8-18-09...LOOK BEFORE YOU FLUSH!!
There isn't much about my first husband that I want to remember. Not much about him worth remembering. He was the Father of my only son. One good thing he did.
He was an alcoholic and a mean one. My memories of him are not good or pleasant.
Because he stayed drunk most of the time he did things that were funny. Not funny then, maddening, terrible, and hurtful to me.
Richard was three when this incident took place. We lived in a fairly decent house that was rented. We had a bathroom of sorts and had not had one before. Richard was my pride and joy and my only reason for even caring at the time.
One night I woke and heard my husband barfing in the bathroom. I was trying to be quiet, I knew he was drunk and I didn't want him turning on me. I was just thinking, Oh my gosh, I sure hope he is hitting the pot with that and not the floor. I heard the toilet flush and finally went back to sleep.
Next morning way before daylight I woke hearing something out in the field behind the house. I kept hearing , grunt, grunt, thunk, thunk, clang, clang, plop plop and more grunts and groans.. I finally got up and looked outside. All I saw was a weak light that I figured was a flashlight. Well shoot fire I thought, whoever that is must be nuts, I aint messing with them. I tried going back to sleep but couldn't. I went and got Richard and put him in bed with me. Then I just laid there until daylight listening to those strange noises.
When I finally looked out I saw a big mound of dirt and more being slung out by someone with a shovel. Then I recognized the slinger of the dirt as being my husband. I thought, ''Oh Good Grief, what in the world is that nut doing? That is not our land. He can't just start diggin' anywhere he wants to. My gosh he'll get us put out of this house. First decent one we've lived in and he's gonna' get us run off''! I mean my mind was going fast and those thoughts were flying' round' faster than that dirt was being flung. I opened the back door and hollered at him. He came to the house and finally told me the story.
Seems during the night he had thrown up all his supper in the commode. I thought 'Tell me something I don't already know. I knew that much'. Well by golly while he was pukin' up his supper he also spit out his false teeth. Since he was drunk he wasn't very clear headed. He flushed the pot and stood there in a stupor and watched his teeth go down the drain with the puke. Yep! Sure nuff' did!
Why was he diggin' in the field you ask? Well he figured out the septic tank was there and by gosh he was gonna dig that sucker up and get his teeth. I finally convinced him that was impossible and he'd better get all that dirt back in the hole before the landlord saw it. While he was doing that I discovered that the commode was stopped up. With a little bit of common sense I figured out why. Yep, his dang teeth were stuck in the pot. Good Grief!
We had to have a plumber come take the pot out and retrieve his teeth. I was mad at the time and I took Richard and we walked around the block. Later I cleaned up the horrific mess and noticed he had his teeth in his mouth. I still gross out on that fact! I mean you couldn't have cleaned them things enough for me to put them in my mouth. NOPE! No way!
My Daddy always said. Honey always laugh so you wont have to cry. Well Daddy it took me many years to be able to laugh at that one, but you'd be proud to know that today I am laughing. THANK YOU DADDY!!!!
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
A MOUSE IN MY PANTS
8-15-09...A MOUSE IN MY PANTS
I don't like those little critters called mice. If I see one it always startles the heck outta' me. I don't like the idea that those little varmits are scurrying all around my house and on my things. They just absolutely give me the creeps. During my first marriage I went to work. I had to get up at 3 AM every morning in order to be on the job at 5 AM. I tried to be quiet so I wouldn't wake my son and my husband and mostly dressed in the dark so I could stand by the wood stove in the winter. I laid out my clothes the night before on a chair so They would be there when I got ready.
One very cold snowy morning I was standing by the stove putting my clothes on. I had my bra and sweater on and was ready for my work pants. I put one leg in the pants, raised the other leg and was putting it in the other pant leg. About half way down I felt something furry and boy howdy it was wiggling. I tried to get my leg outta' there but I started stumbling. Instead of taking my leg out it went on down. I was standing on the pant leg at the bottom. By golly whatever was in there wanted out as much as I did and it was moving on I tell ya'.
