4-23-10...I WASHED THE DISHES
When I was too young and little I wanted to wash dishes but when the time came that I could and Mamma made me do it I hated it. One day Mamma was busy doing something else and I was dwaddling over the dishes. I just kept thinking there had to be a better way of doing the job. I raked all the scraps on a plate and took them out to throw to Ol' Tip for his supper. I forgot to bring something to rake it off the plate so I set it down on the ground and went back for a spoon. When I got back Ol' Tip was licking the last of the scraps off the plate. HUH OH, I didn't think that was gonna go over too good with Mamma so I hurried to pick the plate up. Why heck fire that plate was clean as a whistle and shined like a new penny. HMMMM! Why Not? Yep why not indeed. I hurried back in the house with my clean' plate, sit it up in the safe, grabbed two more and here I go. When all the plates were done I started with bowls, etc. All along I was neatly stacking them away. Boy howdy now I'd stumbled on to something here. Yep, this was gonna work out great!
I went to the porch with a big iron skillet and bang, clang, here it went across the concrete. Oops! Better be careful. Don't wanna break any of Mamma's things. Nope. I set the skillet down in front of Ol' Tip and decided I'd just set myself down there too and rest a spell. Shoot fire this washing dishes could run in to work.
I was sitting there just as proud of myself as a speckled pup when Mamma came up behind me. “CLYDENE, What in the world do you think you're doin'?” Just scared the bee juices outta' me. “Good grief Mamma, You scared me to death”! “Never mind Clydene I said what are you doin'” I scrambled up really fast but wasn't watching what I was doing. In my hurry I flipped right off the porch and out on my face in the mess that Ol' Tip had made. Gross! I got up and very politely said, “Mamma the dishes are all done”. Of course Mamma knew in a glance just exactly HOW' I had done the dishes and she sure wasn't about to give me any medals for my work. NOPE!
She marched me back in the kitchen and started taking plates and bowls down. “Mamma look at them, they are clean as a whistle”. Mamma was sure nuff' not impressed. She made me wash every one of them and put them in the rinse water pan. She put a little bit of purex in them to sanitize them. When I got the dishes all put away, The second time, I had learned a good lesson for sure. Could be my stinging butt might help me not forget it either. Good Grief! Whatever possessed me to pull that anyway? I certainly knew better. I was always as stubborn as a barnyard mule and had to learn it all the hard way. YEP!!!
Friday, April 23, 2010
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
THE MAD GUINEAS
4-21-10...MAD GUINEAS
Did you ever see a bunch of guinea hens congregating? It is quiet a sight. They will all huddle in a sort of circle and chatter. Daddy said it looked like a bunch of old women in their bonnets gossiping. Mamma didn't like that much. She said it could just as well be a bunch of old men.
We had some guinea hens once when I was a kid. They were loud but very useful. They caught bugs by the millions and were as good as any watch dog for alarming you to something or someone who shouldn't be there. They would even attack a snake and they usually won the fight. They roosted in one of our big walnut trees at night and if you heard them start chattering you knew something was amiss.
A cousin of ours that came to visit sometimes didn't like our guineas and though they were of a gentle nature around us they flat didn't like Curtis. I'd never seen them attack anyone else so we were never sure why they got him.
One day we were in the front yard playing and Curtis came walking up. He figured he was gonna scare the stuffins out of us. He snuk up behind us and grabbed Norman and put him on his shoulder. Well that is what he intended to do but it didn't quiet work out that way. When he grabbed Norman we all started screaming and here came those guinea hens chattering up a storm. It was a mad chatter. You could tell the difference. They didn't need to get in their huddle and talk it over for this one. Heck no. They attacked! I mean they climbed Curtis. Covered his body. There he stood too stunned to do anything but splutter and look wild. He finally started swatting and fighting which just made the old hens madder than hornets. We thought it was the funniest thing we ever saw and we were giggling. I heard Curtis say, “Get these d----d b-----s off me it aint funny”. Well I was mortified by his language and I was rushing to tell on him for talking that way. Didn't have too though because Daddy, Mamma, and Grandma were standing on the porch. They too were laughing hysterically. Daddy did finally get the guineas off Curtis but they were right on his tail as he ran to get in the house. Mamma was saying “Now y'all this aint giggle giggle a bit funny. Giggle giggle, He could have been giggle giggle hurt bad.”! Grandma was busy examining Curtis and she too was giggling with each breath. Daddy was just flat slapping his knees he was giggling so hard. Don't think he was able to say anything in between. What he did say when everything died down to a soft rumble was, “I told you they were a bunch of old gossiping women”. I don't remember if Curtis got in trouble for his language or not. Years later I brought the incident up to him and had to tell on him again for his bad language. TEE HEE Don't mess with a bunch of old hens, human or fowl! NOPE!!
Did you ever see a bunch of guinea hens congregating? It is quiet a sight. They will all huddle in a sort of circle and chatter. Daddy said it looked like a bunch of old women in their bonnets gossiping. Mamma didn't like that much. She said it could just as well be a bunch of old men.
We had some guinea hens once when I was a kid. They were loud but very useful. They caught bugs by the millions and were as good as any watch dog for alarming you to something or someone who shouldn't be there. They would even attack a snake and they usually won the fight. They roosted in one of our big walnut trees at night and if you heard them start chattering you knew something was amiss.
A cousin of ours that came to visit sometimes didn't like our guineas and though they were of a gentle nature around us they flat didn't like Curtis. I'd never seen them attack anyone else so we were never sure why they got him.
One day we were in the front yard playing and Curtis came walking up. He figured he was gonna scare the stuffins out of us. He snuk up behind us and grabbed Norman and put him on his shoulder. Well that is what he intended to do but it didn't quiet work out that way. When he grabbed Norman we all started screaming and here came those guinea hens chattering up a storm. It was a mad chatter. You could tell the difference. They didn't need to get in their huddle and talk it over for this one. Heck no. They attacked! I mean they climbed Curtis. Covered his body. There he stood too stunned to do anything but splutter and look wild. He finally started swatting and fighting which just made the old hens madder than hornets. We thought it was the funniest thing we ever saw and we were giggling. I heard Curtis say, “Get these d----d b-----s off me it aint funny”. Well I was mortified by his language and I was rushing to tell on him for talking that way. Didn't have too though because Daddy, Mamma, and Grandma were standing on the porch. They too were laughing hysterically. Daddy did finally get the guineas off Curtis but they were right on his tail as he ran to get in the house. Mamma was saying “Now y'all this aint giggle giggle a bit funny. Giggle giggle, He could have been giggle giggle hurt bad.”! Grandma was busy examining Curtis and she too was giggling with each breath. Daddy was just flat slapping his knees he was giggling so hard. Don't think he was able to say anything in between. What he did say when everything died down to a soft rumble was, “I told you they were a bunch of old gossiping women”. I don't remember if Curtis got in trouble for his language or not. Years later I brought the incident up to him and had to tell on him again for his bad language. TEE HEE Don't mess with a bunch of old hens, human or fowl! NOPE!!
Monday, April 19, 2010
TRAINS AND THINGS
4-19-10...GOING HOME ON A TRAIN
I heard a train whistle this morning, a wailing mournful sound way somewhere in the distance. There is not a RR track within 20 miles of me so I don't know if the sound was carrying a long distance or whether it was wishful thinking.
When I heard it I was instantly transported back to my childhood and that old house we lived in down by the tracks. We definitely heard them then, loud and clear, mostly loud. That sound this morning coming to me across the early morning air was pure music to my ears.
