Month: April 2015

Annie and the Hinsons

Annie Lee Holdaway0001 (2)enlargedPictured is Annie Lee Holdaway 1941

Excerpt from Kathleen’s Memoirs of The Great Depression

To my great sorrow, Annie had finished all ten grades in Cuthand.  On Mr. Kinnebrew’s recommendation, she’d gotten a position as mother’s helper to Mrs. Hinson, his wealthy aunt who lived almost adjoining the Clarksville High School. Judge and Mrs. Hinson were one of the most prominent families in Clarksville.  They’d had only one child, Laura, who was “sweet but simple.”  They’d always doted on Laura, giving her a privileged, though very protected life.  Unfortunately, Mrs. Hinson was hospitalized for a while when Laura was about fifteen, leaving Laura in the care of the housekeeper by day and her father at night.  The gardener who clearly saw how they doted on Laura was able to woo and win her without her mama’s interference.  Naturally, she fell for the first man to ever allowed to pay attention to her, even though he was nearly fifty.  When he caught the housekeeper was too busy to notice, the old goat slipped her off to marry one afternoon.

He convinced Laura to keep the secret of their marriage until it was obvious a baby was on the way.  Not surprisingly, for the sake of decency and their daughter’s happiness, the Hinsons did their best for Laura and her family.  Laura wanted her useless husband.  He had enough sense to know which side his bread was buttered on, so was always good to her and the children, though he never worked again.  The Hinsons built her a nice house, adjoining theirs. Over the next few years, Laura had a large brood, but was never capable of keeping house or caring for the children, so Mrs. Hinson had a housekeeper to take care of the house and help with the children.  Annie’s job was feed and dress the school kids off in the morning and make sure they got their homework in the evening.  For this she got room, board, a small salary and generous bonuses.  She had to be there Monday afternoon through Friday morning.  It was a wonderful job for a high-school student.  It broke my heart to see her catching a ride in with the mail carrier at six am on Monday morning, but was the high point of the week when he dropped her back off Friday afternoon, full of tales of the Hinsons, high-school, or life in Clarksville.  She always managed to bring me a tiny gift or two, such or a damaged book or toy one of the kids no longer wanted.  Best of all, was a piece of Laura’s candy.

Any story Annie brought me from her time at the Hinson’s was golden.  Though Laura was simple, she had a gift for making candy.  Hotels, stores, and high end business competed for the confections she she’d learned early to make candy at the hand of the housekeeper who raised her.  Her husband was only too happy to serve as delivery man for her, selling all the candies Laura cared to make.  What a stroke of luck for him!  He’d married the goose who laid the golden egg!

Never Gonna Keep Up

darthRepost

Having attended a tiny rural high school, fearing I could never compete with those from large urban high schools, I was sensitive about my educational shortcomings. Expecting to be labeled a bumpkin and hustled back to the farm “with my own kind,” in my mind, I had gotten to college with little to recommend me but a good vocabulary, a love of Continue reading →

From God’s Lips to Daddy’s Ear

imageDaddy was “the Boss.” God put him in charge, so we didn’t have to worry about what God wanted.  If we had any questions, we could go straight to Daddy.  He always had a Bible verse at the ready to back him up, if needed.  Most of them sounded suspiciously-freshly coined and self-serving, lacking book, chapter, and verse, Continue reading →

Must Not Have Been a Beautiful Baby

imageMy mother’s good friend Betty brought her new baby to church for the first time.  Mother rushed over to her friend, all prepared to gush over the little guy.  Betty had him wrapped in a beautifully crocheted shawl.  Flipping back the blanket, she revealed the homeliest, poor little guy Mother had seen in quiet a while  Shocked, Mother stammered, trying to remember the compliment she’d had at the ready before seeing him.  “Oh, oh!  It’s a baby, isn’t it!”

