Month: September 2014

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Remembering Mr. Bradley: A Childhood Funeral Experience

Mr. Bradley died!! Mr. Bradley died!!

mr_bradley

This was unbelievable! I had seen people get shot on “Gunsmoke,” but I’d never known anyone who had actually died. I knew I was supposed to cry when someone died but I couldn’t manage it. First of all, Mr. Bradley was an old grouch. He wore khaki pants and shirt and an old gray felt hat with oil stains around the hat band. He was really selfish. Continue reading →

Dern!!!!

First of all, I was born in the deep South in 1950, another world. Mother was determined to raise us to be above criticism. This was hard on me, a kid quite comfortable with criticism. Our language was subject to all kinds of boundaries. The first thing that set us apart from the great unwashed was that we “wee-weed” and “gee-geed”. I’ve met other prissy kids who “wee-weed”, but I have yet to meet another “gee-geeer”. (g as in go) See, there’s not even a right way to spell it. Being a “gee-geer” in a world full of “do-doers” is rough. On top of that, I grew up with a bunch of renegade cousins who were too bad to “pee-pee”. They “pissed, do-dooed, ka-ka ed, dookied,” and even worse, they “shat.” They said these words in public, in front of their parents! Mother led us to believe they were exceptions to the rule, bound for hell. Imagine how humiliated I was when I went to school with normal people, didn’t realize I was a weirdo, and said “gee-gee” the first time. Uhhhhhhh! She set me up!!!!!!! Continue reading →

Mother and the Rapist

Kathleen, my eighty-year old mother was snatched from sleep at three in the morning by the sound of hysterical screaming and pounding on her front door.  Through the peep hole, she recognized her neighbor, a frail, single mother clutching her toddler and tiny infant, begging to come in.  Mother was horrified to hear of Melinda’s rape at gunpoint, the lives of her tiny children threatened.  Nonetheless, Melissa called the police and an investigation was begun. Continue reading →

Smarty Kitty

Don’t ever watch infomercials when you’re bored and your wallet is handy.  Had a cold a few weeks ago, was flipping channels, and happened on a commercial for Smarty-Kitty, a product that will train a cat of any age to use the toilet.  I didn’t need Smarty-Kitty.  Squeaky, my ragdoll cat is five years old and up until I interfered with his life at that point, had never had an accident.  Well, naturally, I got busy and ordered Smarty-Kitty and the Continue reading →

Prignant

Repost of an earlier post:

That was weird.  I heard tiptoeing and a door quietly locking.  I tiptoed to my parent’s room and found their door locked!  Their door was never even shut except around Christmas.  Mother must have gotten scared and locked it.   Assuming the worst, I pounded and screeched, “Mama!  Mama!  Your door’s locked. Help!  I can’t get in!!!” Continue reading →

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Grandma Audio Book

http://youtu.be/PZupgt_U0OM

Magic Circle

Shay woke early between Kay-Lonnie and Lena but their eyes were already open, waiting for her. They never wiggled till she woke, seeming to breathe the same air, thinking the same thoughts. Susie pulled the quilt over her curly head on the other side of the big bed, grumping about Shay’s cold feet. Shay, Kay-Lonnie and Lena padded barefoot to the kitchen, hugged Mama from behind and found their places at the table as Mama set out Shay’s Campbell Soup Kids’ mug of milk and Minnie Mouse Mug for Kay-Lonnie and Lena to share since they never drank much. After their toast and jam, Shay finished off the milk, helped them wipe their faces, push their chairs in place without screeching and carried their dishes to Mama at the sink. “You’re such a good girl. Oh, and Kay-Lonnie and Lena, too.” Mama smiled.

Racing to the barn, they got there just as Daddy finished milking Jessie. “Heh! Cookie! What got you out so early?” Continue reading →

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Grandmother’s House

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The Special Bond Between Grandchildren and Grandparents

I miss my Grandma.  She was perfect, mostly because she acted like she didn’t notice my  bad behavior, knowing my mom take care of it.  I was sure she loved me best of all her grandchildren, unaware all the grand kids felt hat way.  She made the best teacakes, told the best stories, and always smelled of Johnson’s Baby Powder.  Patiently, she’d let me brush her waist-length gray hair, and attempt to twist into a heavy bun, never complaining that I pulled, before finally turning it into a perfect bun and securing it with only one heavy bone pin herself with a quick flip of her wrist, once I gave it up for hopeless.

Every afternoon after lunch and her “stories” Grandma hung her cotton print housedress on a line stretched across a corner of her bedroom, let her hair down, slipped off her shoes and knee-high stockings, put her gold-rimmed spectacles carefully on the bedside table, and lie down for a nap.  Continue reading →