Month: November 2016

His Name was Mud

img_1579John had to be booted out of bed on schooldays, but weekends were a totally different story.  Always up before daylight watching cartoons, he wasn’t supposed to go outdoors before we got up.  Today, he couldn’t resist.  It had been raining for days, so the ditches were muddy rivers.  Adventure called his name as he helped himself to his dad’s rubber knee boots.   which were thigh-high on him, all the better to keep him dry.

He and Spotty, his little dog, were on their way.  The sticks he tossed into the swirling ditch quickly bobbed out of sight. Spotty leapt after one and had to swim for her life, finishing that game off for her.  John realized they needed a boat and constructed one of wood scraps.  Fastening it to his kite string reel, they headed back to the ditches!

Much wiser now, Spotty watched cautiously from the side as John launched his boat.  It bounced and twirled madly downstream.  He reeled it back in and set it off time after time.  Spotty barked wildly and chased it from the bank.

This was great for a while, but the boat really needed a captain. GI Joe might be a great soldier, but not such a great a sailor. As soon as the boat hit the water, it tipped and Joe went straight to the bottom.  John felt it was fortunate he was in Dad’s tall boots and could get Joe without getting wet. As he waded in to the ditch, the boots mired in the deep mud.  With each step, the mud sucked at the heavy boots.  His feet grew heavier, the ditch deeper, and the bottom softer.  After a few steps, the boots filled with cold water and buried deep in the mud.  John wasn’t going anywhere!  He called for help.  No one was out this early.  He was freezing by now!!  Spotty was running and barking, but that didn’t help.  Just before he turned into an iceberg, a neighbor kid who had also slipped out to play in the muddy ditches came to the rescue. He beat on his door, till I answered.

“Lady!  Your kid’s stuck in the ditch!!!”

“What?  It’s too early for kids to be out!!  It’s cold and nasty, besides!”  Just then I heard the caterwauling.  There was John, thigh deep in the muddy ditch, bawling his head off.  I pulled John out of the deep water, leaving the boots mired in the mud. Needless to say, John was more than thigh-deep in trouble.  Several days later, his dad had to get the shovel to dig his boots out. GI Joe gave his life for the cause.

Aunt Ader’s Place Part Eleven

 

evil-womanTrouble had its own plan and always lurked in the shadows waiting to jump me.  The simplest thing could go wrong.  There was just no way to anticipate what was down the road.  Billy and Troy were out of pocket when Uncle Parnell was ready to leave.  Daddy sent me and Sue to look for them.  Some neighbor boys told us they had seen them close to the railroad track.  Daddy had told us many times not to let him catch us on the railroad track.  We played close to it all the time, but out of consideration to him, were very careful not to let him catch us.  The kids went along to help.  Near the railroad, we found Billy’s sling shot.  I knew he would never have abandoned it.  This was serious!!!!   One kid slipped under the fence and scrambled up into one of the railcars, pulling the other up after him.  We heard them exclaiming, “Golleeeee…would you look at this!

pig-graffiti

Realizing they had probably found the boys’ bodies, we forgot about our warning and flew after them into the car.  There weren’t any bodies, but we stared in disbelief at graffiti-covered plywood walls. Most were in pencil, but many were brilliantly colored.  Monsters, naked women, effervescent angels, lurid devils, chimeric animals, faces of both beauty and evil, and, beatific pictures of Jesus looked back at us. Creativity in the form of poems also adorned the walls.

graffiti_devil_or_angel_poster-p228001309729216928tdcp_400

Since I had only a smattering of suspicion of the meaning of sex, I found the artwork and poetry edifying, though I suspected its use would land me in the doghouse at home.  Caught up in this rare cultural bonanza, we forgot about Billy and Troy.  Anyway, I was pretty sure they would turn up, but this was going to be my only chance at an educational opportunity of this magnitude.  Apparently, there are a lot of creative people riding the rails.  I certainly never saw anything like this at Sunday School.

