8-10-09...OUR OWN LANGUAGE
Daddy used to say “Get shet of that, or you need to get shet of that” meaning get rid or rid yourself of that. He also would say hesh up meaning to shut up right now. I grew up hearing these things the way my Parents and Grandparents said them. In school I learned to say everything the way it should be said, You know all proper like, but at home I reverted back to 'Our Language'. It was sort of like moving to a foreign country and learning the language but when conversing with ones of your nationality it is easier to just talk in your own language. Well there are times now when I go back to my childhood and talk the way we all did then. Sometimes when I do that I am, angry, scared, nervous, or even overwhelmed by things around me and woe to the one who makes fun or tries to correct my speech. Yep!
When I was in the third grade we had moved to Henrietta Oklahoma to be with my Daddy who worked in the coal mines there. My teacher was Miss Ford. I distinctly remember her. She was big, reminded me of a big bull to be exact. She was also very strict. I remember one day I had a cold and my nose was running something awful. I saw a box of Kleenex on Miss Ford's desk so I got up and went up to ask her for one. She handed me a Kleenex before I even asked and I went about my day. At the end of the day Miss Ford told me I had to stay 30 minutes after school because I hadn't raised my hand before approaching her desk. That upset me and upset my Mama worse. She was in our apartment with Norman who was three at the time. She bundled him up and came looking for me. I met her about half way home. The school was 6 blocks from home and it was getting dusky outside.
Mamma and Daddy went to the school the next day. I don't know what happened but it sure seemed to me that Miss Ford picked on me from then on.
One day I had gum in my mouth when I went in from recess and forgot to get rid of it. I knew that old bag would know so I decided to just tell the truth and ask her to let me spit it out in the waste basket. I was so nervous but I did remember to raise my hand and ask if I could come to her desk. She motioned me up there. By the time I reached her desk I was terrified of what she would do. I had been taught to tell the truth and that would be enough and I believed that.
When I started to talk the first thing that happened was the gum fell out of my mouth. I said, “Miss Ford I need to get shet' of this gum”. That was all I was allowed to say. Now my Teachers in Arkansas would have known what I was saying. They would have corrected my language but they would have known I wasn't saying a bad word. Miss Ford thought that I had dropped my gum and said s_ _t. She spanked me right there and took me to the Principals office at recess time. I was really frustrated by then. I hadn't been allowed to say a word in my defense and really didn't even understand what all the fuss was about.
I just blurted out to the principal, “ I axed her if I could get shet of my gum cause I fergot to spit it out and she wouldn't hesh up long nuff fer me ta tell'r what i'se tryin' te say. She hit me on my lag' a bunch of times and brung me here”.
I could see the beginning of a smile on the Principals face. I suspect she had picked up on some of 'our' language in the meeting with my Parents when I'd had to stay after school. I looked at Miss Ford and her ol' fat bull face was redder'n'a bunch'a mashed pokeberries. Now let me tell you she was mad.
The principal was a kind grandmotherly type of lady and she knew I guess that she had to make Miss Ford understand what I had been trying to say. She also knew My Mama and Daddy would be back the next day when they heard my story. She said, “Clydene honey would you wait out in my front office and let me talk to your teacher”? Well of course I was eager to get outta' there so I said, “Yes Mam” and left.
I don't know what was said in that room but Miss Ford came out and took my hand and led me back to the class room. Before school dismissed she handed me a note for my parents and a piece of chocolate candy. I do know Mama and Daddy went to the school the next morning, and I do know Miss Ford almost broke her face trying to smile at me.
It wasn't long till we went home to Arkansas on a Friday night. Mamma, Norman, and I stayed home when Daddy went back to work. I missed my Daddy till he got home every Friday night but I sure did not miss that school or Miss Ford. We did go back to Oklahoma when I was in the fourth grade but the teacher was a nice lady called Miss Nellie and I loved her. I don't remember ever reverting to “Our Language” that year. Nope! My Papa always said “Clydene you can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar”. Too bad Miss Ford didn't know that.!!
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
AN EMBARRASSING MOMENT
8-9-09...AN EMBARRASSING MOMENT
I was talking to my friend Tommy yesterday and he was talking about something that brought back a very embarrassing time for me.
We were in the fifth grade, ten years old. My Mama had the 'birds and the bees' talk with me and I thought I understood it all but apparently I did not.
The County Fair was going on in Ozark and Tommy (who was in my class) was helping his older brother with a pig and her piglets. They took them to the fair for judging. Tommy was telling the story of the sow and her piglets one day in class.
He was telling how his brother had raised a piglet as a 4/H project. He had then had the pig bred. Well that is where I lost out on the story line.
I was thinking when he said bred the sow he was talking about feeding her bread so she would have babies. Somehow I just knew that was not the way of it. I wasn't real sure about it so I figured I'd just ask before he went on with the story.
"Bread, bread, bread" I was saying, "What do you mean you fed her bread? My Daddy don't feed his pigs bread". I went on and on till others were giggling and pointing at me.
I guess Miss Pansy really didn't know how to handle this situation, or maybe she was in total shock, but she didn't intervene for a while and I just kept on trying to understand why Tommy thought you had to feed pigs bread. Heck fire our pigs ate slop.
Well I don't really know what Miss Pansy finally did because I was looking and talking to Tommy. He had put his head down on his desk and said stupid girl. He was madder'n'a old settin' hen. There was instant quiet in the room and I head Miss Pansy say, "CLYDENE". I looked at her and she was shaking her head at me saying NO! Well I hushed up but I was still very confused. Everyone was jeering at me on the playground and I think Tommy would have liked to knock my block off.
Somehow Miss Pansy got word to my Mama and she explained to me what was meant by 'bred'. I was so embarrassed !! I couldn't look at Tommy for a long time and I don't think he wanted me anywhere near him. I still didn't really understand but I knew I hadn't better do that again.
Somebody else did something and I was off the hook. Everyone forgot my goofiness and someone else took my place. That is the way it goes with kids. I had forgotten all about it until Tommy was talking about the fair and that sow and her piglets. Tommy still don't remember the incident. Good, I'm glad he don't. YEP!!
I was talking to my friend Tommy yesterday and he was talking about something that brought back a very embarrassing time for me.
We were in the fifth grade, ten years old. My Mama had the 'birds and the bees' talk with me and I thought I understood it all but apparently I did not.
The County Fair was going on in Ozark and Tommy (who was in my class) was helping his older brother with a pig and her piglets. They took them to the fair for judging. Tommy was telling the story of the sow and her piglets one day in class.
He was telling how his brother had raised a piglet as a 4/H project. He had then had the pig bred. Well that is where I lost out on the story line.
I was thinking when he said bred the sow he was talking about feeding her bread so she would have babies. Somehow I just knew that was not the way of it. I wasn't real sure about it so I figured I'd just ask before he went on with the story.
"Bread, bread, bread" I was saying, "What do you mean you fed her bread? My Daddy don't feed his pigs bread". I went on and on till others were giggling and pointing at me.
I guess Miss Pansy really didn't know how to handle this situation, or maybe she was in total shock, but she didn't intervene for a while and I just kept on trying to understand why Tommy thought you had to feed pigs bread. Heck fire our pigs ate slop.
Well I don't really know what Miss Pansy finally did because I was looking and talking to Tommy. He had put his head down on his desk and said stupid girl. He was madder'n'a old settin' hen. There was instant quiet in the room and I head Miss Pansy say, "CLYDENE". I looked at her and she was shaking her head at me saying NO! Well I hushed up but I was still very confused. Everyone was jeering at me on the playground and I think Tommy would have liked to knock my block off.
Somehow Miss Pansy got word to my Mama and she explained to me what was meant by 'bred'. I was so embarrassed !! I couldn't look at Tommy for a long time and I don't think he wanted me anywhere near him. I still didn't really understand but I knew I hadn't better do that again.
Somebody else did something and I was off the hook. Everyone forgot my goofiness and someone else took my place. That is the way it goes with kids. I had forgotten all about it until Tommy was talking about the fair and that sow and her piglets. Tommy still don't remember the incident. Good, I'm glad he don't. YEP!!
I HAD A GIGGLE TODAY
8-8-08...I HAD A GIGGLE TODAY
My Goodness I was sitting relaxing this afternoon and these things and events from my childhood started playing in my mind like movies. I got so tickled I was breathless. I was laughing out loud. Don said what is wrong with you. He must have thought I was going nuts. I said Oh I'm just laughing.
Our house was old and the floors were not level. If you dropped a ball it would roll across the floor till it hit something to stop it. I had fun playing with puppies that way.