I can just vaguely remember Daddy calling me and Mamma out to the back porch one morning just like this morning. He said “Just listen Clydene. That is a steam engine and this is one of the last ones you will ever hear”. “Why Daddy?” “Honey they say they have a train that will be better than this one. This train will go faster. Darn fools are gonna get somebody killed is what they are gonna do, next thing you know they are gonna say we can fly through the air like them crazy men”. Daddy was talking about the Wright Bros. And they had flown but I guess we didn't know that.
The old steam engines would come hissing and chugging down the tracks in a halo of steam and smoke and it stunk to high heaven. The whistle on it was a low moaning sound as I remember it. I don't remember a lot about it but I'll never forget my Daddy calling us out to see it.
Trains got fancier after that. And today they are fancier still. Used to we could be out in the yard when one came roaring through, we would raise our arms up and the conductor would blow his whistle. Just one short spurt so it wouldn't confuse people on the crossing just a way up. Then we'd wait till the Red Caboose got there and the Guy in it would throw out newspapers from all over for us to read. We kids didn't care about the newspapers but there would always be something wrapped up in them for us. Maybe suckers or gum. Now you would be afraid to eat anything like that for fear you would be poisoned or worse. One day the train had to stop for some reason and the Caboose was right in front of our house. That man came out on the end of the car and talked to us. Wow! Were we ever excited about that. All our friends were envious of us when we told them that story and boy howdy were we struttin' high.
Lots of things take me back home to my childhood but no time has been more needed than the trip I took down memory lane on a train this morning just as it started getting light outside. Made me feel all new again. Like I could just run up the road barefooted with the wind in my face, all fresh and happy. Not a care in the world. Nothing more healing in this world than going HOME!!! YEP!
I heard a train whistle this morning, a wailing mournful sound way somewhere in the distance. There is not a RR track within 20 miles of me so I don't know if the sound was carrying a long distance or whether it was wishful thinking.
When I heard it I was instantly transported back to my childhood and that old house we lived in down by the tracks. We definitely heard them then, loud and clear, mostly loud. That sound this morning coming to me across the early morning air was pure music to my ears.
I can just vaguely remember Daddy calling me and Mamma out to the back porch one morning just like this morning. He said “Just listen Clydene. That is a steam engine and this is one of the last ones you will ever hear”. “Why Daddy?” “Honey they say they have a train that will be better than this one. This train will go faster. Darn fools are gonna get somebody killed is what they are gonna do, next thing you know they are gonna say we can fly through the air like them crazy men”. Daddy was talking about the Wright Bros. And they had flown but I guess we didn't know that.
The old steam engines would come hissing and chugging down the tracks in a halo of steam and smoke and it stunk to high heaven. The whistle on it was a low moaning sound as I remember it. I don't remember a lot about it but I'll never forget my Daddy calling us out to see it.
Trains got fancier after that. And today they are fancier still. Used to we could be out in the yard when one came roaring through, we would raise our arms up and the conductor would blow his whistle. Just one short spurt so it wouldn't confuse people on the crossing just a way up. Then we'd wait till the Red Caboose got there and the Guy in it would throw out newspapers from all over for us to read. We kids didn't care about the newspapers but there would always be something wrapped up in them for us. Maybe suckers or gum. Now you would be afraid to eat anything like that for fear you would be poisoned or worse. One day the train had to stop for some reason and the Caboose was right in front of our house. That man came out on the end of the car and talked to us. Wow! Were we ever excited about that. All our friends were envious of us when we told them that story and boy howdy were we struttin' high.
Lots of things take me back home to my childhood but no time has been more needed than the trip I took down memory lane on a train this morning just as it started getting light outside. Made me feel all new again. Like I could just run up the road barefooted with the wind in my face, all fresh and happy. Not a care in the world. Nothing more healing in this world than going HOME!!! YEP!
Monday, April 5, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
RELATIVES
4-1-10...RELATIVES?!
The Barcliffs lived on in an old house on the side of the road. It was up high off the road and at the side of the house in the yard was a bluff. If you were to fall off that bluff you would be in the Arkansas river. The house was built like a lot of the old houses were built then. It was log and there was a breezway down the middle open at each end. Daddy said John Barcliff had enough money to dry up the river and that it was supposed to be buried in fruit jars all over the property. John was skinny, humpbacked, and tall. He had one of those Santa Claus beards and wore a big hat with the front bent down to shade his eyes. Daddy said it was probably so no one could really see his face or look in to his eyes. He was a strange old man and I was scared to death of him. His wife Sally was my Grandma's first cousin and the sweetest person you ever saw. John was the crabbiest person you ever saw. They had eight kids who were married and not living at home, and A Daughter, never married who lived with them. She seemed odd. Sweet like her Mother but reclusive like her Dad. John lived on the right side of the breezeway and His wife Sally lived on the left side. He only crossed the way to eat his meals and Sally was not allowed to cross to his side. Sally and John both dipped snuff and smoked pipes. I never saw Sally smoke a pipe but knew that she did.
Mamma Daddy, Me, Norman, and My Grandma went one day to visit Sally. Her side of the house was neat and clean. I was very curious to see John and my being scared of him didn't stop me from wanting to snoop around, especially since I had heard about jars of money buried around the yard. I asked if I could go outside for a while and was allowed to only go on the porch where Mamma could see me through a window. Well being on the porch invited me to walk down that breezway which I decided to do. I also decided to peek in to a window on John's side of the house. Good grief! How very rude of me. I know that now but was a kid then. I crept up to the window and put my hands on either side of my face. I put my face right up against the window for a good view. It all only took a second or two because when Mamma couldn't see me any more she came looking. But that second was enough to cure me of my noseyness by golly. When my nose touched the window I was looking straight in to the eyes of John Barcliff!!! Oh My Goodness I was moving fast to get out of there and ran right in to my Mamma. I thought for sure John had me so I started kicking shins. My Mamma's shins to be exact. Oh Lordee me My Gosh, Good Grief!!! I got a spanking right there and heard John snickering which made my Daddy (who had come out) mad as an old hornet. I never wanted to go back there again and Thank God I never had to. I think John was harmless but he didn't want anyone to know that.
The local newspaper went out to interview John and Sally once. John dressed up slicker than a whistle for pictures. Even went in and sat by Sally and shaved for a picture. I don't really think that was what the paper wanted and I imagine they were not pleased with their "BIG STORY". The wanted to see the real John. John talked about his house which his Dad had built in 1839 and had been a stage coach stand. Everyone knew that John was a shrewd man and not the person he tried to portray at all. I guess He knew everyone knew but he seemed to love his "Strange" persona. John died of pneumonia in a Veterans Hospital. Sally died in a Nursing Home and so did the Daughter at home with them The cabin was there until the family sold it and it was torn down which I thought was a shame. I lived in another state when it was destroyed but you can still see where it stood for all those years. Should have been a Historical place and been protected to my way of thinking. But then what I think don't amount to a hill of beans since it wasn't mine. OH WELL!!! I suspect that if there were jars of money there the kids found it before they sold the place. YEP!!!
The Barcliffs lived on in an old house on the side of the road. It was up high off the road and at the side of the house in the yard was a bluff. If you were to fall off that bluff you would be in the Arkansas river. The house was built like a lot of the old houses were built then. It was log and there was a breezway down the middle open at each end. Daddy said John Barcliff had enough money to dry up the river and that it was supposed to be buried in fruit jars all over the property. John was skinny, humpbacked, and tall. He had one of those Santa Claus beards and wore a big hat with the front bent down to shade his eyes. Daddy said it was probably so no one could really see his face or look in to his eyes. He was a strange old man and I was scared to death of him. His wife Sally was my Grandma's first cousin and the sweetest person you ever saw. John was the crabbiest person you ever saw. They had eight kids who were married and not living at home, and A Daughter, never married who lived with them. She seemed odd. Sweet like her Mother but reclusive like her Dad. John lived on the right side of the breezeway and His wife Sally lived on the left side. He only crossed the way to eat his meals and Sally was not allowed to cross to his side. Sally and John both dipped snuff and smoked pipes. I never saw Sally smoke a pipe but knew that she did.
