the peach tree then Mamma had a fly swatter that worked well. We were swatted a lot because we were getting in to things a lot. We survived and we didn't have flash backs or whatever they say now for the reason for a kid not to be swatted.
The swats were different then. Not plastic but made of wire like was used on screen doors. This wire was surrounded in metal. They were tough now I'm here to tell you. I watched Mamma kill a rat with hers swat one day.
Mamma did not allow fighting and for sure she didn't in the house. One day Norman and Paul were having a slapping match and I was running in the kitchen to tell on them. She listened then she got that old fly swatter and gave me a swat. "Mamma I wasn't doing nothin" I protested. I guess I got it for some of the times I DID do Somethin' and didn't get caught. Or maybe for being a tattle tail. Mamma didn't like that either. She said once that she could find out all our stuff' on her own. She could too. After she took care of my whack the boys got their turns.
Then there was the day we brought the baby rabbit in the house. That thing was full of filth. I know it had bugs cause something bit me. Anyway we were able to hide it from Mamma for all of ½ of a day. Long time considering her track record. We got a box and made it a bed. We got some carrots and lettuce out of the old ice box and laid them in the box. The rabbit probably wasn't old enough to eat but we didn't know that. Of course we got bored after a while and went on to other things. When we finally went back to our box the rabbit was gone. We looked everywhere. Boy Howdy we knew we'd better find that durn rabbit or we were in big trouble. We just could not find it so we decided it had got out of the box and somehow got outside. OK That'll Work! We put the box back where we found it and forgot the whole thing.
At supper that night Mamma said "Clyde I killed a rat today with my fly swat. We sure need some more rat poison". We looked at each other in horror. Oh No she had killed our rabbit. After we all ate Mamma said, "I also found some lettuce and carrots in the trash. Would you kids know anything about that?" Well Good Grief, did that woman ever miss anything? Heck no she never missed a thing if we had done it.
The rabbit had got out of the box and Mamma HAD killed it with her fly swat but at the time she was killing it she thought it WAS a rat. I don't know what she would have done if she had known it was a rabbit and I never asked her but after we got whacked a good one with her fly swatter (Of course she scrubbed it first) we never brought another rabbit in the house. NOPE!!! NO WAY.
If you have never run threw a full grown row of cow corn at night with only the light of the moon to guide you than you should do that. We thought it was the most magnificent thing that was ever invented. We had never heard of maze but that was it. Just a way for us to have fun down there with not a lot to do. We made fun out of anything. But the night we did some damage to Daddy's corn, although unintentionally, that fun thing stopped abruptly. Oh boy was that fun while it lasted though. Well, except for the night we came head on with a skunk and her babies. A skunk is bad enough but with babies, Psew awful. But that's another story. I started out to talk about Mamma's flyswat.
In the winter when it was not good to break a switch off the peach tree then Mamma had a fly swatter that worked well. We were swatted a lot because we were getting in to things a lot. We survived and we didn't have flash backs or whatever they say now for the reason for a kid not to be swatted.
The swats were different then. Not plastic but made of wire like was used on screen doors. This wire was surrounded in metal. They were tough now I'm here to tell you. I watched Mamma kill a rat with hers swat one day.
Mamma did not allow fighting and for sure she didn't in the house. One day Norman and Paul were having a slapping match and I was running in the kitchen to tell on them. She listened then she got that old fly swatter and gave me a swat. "Mamma I wasn't doing nothin" I protested. I guess I got it for some of the times I DID do Somethin' and didn't get caught. Or maybe for being a tattle tail. Mamma didn't like that either. She said once that she could find out all our stuff' on her own. She could too. After she took care of my whack the boys got their turns.
Then there was the day we brought the baby rabbit in the house. That thing was full of filth. I know it had bugs cause something bit me. Anyway we were able to hide it from Mamma for all of ½ of a day. Long time considering her track record. We got a box and made it a bed. We got some carrots and lettuce out of the old ice box and laid them in the box. The rabbit probably wasn't old enough to eat but we didn't know that. Of course we got bored after a while and went on to other things. When we finally went back to our box the rabbit was gone. We looked everywhere. Boy Howdy we knew we'd better find that durn rabbit or we were in big trouble. We just could not find it so we decided it had got out of the box and somehow got outside. OK That'll Work! We put the box back where we found it and forgot the whole thing.
At supper that night Mamma said "Clyde I killed a rat today with my fly swat. We sure need some more rat poison". We looked at each other in horror. Oh No she had killed our rabbit. After we all ate Mamma said, "I also found some lettuce and carrots in the trash. Would you kids know anything about that?" Well Good Grief, did that woman ever miss anything? Heck no she never missed a thing if we had done it.
The rabbit had got out of the box and Mamma HAD killed it with her fly swat but at the time she was killing it she thought it WAS a rat. I don't know what she would have done if she had known it was a rabbit and I never asked her but after we got whacked a good one with her fly swatter (Of course she scrubbed it first) we never brought another rabbit in the house. NOPE!!! NO WAY.