The funny thing I am remembering though probably was not funny to anyone but me at the time. I always sat across the table from Daddy and he was on the downside of the floor. I was a butterfingers then and now and always spilled something or knocked something over. The thing I usually knocked over was whatever I was drinking. Didn't matter what it was it always ran across the table and ended up in Daddy's lap. Yep! Well it started being funny to me to see Daddy jump up in a hurry when the liquid hit his lap. I didn't like milk so somehow I always managed to spill it. Sure I managed, accidentally on purpose. By Golly Mama figured that one out real fast and I was in big trouble. That stopped if I could help it but occasionally I still spilled something and of course it went straight to Daddy's lap and I got another show. I wondered once why Daddy didn't put me on that side of the table but I think I have that figured out. Just like I am today. I have my spot at the table and I don't change it. Habit I guess or maybe goofiness but I can't eat at the other end of the table. (well I can but I sure nuff 'don't want to) Anyway I think that was Daddies reasoning. Don't you?
Another thing I remembered was this. When Norman was very small he slept in the bed with Mama and I was in Daddies bed in the cold winter so they could see that we stayed warm. One early cold morning I was sleeping peacefully when My Daddy shook the bed getting out of it. He said "Clydene you have wet the bed, get up so we can get dried off, you wet all over me". Mama got up and picked me up and she said, "Clyde Clydene is dry as a bone, she hasn't wet on herself. You were the one who wet the bed". It took some convincing on Mama's part but she finally did convince Daddy that he indeed had been the one to wet the bed. Mama giggled, I giggled, and even Norman, who had no idea what was going on, giggled. It took a few days for Daddy to see the humor in it though but he finally laughed. He never thought it was as funny as I did though.
I had completely forgotten about these things and don't know what made me remember now. I'm glad I did remember though. I needed a giggle today! YEP!
My Goodness I was sitting relaxing this afternoon and these things and events from my childhood started playing in my mind like movies. I got so tickled I was breathless. I was laughing out loud. Don said what is wrong with you. He must have thought I was going nuts. I said Oh I'm just laughing.
Our house was old and the floors were not level. If you dropped a ball it would roll across the floor till it hit something to stop it. I had fun playing with puppies that way.
The funny thing I am remembering though probably was not funny to anyone but me at the time. I always sat across the table from Daddy and he was on the downside of the floor. I was a butterfingers then and now and always spilled something or knocked something over. The thing I usually knocked over was whatever I was drinking. Didn't matter what it was it always ran across the table and ended up in Daddy's lap. Yep! Well it started being funny to me to see Daddy jump up in a hurry when the liquid hit his lap. I didn't like milk so somehow I always managed to spill it. Sure I managed, accidentally on purpose. By Golly Mama figured that one out real fast and I was in big trouble. That stopped if I could help it but occasionally I still spilled something and of course it went straight to Daddy's lap and I got another show. I wondered once why Daddy didn't put me on that side of the table but I think I have that figured out. Just like I am today. I have my spot at the table and I don't change it. Habit I guess or maybe goofiness but I can't eat at the other end of the table. (well I can but I sure nuff 'don't want to) Anyway I think that was Daddies reasoning. Don't you?
Another thing I remembered was this. When Norman was very small he slept in the bed with Mama and I was in Daddies bed in the cold winter so they could see that we stayed warm. One early cold morning I was sleeping peacefully when My Daddy shook the bed getting out of it. He said "Clydene you have wet the bed, get up so we can get dried off, you wet all over me". Mama got up and picked me up and she said, "Clyde Clydene is dry as a bone, she hasn't wet on herself. You were the one who wet the bed". It took some convincing on Mama's part but she finally did convince Daddy that he indeed had been the one to wet the bed. Mama giggled, I giggled, and even Norman, who had no idea what was going on, giggled. It took a few days for Daddy to see the humor in it though but he finally laughed. He never thought it was as funny as I did though.
I had completely forgotten about these things and don't know what made me remember now. I'm glad I did remember though. I needed a giggle today! YEP!
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
HAY RIDES
8-5-09...HAY RIDES
Remember Hay Rides? I sure do. They were so much fun. Hay was scattered on a wagon and a local farmer would pull the wagon. We would all pile on and ride that bumpy, dusty thing down the dirt roads in the country. We sang and laughed. I always loved them.
The first ones I went on were pulled by a team of horses or mules. They were always in the late evening and we got back to the starting point well before dark. I loved it then but later things got fancy and the wagon was pulled with a tractor which had lights. That way we could go after dark. That is also when things got out of hand. Some of the kids started pushing and shoving and people got hurt. One boy was pushed off the wagon and left behind. Poor thing had to walk back to town. A lot of the kids thought that was funny but this square britches didn't. Nope, I thought it was uncalled for and I made my point clear to all who would listen. I wasn't the only one who felt that way just the only one to let it be known. The stuff kept going on though and no one said a word. My mouth always overloaded my brain and still does so when I wouldn't shut up the culprits decided to shut me up. They were going to tie my feet together and push me off the wagon. Thing was I heard them planning it and I was ready for them. Also they weren't counting on anyone helping me. Nope!
One of them started talking friendly like to me to distract me while someone else was gonna tie my feet together. I kicked the tar outta someone and bloodied his nose but the other one was still busy at my feet. There were only about three of the bullies and heck fire I figured I could handle them. Course I probably couldn't have but I didn't know that at the time. I kicked, and scratched, and squirmed. Next thing I knew I was free and the three boys were sailing over the side of the wagon and landing on the hard ground. Their feet were tied together. And I mean tied together by six feet firmly tied together. The tractor was noisy and we were noisy so we kept on up the road. My friends had finally helped me.
Next day we heard that one of the boys had a broken arm and they were all bruised and had black eyes and cuts.
We just knew we were in bad trouble then but no one said a word about the hay ride. Nary' a peep was peeped! Not even the culprits. They told everyone they had been in a fight.
The hay rides went on and those bullies never were on another one by golly. To this day I doubt anyone knows what actually happened. I don't even know for sure who helped me. It sure pays to have friends, don't it? That is something we all must have is friends. No Man Is An Island. Nope!
Remember Hay Rides? I sure do. They were so much fun. Hay was scattered on a wagon and a local farmer would pull the wagon. We would all pile on and ride that bumpy, dusty thing down the dirt roads in the country. We sang and laughed. I always loved them.
The first ones I went on were pulled by a team of horses or mules. They were always in the late evening and we got back to the starting point well before dark. I loved it then but later things got fancy and the wagon was pulled with a tractor which had lights. That way we could go after dark. That is also when things got out of hand. Some of the kids started pushing and shoving and people got hurt. One boy was pushed off the wagon and left behind. Poor thing had to walk back to town. A lot of the kids thought that was funny but this square britches didn't. Nope, I thought it was uncalled for and I made my point clear to all who would listen. I wasn't the only one who felt that way just the only one to let it be known. The stuff kept going on though and no one said a word. My mouth always overloaded my brain and still does so when I wouldn't shut up the culprits decided to shut me up. They were going to tie my feet together and push me off the wagon. Thing was I heard them planning it and I was ready for them. Also they weren't counting on anyone helping me. Nope!
One of them started talking friendly like to me to distract me while someone else was gonna tie my feet together. I kicked the tar outta someone and bloodied his nose but the other one was still busy at my feet. There were only about three of the bullies and heck fire I figured I could handle them. Course I probably couldn't have but I didn't know that at the time. I kicked, and scratched, and squirmed. Next thing I knew I was free and the three boys were sailing over the side of the wagon and landing on the hard ground. Their feet were tied together. And I mean tied together by six feet firmly tied together. The tractor was noisy and we were noisy so we kept on up the road. My friends had finally helped me.
Next day we heard that one of the boys had a broken arm and they were all bruised and had black eyes and cuts.
We just knew we were in bad trouble then but no one said a word about the hay ride. Nary' a peep was peeped! Not even the culprits. They told everyone they had been in a fight.
The hay rides went on and those bullies never were on another one by golly. To this day I doubt anyone knows what actually happened. I don't even know for sure who helped me. It sure pays to have friends, don't it? That is something we all must have is friends. No Man Is An Island. Nope!
SENIOR MOMENTS
8-4-09...SENIOR MOMENTS
A few weeks ago I came out of Wal Mart and got in my car. Well I thought it was my car. It wasn't! It was just like my car. Same color, same model. I should have been tipped off by how clean the car was in the first place but I wasn't. I tried to put my key in the ignition and it didn't work. Not until that moment did I realize that this was not my car. I was embarrassed and also scared. What if the owner saw me and had me arrested? Oh My Gosh! I quickly got out and went on the next isle to my car. I was shaking. My goodness what if my key had worked in the car. I've heard that sometimes they do. I don't know about that but 'what if' still rolls around in my head. People are stupid for not locking their car in a busy parking lot. Never know when someone like me will have a senior moment. NOW CAN YOU?