Mamma Daddy, Me, Norman, and My Grandma went one day to visit Sally. Her side of the house was neat and clean. I was very curious to see John and my being scared of him didn't stop me from wanting to snoop around, especially since I had heard about jars of money buried around the yard. I asked if I could go outside for a while and was allowed to only go on the porch where Mamma could see me through a window. Well being on the porch invited me to walk down that breezway which I decided to do. I also decided to peek in to a window on John's side of the house. Good grief! How very rude of me. I know that now but was a kid then. I crept up to the window and put my hands on either side of my face. I put my face right up against the window for a good view. It all only took a second or two because when Mamma couldn't see me any more she came looking. But that second was enough to cure me of my noseyness by golly. When my nose touched the window I was looking straight in to the eyes of John Barcliff!!! Oh My Goodness I was moving fast to get out of there and ran right in to my Mamma. I thought for sure John had me so I started kicking shins. My Mamma's shins to be exact. Oh Lordee me My Gosh, Good Grief!!! I got a spanking right there and heard John snickering which made my Daddy (who had come out) mad as an old hornet. I never wanted to go back there again and Thank God I never had to. I think John was harmless but he didn't want anyone to know that.
The local newspaper went out to interview John and Sally once. John dressed up slicker than a whistle for pictures. Even went in and sat by Sally and shaved for a picture. I don't really think that was what the paper wanted and I imagine they were not pleased with their "BIG STORY". The wanted to see the real John. John talked about his house which his Dad had built in 1839 and had been a stage coach stand. Everyone knew that John was a shrewd man and not the person he tried to portray at all. I guess He knew everyone knew but he seemed to love his "Strange" persona. John died of pneumonia in a Veterans Hospital. Sally died in a Nursing Home and so did the Daughter at home with them The cabin was there until the family sold it and it was torn down which I thought was a shame. I lived in another state when it was destroyed but you can still see where it stood for all those years. Should have been a Historical place and been protected to my way of thinking. But then what I think don't amount to a hill of beans since it wasn't mine. OH WELL!!! I suspect that if there were jars of money there the kids found it before they sold the place. YEP!!!
Monday, March 29, 2010
NEVER GIVE UP
3-29-10...DON'T EVER GIVE UP
There was a time in my life when I gave up on life. Nothing seemed to matter to me at all. I was broken down by cruelty, circumstances, heartbreak, and abuse. I was working every day and not sleeping or resting. I literally went on like that for six long months. I did not sleep a wink. I was running on empty, no hope for anything. Like a zombie I floated through day after day, night after night, hour after hour, and minute after minute. I know I held down a full time job but I have no idea or any recollection how. I lived on coffee and cigarettes. People I worked with tried to help me but didn't know how. I was a long way from Family or anyone who loved me. I might as well have been locked up in prison because I had no control over my destiny. I was told what to do, what to say, what to wear, how to act and I did it like a puppet with tight strings.
I don't remember a whole lot about that time in my life except that I must have had a will to survive. Somewhere way down deep in my soul the real Clydene was still there fighting to get out. I had turned off everything in my mind except what I was told was supposed to be there.
Someone told me one day that I could be knocked down with a feather. I tried to eat that day at lunch but it came back up. My stomach couldn't take it after six months of nothing.
Seldom was I ever allowed to drive myself anywhere. I was not allowed to talk on the phone or answer it when it rang. I was never left alone. I have no idea why but one day I had driven myself to work. It was cold and snowing. A big truck was passing me on the Interstate. I looked over at the big wheels rolling and I thought, “I can swerve my wheels and I will go in to those wheels and I can rest.” So I turned my steering wheel to go in to the truck and I hit some ice. It spun me the other way and off in the median. That slick spot saved my life. Coincidence? Luck? Of course it wasn't. It was a Higher Power that put my car in that slick snow. Think what you will but I know what happened. I was snapped out of my stupor and from that day on I started caring and I started fighting for my life. It wasn't easy and it didn't happen over night but I fought my way back to life as I had known it.
Times have not all been peachy or rosy since but I have not ever got down that low since and I never will. I still have a lot to do before I can quit. YEP!
There was a time in my life when I gave up on life. Nothing seemed to matter to me at all. I was broken down by cruelty, circumstances, heartbreak, and abuse. I was working every day and not sleeping or resting. I literally went on like that for six long months. I did not sleep a wink. I was running on empty, no hope for anything. Like a zombie I floated through day after day, night after night, hour after hour, and minute after minute. I know I held down a full time job but I have no idea or any recollection how. I lived on coffee and cigarettes. People I worked with tried to help me but didn't know how. I was a long way from Family or anyone who loved me. I might as well have been locked up in prison because I had no control over my destiny. I was told what to do, what to say, what to wear, how to act and I did it like a puppet with tight strings.
I don't remember a whole lot about that time in my life except that I must have had a will to survive. Somewhere way down deep in my soul the real Clydene was still there fighting to get out. I had turned off everything in my mind except what I was told was supposed to be there.
Someone told me one day that I could be knocked down with a feather. I tried to eat that day at lunch but it came back up. My stomach couldn't take it after six months of nothing.
Seldom was I ever allowed to drive myself anywhere. I was not allowed to talk on the phone or answer it when it rang. I was never left alone. I have no idea why but one day I had driven myself to work. It was cold and snowing. A big truck was passing me on the Interstate. I looked over at the big wheels rolling and I thought, “I can swerve my wheels and I will go in to those wheels and I can rest.” So I turned my steering wheel to go in to the truck and I hit some ice. It spun me the other way and off in the median. That slick spot saved my life. Coincidence? Luck? Of course it wasn't. It was a Higher Power that put my car in that slick snow. Think what you will but I know what happened. I was snapped out of my stupor and from that day on I started caring and I started fighting for my life. It wasn't easy and it didn't happen over night but I fought my way back to life as I had known it.
Times have not all been peachy or rosy since but I have not ever got down that low since and I never will. I still have a lot to do before I can quit. YEP!
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Peter Cottontail
3-28-10...EASTER MEMORIES
Someone sent me something yesterday that was playing “Here Comes Peter Cottontail” and boy was I transferred back in time to those wonderful Easter Sunday's. Not so much about the song but the memories is brought with it.
We always had Sunrise services at our little Church rain or shine. It was usually always cold. Then we would come home to Mamma's Fried Chicken dinner and all the trimmings. Only on Easter Sunday we also had colored eggs on the table. The night before Mamma and Daddy helped us color the eggs which was quiet a production and always a family project. We didn't hide eggs we just colored them. We were not taught that there was an Easter Bunny. Heck we were farm kids. We knew very well where the eggs came from.
My up-town cousins got those beautiful Easter Baskets and were told the Easter Bunny left them. Mamma told us not to try and tell them the difference because that was the way they celebrated Easter.
I always yearned for one of those beautiful baskets of goodies that my Parents couldn't afford. I only asked once and from then on I accepted the fact that we couldn't get one.
One Easter My Daddy had been in Oklahoma working in the coal mines all week and when he came home that Friday night he decided that his kids were gonna have an Easter Basket while they were still young enough to enjoy it. He bought me a red one and Norman a green one and hauled it all the way back to Arkansas that Friday night.
Mamma always let us sit up till Daddy got home on Friday night if we could manage to stay awake. I always did but Norman being only four usually couldn't.
We would run out that screen door and let it slam back just about the time we heard Mamma yell, “Don't slam the door” and off we'd run to meet Daddy. We would usually pounce on him and he'd pick us both up and hug us close all the way down in to the house. This night Daddy got out of the car and reached in the back seat and brought out those wonderful baskets. Daddy wasn't a big man but he handed us our baskets and picked us both up basket and all.