THE JOYS OF SPRING
3-1-10...THE JOYS OF SPRING
Boy oh Boy am I thinking about spring right now.. Some of my favorite things are the flowers and trees in bloom.I love seeing the robins hopping around their nest, trying to protect their blue eggs. There are at least two of them in my yard right now and man are they busy little critters. They hop around finding worms out of the still cold ground and twigs for their nests. Every year I just am positive that they are here too soon but they never are.
I love the feel of grass under my bare toes or just throwing on flip flops to wear to the store. More often than not though I'm barefooted.I like the summer colors, yellow, blue, green, lavender. I always had a new yellow Easter dress for church.Like my mama before me. Happy thoughts are what comes to mind when I hear the word spring.
Spring means new, fresh, and alive. I think we’re allowed to start thinking about it now!! Finally it’s March and for the moment air temperatures are hanging between 30 – 40f and showing signs of a bit of warming. Oh sure, we might get a bit more cold and a bit more snow as Winter fights to keep it’s grasp. But with the days growing longer, things starting to bud, and even some green grass showing in some spots in my yard, I think it is time to start planning on spring. According to the Groundhog in February we had six more weeks of this nasty weather. That is the official groundhog (what's his name?) but in my neck of the woods we have our own groundhog (can't remember his name either) and he says spring has arrived. If so it won't be long till flowers are blooming and bees are buzzing around them.
My Mamma used to have spring cleaning for what seemed like ages on end. But when she was ready for spring cleaning it seemed I always had spring fever . This is the time of year when lots of people, young and old, have spring fever. Nowadays it is mostly a state of mind -- not a malady – which commonly occurs on balmy sunny days in April and May. It is characterized by an "oh, shucks" notion that nothing is so important that it can't wait. You have an almost irresistible urge to play hooky, get out-of-doors, and go fishing or saunter aimlessly along or maybe just lie and bask in the sun. Mar. 26--Every year around this arrival of spring, a mysterious affliction strikes young and old. A thermometer may not register a fever, but many symptoms still exist. Oh how I hated to go to school in those Spring days of April before school was out in May. I would much rather be outside and found it hard to concentrate on lessons.
Right now I have an urge to take a big glass of iced tea outside and dig around in warm spring soil but I know there is no warm soil to be found. Hey I even like the spring storms and all the April showers.
Now having said all this and tootin' the horn of spring I have to say I don't like what comes next. Summer is tortuous to me and spring doesn't ever seem to last long enough. Nope I wont ever be tootin' the horn for summer
Boy oh Boy am I thinking about spring right now.. Some of my favorite things are the flowers and trees in bloom.I love seeing the robins hopping around their nest, trying to protect their blue eggs. There are at least two of them in my yard right now and man are they busy little critters. They hop around finding worms out of the still cold ground and twigs for their nests. Every year I just am positive that they are here too soon but they never are.
I love the feel of grass under my bare toes or just throwing on flip flops to wear to the store. More often than not though I'm barefooted.I like the summer colors, yellow, blue, green, lavender. I always had a new yellow Easter dress for church.Like my mama before me. Happy thoughts are what comes to mind when I hear the word spring.
Spring means new, fresh, and alive. I think we’re allowed to start thinking about it now!! Finally it’s March and for the moment air temperatures are hanging between 30 – 40f and showing signs of a bit of warming. Oh sure, we might get a bit more cold and a bit more snow as Winter fights to keep it’s grasp. But with the days growing longer, things starting to bud, and even some green grass showing in some spots in my yard, I think it is time to start planning on spring. According to the Groundhog in February we had six more weeks of this nasty weather. That is the official groundhog (what's his name?) but in my neck of the woods we have our own groundhog (can't remember his name either) and he says spring has arrived. If so it won't be long till flowers are blooming and bees are buzzing around them.
My Mamma used to have spring cleaning for what seemed like ages on end. But when she was ready for spring cleaning it seemed I always had spring fever . This is the time of year when lots of people, young and old, have spring fever. Nowadays it is mostly a state of mind -- not a malady – which commonly occurs on balmy sunny days in April and May. It is characterized by an "oh, shucks" notion that nothing is so important that it can't wait. You have an almost irresistible urge to play hooky, get out-of-doors, and go fishing or saunter aimlessly along or maybe just lie and bask in the sun. Mar. 26--Every year around this arrival of spring, a mysterious affliction strikes young and old. A thermometer may not register a fever, but many symptoms still exist. Oh how I hated to go to school in those Spring days of April before school was out in May. I would much rather be outside and found it hard to concentrate on lessons.
Right now I have an urge to take a big glass of iced tea outside and dig around in warm spring soil but I know there is no warm soil to be found. Hey I even like the spring storms and all the April showers.