As we continued our inspection, we heard a low rumble and felt the car jolt.  Holy Cow!!!   We jumped out and raced for the house as the train squealed and jerked into movement.  It was nearly dark! Caught up in all we’d seen, we’d completely lost track of time.  We sped for the house, knowing this was the most heinous crime we’d ever committed.  We were almost out of breath, when we met Billy and Troy.  “Boy are y’all in trouble.  Everybody’s out looking for you.”

I felt sick.  We went in slow and sad, the walk of doom.  Sure enough, everyone was furious.  The truth had beaten us home.  Froggy and Jamey had told them they left us  in the boxcars.  Daddy was furious!!!!  We’d done exactly what he had always warned us against and terrified them all.  Mother thought we had either fallen under the train or the hobos had gotten us!!!  Furiously, Daddy sent me to my room to ponder the evil I had done while Uncle Parnell grabbed Sue and Troy up and took off.  I didn’t dare open my door.  No one mentioned supper, especially not me.  Wild animals couldn’t have dragged me out of that room.  I rethought the whole incident over and over, re-scripting it in my mind, the way it should have been.  It wasn’t my fault.  I was only looking for Billy and Troy.  They could have been bleeding to death in the boxcar.  In my mind, I saved them countless times, risking my life as I jumped from the moving railroad car at the last second.  I imagined lots of different versions, none of them including me doing that I’d been forbidden to do.  No matter how hard I worked at it, I just couldn’t make it come out right.  I never realized it when I went to sleep, but my trouble was the first thing I remembered when I woke up.

I was surprised when Mother called me to get ready for school and eat breakfast, justlike  every other morning.  How could the day start out normally when I was in so much trouble?  I hated oatmeal, but ate it without complaint hoping to get on Mother’s good side.  She never said a word about my trouble and I certainly didn’t bring it up.  I went to school with a sense of dread, where it was business as usual, except I made sure to behave and avoid a note from the teacher.  I didn’t know if things could get any worse, but I certainly didn’t want to find out.

I hated to see the school day end.  I didn’t want to go home.  Daddy never forgot to take care of business when we’d gotten in trouble.  He wasn’t home when I got off the bus, a brief reprieve.  I did my homework, ate dinner, and was watching TV with the other kids when I heard Daddy’s truck.  I went to my room and sat in the gloom, waiting for the worst.  He and Mother laughed and talked just like they always did.  Finally, my door opened.  I shut my eyes and pretended to be asleep, but Daddy wasn’t fooled. He started his lecture the way he always did.

“We need to have a talk,” even though I wasn’t going to be doing much of the talking.  “You scared us all.  You did just what I told you not to do.  Something terrible could have happened.  Your mother thought either hobos got you or you were stuck on the train.”  He droned on and on like he always did, while I waited for my punishment.  I got in trouble all the time and knew the routine. I zoned out pretty soon, hearing just “rumble, rumble, rumble” like he was turning a crank.

I was careful to listen for the pause, when he always asked me why I did whatever it was I had done.  I had learned to stick with, “I don’t know” until he tired of asking because, I wasn’t  about to tell the truth: “I didn’t think I’d get caught” (“Smart aleck”- deeper trouble), or “I thought  such and such” (“That’s what you get for thinking”) or “I didn’t think so and so” (“If you’re not going to think you might as well be alike on both ends.”) Daddy’s lectures always went on forever until he got down to business, something involving a switch or belt.  I never did decide which I preferred, despite extensive research.  Unbelievably, this time ended differently.  Because my cousin Sue was involved, Daddy had gone by to talk to Uncle Parnell on the way home.

Uncle Parnell’s children didn’t enjoy the consistent discipline our family did.  Sue was a talented liar, and got off the hook with an incredible tale which Uncle Parnell pretended to believe.  Daddy was disgusted, and for some illogical reason, for which I was truly grateful, Daddy reasoned that even though I had disobeyed, at least I hadn’t lied the way Sue had.  I got credit for being the better person and was spared.  Good old Sue!!!

A Young Man

reblog  I am reading and enjoying this book very much, right now.