Oh My Goodness when we got in the house we both just sat them down on the floor and stared at them in awe. They were big and just chock full of goodies. Right in the middle was a huge stuffed animal. Mine was a purple bear, and Norman's was a blue bear. The beautiful colored cellophane paper wrapped around them was bright and colorful. That was the most magnificent thing I had yet to see in my short life and when we took our bears out and mashed their bellies they sang, “Here comes Peter Cottontail hopping Down the Bunny Trail. Hippity hop and Easters on it's way”. Oh my the tears are running down to my chin and I have big goose bumps right now just remembering that. Now everytime I hear that cute little song I get all gushy and the Memories come flooding back. Memories like that are wonderful aren't they?
Click here in case you would like to hear Peter Cottontail again.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v5W7SUhojrA
Someone sent me something yesterday that was playing “Here Comes Peter Cottontail” and boy was I transferred back in time to those wonderful Easter Sunday's. Not so much about the song but the memories is brought with it.
We always had Sunrise services at our little Church rain or shine. It was usually always cold. Then we would come home to Mamma's Fried Chicken dinner and all the trimmings. Only on Easter Sunday we also had colored eggs on the table. The night before Mamma and Daddy helped us color the eggs which was quiet a production and always a family project. We didn't hide eggs we just colored them. We were not taught that there was an Easter Bunny. Heck we were farm kids. We knew very well where the eggs came from.
My up-town cousins got those beautiful Easter Baskets and were told the Easter Bunny left them. Mamma told us not to try and tell them the difference because that was the way they celebrated Easter.
I always yearned for one of those beautiful baskets of goodies that my Parents couldn't afford. I only asked once and from then on I accepted the fact that we couldn't get one.
One Easter My Daddy had been in Oklahoma working in the coal mines all week and when he came home that Friday night he decided that his kids were gonna have an Easter Basket while they were still young enough to enjoy it. He bought me a red one and Norman a green one and hauled it all the way back to Arkansas that Friday night.
Mamma always let us sit up till Daddy got home on Friday night if we could manage to stay awake. I always did but Norman being only four usually couldn't.
We would run out that screen door and let it slam back just about the time we heard Mamma yell, “Don't slam the door” and off we'd run to meet Daddy. We would usually pounce on him and he'd pick us both up and hug us close all the way down in to the house. This night Daddy got out of the car and reached in the back seat and brought out those wonderful baskets. Daddy wasn't a big man but he handed us our baskets and picked us both up basket and all.
Oh My Goodness when we got in the house we both just sat them down on the floor and stared at them in awe. They were big and just chock full of goodies. Right in the middle was a huge stuffed animal. Mine was a purple bear, and Norman's was a blue bear. The beautiful colored cellophane paper wrapped around them was bright and colorful. That was the most magnificent thing I had yet to see in my short life and when we took our bears out and mashed their bellies they sang, “Here comes Peter Cottontail hopping Down the Bunny Trail. Hippity hop and Easters on it's way”. Oh my the tears are running down to my chin and I have big goose bumps right now just remembering that. Now everytime I hear that cute little song I get all gushy and the Memories come flooding back. Memories like that are wonderful aren't they?
Click here in case you would like to hear Peter Cottontail again.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v5W7SUhojrA
Saturday, March 27, 2010
GRANDMA'S BUTTON JAR
3-27-10...GRANDMA'S BUTTON JAR
Grandma had a button jar' sitting on her dresser. Every button she could find went in that jar. Any garment that was discarded she cut all the buttons of first and added to her jar. Some of the buttons were very old. There were glass buttons, wooden buttons, pearl buttons, shiny buttons, many color buttons, and just plain white shirt buttons. They made a beautiful display on her dresser and they were important to Grandma. Sometimes she would spruce up one of our garments with a change of buttons and some new ribbon or something. Almost like having a new garment. To Grandma these buttons were as good as money sometimes. Seeing that we had no money that makes sense. She took scraps and parts of dresses or shirts and whipped up some really pretty dresses for me. I always got to pick my buttons and boy was that a great production for me. So much fun!! When I picked out one then we had to pour the buttons out on a towel and see if we could find matching ones to have enough. If not I picked again and etc. till I had my buttons. I loved 'pickin out buttons' because I got to run my hands all through the usually smooth buttons.
I was not supposed to open the jar without Grandma there to help me but it was sooo pretty sitting there that I couldn't resist picking it up and shaking it or turning it upside down and rolling it like a kaleidoscope. Well of course one day I went too far with my rolling the jar around. The lid flew off,- at least that was what I wanted everyone to believe. Actually I had been taking the lid off and it was loose so of course it flew off! Oh My Gosh, buttons flew everywhere, under, over, around and everything in between. Now what to do. I knew I was in trouble if I didn't get those darn buttons all picked up and I thought I had till Grandma got up in her room that night and stepped on one of them. She didn't say a word till the next morning and she showed me her foot with a red spot on it. I fessed up. I got a scolding but that was all. I found out later that Grandma thought she had probably dropped the button herself. She was so proud of me for telling her the truth that she didn't have the desire to punish me more severely. I was learning I guess because there had been incidents in the past where I held my confession just as long as I could and got in to lots of trouble.
I was taught to always tell the truth, but I wouldn't have had to that time. I'm glad I did though. Even at that young age telling the truth no matter the consequences made me feel good.
Grandma had a button jar' sitting on her dresser. Every button she could find went in that jar. Any garment that was discarded she cut all the buttons of first and added to her jar. Some of the buttons were very old. There were glass buttons, wooden buttons, pearl buttons, shiny buttons, many color buttons, and just plain white shirt buttons. They made a beautiful display on her dresser and they were important to Grandma. Sometimes she would spruce up one of our garments with a change of buttons and some new ribbon or something. Almost like having a new garment. To Grandma these buttons were as good as money sometimes. Seeing that we had no money that makes sense. She took scraps and parts of dresses or shirts and whipped up some really pretty dresses for me. I always got to pick my buttons and boy was that a great production for me. So much fun!! When I picked out one then we had to pour the buttons out on a towel and see if we could find matching ones to have enough. If not I picked again and etc. till I had my buttons. I loved 'pickin out buttons' because I got to run my hands all through the usually smooth buttons.
I was not supposed to open the jar without Grandma there to help me but it was sooo pretty sitting there that I couldn't resist picking it up and shaking it or turning it upside down and rolling it like a kaleidoscope. Well of course one day I went too far with my rolling the jar around. The lid flew off,- at least that was what I wanted everyone to believe. Actually I had been taking the lid off and it was loose so of course it flew off! Oh My Gosh, buttons flew everywhere, under, over, around and everything in between. Now what to do. I knew I was in trouble if I didn't get those darn buttons all picked up and I thought I had till Grandma got up in her room that night and stepped on one of them. She didn't say a word till the next morning and she showed me her foot with a red spot on it. I fessed up. I got a scolding but that was all. I found out later that Grandma thought she had probably dropped the button herself. She was so proud of me for telling her the truth that she didn't have the desire to punish me more severely. I was learning I guess because there had been incidents in the past where I held my confession just as long as I could and got in to lots of trouble.
I was taught to always tell the truth, but I wouldn't have had to that time. I'm glad I did though. Even at that young age telling the truth no matter the consequences made me feel good.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
THE OL' LILAC BUSH
3-25-10...THE OL' LILAC BUSH!