Now having said all this and tootin' the horn of spring I have to say I don't like what comes next. Summer is tortuous to me and spring doesn't ever seem to last long enough. Nope I wont ever be tootin' the horn for summer
Monday, March 1, 2010
CITY VERSUS COUNTRY
2-28-10...CITY VERSUS COUNTRY
Are you more of a city person or a country person ? Some people are fonder of life in the city rather than the country or vice versa because of many different things. One is the pace of living; some people love a fast paced city life compared to the slower, more relaxed pace in the country. I think it is just what you are used to. After living in the country all my life when I got married I lived in several big cities. That way I can speak for both and I must still say I like the country best. Population is a factor; some people may like to live around a bunch of people where there are stores and restaurants on every corner for convenience rather than a sparsely populated one similar to the country where there is peace and quiet and no traffic noise. Another thing may be transportation; large cities tend to have public transportation that chauffeurs people throughout the city, where in the country that kind of transportation is either not needed or is not provided. These factors influence the way people make decisions on whether to live in either an urban or a rural area. The fast paced city life offers more entertainment, sports, shopping, and career opportunities than a slow, more relaxed country life.. Country life means you have the opportunity to raise much of your own food, be it from a garden or livestock. The population of an area can carry a lot of weight when it comes to choosing a place to live, whether in the city or in the country. In The countries increased cost of gasoline because of traveling farther for everyday necessities. Even though neighbors live further apart, they seem to know each other better and are always there help whenever the circumstances call for it. Living in the country has proven to be a more relaxed way of life. These factors are pace of living, population, and transportation. :As we all know, City people and Country people have a very different outlook on life. The Country outlook is one of perseverance and hardship. Its about flexibility and disappointment, debt, and a slow pace of life. Watching the seasons turn. Following life closer to nature and its hardships. The closer to nature they live, the more they can appreciate the nature of things. Compared to City people, Country people seem out of touch with modern culture. However, in general, country people have far more important context and contact with their neighbors. Elbow room changes how you think. There is a great deal of independence in Country living, but the kind that supports ones neighbors rather than necessarily blames them.
The City is way more convenient with more to offer. More opportunities, more jobs, etc. But sometimes you never even lay eyes on your neighbor let alone know and visit them. There is just more closeness in the country. More visiting and more really close friends.
You can see that I am one sided when it comes to the country and it will always win out for me. I realize that one day I may be unable to live way out here away from anyone or any way to get help. Yep I know that's coming but right now all I can hear outside is the whistling pines, a relaxing sound. I was at my Brothers one day in town and the noise from the streets just about drove me crazy. I would never get used to that. I know because I tried.
Are you more of a city person or a country person ? Some people are fonder of life in the city rather than the country or vice versa because of many different things. One is the pace of living; some people love a fast paced city life compared to the slower, more relaxed pace in the country. I think it is just what you are used to. After living in the country all my life when I got married I lived in several big cities. That way I can speak for both and I must still say I like the country best. Population is a factor; some people may like to live around a bunch of people where there are stores and restaurants on every corner for convenience rather than a sparsely populated one similar to the country where there is peace and quiet and no traffic noise. Another thing may be transportation; large cities tend to have public transportation that chauffeurs people throughout the city, where in the country that kind of transportation is either not needed or is not provided. These factors influence the way people make decisions on whether to live in either an urban or a rural area. The fast paced city life offers more entertainment, sports, shopping, and career opportunities than a slow, more relaxed country life.. Country life means you have the opportunity to raise much of your own food, be it from a garden or livestock. The population of an area can carry a lot of weight when it comes to choosing a place to live, whether in the city or in the country. In The countries increased cost of gasoline because of traveling farther for everyday necessities. Even though neighbors live further apart, they seem to know each other better and are always there help whenever the circumstances call for it. Living in the country has proven to be a more relaxed way of life. These factors are pace of living, population, and transportation. :As we all know, City people and Country people have a very different outlook on life. The Country outlook is one of perseverance and hardship. Its about flexibility and disappointment, debt, and a slow pace of life. Watching the seasons turn. Following life closer to nature and its hardships. The closer to nature they live, the more they can appreciate the nature of things. Compared to City people, Country people seem out of touch with modern culture. However, in general, country people have far more important context and contact with their neighbors. Elbow room changes how you think. There is a great deal of independence in Country living, but the kind that supports ones neighbors rather than necessarily blames them.
The City is way more convenient with more to offer. More opportunities, more jobs, etc. But sometimes you never even lay eyes on your neighbor let alone know and visit them. There is just more closeness in the country. More visiting and more really close friends.
You can see that I am one sided when it comes to the country and it will always win out for me. I realize that one day I may be unable to live way out here away from anyone or any way to get help. Yep I know that's coming but right now all I can hear outside is the whistling pines, a relaxing sound. I was at my Brothers one day in town and the noise from the streets just about drove me crazy. I would never get used to that. I know because I tried.
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