That was what is called a 'Senior moment" and I have been having quiet a few of them lately. I'm forgetful to say the least. Sometimes I will go from one room to another and by the time I arrive in the next room I have completely forgotten why I am there. Another scary moment.
One day I came home from shopping and was busy putting things away. I opened a roll of paper towels to replace an empty one. I took the cylinder off the towel holder and laid it down on the counter, picked up the new roll and very politely walked over and put the full roll in the trash. I was in the process of installing the empty cylinder on the holder when I came to my senses. My Gracious! I very hurriedly retrieved the roll out of the trash can and put it where it belonged. Thank goodness it wasn't soiled in the trash and thank goodness no one saw me. One day I did burn a box of tea. Good Grief.
Then there was the day I came home and forgot to get my groceries out of the car for almost three hours. Good thing it was in the winter. Nothing spoiled.
I have gotten in the shower only half undressed and you've already heard about me putting my clean nighties in the toilet. I went in a store one day to pay a bill and I was in the wrong store. I even tried to convince them to take my money for my bill. That young guy could have taken it if he had been dishonest. I realized my mistake and there was another red faced senior moment. I could go on but you get the point don't you?
I remember watching my Grandpa take one shoe off, polish and shine it, put it back on his foot, lean back and relax a few seconds, then by golly he took the same shoe off and proceeded to polish it. I giggled so hard it took me a while to tell him what he was doing. I giggled and giggled and giggled till he told me to shut up. I realize now it wasn't very funny to Papa. Same things happened with my parents.
Now that it is me I know how they felt at the time even though they laughed about it later.
I'm still laughing about my Senior Moments now. I just hope I never lose the ability to laugh at myself. Laughter is good medicine. Maybe it will keep my brain more clear for longer so I can enjoy my senior Moments. Recon it will? Yep, sure it will.
A few weeks ago I came out of Wal Mart and got in my car. Well I thought it was my car. It wasn't! It was just like my car. Same color, same model. I should have been tipped off by how clean the car was in the first place but I wasn't. I tried to put my key in the ignition and it didn't work. Not until that moment did I realize that this was not my car. I was embarrassed and also scared. What if the owner saw me and had me arrested? Oh My Gosh! I quickly got out and went on the next isle to my car. I was shaking. My goodness what if my key had worked in the car. I've heard that sometimes they do. I don't know about that but 'what if' still rolls around in my head. People are stupid for not locking their car in a busy parking lot. Never know when someone like me will have a senior moment. NOW CAN YOU?
That was what is called a 'Senior moment" and I have been having quiet a few of them lately. I'm forgetful to say the least. Sometimes I will go from one room to another and by the time I arrive in the next room I have completely forgotten why I am there. Another scary moment.
One day I came home from shopping and was busy putting things away. I opened a roll of paper towels to replace an empty one. I took the cylinder off the towel holder and laid it down on the counter, picked up the new roll and very politely walked over and put the full roll in the trash. I was in the process of installing the empty cylinder on the holder when I came to my senses. My Gracious! I very hurriedly retrieved the roll out of the trash can and put it where it belonged. Thank goodness it wasn't soiled in the trash and thank goodness no one saw me. One day I did burn a box of tea. Good Grief.
Then there was the day I came home and forgot to get my groceries out of the car for almost three hours. Good thing it was in the winter. Nothing spoiled.
I have gotten in the shower only half undressed and you've already heard about me putting my clean nighties in the toilet. I went in a store one day to pay a bill and I was in the wrong store. I even tried to convince them to take my money for my bill. That young guy could have taken it if he had been dishonest. I realized my mistake and there was another red faced senior moment. I could go on but you get the point don't you?
I remember watching my Grandpa take one shoe off, polish and shine it, put it back on his foot, lean back and relax a few seconds, then by golly he took the same shoe off and proceeded to polish it. I giggled so hard it took me a while to tell him what he was doing. I giggled and giggled and giggled till he told me to shut up. I realize now it wasn't very funny to Papa. Same things happened with my parents.
Now that it is me I know how they felt at the time even though they laughed about it later.
I'm still laughing about my Senior Moments now. I just hope I never lose the ability to laugh at myself. Laughter is good medicine. Maybe it will keep my brain more clear for longer so I can enjoy my senior Moments. Recon it will? Yep, sure it will.
CURE WORSE THAN THE WOUND
8-4-09...CURE WORSE THAN THE WOUND!!!
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 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, Norman, and Paul 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. YEP!!!
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 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, Norman, and Paul 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. YEP!!!
Monday, August 3, 2009
I SMOKED A CIGARETTE
8-3-09...SMOKING!!!
I learned a lot of lessons from a hard experience. Some of them were funny at the time, others were not funny till years later.
I decided it was cool to smoke cigarettes in the 7th. Grade. I had dabbled with them before when I was much younger with bad results. This time I thought I was grown up and I wanted to keep up with the 'cool' kids. I was tired of being a square which is what we were called if we had strict parents and wouldn't join in with things we knew were wrong. But heck I knew lots of grown ups who smoked. It looked sophisticated to me. I had even seen cigarettes in the Home Ec. teachers desk drawer. Of course Miss Farris didn't want us to know she smoked and we never saw her smoke. My friend Pat and I were in the home ec. Building one day alone. Now I have no idea if we sneaked in or how we came to be there alone but we were.
I said, "Pat, Miss Farris has some cigarettes in her desk drawer". "Aww Clydene she does not" she answered. "Well I'll show you", I said. I opened the drawer and rummaged around till I found the cigarettes. "See Pat, I told you. Lets smoke one". Pat was all for it. There was even a book of matches and an ash tray there with the cigarettes. We lit up with difficulty. I even had mine flaming up at one time. Don't know how that happened.
We waltzed our little smart elec fannies in to the living room and sat down on the couch and just puffed up a storm. About the time I got choked I looked over at Pat and she was white as snow except for a green tinge around her eyes. My eyes were watering till I couldn't see a thing then I got sick.
Pat looked out the window and exclaimed that Miss Farris was coming. "Oh my gosh Pat we gotta get rid of these and get outta here", I said. "What are we gonna do with them Clydene" she answered. "Oh Heck fire Pat, I'm sick and I can't see a thing"!
We took off running to the kitchen sink to run water over the cigarettes. I couldn't see so before I got there I heard Miss Farris coming in the door. I smashed that dang thing in my hand and of course it burned. I screeched like a wild animal of some kind just as Miss Farris got inside. In the meantime Pat has vomited all over the place but at least she had gotten her cigarette put out.
What happened? Well not much. Miss Farris did tell Miss Sula Kate on us and we did get a good talking to but Miss Farris got almost the same treatment when Miss Sula Kate told her she had no business having the cigarettes in her desk. There was no nurse in schools at the time so Miss Sula Kate doctored and bandaged my hand. Oh and by the way she told me I deserved a burned hand for what I did. I know now that I did deserve it. Yep, some lessons I learned the hard way.
I learned a lot of lessons from a hard experience. Some of them were funny at the time, others were not funny till years later.
I decided it was cool to smoke cigarettes in the 7th. Grade. I had dabbled with them before when I was much younger with bad results. This time I thought I was grown up and I wanted to keep up with the 'cool' kids. I was tired of being a square which is what we were called if we had strict parents and wouldn't join in with things we knew were wrong. But heck I knew lots of grown ups who smoked. It looked sophisticated to me. I had even seen cigarettes in the Home Ec. teachers desk drawer. Of course Miss Farris didn't want us to know she smoked and we never saw her smoke. My friend Pat and I were in the home ec. Building one day alone. Now I have no idea if we sneaked in or how we came to be there alone but we were.
I said, "Pat, Miss Farris has some cigarettes in her desk drawer". "Aww Clydene she does not" she answered. "Well I'll show you", I said. I opened the drawer and rummaged around till I found the cigarettes. "See Pat, I told you. Lets smoke one". Pat was all for it. There was even a book of matches and an ash tray there with the cigarettes. We lit up with difficulty. I even had mine flaming up at one time. Don't know how that happened.
We waltzed our little smart elec fannies in to the living room and sat down on the couch and just puffed up a storm. About the time I got choked I looked over at Pat and she was white as snow except for a green tinge around her eyes. My eyes were watering till I couldn't see a thing then I got sick.
Pat looked out the window and exclaimed that Miss Farris was coming. "Oh my gosh Pat we gotta get rid of these and get outta here", I said. "What are we gonna do with them Clydene" she answered. "Oh Heck fire Pat, I'm sick and I can't see a thing"!
We took off running to the kitchen sink to run water over the cigarettes. I couldn't see so before I got there I heard Miss Farris coming in the door. I smashed that dang thing in my hand and of course it burned. I screeched like a wild animal of some kind just as Miss Farris got inside. In the meantime Pat has vomited all over the place but at least she had gotten her cigarette put out.