Up and down my leg it was going, likity' split. In my stunned state of mind I went goofy. I mean I was goofy. If I hadn't of been goofy I would have sit down and stripped outta' them pants in a hurry now wouldn't I have? But I didn't do that. Heck fire no. I didn't do that!! Instead I headed for the door stumblin' along with my foot on the pant leg. How I did it I'll never know but I tore out on the deck, stepped in the snow, and down I went, still trapping that thing in my pants. Good Grief!! No one woke up and I was on my own. I finally figured out I had to get outta' them pants or that thing had to get outta' them pants. Didn't matter much which one but one of us had to go!!!
The porch light was on thank goodness. I must have turned it on but I can't remember doing it. I turned on my back and started wiggling' for all I was worth to get outta' them pants. That thing in my pants was wigglin' too and I was about to go crazy I think. Finally my pants were off and I saw a blasted ol' mouse scurrying off the deck. That thing was moving I'm here to tell ya'.
I took my aching body back in the house. I wasn't about to wear pants that a mouse had been in the leg of so I got another pair, got dressed and took off for work. Had no breakfast but I had a cup of coffee before the mouse in the pants episode started so that did me till dinner time. That's noon down my way ya' know.
I survived, the mouse survived, and I set mouse traps all over the place that night. YEP!! Don't want no more mice in my pants. NOPE!!
I don't like those little critters called mice. If I see one it always startles the heck outta' me. I don't like the idea that those little varmits are scurrying all around my house and on my things. They just absolutely give me the creeps. During my first marriage I went to work. I had to get up at 3 AM every morning in order to be on the job at 5 AM. I tried to be quiet so I wouldn't wake my son and my husband and mostly dressed in the dark so I could stand by the wood stove in the winter. I laid out my clothes the night before on a chair so They would be there when I got ready.
One very cold snowy morning I was standing by the stove putting my clothes on. I had my bra and sweater on and was ready for my work pants. I put one leg in the pants, raised the other leg and was putting it in the other pant leg. About half way down I felt something furry and boy howdy it was wiggling. I tried to get my leg outta' there but I started stumbling. Instead of taking my leg out it went on down. I was standing on the pant leg at the bottom. By golly whatever was in there wanted out as much as I did and it was moving on I tell ya'.
Up and down my leg it was going, likity' split. In my stunned state of mind I went goofy. I mean I was goofy. If I hadn't of been goofy I would have sit down and stripped outta' them pants in a hurry now wouldn't I have? But I didn't do that. Heck fire no. I didn't do that!! Instead I headed for the door stumblin' along with my foot on the pant leg. How I did it I'll never know but I tore out on the deck, stepped in the snow, and down I went, still trapping that thing in my pants. Good Grief!! No one woke up and I was on my own. I finally figured out I had to get outta' them pants or that thing had to get outta' them pants. Didn't matter much which one but one of us had to go!!!
The porch light was on thank goodness. I must have turned it on but I can't remember doing it. I turned on my back and started wiggling' for all I was worth to get outta' them pants. That thing in my pants was wigglin' too and I was about to go crazy I think. Finally my pants were off and I saw a blasted ol' mouse scurrying off the deck. That thing was moving I'm here to tell ya'.
I took my aching body back in the house. I wasn't about to wear pants that a mouse had been in the leg of so I got another pair, got dressed and took off for work. Had no breakfast but I had a cup of coffee before the mouse in the pants episode started so that did me till dinner time. That's noon down my way ya' know.
I survived, the mouse survived, and I set mouse traps all over the place that night. YEP!! Don't want no more mice in my pants. NOPE!!
Thursday, August 13, 2009
LEARNING THE HARD WAY, BY DOING
8-12-09...LEARNING THE HARD WAY, BY DOING
I've heard it said that we learn by doing. That is true to a certain extent but only goes so far. I think it's more like 'You learn the hard way'. Yep. I learned so many things the hard way.
Even as toddlers no matter how many times someone says 'Don't touch that, it's hot' , do we really learn that till we actually touch it? Heck no. We are born with that, 'I'll do it myself' right in there.