The wind is blowing 90 to nothin' out there and rain is pouring. Another burst old ol' man winter trying to push his way back in. Spring might be delicate right now but I've noticed it always wins this time of year. There is the bright yellow of the Golden Rod, and the vivid red of the fire bush. Right in the middle are the beautiful Daffodils with their heads standing high. Yesterday I noticed my Little Lilac bush was all budded out. They are supposed to bloom after five years. It has been there seven years and has yet to bloom. I looked closer and that little bush is just covered with the little purple shoots that will soon be a big fragrant flower. My very first lilac blooms. Oh I've had other Lilac bushes but this one is special to me and I had just about given up on it. I am so excited by this that I can't contain myself till the blooms grow and burst forth. My favorite flower in the world.
Now the whole reason I hadn't given up and dug the little puny thing up is where I got it.
Mamma grew up on the side of the hill above where she finally moved with Daddy after marriage and she told me so many stories about a big lilac bush that was in the woods near her house. She had escaped there many times to avoid two younger sisters who looked to her for more than she should have been expected to do. You know that older child thing where you are supposed to let the younger sibling tag along. Mamma said she would go to the lilac bush and crawl underneath and fantasize about so many things that she would never have. That Lilac bush was more like a tree from pictures I have seen. Must have been magnificent in full bloom.
The place had grown in to just a thicket over the years and Mamma hadn't thought much about it. One day she and her two sisters had tried to get to where the bush had been but was unable. Mamma talked about how she would love to get a sprout from it. I grew up and was away from home for 20 plus years and never thought about that bush until Mamma talked about it again after she got so sick. I came home to stay in 1999 and Mamma was very ill. I decided I had to get her a sprout of that lilac bush somehow.
I went there every time I could through one whole year trying to find a way in to where I thought it would be. Sometimes that spring I could smell the lilacs. I love the smell. I finally hacked my way to it one early fall morning. Of course it was not a big magnificent thing anymore. Really just a bunch of sprouts around a dilapidated bush. I couldn't tell my Mamma that so I dug two sprouts and brought them home with me. I planted both in Mamma's yard. One died but the other one was thriving. Mamma got worse and had to go to a Nursing Home when we were no longer to give her quality care at home. We had to sell the house for financial reasons but I dug the Lilac bush up and brought it here. That spring I went back up on that hill and picked a few scrubby lilacs to put in Mamma's room. She was so thrilled and would reach over and gently run her hand over them. I held them close for her to smell. It made her happy to have a lilac from the Ol' Bush.
Mamma died that very November. I have coddled my bush ever since and just couldn't make myself give up. Now seven years later I will finally have some blooms if this old cold weather will cease.
I have been feeling my Mamma's presence so strongly lately all around me. Well Mamma your ol' bush is gonna bloom again for you. I'll bring you a bouquet'!!!
The wind is blowing 90 to nothin' out there and rain is pouring. Another burst old ol' man winter trying to push his way back in. Spring might be delicate right now but I've noticed it always wins this time of year. There is the bright yellow of the Golden Rod, and the vivid red of the fire bush. Right in the middle are the beautiful Daffodils with their heads standing high. Yesterday I noticed my Little Lilac bush was all budded out. They are supposed to bloom after five years. It has been there seven years and has yet to bloom. I looked closer and that little bush is just covered with the little purple shoots that will soon be a big fragrant flower. My very first lilac blooms. Oh I've had other Lilac bushes but this one is special to me and I had just about given up on it. I am so excited by this that I can't contain myself till the blooms grow and burst forth. My favorite flower in the world.
Now the whole reason I hadn't given up and dug the little puny thing up is where I got it.
Mamma grew up on the side of the hill above where she finally moved with Daddy after marriage and she told me so many stories about a big lilac bush that was in the woods near her house. She had escaped there many times to avoid two younger sisters who looked to her for more than she should have been expected to do. You know that older child thing where you are supposed to let the younger sibling tag along. Mamma said she would go to the lilac bush and crawl underneath and fantasize about so many things that she would never have. That Lilac bush was more like a tree from pictures I have seen. Must have been magnificent in full bloom.
The place had grown in to just a thicket over the years and Mamma hadn't thought much about it. One day she and her two sisters had tried to get to where the bush had been but was unable. Mamma talked about how she would love to get a sprout from it. I grew up and was away from home for 20 plus years and never thought about that bush until Mamma talked about it again after she got so sick. I came home to stay in 1999 and Mamma was very ill. I decided I had to get her a sprout of that lilac bush somehow.
I went there every time I could through one whole year trying to find a way in to where I thought it would be. Sometimes that spring I could smell the lilacs. I love the smell. I finally hacked my way to it one early fall morning. Of course it was not a big magnificent thing anymore. Really just a bunch of sprouts around a dilapidated bush. I couldn't tell my Mamma that so I dug two sprouts and brought them home with me. I planted both in Mamma's yard. One died but the other one was thriving. Mamma got worse and had to go to a Nursing Home when we were no longer to give her quality care at home. We had to sell the house for financial reasons but I dug the Lilac bush up and brought it here. That spring I went back up on that hill and picked a few scrubby lilacs to put in Mamma's room. She was so thrilled and would reach over and gently run her hand over them. I held them close for her to smell. It made her happy to have a lilac from the Ol' Bush.
Mamma died that very November. I have coddled my bush ever since and just couldn't make myself give up. Now seven years later I will finally have some blooms if this old cold weather will cease.
I have been feeling my Mamma's presence so strongly lately all around me. Well Mamma your ol' bush is gonna bloom again for you. I'll bring you a bouquet'!!!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
JUST SOME THOUGHTS ON MY LIFE
3-22-10...THOUGHTS ON THINGS I'VE LEARNED
Over the years I have learned a lot of things. I certainly have learned that I am hard headed and stubborn. I'm sure not proud of that fact but it IS' a fact. I'd like to think that I've learned lots of more worthwhile things. Like knowing that it is much easier to laugh than it is to cry. I learned by doing, by seeing,by listening, but most of all by experiencing. I've learned that if I failed it was not my Parents fault or anyone else' for that matter. There is a song by Johnny Cash vowing that Mamma tried.
Mamma and Daddy taught me right from wrong and gave me the tannings if I didn't listen. So Whatever has gone wrong is MY' fault.
Some of the things we face now were so much easier in my youth if in fact they were faced at all. Things have gotten so complicated now and I still cling to the things that were so much more simple. Our philosophy was slow down and live life, smell the roses because they are here a short time just the way we are and it would be such a shame to miss that sweet fragrance. Now some seem to live on the plan or get them before they get you. How sad.
I have pity parties at times. I know they are a waste of my time as well as anyone else' time but I still find myself knee deep in them. Good Grief! How stupid is that? Sometimes it is heartbreaking to remember my past but most time my heart is warmed by it. When I face something now that I think is impossible I just have to stop and remember the difficult times my parents had and I realize how easy I've had it. Boy I get off my pity party fast.
The love my Parents gave me sustained me through many times when it felt like no one loved me. They taught me my self worth, and that No one is better than me but I am better than no one. When I was under the teaching and example of my Parents it was easy to see the good in everyone now it is hard to find good in some people. I am ashamed to say that there are some that I have never found any good in no matter how hard I try.
Trying to tell the youth what we have learned from experience usually falls on deaf ears. I didn't always listen either it just doesn't seem like I had as much to learn as youth do now. I learned so many things the hard way even with my Parents right there to guide me.
I am not as fast or alert as I once was so I've learned to slow way down so I don't make so many mistakes. Age does that to you don't ya know!
There are not enough words in the dictionary to express how very much the people who have been in my life have meant to me. My Parents, My Brother Norman, My sweet Son Richard who gave me so much Joy. To my friends that have come and gone throughout my life and left a part of them with me. My Friends of here and now who are so very important to me. All I can say is Thank you for being there. Thank you for being such a vital part of my life. I appreciate you all more than you'll ever know!!! My Parents taught me to tell everyone that are close to me, I Love You every chance I get just in case one time is all I've got. SOOO!! I LOVE YOU!!!