Andrew Joyce's avatarAndrew Joyce

yellow-hair-cover

Through no fault of his own, a young man is thrust into a new culture just at the time that culture is undergoing massive changes. It is losing its identity, its lands, and its dignity. He not only adapts, he perseveres and, over time, becomes a leader—and on occasion, the hand of vengeance against those who would destroy his adopted people.

Buy @ Amazon: US– CA – UK – AU  –  

 

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Aunt Ader’s Place Part 10

 Cartoon copied from Farside.

far-sideAunt Ella, Uncle Johnny, and their brood lived on Aunt Ader’s Place for a while.  Aunt Ella was of a volatile temperament, so from time to time, Uncle Johnny moved out and Mawmaw moved in to help Aunt Ella with the difficulties of raising six kids with no money.  No doubt, Aunt Ader’s Place was a viable option due to size and economy. It must be hard to rent a house with no indoor plumbing.  Within a month or so, Uncle Johnny was always back, so we never really had time to wonder what had happened.  Of course, we often came upon the women in conversations that abruptly ended when kids came in the room, but I never heard any good gossipy details.

Daddy never paid much attention to getting little kids home in time for bedtime, so one Saturday evening, my family lingered long past bedtime. My parents went home to tend to things, planning to be back on Sunday afternoon. Billy and I were surprised to wake sleeping on a pallet on the floor with a bunch of cousins.  This was no problem for me, since staying over with cousins was always on the top of my list.  After a breakfast of sugary-cereal (which we never got at home) Aunt Ella shooed us all out to play.

The horde of cousins availed itself of the opportunity to descend on the pear trees in the orchard behind the house, gorging on green pears.  I am sure we ruined most of the crop, climbing into the trees to get at the immature pears, breaking branches and knocking the rest to the ground.  Those pears, preserved for the winter, would have been a resource Aunt Ella had been counting on.  She was understandably overwrought as she chased us from the orchard with a switch, even connecting with a slow child from time to time.

I remember her shrieking at us as we headed for the woods.  “And if y’all get the squirts, I’m gonna beat your asses again.”  I thoroughly understood “ass-beating” but had never heard the term “squirts.”  In a couple of hours, I needed no explanation.  With about half a dozen kids on the run, determined to keep their squirts a secret, there weren’t a lot of trips to the outhouse.  The woods had to serve as protection from Aunt Ella’s wrath, as well as nature’s repository.  Propitiously for us, Aunt Ella’s fury abated by the time our parents arrived and she didn’t even tell on us.  Since then, I have wondered whether she forgot her threat to beat us, or if good sense prevailed and she saw the folly of beating the asses of kids with the squirts.  Either way, I won.

A New Lease on Life

Help a friend if you can.

Krista Kemp's avatarFrom Food Stamps To A Future

I apologize for my recent absence. Life has had me going in a million different directions! From surgeries (Success), to funerals (RIP Sandra), and yard sales, to my day to day obligations. I haven’t had a moment’s rest.

So, I trust that each of you had a fabulous Halloween this past week. Ours was nice. We took our youngest door to door. I suspect that this was our last “kid” trip. He had originally told us that he didn’t want to go because he was “too old.” Such a shame!

For those who were with me last year, this next bit will be old news. My husband has been having dental issues for several years now. He was diagnosed with Stage 4 Hodgkin’s Lymphoma years ago, and due to this and the treatments that he has undergone, the enamel in his teeth has been disintegrating. I…

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Aunt Ader’s Place Part 9

A visit to Aunt Julie’s house was wild times.  There were no rules, except one.  She needed her afternoon nap, so we had to lie down from one to three till she was done.  I thought two hours of enforced bed time would kill me, but we spent the time wisely, playing semi-quietly, tussling with puppies, kittens, turtles, frogs, or  lizards,  giggling, and building forts.  Eventually we’d get around to jumping on the bed and she’d be forced to quiet us with an expletive, a reward in itself since I never got to hear cursing or filthy talk at home.