When I was in grade school and all the way to about my eighth grade, girls were not allowed to wear pants to school. We didn't really think much about it, that's just the way it was.
I think I was in the eighth grade when it was announced that girls could wear jeans to school on Friday's. Just one day a week we could do something that had been forbidden. Wow! Now that sounded great to us. We discussed it in school that day and we were very excited.
I told Mama when I got home, “Mama I'm gonna wear jeans to school Friday they said we can”. Well Mama burst my bubble real quick like when she said, “Clydene how can you wear jeans to school when you don't have any jeans to wear”? Well good grief I hadn't thought it through that far. It was Monday and I had till Friday. I guess I just thought a pair of jeans would materialize out of a big puff of blue smoke or something. Heck fire I could and I was gonna! Yeaw sure I was.
It was two weeks before Daddy brought me a pair of red jeans when he came home from work on Friday night. Oh My Gosh I was in hog heaven, floatin' on a cloud, sittin' on top of a mountain, I mean I couldn't wait till the next Friday.
The next day was Saturday and I got up and put my red jeans on. Mamma told me I better take them off so I wouldn't get them messed up before school the next Friday. I vowed I would not get em' messed up. Shoot I wouldn't even go outside today.
That was one time I learned a very hard lesson in a very hard way. YEP!
I did stay in most of the day but I got bored around noon. I didn't know what to do with myself cooped up in the house trying to not mess up my red jeans. I should have just took them off and hung them up. But heck no, Not Me!
Grandma was sewing something. I picked up her scissors and started messing around with them. I was told to put them down but I was as stubborn as a barnyard mule. I started just opening and closing the blades while holding them on my leg. Mamma said, “Clydene put them scissors down before you cut yourself”. I opened and closed them a couple of times before I put them down, just for good measure ya know. Then was when the hard lesson started. I looked down at the leg of my new red jeans and saw two uneven cuts. Oh My Gosh! I had cut holes in my new red jeans and I was devastated. Mama was livid! “Clydene I told you to take those off this morning before you messed them up. Then I told you to put those scissors down. Now just look what you've done”!
I started bellering like an old bull. “Grandma fix em. You can fix em' cant you?” Mama said, “Yes Clydene your Grandma is gonna fix em. She is gonna put a green patch on em' and your gonna' wear em' like that”. Oh Gosh, Oh My, now what was I gonna do? I couldn't wear red jeans with green patches to school. No, I just wouldn't do that. Nope! When I told Mama I wouldn't wear em with a green patch she said, “Oh yes you will Clydene. You will wear them to school Monday”. I bellered and bawled for the whole time Grandma had the jeans fixin' them but true to her word Mama handed me my red jeans later with the biggest green patch you ever saw right in the middle of the leg. I ran outside and told Daddy on them two by golly. He will help me I thought. Yep I thought. Well he didn't help me after he heard the story.
They gave me a couple of hours to stew on this before Mama handed me the red jeans. The green patch was gone. Grandma had indeed fixed them almost good as new with her small stitches. The tares were hardly visible. Seems Grandma had just basted that green patch over the holes in my jeans. They were ready and OK to wear and I was grateful.
I learned this lesson by doing and I learned it the hard way at the same time. Yep! It took a lot sometimes to penetrate my hard head. My Parents knew that and they were more than up to the challenge. YEP!
I've heard it said that we learn by doing. That is true to a certain extent but only goes so far. I think it's more like 'You learn the hard way'. Yep. I learned so many things the hard way.
Even as toddlers no matter how many times someone says 'Don't touch that, it's hot' , do we really learn that till we actually touch it? Heck no. We are born with that, 'I'll do it myself' right in there.
When I was in grade school and all the way to about my eighth grade, girls were not allowed to wear pants to school. We didn't really think much about it, that's just the way it was.
I think I was in the eighth grade when it was announced that girls could wear jeans to school on Friday's. Just one day a week we could do something that had been forbidden. Wow! Now that sounded great to us. We discussed it in school that day and we were very excited.