What happened? Well not much. Miss Farris did tell Miss Sula Kate on us and we did get a good talking to but Miss Farris got almost the same treatment when Miss Sula Kate told her she had no business having the cigarettes in her desk. There was no nurse in schools at the time so Miss Sula Kate doctored and bandaged my hand. Oh and by the way she told me I deserved a burned hand for what I did. I know now that I did deserve it. Yep, some lessons I learned the hard way.
MISS SULA KATE
8-3-09...MISS SULA KATE
Miss Sula Kate was quiet a lady. She was Superintendent of Schools during most of my High School Years. She also taught some classes one being my Geometry class. She had also been my Daddy's teacher when he was in first grade. She was only a teenager at that time which they allowed then.
Miss Sula Kate was never married. She told a bunch of us girls once that she sure didn't want a man in her life trying to tell her what to do. She said women go down into the depths of pain to deliver babies and men never appreciate it because they are all pigs. Like I said she was quiet a lady.
She was what I would call ex centric now but then we just called her odd. Now don't get me wrong, we all loved and respected Miss Sula Kate. She was smart and fair. When she got enough of something she would call an assembly. We would all assemble in the study hall and wait. The first thing she would always say was, (and I remember the words like she is just saying them) “Big ol' Stand up in the corner and bawl for buttermilk”. What did that mean? I'm not sure. But I think she meant that something we were doing wrong had been told to us before and we were like a bunch of little nuts that just couldn't get it in our heads. This never made anyone mad and that was probably because we all knew she was right.
If Miss Sula Kate couldn't get a point across one way then she would do it in another way. Usually her 'other way' was something that taught us we shoulda' done it right in the first place.
Miss Sula Kate was very fussy about the library. One day she didn't like the way a book was put away or something. She went in the library and threw every book off the shelves and in the floor. I remember helping put them all up on the shelves in the proper place with her guidance. There were several of us who helped. I think it was my class but I'm not sure.
One day in Geometry class she was mad because some of us couldn't understand a problem we were working on. She wrote the problem out on the blackboard with the answer and said “There it is”. Then she picked up a folding chair and threw it across the room. I can still see Jimmy Harbottle ducking when it sailed over his head and hit the door. Were we afraid of her? Heck fire no, we all loved her.
Miss Sula Kate had worked like a man all her life. She had her own farm which she took care of herself. She had a sister and a brother whom she adored. She talked about them all the time. Her Dad was dead when I knew her but her Mom Carrie was alive and lived with Miss Sula Kate.
Back then Teachers could paddle us and Miss Sula Kate had a big paddle that she used often. I heard some of the boys say they would rather have a spanking from one of the man teachers than Miss Sula Kate anytime.
She never made herself up or dressed in fancy clothes. Her hair was never fixed but she did keep it dyed black. Her Mom and sister both had bright red hair. I don't know what her natural color was. I remember her wearing colors that clashed. They clashed then but now anything goes. She wore yellow and green a lot and that was one of those clashing no, no's of the time.
I had been graduated and gone a long time before Miss Sula Kate finally retired. When I came back to my home state in 1998 I went to the same Church with Miss Sula Kate. She was living with her sister then who took care of her. She had grown senile but she was a beautiful Lady. Dressed nice, hair fixed, make up, and looking good. I told her who I was and she said, “Oh you are one of my kids. I love you and you are beautiful”. She said that to me every Sunday. I'm not sure if she knew for sure which Kid' I was but I think she did.
Miss Sula Kate died very shortly after I moved back home. I am so happy that I got to see her again. I got lots of big hugs from her and I'm grateful that she was a part of my early life. I count her a big asset and a joy to have known. YEP!
Miss Sula Kate was quiet a lady. She was Superintendent of Schools during most of my High School Years. She also taught some classes one being my Geometry class. She had also been my Daddy's teacher when he was in first grade. She was only a teenager at that time which they allowed then.
Miss Sula Kate was never married. She told a bunch of us girls once that she sure didn't want a man in her life trying to tell her what to do. She said women go down into the depths of pain to deliver babies and men never appreciate it because they are all pigs. Like I said she was quiet a lady.
She was what I would call ex centric now but then we just called her odd. Now don't get me wrong, we all loved and respected Miss Sula Kate. She was smart and fair. When she got enough of something she would call an assembly. We would all assemble in the study hall and wait. The first thing she would always say was, (and I remember the words like she is just saying them) “Big ol' Stand up in the corner and bawl for buttermilk”. What did that mean? I'm not sure. But I think she meant that something we were doing wrong had been told to us before and we were like a bunch of little nuts that just couldn't get it in our heads. This never made anyone mad and that was probably because we all knew she was right.
If Miss Sula Kate couldn't get a point across one way then she would do it in another way. Usually her 'other way' was something that taught us we shoulda' done it right in the first place.
Miss Sula Kate was very fussy about the library. One day she didn't like the way a book was put away or something. She went in the library and threw every book off the shelves and in the floor. I remember helping put them all up on the shelves in the proper place with her guidance. There were several of us who helped. I think it was my class but I'm not sure.
One day in Geometry class she was mad because some of us couldn't understand a problem we were working on. She wrote the problem out on the blackboard with the answer and said “There it is”. Then she picked up a folding chair and threw it across the room. I can still see Jimmy Harbottle ducking when it sailed over his head and hit the door. Were we afraid of her? Heck fire no, we all loved her.
Miss Sula Kate had worked like a man all her life. She had her own farm which she took care of herself. She had a sister and a brother whom she adored. She talked about them all the time. Her Dad was dead when I knew her but her Mom Carrie was alive and lived with Miss Sula Kate.
Back then Teachers could paddle us and Miss Sula Kate had a big paddle that she used often. I heard some of the boys say they would rather have a spanking from one of the man teachers than Miss Sula Kate anytime.
She never made herself up or dressed in fancy clothes. Her hair was never fixed but she did keep it dyed black. Her Mom and sister both had bright red hair. I don't know what her natural color was. I remember her wearing colors that clashed. They clashed then but now anything goes. She wore yellow and green a lot and that was one of those clashing no, no's of the time.
I had been graduated and gone a long time before Miss Sula Kate finally retired. When I came back to my home state in 1998 I went to the same Church with Miss Sula Kate. She was living with her sister then who took care of her. She had grown senile but she was a beautiful Lady. Dressed nice, hair fixed, make up, and looking good. I told her who I was and she said, “Oh you are one of my kids. I love you and you are beautiful”. She said that to me every Sunday. I'm not sure if she knew for sure which Kid' I was but I think she did.
Miss Sula Kate died very shortly after I moved back home. I am so happy that I got to see her again. I got lots of big hugs from her and I'm grateful that she was a part of my early life. I count her a big asset and a joy to have known. YEP!
GRANDMA'S APRON
8-1-09...GRANDMA'S APRON
I posted this a while back in bulletins. It has been sent around in emails for years. The author is unknown. It is just the way my Grandma was with her apron. I remember her doing all these things right down to spitting on it and washing something off our faces. As I read this I can almost see my Granny. Hope you will enjoy this. It is recopied here from my files. Clydene
I posted this a while back in bulletins. It has been sent around in emails for years. The author is unknown. It is just the way my Grandma was with her apron. I remember her doing all these things right down to spitting on it and washing something off our faces. As I read this I can almost see my Granny. Hope you will enjoy this. It is recopied here from my files. Clydene
MY 7th GRADE TEACHER
7-31-09...MY 7th. GRADE TEACHER
I was talking with my friend Tommy Shirley yesterday and he mentioned our 7th. Grade Teacher Miss. Hamilton. I had almost forgotten that woman completely but when Tommy brought her up I remembered some things that I didn't like about her at all. That's the way it goes. We all remember things and events differently. Some of the things he mentioned I don't remember at all, but just bringing her up got my memory working on the things I do remember.
Miss Hamilton was tall and snooty. She seemed to think the world was a better place just because she was there. She also thought our little country school was not good enough for her expert talents. And besides that we were not even close to being what she wanted in her students. To her we were just a bunch of hillbillies with no concept of learning the finer things in life.
Miss Hamilton's hair was done up in a style that to me now was very much like a wig. A big tidy lump on back of her head right down by her neck. Now that I look back I am more positive that it was a hair piece. Yep! I can almost see her now standing in front of her mirror pinning that monstrosity on the back of her proper neck.
Now we had just come up from our little white Grade school to the big brick building across the road and I felt inept enough already so when she started her snotty looking down her nose at us it was hard for me to take. She thought we had no manners or 'social graces' as she often said to the girls. We needed to be proper ladies. We Arkies didn't measure up to her Mississippi standards. I pointed out to her one day that Mississippi was farther South than Arkansas so I figured that made me better than her. Well that thinking didn't jive with her. Heck fire no.