Jimmy Sasses Sweet Miss Billie

Miss Billie                                                           Sweet Miss Billie School Pics enlargedThis is an excerpt from my book in progress.  It is a collaborative memoir of my mother’s memoirs of The Great Depression.Pictured above you can see Kathleen Holdaway, left to right from grades 1 through 5  Please don’t be too hard on Miss Billie.  Corporal punishment was an accepted part of education at that time.

I adored Miss Billie, my first grade teacher.  I hungered for her approval, strived for perfect work, and admired every thread she wore, her floral scent, her ladylike jewelry, and her kind, modest manner.  Heaven could have granted me no greater wish than to grow up and be just like her.  And above all this, Miss Billie was fair and gentle.  One day after lunch Jimmy Wilson shocked us all by “sassing” Miss Billie,  earning me the privilege of serving as message bearer to Mr. Kinnebrew, her husband and the principal. I proudly carried a note concealed beneath red and white checked napkin covering the lunch basket Miss Kinnebrew packed for them daily.  I almost felt like a member of the family, being on such intimate terms.  I knocked shyly, intimidated by the powerful man.  He opened the door just a crack, took the basket, and returned it to me moments later, without a word, to my great relief.  I returned the basket to Miss Billie, got her smiling nod in return, and scurried back to my seat.

She, Jimmy, and the covered basket exited the room.  The entire class gave the door just time enough swing closed before rushing to claim prime viewing spots at the large crack afforded by a missing panel, the faster, more aggressive kids and the lucky ones in the back rows getting the best views.  Despite our enthusiasm to see the show, we restrained ourselves sufficiently not to push the door open and fall out into the hall in harm’s way.  After a quick lecture on manners and respect, Miss Billie had Jimmy bend over, grasp his knees, pulled Mr. Kinnebrew’s belt from the dainty basket, doubled it and gave him three stinging licks across his backside.  As Jimmy rubbed his bottom, Miss Billie tucked the belt beneath the napkin, took Jimmy by the arm, and led him back to the classroom, just ahead of the thunderous sound of the class returning its seats, which she somehow failed to notice. No mention was made of how Mr. Kinnebrew was to keep his pants up the rest of the day, since neither the basket nor the incident was referred again, but Jimmy was respectful the rest of the year.  I think he’d seen a new side of Sweet Miss Billie.  It was an altogether edifying and satisfying experience for the rest of us.

It Wasn’t My Fault

imageMy son ran in from the yard, smugly ratting his sister out.  “Sister threw a rock and broke a light on the car!”

Baby Girl was right behind him, protesting her innocence.  “I wasn’t trying to hit the car.  I was throwing it at him.”image

Lolly

i never knew who would would show up for Lolly’s dialysis treatment.  Some days, Lolly was a pleasant forty-year-old black woman, intelligent, street smart, brightly- dressed and well groomed.  Those were good days.  Sometimes, she presented as a snotty racist older, white lady.  We had to be careful on those days not to seat her near black men she might insult.  I dreaded those times.  They were hard on everybody on the unit.  Lolly as a young black girl wrenched my heart.  She was afraid of men and boys and often cried with hurt feelings. The hardest was the manic young woman who sometimes showed, convinced that dialysis would end her imagined pregnancy.  I loved Lolly, and regretted leaving her when I left that job.  I hope she was treated kindly.

That Makes Me So Mad/Joke

imageMary called John at work. “I’ve been trying and trying to get this danged lawnmower started, but it just won’t start.”

John:  “Did you choke it?”

Mary:   “No, but I wanted to!”

Smart Alec and Speechless

imageA few years ago, we were traveling through a country area and turned the radio to a farm program.  A farmer called in to advertise peas for sale, giving his name and number.  A few minutes later, someone called back asking for the name and phone number of the farmer with the peas.  The DJ lit rudely into the caller, telling him he should have been ready with a pencil to write the number down as it was announced.  He didn’t have time to go digging through phone numbers just because people didn’t listen.

Not surprisingly, it made the caller furious.  “Well, you just go to Hell!” Click!

The DJ sputtered,  “Well,….well…It takes one to know one.”