Aunt Julie’s kids were feral children, with no fashion concerns, styling about in their underwear, or step-ins, as Aunt Julie called them. I embraced this style and would have been a faithful follower, had Mother not shown up and stuck her big nose in my business.

“Don’t you EVER pull that stunt again. (EVER was spoken through clenched teeth for emphasis.). You KNOW better”

i always hated knowing better.  “But Aunt Julie….”  She cut me off.

“You heard me.  Get in the house and get some clothes on right now.”  The breeze on my flat chest was just a memory now.  Sadly, I went for clothes.  Mother was such a downer.

Aunt Ader’s Place Part 8

Aunt Julie was from a very proper home, though generally untroubled by the high standards set by   her mother, Mrs. Townsend.  That austere lady always wore black dresses with white collars, stockings tied in a roll at her knees, and a severe black straw or felt hat, depending on the season.  Though Aunt Julie’s housekeeping was poor to nonexistent, on the occasions Mrs. Townsend was to visit, the house was immaculate.  It was confusing on those rare times to come in and find the kitchen sparkling,  the toilets flushed and scrubbed, and bathroom floors free of piles of dirty laundry and unlittered with used sanitary napkins.  I never understood why no one flushed the turds since the toilets worked.  I had no idea what the soiled sanitary pads played till my cousin Sue explained her older sisters had a lot of nosebleeds.  At the rate the napkins multiplied, I was amazed never to have witnessed a nosebleed.

When Granny visited, the kids wore starched and ironed clothes instead of running around near naked in their step-ins as they normally did.aunt Julie and the kids were glad to see Granny go, but my uncle said he wished she lived there to keep Aunt Julieon her toes.  Aunt Jule had fourkids.  Three of them gre up to live in squalor, while Sue’s homemaking skills were impeccable.

 

 

U.S. Blogging Event Update

Update on US Blogging event. Hope lots of you make it. I will definitely be there.

Lisa A.'s avatarLife of an El Paso Woman

wp-1478176712714.jpgHi everyone! Me and the other committee members haven’t written a post about next year’s blogging event in a few months. I wanted to give you an update on where we’re at with the event right now. We’re currently looking for a nice but somewhat reasonably priced place to host the event. Over the past few weeks, several hotels, restaurants and clubs in Chicago have been contacted for quotes. A couple of the committee members suggested moving the event up or back one week due to lodging and traveling costs. The costs seem to be a little bit more during the Labor Day holiday weekend (We were planning on having the event on Saturday, Sept. 2, 2017). Some places are already booked for this day. We’ll let you know if the event date gets moved. Since we’re getting closer to the holidays, we’ll most likely do one more month-long poll in January. We want to know who’s…

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Aunt Ader’s Place Part 7

Aunt Julie looked like a wild woman, but I adored her.  She cackled like a hen when she laughed with her crinkly black hair standing up like a nest of stinging worms.  I saw her comb it once or twice, but it didn’t make a bit of difference.  Fortunately, she was easy going and didn’t seem bothered by it.  She was a skinny, little woman with a big stomach and pipe-stem legs.  The legs of her pants bloused out and never touched her.  Had I not known her since I was born, I’d have thought she was a witch.  She had a filthy mouth, peppering her language with forbidden words.  I learned early on Mother would warm my britches should I repeat anything coming out of Aunt Julie’s mouth.

One of Aunt Julie’s phrases always hooked me.  She often prefaced statements with, “as the old saying goes.”  I loved old sayings, so I was all ears waiting for what came next.  Sadly more often than not, she finished with something perfectly mundane like, “I  have to make a pan of biscuits.”  I never failed to be disappointed, feeling she had not followed through on her promise.  “Fortunately, from time to time, she finished up with a thrilling phrase like, “If I don’t get to the bathroom soon I’m gonna s___ my drawers.”  Her use of forbidden language always brightened days moderated by Mother’s prudish language.  We weren’t even allowed to say pee pee or doo doo.  It’s rough being a gee gee-er in a world of kids who doo doo or donkey.  I don’t think Mother cared how she marked us.  More on Aunt Julie later.