She started trying to teach us how to be graceful. How to walk, speak, and “Carry Yourselves like Ladies” she said. Well we just weren't having none of that. Nope! To heck with that old bag.
I was born with scoliosis of the back which is a curving of the spine. Therefore my back was not straight. Never was, still aint, never will be. That's just the way it is period, end of story. She wasn't even listening to my excuses she said. I was just a slouch and needed to learn how to hold my shoulders back.
She would make me stand against a wall and she would push my shoulders back and try to straighten them. That was impossible. She would get me during my free time and push my shoulders back against the wall and hold me there for what seemed like a long time to me because it hurt. She just kept telling me I had to train my body to not slouch.
I went home one evening and told my parents that my back was hurting bad. Mama looked at my back and found bruises and finger prints on my shoulders. “Clydene have you been fighting” she asked. “No Mama I never fight” I said. Well more questions and more answers until My Parents figured out what was going on.
The next morning I didn't ride the bus but my Daddy took me in his car. He was mad and I mean madder'n'a hornet! I didn't really know what he was going to do but he told me to go about what I usually did that he was going to talk to the Superintendent. Miss Hamilton quit the trying to straighten my back and she even told me she was sorry. Her face looked like she had just eaten a green persimmon and then tried to eat a lemon as she said I'm sorry. I knew she didn't really mean it. I still don't know what Daddy said to anyone but I do know he was steaming for some time to come. I had to go to the Dr. but don't even remember what he said.
Then came the next thing this woman did. My Grandma who was living with us had lived through the bad depression of the 30s When my Mama was growing up food was scarce . Money was even more scarce. Even if you had money you had to use what was the food stamps of the time to buy things. The way I understood it each Family got a book of these food stamps. They were for whatever they bought but they couldn't buy everything and the stamps didn't pay for the food. Each stamp was marked with, coffee, sugar, flour, and etc. If you had money and wanted a can of coffee for example, you had to have so many coffee stamps to buy it. No stamps, no coffee, even if you had money. Grandma had some of these stamps in her possession. They were not worth anything then. I had seen them and for some reason I told Miss Hamilton that Grandma had them. She asked me to bring them to school. She was so interested in seeing them that I asked Grandma if I could take them to School.
When I showed them to Miss Hamilton she wanted to take them and show her husband so I let her. I never saw them again. Grandma never asked me about them and I forgot all about them. We didn't know they might be valuable but Miss Hamilton did. Years and Years later I thought about that and I realized that old bag same as stole them from me. My family might never have know that many years later those stamps would become collectors items and be very valuable. In fact they might have been just thrown out in the trash. But knowing that Teaches who thought she was so much better than us had stooped that low is a revelation to me. She was a terrible person. I thought so then and now I am very sure of it. I have never stolen a thing in my life and never will. So to my thinking that makes me a better person than she was. Yep! She is probably not even alive now but I just wonder if she ever once thought about that little school again and the way she treated a bunch of kids she was supposed to be teaching History. I doubt it very much. Yep, I really doubt it!!!!
I was talking with my friend Tommy Shirley yesterday and he mentioned our 7th. Grade Teacher Miss. Hamilton. I had almost forgotten that woman completely but when Tommy brought her up I remembered some things that I didn't like about her at all. That's the way it goes. We all remember things and events differently. Some of the things he mentioned I don't remember at all, but just bringing her up got my memory working on the things I do remember.
Miss Hamilton was tall and snooty. She seemed to think the world was a better place just because she was there. She also thought our little country school was not good enough for her expert talents. And besides that we were not even close to being what she wanted in her students. To her we were just a bunch of hillbillies with no concept of learning the finer things in life.
Miss Hamilton's hair was done up in a style that to me now was very much like a wig. A big tidy lump on back of her head right down by her neck. Now that I look back I am more positive that it was a hair piece. Yep! I can almost see her now standing in front of her mirror pinning that monstrosity on the back of her proper neck.
Now we had just come up from our little white Grade school to the big brick building across the road and I felt inept enough already so when she started her snotty looking down her nose at us it was hard for me to take. She thought we had no manners or 'social graces' as she often said to the girls. We needed to be proper ladies. We Arkies didn't measure up to her Mississippi standards. I pointed out to her one day that Mississippi was farther South than Arkansas so I figured that made me better than her. Well that thinking didn't jive with her. Heck fire no.
She started trying to teach us how to be graceful. How to walk, speak, and “Carry Yourselves like Ladies” she said. Well we just weren't having none of that. Nope! To heck with that old bag.
I was born with scoliosis of the back which is a curving of the spine. Therefore my back was not straight. Never was, still aint, never will be. That's just the way it is period, end of story. She wasn't even listening to my excuses she said. I was just a slouch and needed to learn how to hold my shoulders back.
She would make me stand against a wall and she would push my shoulders back and try to straighten them. That was impossible. She would get me during my free time and push my shoulders back against the wall and hold me there for what seemed like a long time to me because it hurt. She just kept telling me I had to train my body to not slouch.
I went home one evening and told my parents that my back was hurting bad. Mama looked at my back and found bruises and finger prints on my shoulders. “Clydene have you been fighting” she asked. “No Mama I never fight” I said. Well more questions and more answers until My Parents figured out what was going on.
The next morning I didn't ride the bus but my Daddy took me in his car. He was mad and I mean madder'n'a hornet! I didn't really know what he was going to do but he told me to go about what I usually did that he was going to talk to the Superintendent. Miss Hamilton quit the trying to straighten my back and she even told me she was sorry. Her face looked like she had just eaten a green persimmon and then tried to eat a lemon as she said I'm sorry. I knew she didn't really mean it. I still don't know what Daddy said to anyone but I do know he was steaming for some time to come. I had to go to the Dr. but don't even remember what he said.
Then came the next thing this woman did. My Grandma who was living with us had lived through the bad depression of the 30s When my Mama was growing up food was scarce . Money was even more scarce. Even if you had money you had to use what was the food stamps of the time to buy things. The way I understood it each Family got a book of these food stamps. They were for whatever they bought but they couldn't buy everything and the stamps didn't pay for the food. Each stamp was marked with, coffee, sugar, flour, and etc. If you had money and wanted a can of coffee for example, you had to have so many coffee stamps to buy it. No stamps, no coffee, even if you had money. Grandma had some of these stamps in her possession. They were not worth anything then. I had seen them and for some reason I told Miss Hamilton that Grandma had them. She asked me to bring them to school. She was so interested in seeing them that I asked Grandma if I could take them to School.
When I showed them to Miss Hamilton she wanted to take them and show her husband so I let her. I never saw them again. Grandma never asked me about them and I forgot all about them. We didn't know they might be valuable but Miss Hamilton did. Years and Years later I thought about that and I realized that old bag same as stole them from me. My family might never have know that many years later those stamps would become collectors items and be very valuable. In fact they might have been just thrown out in the trash. But knowing that Teaches who thought she was so much better than us had stooped that low is a revelation to me. She was a terrible person. I thought so then and now I am very sure of it. I have never stolen a thing in my life and never will. So to my thinking that makes me a better person than she was. Yep! She is probably not even alive now but I just wonder if she ever once thought about that little school again and the way she treated a bunch of kids she was supposed to be teaching History. I doubt it very much. Yep, I really doubt it!!!!
Saturday, July 25, 2009
MAMA'S BREAD
7-24-09...MAMA'S BREAD
Mama made the best bread in the world. Daughter speaking? I'll admit that but just ask anyone who knew her. Nothing better!! Often when we were having a rough time of it Mama would say how she wished there was something she could do to help out. Daddy didn't think much of that idea either. “Kids need you Lucille”, was his answer to her.
One day a (I'll just say she was persnikity) person was at our house and Mama was making bread. I don't know why she was there but I think she purposely hung around during the rising and cooking process hoping she would get a taste. Of course when Mama took the loaves of bread out of the oven she offered the 'lady'? A slice of the bread slathered in home made butter. The eager smart elec grabbed it and proceeded to put a dollop of Mamas home made strawberry jam on it without it being offered. No thank you, no it was good, no nothing except to eagerly scoff it down her proper hatch. Rude, Rude Rude!!!
Now the 'lady'? had money it was plain to see. She had the nerve to ask my Mama for a loaf of that bread to take with her. I was indignant telling her we would eat it ourselves but Mama gave me The Look and made me apologize to the old heiffer. Then my sweet kind Mama standing there in her faded and patched dress, with red raw hands, proceeded to wrap a loaf of that bread in a clean flour sack dish rag and handed it to that ol' bat with a sweet smile on her face. She took it and was gone. I was madder'n'a old wet setting hen but Mama told me to let it go and don't worry about it because if that lady enjoyed it that much then she should have it because she probably didn't know how to make it for herself. “And besides”, she added “We have more”.