Over the years I have learned a lot of things. I certainly have learned that I am hard headed and stubborn. I'm sure not proud of that fact but it IS' a fact. I'd like to think that I've learned lots of more worthwhile things. Like knowing that it is much easier to laugh than it is to cry. I learned by doing, by seeing,by listening, but most of all by experiencing. I've learned that if I failed it was not my Parents fault or anyone else' for that matter. There is a song by Johnny Cash vowing that Mamma tried.
Mamma and Daddy taught me right from wrong and gave me the tannings if I didn't listen. So Whatever has gone wrong is MY' fault.
Some of the things we face now were so much easier in my youth if in fact they were faced at all. Things have gotten so complicated now and I still cling to the things that were so much more simple. Our philosophy was slow down and live life, smell the roses because they are here a short time just the way we are and it would be such a shame to miss that sweet fragrance. Now some seem to live on the plan or get them before they get you. How sad.
I have pity parties at times. I know they are a waste of my time as well as anyone else' time but I still find myself knee deep in them. Good Grief! How stupid is that? Sometimes it is heartbreaking to remember my past but most time my heart is warmed by it. When I face something now that I think is impossible I just have to stop and remember the difficult times my parents had and I realize how easy I've had it. Boy I get off my pity party fast.
The love my Parents gave me sustained me through many times when it felt like no one loved me. They taught me my self worth, and that No one is better than me but I am better than no one. When I was under the teaching and example of my Parents it was easy to see the good in everyone now it is hard to find good in some people. I am ashamed to say that there are some that I have never found any good in no matter how hard I try.
Trying to tell the youth what we have learned from experience usually falls on deaf ears. I didn't always listen either it just doesn't seem like I had as much to learn as youth do now. I learned so many things the hard way even with my Parents right there to guide me.
I am not as fast or alert as I once was so I've learned to slow way down so I don't make so many mistakes. Age does that to you don't ya know!
There are not enough words in the dictionary to express how very much the people who have been in my life have meant to me. My Parents, My Brother Norman, My sweet Son Richard who gave me so much Joy. To my friends that have come and gone throughout my life and left a part of them with me. My Friends of here and now who are so very important to me. All I can say is Thank you for being there. Thank you for being such a vital part of my life. I appreciate you all more than you'll ever know!!! My Parents taught me to tell everyone that are close to me, I Love You every chance I get just in case one time is all I've got. SOOO!! I LOVE YOU!!!
Monday, March 22, 2010
I'M NOT POOR
3-21-10...I'M NOT POOR!!!
I think some people always see the glass half empty instead of half full. I am guilty of that myself at times, just not always.
I remember a girl on the school bus saying that my family was 'poor people'. Heck fire I didn't know what poor people were but I certainly was not one of them and I told her so. Told her she better shut her mouth. She said, "Poor, Poor, Poor" and I socked her in that mouth of hers. Well I told her I would if she didn't shut up. She should have shut up. No one had ever told me that I was poor before so I asked my Mamma what poor people meant and I'll never forget what she told me. She said "Clydene poor could mean a lot of things but it don't mean us. We are broke and don't have enough money but broke and poor are two different words". Mamma went on to tell me that the girl who said that to me was poor not me. "But Mamma she has anything she wants" I said. Mamma was patient with me and tried but I was only six years old and just couldn't really grasp full the meaning. My Mamma said it though so by golly for me that made it true. I told the girl that she was the one who was poor not me. She wasn't convinced but I suspect she didn't want another jaw boxing so she never bothered me again.
Later in my life that incident has come back to me many times when someone was trying to put me down. Wealth is not determined by how much we have but by our state of mind. I could look at our old weathered house with cracks in the walls that let in the cold and see a palace. My one doll that was made from an old sock was the greatest toy in the world, my four dresses my Grandma made out of feed sacks were a wardrobe fit for a princess.
It all boils down to how you look at things. Sometimes I have to be jolted a bit to get that thinking back in my head. I get to thinking well poor old me and I see my Mamma telling me I wasn't poor unless I thought I was. Nope I'm not poor. Never was and never will be. I have a wealth of upbringing that will never let me down. I'm rich! Yep!!
I think some people always see the glass half empty instead of half full. I am guilty of that myself at times, just not always.
I remember a girl on the school bus saying that my family was 'poor people'. Heck fire I didn't know what poor people were but I certainly was not one of them and I told her so. Told her she better shut her mouth. She said, "Poor, Poor, Poor" and I socked her in that mouth of hers. Well I told her I would if she didn't shut up. She should have shut up. No one had ever told me that I was poor before so I asked my Mamma what poor people meant and I'll never forget what she told me. She said "Clydene poor could mean a lot of things but it don't mean us. We are broke and don't have enough money but broke and poor are two different words". Mamma went on to tell me that the girl who said that to me was poor not me. "But Mamma she has anything she wants" I said. Mamma was patient with me and tried but I was only six years old and just couldn't really grasp full the meaning. My Mamma said it though so by golly for me that made it true. I told the girl that she was the one who was poor not me. She wasn't convinced but I suspect she didn't want another jaw boxing so she never bothered me again.
Later in my life that incident has come back to me many times when someone was trying to put me down. Wealth is not determined by how much we have but by our state of mind. I could look at our old weathered house with cracks in the walls that let in the cold and see a palace. My one doll that was made from an old sock was the greatest toy in the world, my four dresses my Grandma made out of feed sacks were a wardrobe fit for a princess.
It all boils down to how you look at things. Sometimes I have to be jolted a bit to get that thinking back in my head. I get to thinking well poor old me and I see my Mamma telling me I wasn't poor unless I thought I was. Nope I'm not poor. Never was and never will be. I have a wealth of upbringing that will never let me down. I'm rich! Yep!!
Friday, March 19, 2010
JUST WHAT I AM
3-19-10...I AM JUST WHAT I AM
Memories are what we draw on to remember people places and times in our life that made us either happy or sad. I choose the happy ones especially on a day when I tend to be sad or down about the things of now. Life was so simple when I was growing up. Probably due mostly to the fact that my Loving Parents took care to make me happy and protected. I just didn't know things were hard. That is a gift my Parents gave me that can never be replaced. That warm, safe, feeling loved, and wonderful youthful feeling. My Parents gave my Brother and I that and I will be forever thankful to them. We had everything we needed and often some of what we wanted.
I am sure that my Mama and Daddy had arguments and little hurts with one another but they were very careful to not let us see that. They always presented a loving peaceful atmosphere for our home.
We lived at the end of a dead end road right beside the rail road tracks. Trains came through and because the crossing was just up the way they blew their mournful whistle right in front of our house. We got used to the sound and usually never paid any attention to it.
In the late 40's and 50's was when I grew up here. Things were so different then. It was 60 + years ago and our world was different and more simple. We made our own fun down there. My Auntie lived right across the Pasture and my cousin Brenda and I had so much fun. In and out of capers.
We didn't know about the harsh realities of life in the world that surrounded us but somehow we were prepared and ready for it when it came.
We were spanked when we needed it and we always seemed to know that we did need it. We were loved, hugged, cuddled, and given a secure feeling even though things were bad.
Daddy worked in a coal mine and was gone all week. He worked hard and the work was dangerous. But he provided for us. We were proud of our Parents no matter what.
My Brother and I were taught love and respect for each other as well as for everyone else around us. Daddy said often, “You are as good as anyone in the world. But you are not better than anyone else”.
Our Parents were there for us as long as they were alive. At times now I can feel their presence all around me and I still want to make them proud of me. They gave us a rich life filled with everything we needed to make places for ourselves in this world. We are still simple people. Not much money but we are happy that way. Don't need more than we have. We never wanted what we couldn't have and still don't.
