Smorgasbord Christmas Party – Guest Author Linda Bethea – Fleas don’t come home for Christmas, Willie Tharpe

Re logged from Smorgasbard

Not Always the Best Memories of Family Christmas

Reposting a story

lbeth1950's avatarNutsrok

imageHolidays with my cousins were a lot more like cage boxing than Hallmark Christmases. I had more than forty first cousins, mostly wild animals. By the time my aunts and uncles herded them to the scene of the crime, they just opened the car doors and all Hell broke loose. Exhausted from defending themselves and the babies on the ride over, it was every man for himself. God help anybody in the way.

They’d rip through the house under the guise of needing the bathroom and a drink of water, destruction in their wake, before being cast out into the yard or to the barn if it was raining, like demons into swine.  While they passed through, they destroyed anything in their wake.  We always hid our loot, but the evil little devils usually managed to mark something for destruction, even if it was no more precious than a dish…

View original post 208 more words

Hard Time Marrying Part 27

About three weeks later Anya awoke to a back ache.  It got worse as the morning drew on till she suddenly wet herself.  She was mortified, though she’d gotten used the increased demands pregnancy put on her bladder.  As she corralled Sally and set about cleaning herself up, labor pains began in earnest.  Anya knew little about birth except what she’d seen from her step-mother and from life on the farm, but she knew she’d better get help.  Joe and Little Joe were working in a far-off field, so she started a fire and loaded it with pine straw so it would make an impressive smoke to signal him home.  Home in minutes, he found Anya with her pains regular and about twenty minutes apart.  Hitching up the wagon and loading the children, he kissed Anya and warned her.  “Stay in the cabin near the bed.  I’ll be back with Emma quick as I can.  Git up an’ walk if you have to, but don’t leave the cabin.”  The horse trotted across the prairie, bouncing the kids Joe had taken time to tie in the wagon bed.  Over the next two hours, Anya’s pain increased in frequency and intensity.  Just as she feared the baby would come into the world unattended, Joe showed up with Emma.  Within minutes, Emma handed a baby girl off to Joe, waiting behind her with a warmed blanket.  “This baby ain’t big as a minute, but she’s purty like her mama.”

Joe held the baby close as his eyes filled with tears.  Moments later, Emma took the child and helped Anya put her to the breast. He looked from the tiny girl to the woman he loved.  “Our first baby. I ain’t never felt so fine. Thank you, Anya.”

Anya wept, feeling her life had finally begun.

Merry Christmas, Evil Larry (names changed to protect the guilty)

Reblogged from last year

lbeth1950's avatarNutsrok

My brother just called to remind me of his troubles with our cousin Larry, the bane of his existence. Larry was probably the only reason I had to be glad I wasn’t a boy when I was a kid. Thanks for that, Larry. Larry was fifteen months younger than me, falling right between me and Bill in age. Back then, our families had lots of overnight visits. Poor Bill

View original post 487 more words

Smorgasbord Christmas Party -Guest Tina Frisco with Jewel and the Christmas Tree

Reblog from Smorgasbard

Heartbreaking Tale of the Post-Mortem Fruitcake Theft

Reblog of a story posted last Christmas

lbeth1950's avatarNutsrok

My grandma died December 16, 1964.  I was devastated.  She was always accepting of me and seemed not to notice my faults.  She had mailed her Christmas gifts to us the morning of the evening of her death.  The box arrived two or three days after her funeral.  It was a macabre feeling, being anxious to find out what she’d sent, knowing she was in

View original post 154 more words

Hard Time Marrying Part 26

img_1626

Image pulled from internet

Though Anya had initially invited Joe into her bed out of gratitude, over the next months  she learned to love him passionately, looking forward to their time together in the rope bed.  Neither of them had a lot to say, but the little family thrived.  Sally had gone from toddling to running and was speaking in short sentences.  Little Joe now called them “Ma”  and “Pa,” likely forgetting the poor woman who’d born him.  Anya was the only one Sally had ever called “Ma.”

Joe and Anya traded visits with Emma and Rufus a couple of times over the summer with Emma promising to attend her baby’s birth.  Anya came to depend on her like a mother, taking comfort in her company, grateful she didn’t have to feel awkward about the timing of the upcoming birth.  Emma never brought the subject up again, just reminded Anya to have Joe fetch her when he time came.

One Saturday evening Melvin came riding over to let them know he’d be marrying Jenny in a couple of weeks.  Emma sent word they should come to the wedding.  Joe told Melvin they’d try if Anya was up to it, but as soon as he was out of earshot, reminded Anya.  “We got to lay low.  It was night and the woman was bundled up against the cold, but that preacher might see  you ain’t the woman I married.  There ought’n to be no questions about you long as that preacher don’t git to nosin’ around.  Nobody else was there for the marryin’. We’ll just say you ain’t well an’ keep to the house.”  Joe didn’t think much of preachers and was rankled that this one stood between him and Anya.