As the story spread friends and neighbors started asking Mama to make them a loaf of bread and they all paid her for it even though she told them if they would just bring her flour and yeast she would make it. No, they paid her for it. That kept up until Daddy was again on his feet. But remember the ol' bag who first got a loaf of bread without paying? You'd think she had a concious attack and came back to pay for bread wouldn't you? But Nope she came back all right and got bread often but the old battleaxe never paid a cent for it. Nope Not a cent!!!
Those friends and neighbors who did buy the bread were just trying to help us in their own way. Made Mama feel good and of course they liked Mamas bread. Yep! That is the way I was taught over the years. My indignation over that incidence is still fresh in my mind though now that I'm thinking about it. I think Mama hoped that the woman would learn from it and that is my hope too. She is gone now. I hope she is in Heaven with my Mama. Mama can teach her a lot. YEP!!!!!
Mama made the best bread in the world. Daughter speaking? I'll admit that but just ask anyone who knew her. Nothing better!! Often when we were having a rough time of it Mama would say how she wished there was something she could do to help out. Daddy didn't think much of that idea either. “Kids need you Lucille”, was his answer to her.
One day a (I'll just say she was persnikity) person was at our house and Mama was making bread. I don't know why she was there but I think she purposely hung around during the rising and cooking process hoping she would get a taste. Of course when Mama took the loaves of bread out of the oven she offered the 'lady'? A slice of the bread slathered in home made butter. The eager smart elec grabbed it and proceeded to put a dollop of Mamas home made strawberry jam on it without it being offered. No thank you, no it was good, no nothing except to eagerly scoff it down her proper hatch. Rude, Rude Rude!!!
Now the 'lady'? had money it was plain to see. She had the nerve to ask my Mama for a loaf of that bread to take with her. I was indignant telling her we would eat it ourselves but Mama gave me The Look and made me apologize to the old heiffer. Then my sweet kind Mama standing there in her faded and patched dress, with red raw hands, proceeded to wrap a loaf of that bread in a clean flour sack dish rag and handed it to that ol' bat with a sweet smile on her face. She took it and was gone. I was madder'n'a old wet setting hen but Mama told me to let it go and don't worry about it because if that lady enjoyed it that much then she should have it because she probably didn't know how to make it for herself. “And besides”, she added “We have more”.
As the story spread friends and neighbors started asking Mama to make them a loaf of bread and they all paid her for it even though she told them if they would just bring her flour and yeast she would make it. No, they paid her for it. That kept up until Daddy was again on his feet. But remember the ol' bag who first got a loaf of bread without paying? You'd think she had a concious attack and came back to pay for bread wouldn't you? But Nope she came back all right and got bread often but the old battleaxe never paid a cent for it. Nope Not a cent!!!
Those friends and neighbors who did buy the bread were just trying to help us in their own way. Made Mama feel good and of course they liked Mamas bread. Yep! That is the way I was taught over the years. My indignation over that incidence is still fresh in my mind though now that I'm thinking about it. I think Mama hoped that the woman would learn from it and that is my hope too. She is gone now. I hope she is in Heaven with my Mama. Mama can teach her a lot. YEP!!!!!
SPECIAL TIMES & SPECIAL MEMORIES
7-23-09...Special Times & Special Memories
When we were kids Daddy worked in the Coal mines in Oklahoma. Sometimes we would go with him and live there so we could be with him. Daddy usually stayed in a hotel in a room with three other men from Monday to Friday night. On Friday night after work they all came home only to have to leave again on Sunday evening and go back to Oklahoma for a week of work in the coal mines. Usually we went in summer when I was out of school but three different times I remember going during a school term. I didn't like the new school but I did like being with my Daddy.
The coal mine was Union operated and often came out on strike. At those times Daddy had no job so we came back to Arkansas. I don't remember what Daddy did to feed us then but I do know he did. If it was summer he went to the fields and worked to harvest whatever crop was in season. Berries, corn, spinach, peas, cotton, and others. As soon as my Brother and I could make a few cents we went too.
In Oklahoma we lived in an apartment. I walked 6 blocks to school morning and night with a High School girl who also lived in the apartments. Lots of other families were there from home for the same reason we were. I remember the Apartment had no fridge and furnishings were sparce. I don't remember taking anything with us except clothing and dishes for the kitchen. There was one bathroom for I think it was four apartments on the third floor where we lived.
My Uncle Claude lived in the Oklahoma town as did all his kids. We visited our Family while there a lot. That is where I got drawn in to music. We would go to Uncle Claude's house and they played music. Mama played harmonica (which we called a french harp) and boy howdy she could make that thing talk. Uncle Claude played the fiddle, Betty played a mean piano, and Leo's wife played the Guitar. Now let me tell you that little house rocked with country and gospel music and singing. Whooppee! The year I was seven I would join in the singing and from then on I was hooked. Some of those songs I still sing.
My Brother Norman was only two, three, and four at the time and he locked us in every place we went in, even locked himself in the bathroom once and the old janitor had to walk up three flights of stairs and take the Bathroom door down. Then again Norman locked Me, Mama , and himself in the apartment. I suspect that the locks were not very good in the first place.
On Friday nights when Daddy got home from work we walked down to the soda fountain in the Drug Store. Mama and Daddy got fountain cokes and I got a sundae or some other kind of treat. Norman got bites out of my ice cream and sips of the cokes. I'll always remember the special smell of that drug store. A smell I can't really describe except to say it was many smells blended together. I have never again smelled the same smell. I'll know it when I do. I do remember the sweet smiles on my Parents faces as they watched us enjoy our treats which I know now they really couldn't afford. A treat was really a treat to us because we didn't get 'stuff' any time we wanted it. If we had got everything we wanted like that we would have had no appreciation for it and I wouldn't be sitting here with tears in my eyes right now. I still treasure and appreciate all those special times and special treats after 60 years. How many kids today will have those memories?
When we were kids Daddy worked in the Coal mines in Oklahoma. Sometimes we would go with him and live there so we could be with him. Daddy usually stayed in a hotel in a room with three other men from Monday to Friday night. On Friday night after work they all came home only to have to leave again on Sunday evening and go back to Oklahoma for a week of work in the coal mines. Usually we went in summer when I was out of school but three different times I remember going during a school term. I didn't like the new school but I did like being with my Daddy.
The coal mine was Union operated and often came out on strike. At those times Daddy had no job so we came back to Arkansas. I don't remember what Daddy did to feed us then but I do know he did. If it was summer he went to the fields and worked to harvest whatever crop was in season. Berries, corn, spinach, peas, cotton, and others. As soon as my Brother and I could make a few cents we went too.
In Oklahoma we lived in an apartment. I walked 6 blocks to school morning and night with a High School girl who also lived in the apartments. Lots of other families were there from home for the same reason we were. I remember the Apartment had no fridge and furnishings were sparce. I don't remember taking anything with us except clothing and dishes for the kitchen. There was one bathroom for I think it was four apartments on the third floor where we lived.
My Uncle Claude lived in the Oklahoma town as did all his kids. We visited our Family while there a lot. That is where I got drawn in to music. We would go to Uncle Claude's house and they played music. Mama played harmonica (which we called a french harp) and boy howdy she could make that thing talk. Uncle Claude played the fiddle, Betty played a mean piano, and Leo's wife played the Guitar. Now let me tell you that little house rocked with country and gospel music and singing. Whooppee! The year I was seven I would join in the singing and from then on I was hooked. Some of those songs I still sing.
My Brother Norman was only two, three, and four at the time and he locked us in every place we went in, even locked himself in the bathroom once and the old janitor had to walk up three flights of stairs and take the Bathroom door down. Then again Norman locked Me, Mama , and himself in the apartment. I suspect that the locks were not very good in the first place.
On Friday nights when Daddy got home from work we walked down to the soda fountain in the Drug Store. Mama and Daddy got fountain cokes and I got a sundae or some other kind of treat. Norman got bites out of my ice cream and sips of the cokes. I'll always remember the special smell of that drug store. A smell I can't really describe except to say it was many smells blended together. I have never again smelled the same smell. I'll know it when I do. I do remember the sweet smiles on my Parents faces as they watched us enjoy our treats which I know now they really couldn't afford. A treat was really a treat to us because we didn't get 'stuff' any time we wanted it. If we had got everything we wanted like that we would have had no appreciation for it and I wouldn't be sitting here with tears in my eyes right now. I still treasure and appreciate all those special times and special treats after 60 years. How many kids today will have those memories?
NEIGHBORS
7-21-09...GOOD NEIGHBORS
Used to be a little community like I grew up in neighbors were just that, Neighbors. Now you are called a nosy old busybody if you try to be neighborly. Trust and mutual understanding all seemed to have blown out into the wind somewhere.