I told Mama when I got home, “Mama I'm gonna wear jeans to school Friday they said we can”. Well Mama burst my bubble real quick like when she said, “Clydene how can you wear jeans to school when you don't have any jeans to wear”? Well good grief I hadn't thought it through that far. It was Monday and I had till Friday. I guess I just thought a pair of jeans would materialize out of a big puff of blue smoke or something. Heck fire I could and I was gonna! Yeaw sure I was.
It was two weeks before Daddy brought me a pair of red jeans when he came home from work on Friday night. Oh My Gosh I was in hog heaven, floatin' on a cloud, sittin' on top of a mountain, I mean I couldn't wait till the next Friday.
The next day was Saturday and I got up and put my red jeans on. Mamma told me I better take them off so I wouldn't get them messed up before school the next Friday. I vowed I would not get em' messed up. Shoot I wouldn't even go outside today.
That was one time I learned a very hard lesson in a very hard way. YEP!
I did stay in most of the day but I got bored around noon. I didn't know what to do with myself cooped up in the house trying to not mess up my red jeans. I should have just took them off and hung them up. But heck no, Not Me!
Grandma was sewing something. I picked up her scissors and started messing around with them. I was told to put them down but I was as stubborn as a barnyard mule. I started just opening and closing the blades while holding them on my leg. Mamma said, “Clydene put them scissors down before you cut yourself”. I opened and closed them a couple of times before I put them down, just for good measure ya know. Then was when the hard lesson started. I looked down at the leg of my new red jeans and saw two uneven cuts. Oh My Gosh! I had cut holes in my new red jeans and I was devastated. Mama was livid! “Clydene I told you to take those off this morning before you messed them up. Then I told you to put those scissors down. Now just look what you've done”!
I started bellering like an old bull. “Grandma fix em. You can fix em' cant you?” Mama said, “Yes Clydene your Grandma is gonna fix em. She is gonna put a green patch on em' and your gonna' wear em' like that”. Oh Gosh, Oh My, now what was I gonna do? I couldn't wear red jeans with green patches to school. No, I just wouldn't do that. Nope! When I told Mama I wouldn't wear em with a green patch she said, “Oh yes you will Clydene. You will wear them to school Monday”. I bellered and bawled for the whole time Grandma had the jeans fixin' them but true to her word Mama handed me my red jeans later with the biggest green patch you ever saw right in the middle of the leg. I ran outside and told Daddy on them two by golly. He will help me I thought. Yep I thought. Well he didn't help me after he heard the story.
They gave me a couple of hours to stew on this before Mama handed me the red jeans. The green patch was gone. Grandma had indeed fixed them almost good as new with her small stitches. The tares were hardly visible. Seems Grandma had just basted that green patch over the holes in my jeans. They were ready and OK to wear and I was grateful.
I learned this lesson by doing and I learned it the hard way at the same time. Yep! It took a lot sometimes to penetrate my hard head. My Parents knew that and they were more than up to the challenge. YEP!
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
TEARS FOR HAPPY
8-12-09...TEARS FOR HAPPY
I used to go to Nursing homes and Senior citizen centers and sing for Birthdays or just any thing they asked me to do. I worked in Nursing Homes for more than 20 yrs. And wanted to do something for those lonely people.
One day I was singing How Beautiful Heaven must Be and noticed a little lady with tears just running down her face. This upset me badly. I was going to talk to her before I left but never got the chance.
The next time I was there this same little lady raised her hand and asked me to sing How Beautiful Heaven Must Be. I sure didn't want to do it because I was afraid it would upset her again. But she asked and I sang it. I looked at her crying again and it just about undone me. I was crying too.
When my program was over I made a beeline to this lady. She was little and slumped in her wheel chair. Her hair was snow white and styled nice. Her cheeks and lips were very lightly shaded with pink. She had big blue eyes that I expected to be sad. They were not sad they were sparkling and twinkling like a night star. I noticed she couldn't move her arms much and her hands were all gnarled and crooked. In those little hands she clutched on to something. She couldn't really talk very well but she made me understand that she wanted me to look at whatever it was she held in her hands.
