The picture above stimulated the first mystical experience of my life.  One of three first experiences in a twenty-four hour period for me.  Quite a record for a six-year-old I’d say, not to mention, my future husband was linked to one of them.  My mother and her dear friend Mildred who’d just learned to drive, decided one cold evening when their husbands were at work they’d like to drive over and spend the evening with Mildred’s sister, Mary, who many years later was fortunate enough to become my mother-in-law.  While we were there Susie, Miss Mary’s prissy big girl, showed us little kids the glorious pictures in the big family bible, complete with terrifying stories of angels, devils, fire reigning down on Sodom and Gomorrah, and Adam and Eve being cast out of Eden.  It was awesome.

Long after dark, we started home.  Naturally, all the kids immediately fell asleep as soon as the car got warm and dark.  The next thing I knew, I saw blazing lights as we whirled around.  I realized immediately we were ascending into heaven in a whirlwind of fire but I wasn’t to happy about it!  Howling kids were tossed all over the car.  It turned out to be a far less heavenly experience.  We’d been hit by a drunk driver but somehow escaped serious injury or a trip to heaven.  The last thing my mother told me the next morning was not to tell my class that Johnny Jones daddy got drunk and hit our car.  I had no idea it was Johnny’s daddy who’d hit our car

I had my next new experience first thing the next morning at school.  I was the first up at our class’s first and last Show and Tell the next morning.  I had a black eye to Show and plenty to Tell.  Despite Mother’s warning, I felt the first grade really would be interested to know Johnny Jones’s father got drunk and hit our car.  Miss Angie made me hush and sit down.  We never had Show and Tell again, ever.  Johnny Jones and I got in a fight at recess.  We had to sit in the hall.  The third first for me.

Just Jot It January – Pingback Post and Rules

I admired the way Miz Laura Mae’s daughter Glomie got her name, though I only learned later it wasn’t spelled the way it was pronounced.
“Betty Lou was the purtiest baby I had, even if I do say so myself. With her fat little legs, blue eyes, and curly hair, I thought for shore somebody would try to steal ‘er. She was my first an’ I held her all day. I didn’ know no better then. It’s a wonder she ever learned to walk. When she was about a year and a half old, Myrtle came along, red-headed and kind of puny. She had colic and squalled non-stop for seven months till my milk dried up. That’s when I found out for shore nursin’ wouldn’t keep me from gittin thataway. I had to put her on the bottle and table food and she took off. Purty soon, she was going ever’where. She wasn’t but about sixteen months old when Glomie come along.

Glomie was born long after midnight. Floyd had been drinkin’ and was purty well-lit by the time me and the baby was cleaned up an’ I was ready to get some rest. My two sisters, Oly was settling us in when Dr. Garnet asked Floyd if we’d picked a name for the baby.

“I done decided to call this one, Glomie, no matter if it was a boy or girl.” He asserted.

“Glomie. I ain’t never heard that name,” said Dr. Garnet. “How do you spell it?” He was filling out the birth certificate.
“Glomie. It’s got the first letter of ever’ state I ever been in,” Floyd answered morosely. “G for Georgia. L for Louisiana. O for Oklahoma. M for Mississippi. A for Arkansas. I don’t reckon with all these youngun’s I’ll ever git to go nowhere else.’

“If you’re sure,” said Dr. Garnet. “I hate to hang that on a kid, but I guess I’ve heard worse.”

By the time I found out the next mornin’, the namin’ was all over an’ that pore baby was stuck with Glomie. I never did let Floyd name another one.