When I was a child everyone helped everyone and everyone knew when someone needed help. It wasn't because someone ran around with a sign on their backs proclaiming “I'm Hungry. Feed Me” or some such thing either. It was because people genuinely cared about their neighbor.
There wasn't much money anywhere but there were friends and neighbors who were there to help.
Food was a big thing. We grew and raised and processed, and killed, and gathered our food. And we shared. If someone was sick there was food brought and prepared for them. Your washing, your cleaning, your chores, and you, were tended to by neighbors. Whatever help you needed you got. In turn you did the same for them.
If someone had a big crop the work and the bounty was shared without question. If I had two pairs of shoes and yours got too small you got a pair of mine.
There was trust then too. I know there were bad people then too but somehow I guess I didn't know that then for some reason. Now seems like no one trusts anyone.
We kept our elders at home and cared for them instead of ripping them off like people are doing now.
No one was laying in wait to steal from you but to give you more.
I guess that was an advantage of small community living. I don't know because I didn't live in town but even small communities are not the same anymore either. Now you may come home and find you have been robbed or vandalized.
Three summers ago I had two peach trees just loaded with ripe beautiful peaches. I watched them and waited for the right time to harvest and get them all worked up for eating all winter. I had told several people they would be welcome to some because there were so many. I was willing to share them but not to have them done the way they were.
One morning early I was going to pick peaches. I knew there would most likely be at least two bushels. No one had took me up on coming to pick and share so I was planning to take some and give them away to several people.
I had two big grocery bags to pick in. The trees are down in the front and not close to the house. I walked down there and just stopped with my mouth open when I saw my peaches. Did I say Peaches? Well that was the wrong choice of words because there was nary a peach to be seen. Someone had come in the night and stripped every peach in sight. Not even a peach on the ground was seen. I mean those suckers had cleaned me out lock stock and barrel. YEP! Not even the smell of a peach was left. That was bad enough but when I looked over at the plum tree it was desecrated something awful. Someone had knocked the plums down on the ground and must have gotten mad because they were not ripe and started stomping on them. A few limbs were broken off the tree as well.
Now I would have give some peaches to anyone who asked be it friend or stranger. They could have had some peaches just for the asking. I had to many and didn't need all of them, I wanted to share, even tried to share, but this was too much for my simple mind to comprehend. I wasn't so much mad but more hurt. I don't know who did it but I hope they really used and enjoyed the peaches and didn't just do it for a lark. I will not believe it was someone I know.
It is getting harder every day to trust someone enough to call them a neighbor. Neighbor used to mean something. They were someone to count on, someone who was there for you, they were friends. I'm finding it very hard to believe that there is no one left who is a real Neighbor. Very hard indeed.
Used to be a little community like I grew up in neighbors were just that, Neighbors. Now you are called a nosy old busybody if you try to be neighborly. Trust and mutual understanding all seemed to have blown out into the wind somewhere.
When I was a child everyone helped everyone and everyone knew when someone needed help. It wasn't because someone ran around with a sign on their backs proclaiming “I'm Hungry. Feed Me” or some such thing either. It was because people genuinely cared about their neighbor.
There wasn't much money anywhere but there were friends and neighbors who were there to help.
Food was a big thing. We grew and raised and processed, and killed, and gathered our food. And we shared. If someone was sick there was food brought and prepared for them. Your washing, your cleaning, your chores, and you, were tended to by neighbors. Whatever help you needed you got. In turn you did the same for them.
If someone had a big crop the work and the bounty was shared without question. If I had two pairs of shoes and yours got too small you got a pair of mine.
There was trust then too. I know there were bad people then too but somehow I guess I didn't know that then for some reason. Now seems like no one trusts anyone.
We kept our elders at home and cared for them instead of ripping them off like people are doing now.
No one was laying in wait to steal from you but to give you more.
I guess that was an advantage of small community living. I don't know because I didn't live in town but even small communities are not the same anymore either. Now you may come home and find you have been robbed or vandalized.
Three summers ago I had two peach trees just loaded with ripe beautiful peaches. I watched them and waited for the right time to harvest and get them all worked up for eating all winter. I had told several people they would be welcome to some because there were so many. I was willing to share them but not to have them done the way they were.
One morning early I was going to pick peaches. I knew there would most likely be at least two bushels. No one had took me up on coming to pick and share so I was planning to take some and give them away to several people.
I had two big grocery bags to pick in. The trees are down in the front and not close to the house. I walked down there and just stopped with my mouth open when I saw my peaches. Did I say Peaches? Well that was the wrong choice of words because there was nary a peach to be seen. Someone had come in the night and stripped every peach in sight. Not even a peach on the ground was seen. I mean those suckers had cleaned me out lock stock and barrel. YEP! Not even the smell of a peach was left. That was bad enough but when I looked over at the plum tree it was desecrated something awful. Someone had knocked the plums down on the ground and must have gotten mad because they were not ripe and started stomping on them. A few limbs were broken off the tree as well.
Now I would have give some peaches to anyone who asked be it friend or stranger. They could have had some peaches just for the asking. I had to many and didn't need all of them, I wanted to share, even tried to share, but this was too much for my simple mind to comprehend. I wasn't so much mad but more hurt. I don't know who did it but I hope they really used and enjoyed the peaches and didn't just do it for a lark. I will not believe it was someone I know.
It is getting harder every day to trust someone enough to call them a neighbor. Neighbor used to mean something. They were someone to count on, someone who was there for you, they were friends. I'm finding it very hard to believe that there is no one left who is a real Neighbor. Very hard indeed.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
MY HOME TOWN WAY BACK THERE
7-14-09...My home town way back when!!!
DENNING, ARKANSAS
BOOM TOWN IN FRANKLIN COUNTY
In 1890 Western Coal Co. of St. Louis, Missouri began opening coal mines about one mile south of Altus. A new town was soon built up around the mining operations. There were seventy-seven houses, a general store, churches, Post Office, schoolhouse and a railroad depot.
There was also a rock vault constructed to serve as a bank in which they kept the gold coins. Gold was used to pay off miners on their payday.
The jailhouse is still in evidence as it was built of native stone, and like the vault, was built with security in mind. Thus surrounding the coal mines a boomtown was born. The man who first came to this location and negotiated the leases was Benjamin Denning. The town of four thousand plus population was given the name of its founder, DENNING.
Jake Arbaugh turned the first spade full of dirt, which opened up one of the first industries in Franklin County. One mine after another was opened until there were six coal mines under the ownership of the Western Coal Company. In those days (as told to me by the now deceased John Zachery) there were no unions which could specify wages or working conditions. In 1899 according to Mr. Zachery, conditions became so unbearable that a union was organized. Mr. Zachery was among the first members.
In 1899 a strike was called for higher wages, shorter hours and better working conditions. Until this time the workday was ten hours and the pay was $1.25 to $2.00 per day. Payday was once each month. The miners did not receive Union recognition until 1903. During this time the mines were operated without much success by non-union labor. At last, in 1903 the settlement was achieved, and the miners went back to work on an eight-hour day, with a daily wage increase of fifty-nine cents per day. Other benefits consisted of better working conditions, new safety measures, and payday twice monthly.
As the town took its name from the man who was instrumental in opening the coalfields, Denning had other followers as all boomtowns. There were dance halls, saloons and gambling joints. There was also another side to the picture, because as Denning grew four churches were built and faithfully attended. A bank was built and Dr. Herrod, a well known and trusted citizen became its president. Dr. Herrod was a horse and buggy doctor who brought many who are still around into this world. (printed in 1978)
The mines seemed to have reached a peak by 1915 when the first mine, number one was worked out. The other five continued operating through World War 1 to 1917. Following this the mines were worked out, one by one. At this time Western Coal Company sold its interest in the operation of the coal field. Old number six was operated by various owners until 1943 during World War II. Number two was the last of the original mines to "pull Steel". This occurred in 1947.
With the closing of the mines money became scarce and almost as fast as the town grew, it also began to fade and become a ghost town. The old tipples were removed, but the first, number one remained and open hole. This later played a part in a tragedy which was never solved, that is the discovery of the body of a woman was found floating in the water of the mine.
The only remaining items to remind one of the spacious Western Coal Company were the vault where the gold for payday was stored, and the Jail, better known as the "calaboose."
John Zachery, one of the few miners who out lived the mining industry contributed much of the above information to J.J. Owens of Franklin County and later to Ena Harrington.
Denning is still a municipality consisting of lots and blocks, but the houses are few. There are a few of the noble old two story houses, and some of a more modest type, whose owners refuse to call it quits.
Denning is well known as the town run entirely by women. It is distinguished by being one of only three towns in the United States to have an all woman government.
My Mother Lucille was a member of that council for many years. In picture below she is on the bottom right. Mama wrote names on all her pictures. I used to tell her she was ruining them but now I am so happy that she did that.
