It’s hard to imagine why, but all Billy asked for that Christmas was an ax. Maybe he was remembering the year before with Evil Larry. That’s not a typical item for an eleven-year-old to ask for, but he stuck to his guns. The ax was his only request. Christmas morning he got up to find the tree mounded up with presents, but no ax shaped gifts, though it’s Continue reading
bad kids
Working Hard to Get to Heaven
Church was hard on me. All that sitting still and not talking were hard on a kid back when ADD was just called BAD. Believe me, I know. My prissy older sister, Phyllis, loved anything to do with church, making me look particularly bad. The only glimmer of hope was that she was slow and Mother threatened to leave her every Sunday. When I tried Continue reading
Hellion Envy
Froggy had it all. His parents had the wisdom not to interfere in his life. He played whenever and wherever he wanted, went to school when he pleased and never got held back. Wonder of wonder, his Granny Bounds had a store bus chock full of marvelous goodies. When she showed up, we ripped through the house, ferreting out pennies and a Continue reading
New Babies
We had a family meeting and Daddy said we were going to have to start helping Mother just because she was having a baby. He tried to make it sound like something great. I wanted to tell him I didn’t want a baby or chores, but was smart enough to keep my mouth shut. I had to dust, set the table, and fold towels. I would be glad when Mother had that Continue reading
Ruth Elaine and the Exploding Baby (Part II of II 1930s memoir)
Repost of earlier post few readers saw:
Out of respect for the family, Mr. Kinnebrew dismissed school at noon. Ruth Elaine, normally socially invisible, wandered from the office with her lunch bucket, mystified to find herself Queen of the Playground. The big girls jostled for position around her, shoving lowly first graders to the side, demanding details of the catastrophe. “Did it set him on Continue reading
Bill and the Bed Slat
Biil and his mean mama
My mother was hard on my brother, Bill. Totally unconcerned about his tender psyche and self-esteem, she spanked him when he was a tender child. She was a tiny, “not tall” woman with a squeaky voice to match, sounding a lot like Minnie Mouse. It was ridiculous seeing her flap away at one of us with a plastic fly swat, but she gave it her best shot from time to time, anyway. Not wanting to be part of such a ridiculous show and avoid further embarrassment was the most likely inducement to better behavior.
Bill maintains he got more than his share of spankings, but most of us feel she neglected him. One day when he was about six, he confronted her, “Mama, you wupped me five times today!” Stricken by this accusation, she answered him, “I know son. I should have wupped you more, but I can’t give you all my time. I have four other children who need wupping.”
The last time she brutally beat him, he was eighteen years old, over six feet four inches tall, and had ragged her one day till she wanted to murder him. After a final smart remark as he went out the back door, he bent over and waggled his behind at her. Overcome with fury, she grabbed up a bed slat conveniently standing beside the back door and threatened him.
“Bend over and grab your knees, boy!” He thought it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. He bent over, grabbed his knees just as she demanded, and waggled his behind at her again for good measure, just in case she hadn’t seen enough the first time. She drew back and smacked him across the rear as hard as she could manage. POW! The percussion verberated across the woods like a rifle shot!
Bill fell to the ground, proclaiming, “You broke my back! You broke my back!
Terrified, she imagined herself going to jail for child abuse, even though he was past eighteen and towered more than a foot above her, leaving two little girls without the comfort of a mother. Mustering bravado, she threatened. “Get up from there or I’ll get you again, boy!”
He hopped up and strode around the corner of the house, laughing to my dad who’d enjoyed the whole episode. “That smarts! I didn’t think she could hit that hard!”
Happy Birthday Bill. Watch out for Mother!
Rubbernecking
Though they were not actually deranged, they might have been described as teetering somewhere between pleasantly eccentric and moderately maddening, depending on whether you met them just met them socially or had to interact with them on a regular basis. Both held Master’s Degrees, Cookie’s in Education and Uncle Riley’s in Mathmetics. Cookie was head of a large public school system in Texas and Uncle Riley Continue reading
Coming to Jesus
Though I wasn’t an actual heathen, I looked like one compared to my older sister Phyllis. In her religious fervor, she never missed a church service, sang in the choir, and volunteered for all kinds of activities, while I dreaded Sunday mornings, knowing I’d have to sit through another long service. This really rankled me, so one Sunday I decided to Continue reading
Working Things Out With Chris
original art by Kathleen Holdaway Swain
Chris was the meanest kid around. He threw rocks, kicked his dog, stole lunch money out of desks, broke in line for lunch, and was sassy to the teacher. He had a giant pile of sand in his yard and dared anyone come near it. All the kids avoided him.
This was a problem for me and my brother Billy when Mother visited Miss Alice, Chris’s next door neighbor. We sure didn’t want him to spot us so we always played in the far side of her shady yard. One day, we were making villages of stick houses with mossy fields and sandy tracks for roads when, out of nowhere, POW!! A rock popped me on the head, knocking me goofy. When I quit seeing stars, I heard Chris laughing, “Ha! Made you look!”
Look nothing!! He nearly made me dead!! We jumped up and chased him, but he left us in his dust, fuming! We had to come up with a plan to get that creep. We puzzled and plotted the rest of the day. He was the biggest, fastest, meanest bully around, so we’d have to outsmart him. We decided to spy on him the next time Mother went to visit Miss Alice.
We got our big chance the next day. He glared when we went in her gate, just waiting to torture us. The ladies decided to drink their tea in the backyard. Even Chris knew he couldn’t us get at us with adults around, so he skulked back to his own yard and kicked at his dog to cheer himself up. We lay on our stomachs and crawled into the bushes to spy on him as he stomped over to where his mother was working in her flower bed.
Chris was even mean to his mother. He sassed her when she told him to help, stepped on her flowers, sprayed the cat with water, and kicked over the flower pots. Suddenly, he went crazy jumping and screaming. When she finally caught up with him, she said, “Chris, it’s nothing but a little bitty frog!!! He can’t hurt you!! Just stay still and I’ll get him. I don’t know why you’re so scared of a little bitty frog.”
That big bully was bawling like a baby. “Get him off! Get him off! Get him off!!! I hate frogs!” We had our plan!
We headed to the pond and collected a few frogs as soon as we got home. The next morning at school I slipped in to the class room and got to work hiding frogs. I put a couple in Chris’s desk, a couple in his pencil box, and slipped a really nice one in the pocket of the jacket hanging on the back of his desk. I barely finished before the first bell rang. Chris strolled in after the last bell. All I had to do now was wait. I did wish Billy could be here for the fun.
The frogs stayed quiet as we all settled down. I kept waiting for the fun to start. After a while, I got involved in a story the teacher was reading and forgot about the frogs. That’s when it happened. “Ribbitt! Ribbitt! Ribbitt!” We all started giggling.
“Who did that?” Miz McZumley was not amused.
“Ribbitt!! Ribbitt!!” Kids guffawed! The class was out of control.
Miz McZumley whacked her ruler down on her desk. “That does it! Storytime is over! Get out your pencils and workbooks.”
You can imagine what happened next. Two fine frogs jumped out of Chris’s desk. He screamed and ran in place. The whole class was hysterical as they chased frogs. The teacher was furious at Chris for bringing frogs to class. He blubbered a pathetic defense “I didn’t!! I didn’t! I hate frogs!” Two more frogs jumped out of his desk, looking for their buddies.
“Then where did all these frogs come from?” She wasn’t convinced. Chris got paddled and was sentenced to pick up trash at recess. I couldn’t wait for him to put on his jacket!!! My bully problems were over. There were going to be a lot of frogs in Chris’s future.
Nutsrok 