I owe all that I am to those two wonderful people who brought me in to this world and loved me unconditionally. I miss them so badly sometimes that it hurts. Oh how I'd love to have them to talk to sometimes. My best friends in this world.
Memories are what we draw on to remember people places and times in our life that made us either happy or sad. I choose the happy ones especially on a day when I tend to be sad or down about the things of now. Life was so simple when I was growing up. Probably due mostly to the fact that my Loving Parents took care to make me happy and protected. I just didn't know things were hard. That is a gift my Parents gave me that can never be replaced. That warm, safe, feeling loved, and wonderful youthful feeling. My Parents gave my Brother and I that and I will be forever thankful to them. We had everything we needed and often some of what we wanted.
I am sure that my Mama and Daddy had arguments and little hurts with one another but they were very careful to not let us see that. They always presented a loving peaceful atmosphere for our home.
We lived at the end of a dead end road right beside the rail road tracks. Trains came through and because the crossing was just up the way they blew their mournful whistle right in front of our house. We got used to the sound and usually never paid any attention to it.
In the late 40's and 50's was when I grew up here. Things were so different then. It was 60 + years ago and our world was different and more simple. We made our own fun down there. My Auntie lived right across the Pasture and my cousin Brenda and I had so much fun. In and out of capers.
We didn't know about the harsh realities of life in the world that surrounded us but somehow we were prepared and ready for it when it came.
We were spanked when we needed it and we always seemed to know that we did need it. We were loved, hugged, cuddled, and given a secure feeling even though things were bad.
Daddy worked in a coal mine and was gone all week. He worked hard and the work was dangerous. But he provided for us. We were proud of our Parents no matter what.
My Brother and I were taught love and respect for each other as well as for everyone else around us. Daddy said often, “You are as good as anyone in the world. But you are not better than anyone else”.
Our Parents were there for us as long as they were alive. At times now I can feel their presence all around me and I still want to make them proud of me. They gave us a rich life filled with everything we needed to make places for ourselves in this world. We are still simple people. Not much money but we are happy that way. Don't need more than we have. We never wanted what we couldn't have and still don't.
I owe all that I am to those two wonderful people who brought me in to this world and loved me unconditionally. I miss them so badly sometimes that it hurts. Oh how I'd love to have them to talk to sometimes. My best friends in this world.
MEMORIES THAT REMAIN
3-19-10...MEMORIES THAT REMAIN
This morning I got up all out of sorts. This time of year is always hard for me. Usually just coming here to The Hill and meeting and greeting my Great Friends is enough. This morning it wasn't. Sooo. I say to myself I'll revive some wonderful memory of my past. But that was not working either. I'm not one to let life defeat me and stay in gloom very long but heck fire I was so deep in the mire this morning I thought I was surely going to sink.
I couldn't help thinking about all the sickness and heartache in the world. Indeed right here on The Hill we have lots of it. My life has some too. Now how in the world to get all this put away where it belongs? Seems everything just happens at one time usually . WHY? I wish I knew. Oh My I wish I knew. But every since I found the blog section here on the hill and figured out how to use it, I have had a friend to grasp on to. Not so much A Friend, but more like a place of refuge. That is what The Hill has become to me. You see my friends, You are always there. I can come here anytime and find someone to talk to. I can find a place to Pray with and for others. I can find a cherry note or graphic or message. I can receive a hug, a giggle, maybe even a tear or two.
Two things happened this morning as I wallowed in my mire. First I looked at my gallery on the hill and some of those pics. brought back such sweetness in to my raw heart. There is that old house where I grew up. The house with draft holes all over to let in the cold air. The linoleum on the floor that would sometimes literally puff up and stand like a magic carpet when those cold winds blew under the house and up through the cracks in the floor. Curtains that would stand straight out and flutter like a ghost was blowing on them. The ol' stove where Daddy sat up all night to keep wood fed in and keep us warm. Then later the little gas stove where Daddy still had to sit up and watch. The gas pressure would go way down or the gas would freeze up in the lines.(yep sure did) Daddy had to be there when the gas was coming through the lines again so he could relight the stove and keep us from dying in our sleep from gas fumes. I saw a pic. of my Daddy sitting down on his feet with his knees up to his chin holding on to me or picking cotton, strawberries, etc. to make extra money that we needed badly. I remembered Daddy sitting like that in front of our Christmas tree picking out nuts for us to eat. We got nuts(that were sold in paper bags uncracked) and fruit and candy only at Christmas. What a treat!!! I remembered getting up on cold mornings and our bear feet hitting that cold floor, hopping around and hurrying out to get our shoes and socks that were sitting by the fire to keep warm. Then smelling the aroma of bacon frying and coffee brewing to the sounds of My Mama singing Amazing Grace. All the time still wishing for that good warm feather bed with the many quilts and the hot water bottle wrapped in a towel that Mama had so lovingly put by our feet before we went to sleep. All sweet loving memories of a time we didn't have a care in the world even when we sat down to the dinner table to a big bowl of mashed or fried potatoes and a big pot of pinto beans with fat back cooked in them. YUMMY! Still love them. All we had then, A treat now.
Then the second thing happened. I got an email from my friend from school days with a song by Bob Dylan of all people. A Hymn saying all the things I had in my mind. Wow! The lord knows just what we need, just when we need it!!! I'm adding the words here but can't figure out how to add the song so Look for it on my page later. Yep! I'm feeling better and I thank you my friends for being here when people in my life are not there for me. I love you, I love The Hill, I'm totally Thankful to TC and EB for creating this wonderful place for us where we can be safe. I feel closer to You all than I do some of my family. STRANGE?? Maybe, but true.
If anyone reading this has a need of the Heart right now, I'm betting that you can have it met right Here On The Hill where so many loving people will be there for you. We are all one big Family here and I am so Thankful this morning
I gaze into the doorway of temptation's angry flame
And every time I pass that way, I always hear my name
Then onward in my journey, I come to understand
That every hair is numbered, like every grain of sand
I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summer's dream, in the chill of a wintry light,
In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space,
In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face
I hear the ancient footsteps, like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, there's someone there, other times it's only me
I am hanging in the balance of the reality of man
Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand
This morning I got up all out of sorts. This time of year is always hard for me. Usually just coming here to The Hill and meeting and greeting my Great Friends is enough. This morning it wasn't. Sooo. I say to myself I'll revive some wonderful memory of my past. But that was not working either. I'm not one to let life defeat me and stay in gloom very long but heck fire I was so deep in the mire this morning I thought I was surely going to sink.
I couldn't help thinking about all the sickness and heartache in the world. Indeed right here on The Hill we have lots of it. My life has some too. Now how in the world to get all this put away where it belongs? Seems everything just happens at one time usually . WHY? I wish I knew. Oh My I wish I knew. But every since I found the blog section here on the hill and figured out how to use it, I have had a friend to grasp on to. Not so much A Friend, but more like a place of refuge. That is what The Hill has become to me. You see my friends, You are always there. I can come here anytime and find someone to talk to. I can find a place to Pray with and for others. I can find a cherry note or graphic or message. I can receive a hug, a giggle, maybe even a tear or two.