It pained Anya to shun her friend’s joy, but knew they dared not risk discovery.  She’d been lulled into a sense of general well-being with her life with Joe and pregnancy hormones.  She had begun to look forward to the little one, hoping it would be a girl who looked like her own baby sister.  Joe lay spooned against her at night, often stroking her belly in his sleep as he nuzzled her shoulder.  Anya wouldn’t have changed anything about her life.

Joe looked around the small cabin the next morning.  “We’re gonna be spllin’ out of this cabin son.  Next spring, I’m gonna put in a few acres of grain for a cash crop so we can add on a room an’ maybe get you a cook-stove.  A woman that cooks like you  ought’a have her a stove.  Joe scooped Sally up and tickled her as she darted by in pursuit of her kitten.”  Life was good.

 

.

Hard Time Marrying Part 25

 

big-wildflowerThey got home well before dark.  While Joe and Little Joe milked and tended the stock, Anya put Sally in her sling and walked across the meadow down to the creek.  The cow and calf grazed near the willows, the calf didn’t have to be kept up to protect the milk, though all it enjoyed was its mother’s company since she’d gone dry.  Joe hadn’t bothered to scythe down the weeds since he didn’t have to worry about the coming calf.  The stand of Queen Anne’s lace waved its graceful heads, its regal beauty given no hint of its hidden use.  Anya had often gathered wildflowers on her walk, bringing back an apron full of Black-Eyed Susan’s, bright Indian Blanket, and Texas Bluebonnets, loving the way their colors brightened the cabin.  She’d never been especially fond of white, but today, filled her apron with the lacy white flowers and nothing else.

Emma had sent home enough chicken and dumplings for another meal.  With biscuits from breakfast and Emma’s conserve, it made a festive supper.  Little Joe licked his plate and Sally kept squealing and reaching for the conserve, long after she plastered herself with hers.  They laughed as they cleaned the little ones up.  The children were reluctant to settle in bed after their exciting day and the hilarity at supper.  Joe lay on the cot with his little namesake was still while Anya rocked Sally.

He came back to the table and took Anya’s hand.  Looking pointedly at the pot of white flowers, he said, “You want to be careful with those.  You know they made the cow lose her calf.  I don’t want nothin’ happenin’ to you.  A baby is just a baby.”

Anya started crying.  “Joe, I don’t even know if I want this baby.  I was hopin’ things could go on the way they were.  You have already taken in your dead wife’s little ones and now this.  This baby was forced on me.  I don’t know if I can do right by it, let alone love it.  I think it might be better if you let me do what I need to do and after, if you want, we can figure somethin’ out.  We can make a clean start or I can leave once I am back on my feet if you want. We ain’t married and you done took care of me a long time.  You don’t owe me nothin’.  You could always look for a woman to come stay and help out till she’s bigger.  The West is full of women who need somebody to do for an’ a place to stay.”

Joe was a man of few words.  “Anya, I know what it is to be alone.  I never knew my pa, these younguns don’t know their pa.  You done without a ma. The world don’t have to be such a cold place. You’re are a good woman an’ I seen how you love these little fellers.  I want you, and that little feller you’re a’carrying if that’s the way you see it.”  He picked up his hat to go to the barn.

Anya looked from Sally to Joe as a tear dropped on Sally’s blonde head.  She reached out, putting a hand on Joe’s shoulder.  “Stay, Joe.  It’s time Sally started sleepin’ in with Little Joe.”

Tenderly, Joe tucked Sally in on the far side of the cot with Little Joe, then put out the light.

Spare Christmas for Blanche

img_1617Every year around Christmas, I think of a girl I went to school with briefly. Blanche was the new kid. She seemed lost. I guessed it was because she’d changed schools in the middle of the school year but it turned out to be a lot more than that. I felt so badly for her as her sad story unfolded.

Until her thirteenth year, Blanche had been the pampered only child of an older couple. Out of the blue, child services showed up to inform Blanche and her parents that her “biological mother” was now tuberculosis-free, ready to reclaim her children from foster care. All this information blindsided Blanche. Within days, she was returned to her birth family, finding herself the second child and only girl in a family of seven children.

Blanche was devastated moving from a comfortable middle-class family into an impoverished family low on the social scale. They lived in an unpainted farmhouse miles from town with no bathroom. She felt like a workhorse with major responsibilities for the first time in her life. Her “old’ parents sent her a box of gifts at Christmas, but her “new” parents took them back to the store, exchanging them to get a gift apiece for each child instead. She got a steam iron for Christmas since she was responsible for the family’s ironing.

My friendship with Blanche was short. One day the children weren’t in school. We heard they’d gone back into foster care. I always hoped Blanche got to return to her “old” parents she yearned to rejoin.