DENNING, ARKANSAS
BOOM TOWN IN FRANKLIN COUNTY
In 1890 Western Coal Co. of St. Louis, Missouri began opening coal mines about one mile south of Altus. A new town was soon built up around the mining operations. There were seventy-seven houses, a general store, churches, Post Office, schoolhouse and a railroad depot.
There was also a rock vault constructed to serve as a bank in which they kept the gold coins. Gold was used to pay off miners on their payday.
The jailhouse is still in evidence as it was built of native stone, and like the vault, was built with security in mind. Thus surrounding the coal mines a boomtown was born. The man who first came to this location and negotiated the leases was Benjamin Denning. The town of four thousand plus population was given the name of its founder, DENNING.
Jake Arbaugh turned the first spade full of dirt, which opened up one of the first industries in Franklin County. One mine after another was opened until there were six coal mines under the ownership of the Western Coal Company. In those days (as told to me by the now deceased John Zachery) there were no unions which could specify wages or working conditions. In 1899 according to Mr. Zachery, conditions became so unbearable that a union was organized. Mr. Zachery was among the first members.
In 1899 a strike was called for higher wages, shorter hours and better working conditions. Until this time the workday was ten hours and the pay was $1.25 to $2.00 per day. Payday was once each month. The miners did not receive Union recognition until 1903. During this time the mines were operated without much success by non-union labor. At last, in 1903 the settlement was achieved, and the miners went back to work on an eight-hour day, with a daily wage increase of fifty-nine cents per day. Other benefits consisted of better working conditions, new safety measures, and payday twice monthly.
As the town took its name from the man who was instrumental in opening the coalfields, Denning had other followers as all boomtowns. There were dance halls, saloons and gambling joints. There was also another side to the picture, because as Denning grew four churches were built and faithfully attended. A bank was built and Dr. Herrod, a well known and trusted citizen became its president. Dr. Herrod was a horse and buggy doctor who brought many who are still around into this world. (printed in 1978)
The mines seemed to have reached a peak by 1915 when the first mine, number one was worked out. The other five continued operating through World War 1 to 1917. Following this the mines were worked out, one by one. At this time Western Coal Company sold its interest in the operation of the coal field. Old number six was operated by various owners until 1943 during World War II. Number two was the last of the original mines to "pull Steel". This occurred in 1947.
With the closing of the mines money became scarce and almost as fast as the town grew, it also began to fade and become a ghost town. The old tipples were removed, but the first, number one remained and open hole. This later played a part in a tragedy which was never solved, that is the discovery of the body of a woman was found floating in the water of the mine.
The only remaining items to remind one of the spacious Western Coal Company were the vault where the gold for payday was stored, and the Jail, better known as the "calaboose."
John Zachery, one of the few miners who out lived the mining industry contributed much of the above information to J.J. Owens of Franklin County and later to Ena Harrington.
Denning is still a municipality consisting of lots and blocks, but the houses are few. There are a few of the noble old two story houses, and some of a more modest type, whose owners refuse to call it quits.
Denning is well known as the town run entirely by women. It is distinguished by being one of only three towns in the United States to have an all woman government.
My Mother Lucille was a member of that council for many years. In picture below she is on the bottom right. Mama wrote names on all her pictures. I used to tell her she was ruining them but now I am so happy that she did that.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
AND THERE WERE TWO
7-8-09...And There Were Two
When I get up in the night to go to the bathroom I'm usually half asleep. In fact I'm convinced that I go with my eyes closed kinda like semi sleep walking. I can prove that by the many times I have had knots on my head from running in to the Bathroom door. YEP!
I got up a few days ago and stumbled in to the bathroom and somehow got on the pot right.. The trash can is sitting right by the comode and has a lid on it. I had re potted some of my house plants that day which was quiet an experience.
Well this night as I sat there in my semi coma state I kept hearing something. Thump, thump, thump. Well I thought I must be hearing something so I just finished my business. After the paper work was done I turned to lift the lid on the trash can and heard the Thump Thump again. Sounded like it was behind the trash can so I looked. Nothing there. I started to raise the lid again and this time heard thump and saw that the lid on the trash can was moving. Now heck fire this was getting spooky. I know I didn't just imagine the lid was moving every time I heard the thump. Anyway being still half asleep I just went ahead and lifted the lid to dispose of my paper. There is a night light in the bathroom so I hadn't turned on the ceiling light. As I peered in to the trash can something hit right on top of my head. Now I was fully awake and startled. I could feel something moving on my head and I didn't like it one bit. I jumped up from the pot and was pulling up my drawers when something slid right on down my face. It felt cold and I reached up to swipe it out of my face and it landed on my bare feet. I did the watusi over to the light switch and turned it on. There right between my feet was a slimy old frog looking up at me with those bug eyes. Well let me tell you I came unglued. I put the seat down on the pot and got up there fast. There I stood screechin' and screamin' to the top of my lungs.
Now Don can't hear hisself fart when he goes to sleep at night so he just slept on. Couldn't have woke him with a bomb. I was Trapped as sure as shootin'. Wasn't about to get down and go out of that bathroom. Heck fire no. I knew Don would get up sooner or later for a trip to the bathroom so I just waited.
That durned old frog was not moving much but now and then he would jump over a little way which just terrified me. I was just sure it was gonna' jump up there with me.
After what seemed like hours I heard Don coming. Well it's about time I thought. He opened the door and there I stood on the pot. That startled him and he backed up a little then said "What r ya doin' up there"? Just shut up and get that durn frog outta here was my answer. He was aggravated but he caught it and was going to put it in the trash can. "NO" I slapped his hand and the frog peed on him. He was madder'n'a old wet hen. I told him to take it outside and he balked. I finally convinced him that it would get out of the trash again. He grumbled all the way to the door but I followed him to make sure it was put outside.
Oh My Gosh!!! It took me forever to go back to sleep. I could still feel that thing in my hair for a long time. In case you are wondering how the frog got in my trash in the first place. Believe it or not I put it there. Yep! Sure nuff did! You can read about how that came to be in my blog called A SACK OF DIRT just in case you are curious.
When I get up in the night to go to the bathroom I'm usually half asleep. In fact I'm convinced that I go with my eyes closed kinda like semi sleep walking. I can prove that by the many times I have had knots on my head from running in to the Bathroom door. YEP!
I got up a few days ago and stumbled in to the bathroom and somehow got on the pot right.. The trash can is sitting right by the comode and has a lid on it. I had re potted some of my house plants that day which was quiet an experience.
Well this night as I sat there in my semi coma state I kept hearing something. Thump, thump, thump. Well I thought I must be hearing something so I just finished my business. After the paper work was done I turned to lift the lid on the trash can and heard the Thump Thump again. Sounded like it was behind the trash can so I looked. Nothing there. I started to raise the lid again and this time heard thump and saw that the lid on the trash can was moving. Now heck fire this was getting spooky. I know I didn't just imagine the lid was moving every time I heard the thump. Anyway being still half asleep I just went ahead and lifted the lid to dispose of my paper. There is a night light in the bathroom so I hadn't turned on the ceiling light. As I peered in to the trash can something hit right on top of my head. Now I was fully awake and startled. I could feel something moving on my head and I didn't like it one bit. I jumped up from the pot and was pulling up my drawers when something slid right on down my face. It felt cold and I reached up to swipe it out of my face and it landed on my bare feet. I did the watusi over to the light switch and turned it on. There right between my feet was a slimy old frog looking up at me with those bug eyes. Well let me tell you I came unglued. I put the seat down on the pot and got up there fast. There I stood screechin' and screamin' to the top of my lungs.
Now Don can't hear hisself fart when he goes to sleep at night so he just slept on. Couldn't have woke him with a bomb. I was Trapped as sure as shootin'. Wasn't about to get down and go out of that bathroom. Heck fire no. I knew Don would get up sooner or later for a trip to the bathroom so I just waited.
That durned old frog was not moving much but now and then he would jump over a little way which just terrified me. I was just sure it was gonna' jump up there with me.
After what seemed like hours I heard Don coming. Well it's about time I thought. He opened the door and there I stood on the pot. That startled him and he backed up a little then said "What r ya doin' up there"? Just shut up and get that durn frog outta here was my answer. He was aggravated but he caught it and was going to put it in the trash can. "NO" I slapped his hand and the frog peed on him. He was madder'n'a old wet hen. I told him to take it outside and he balked. I finally convinced him that it would get out of the trash again. He grumbled all the way to the door but I followed him to make sure it was put outside.
Oh My Gosh!!! It took me forever to go back to sleep. I could still feel that thing in my hair for a long time. In case you are wondering how the frog got in my trash in the first place. Believe it or not I put it there. Yep! Sure nuff did! You can read about how that came to be in my blog called A SACK OF DIRT just in case you are curious.
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