Two things happened this morning as I wallowed in my mire. First I looked at my gallery on the hill and some of those pics. brought back such sweetness in to my raw heart. There is that old house where I grew up. The house with draft holes all over to let in the cold air. The linoleum on the floor that would sometimes literally puff up and stand like a magic carpet when those cold winds blew under the house and up through the cracks in the floor. Curtains that would stand straight out and flutter like a ghost was blowing on them. The ol' stove where Daddy sat up all night to keep wood fed in and keep us warm. Then later the little gas stove where Daddy still had to sit up and watch. The gas pressure would go way down or the gas would freeze up in the lines.(yep sure did) Daddy had to be there when the gas was coming through the lines again so he could relight the stove and keep us from dying in our sleep from gas fumes. I saw a pic. of my Daddy sitting down on his feet with his knees up to his chin holding on to me or picking cotton, strawberries, etc. to make extra money that we needed badly. I remembered Daddy sitting like that in front of our Christmas tree picking out nuts for us to eat. We got nuts(that were sold in paper bags uncracked) and fruit and candy only at Christmas. What a treat!!! I remembered getting up on cold mornings and our bear feet hitting that cold floor, hopping around and hurrying out to get our shoes and socks that were sitting by the fire to keep warm. Then smelling the aroma of bacon frying and coffee brewing to the sounds of My Mama singing Amazing Grace. All the time still wishing for that good warm feather bed with the many quilts and the hot water bottle wrapped in a towel that Mama had so lovingly put by our feet before we went to sleep. All sweet loving memories of a time we didn't have a care in the world even when we sat down to the dinner table to a big bowl of mashed or fried potatoes and a big pot of pinto beans with fat back cooked in them. YUMMY! Still love them. All we had then, A treat now.
Then the second thing happened. I got an email from my friend from school days with a song by Bob Dylan of all people. A Hymn saying all the things I had in my mind. Wow! The lord knows just what we need, just when we need it!!! I'm adding the words here but can't figure out how to add the song so Look for it on my page later. Yep! I'm feeling better and I thank you my friends for being here when people in my life are not there for me. I love you, I love The Hill, I'm totally Thankful to TC and EB for creating this wonderful place for us where we can be safe. I feel closer to You all than I do some of my family. STRANGE?? Maybe, but true.
If anyone reading this has a need of the Heart right now, I'm betting that you can have it met right Here On The Hill where so many loving people will be there for you. We are all one big Family here and I am so Thankful this morning
I gaze into the doorway of temptation's angry flame
And every time I pass that way, I always hear my name
Then onward in my journey, I come to understand
That every hair is numbered, like every grain of sand
I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summer's dream, in the chill of a wintry light,
In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space,
In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face
I hear the ancient footsteps, like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, there's someone there, other times it's only me
I am hanging in the balance of the reality of man
Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
THE WAY IT WAS
3-15-10...THE WAY IT WAS
What about the costs of things today? Terrible HUH? I can hardly afford to go anywhere for fear of running out of gas. And food is another thing. MY Heavens!!!
Maybe we should have stayed the way it was when I was growing up. Work hard and play less. Raise the food we eat. Walk more places. When I was in school lunch was 10cents and was a good balanced meal. No junk food. Also we rode the school bus or walked. NO ONE had a car to drive to school and cruise around afterward. Entertainment was all the kids gathering at someone's house for a fudge party. Grandma's and Mothers made our clothes out of pretty flour sacks you could buy at the local store. Pollution had not even been invented yet. We breathed in clean air and ate undoctored food. Milked a cow, gathered the eggs, canned our own food we grew out in the garden. etc. It didn't take much to make us happy back then.
PROGRESS? Is that what they call it? Things are certainly not better to my way of thinking. Don't get me wrong, I have enjoyed all these modern conveniences in the second part of my life. But do I miss the way it was? YOU JUST BETCHA!!!!!
What about the costs of things today? Terrible HUH? I can hardly afford to go anywhere for fear of running out of gas. And food is another thing. MY Heavens!!!
Maybe we should have stayed the way it was when I was growing up. Work hard and play less. Raise the food we eat. Walk more places. When I was in school lunch was 10cents and was a good balanced meal. No junk food. Also we rode the school bus or walked. NO ONE had a car to drive to school and cruise around afterward. Entertainment was all the kids gathering at someone's house for a fudge party. Grandma's and Mothers made our clothes out of pretty flour sacks you could buy at the local store. Pollution had not even been invented yet. We breathed in clean air and ate undoctored food. Milked a cow, gathered the eggs, canned our own food we grew out in the garden. etc. It didn't take much to make us happy back then.
PROGRESS? Is that what they call it? Things are certainly not better to my way of thinking. Don't get me wrong, I have enjoyed all these modern conveniences in the second part of my life. But do I miss the way it was? YOU JUST BETCHA!!!!!
CRYING FOR HAPPY
3-15-10...CRYING FOR HAPPY
I have been thinking a lot about my Mother lately with Mothers day approaching. I got to thinking about something that happened when I was about 4 yrs. old. While I sometimes cry because I miss my Mother so much today I have laughed till' I Cried. My Mama used to wash clothes on a wringer washer on the back porch. I was there with her this day as usual. You who are familiar with wringer washers will understand but for you 'younguns' who dont know what that is::::: That's another story. Anyway, Mama was feeding clothes through the wringer one day and she got her hair caught in the wringer. Well I thought it was funny. Mama looked so funny to me standing there with her head to the ringer and of course I didn't know that she was in trouble. I'm telling you, the more she hollered the more I laughed. I thought we were playing a game and boy was I having fun. Mama was yelling at me to unplug the washer so the wringer would stop and she could get her hair removed, (Which was another funny happening too) I didn't know what she wanted but I did finally sense that this was "NOT A GAME AFTER ALL"!! I still didn't know what to do so I just stood there. Mama finally got her foot in the cord and pulled the plug. Then she had to release the wringer (another thing you"YOUNGUNS" will not understand). While she was accompolishing this task I got tickled again which I don't think Mama was too happy about. Anyway she finally got her hair released (at least what was left of her hair) and we walked up the lane to my Aunts (who was older and wiser) and My Aunt examined and doctored Mama's head and we stayed there till' my Daddy got home. Mama never did get to the point where she really "laughed" about the wringer episode, But she did Smile when it would be brought up through the years. And right now I am sitting here seeing my Mom's beautiful face and her sweet smile. I am feelin her Love so strong that I am now crying again. "Crying FOR Happy Memories" And that is a great thing to be doing on Mother's day or any other day. I Love and Miss You Mamma!
I have been thinking a lot about my Mother lately with Mothers day approaching. I got to thinking about something that happened when I was about 4 yrs. old. While I sometimes cry because I miss my Mother so much today I have laughed till' I Cried. My Mama used to wash clothes on a wringer washer on the back porch. I was there with her this day as usual. You who are familiar with wringer washers will understand but for you 'younguns' who dont know what that is::::: That's another story. Anyway, Mama was feeding clothes through the wringer one day and she got her hair caught in the wringer. Well I thought it was funny. Mama looked so funny to me standing there with her head to the ringer and of course I didn't know that she was in trouble. I'm telling you, the more she hollered the more I laughed. I thought we were playing a game and boy was I having fun. Mama was yelling at me to unplug the washer so the wringer would stop and she could get her hair removed, (Which was another funny happening too) I didn't know what she wanted but I did finally sense that this was "NOT A GAME AFTER ALL"!! I still didn't know what to do so I just stood there. Mama finally got her foot in the cord and pulled the plug. Then she had to release the wringer (another thing you"YOUNGUNS" will not understand). While she was accompolishing this task I got tickled again which I don't think Mama was too happy about. Anyway she finally got her hair released (at least what was left of her hair) and we walked up the lane to my Aunts (who was older and wiser) and My Aunt examined and doctored Mama's head and we stayed there till' my Daddy got home. Mama never did get to the point where she really "laughed" about the wringer episode, But she did Smile when it would be brought up through the years. And right now I am sitting here seeing my Mom's beautiful face and her sweet smile. I am feelin her Love so strong that I am now crying again. "Crying FOR Happy Memories" And that is a great thing to be doing on Mother's day or any other day. I Love and Miss You Mamma!
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