I took the object in her hands and it was a card. The card was a funeral announcement like the ones they hand out at funerals. I read it and finally understood it was from her husbands funeral many years before. There on the card was a list of the songs that had been sung. The very first one was 'How Beautiful Heaven Must Be'. I was stunned and I told her how sorry I was but I didn't understand why she asked me to sing it. I told her that I didn't want to hurt her and that song evidently upset her when I sang it. She started shaking her head no and was giving me the sweetest smile through her tears.
I stayed with her for almost an hour and listened carefully to what she was trying to tell me. Seems the song was her husbands favorite and he had requested that she sing it at his funeral. She didn't think she could do it but she had promised him that she would. She did sing the song for him when he died and she was so thankful that she had been able to. She told me that her tears were tears for happy because when I sang the song she felt like she was doing it again for her husband.
I went there many more times and always sang that song and always cried tears for happy with her. One day I went and she wasn't there. I asked about her and she had died just that morning. Her Son was there and asked me if I would record the song and allow them to take it with them where she would be buried in another state. I was honored and happy to do it. I made a cassette right there that day as I sang that song one last time for that sweet little lady. I can't remember her name now. Oh how I wish I could. But I can see her little wrinkled face with the dancing sparkling eyes. And I can see those tears for happy on that face. I can also feel those tears for happy that are blurring my eyes as the tears roll down my cheeks. TEARS FOR HAPPY, GOOD TEARS!!!
I used to go to Nursing homes and Senior citizen centers and sing for Birthdays or just any thing they asked me to do. I worked in Nursing Homes for more than 20 yrs. And wanted to do something for those lonely people.
One day I was singing How Beautiful Heaven must Be and noticed a little lady with tears just running down her face. This upset me badly. I was going to talk to her before I left but never got the chance.
The next time I was there this same little lady raised her hand and asked me to sing How Beautiful Heaven Must Be. I sure didn't want to do it because I was afraid it would upset her again. But she asked and I sang it. I looked at her crying again and it just about undone me. I was crying too.
When my program was over I made a beeline to this lady. She was little and slumped in her wheel chair. Her hair was snow white and styled nice. Her cheeks and lips were very lightly shaded with pink. She had big blue eyes that I expected to be sad. They were not sad they were sparkling and twinkling like a night star. I noticed she couldn't move her arms much and her hands were all gnarled and crooked. In those little hands she clutched on to something. She couldn't really talk very well but she made me understand that she wanted me to look at whatever it was she held in her hands.
I took the object in her hands and it was a card. The card was a funeral announcement like the ones they hand out at funerals. I read it and finally understood it was from her husbands funeral many years before. There on the card was a list of the songs that had been sung. The very first one was 'How Beautiful Heaven Must Be'. I was stunned and I told her how sorry I was but I didn't understand why she asked me to sing it. I told her that I didn't want to hurt her and that song evidently upset her when I sang it. She started shaking her head no and was giving me the sweetest smile through her tears.
I stayed with her for almost an hour and listened carefully to what she was trying to tell me. Seems the song was her husbands favorite and he had requested that she sing it at his funeral. She didn't think she could do it but she had promised him that she would. She did sing the song for him when he died and she was so thankful that she had been able to. She told me that her tears were tears for happy because when I sang the song she felt like she was doing it again for her husband.
I went there many more times and always sang that song and always cried tears for happy with her. One day I went and she wasn't there. I asked about her and she had died just that morning. Her Son was there and asked me if I would record the song and allow them to take it with them where she would be buried in another state. I was honored and happy to do it. I made a cassette right there that day as I sang that song one last time for that sweet little lady. I can't remember her name now. Oh how I wish I could. But I can see her little wrinkled face with the dancing sparkling eyes. And I can see those tears for happy on that face. I can also feel those tears for happy that are blurring my eyes as the tears roll down my cheeks. TEARS FOR HAPPY, GOOD TEARS!!!
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
OUR OWN LANGUAGE
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.!!
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.!!
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!!!!!
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