Connie and Marilyn were adorable little girls, born a little over a year apart. Born fouth and fifth of five children, we all doted on them, with the exception of my brother Billy, who was displaced by all that cuteness. Mother dressed them in pastel shades of the same style dresses as much as she could. Connie was fair and blue-eyed with cotton white hair; Marilyn olive-skinned, brown-eyed with darker hair. Naturally, they were inseparable. Connie, the older, was protective of Marilyn and invariably gave over to her, calling her “Myrnie.”
As Mother rocked Connie, it was obvious the sweet toddler was deep in thought. After a bit, Connie asked, “Mommy did God give me to you and Daddy?”
“Yes,” Mother answered.
Connie thought, “Did God give Myrnie to you and Daddy?”
“Yes.”
“Why? God didn’t want no kids.?” Connie puzzled.
Like most large families, we all had responsibility. Phyllis and I helped to care of the little ones. I was very scatterbrained, so whichever one Phyllis took care of got a better deal than my charge. When they were three and four, both were invited to a birthday party one Saturday afternoon. Phyllis and I dressed them in their little party dresses. Both were ready with one small exception. I left Marilyn’s little ruffled panties in the dryer till the last second. As they sat in a chair to stay clean, Mother came through and was delighted at the sight of her precious little girls. She took their little hands and led them to the car. Mother was running behind and hadn’t really had time to dress up for the party, so she just sent the girls in and went back home to fix herself up to socialize with the ladies when she got back.
On her return, as she pulled into the drive, the little party-goers were all gathered around the front steps. Marilyn was on the top step with all the children yelling for her to jump. As Mother watched from the car, Marilyn’s little party dress fluttered, the kids cheered. Mother was concerned, not remembering Marilyn having panties that odd nude color. Mother skipped coffee rushing the little girls to the car. She anxiously ran her hand up Marilyn’s leg. Just as she’d feared, Marilyn didn’t have any nude-colored panties. The ruffled panties matching her dress still waited in the dryer at home.
Mother was livid when she stormed home with Marilyn and her bare bottom. You’d think Marilyn was the first girl who ever went to a party without panties. She assumed I was at fault and not ready to hear any excuses. As Mother said her piece, it finally struck her as funny. The more we talked, the funnier it got. When the hysteria crescendoed the preacher dropped by. Naturally, he was worried to find us all with tears streaming down our faces. Phyllis and I abandoned Mother to make her explanations.
This wasn’t my first or last mess up. I never knew why Mother considered me capable.
The barnyard turned out to be just a bedraggled fence enclosing a chicken house with a row of nesting boxes. The chicken house had seen better days and leaned crazily to the left. Someone had thoughtfully propped it up enough so the eggs didn’t roll out of the boxes. Jamey picked up a pencil-marked egg and slung it against the barn. “You’re not gonna believe this, guys!” It exploded with a nauseating sulfurous smell and resounding pop, whereupon Jamey explained, “ Them ol’ rotten eggs explode just like a bomb!” it had been left for the hen to “set on” and had rotted.
I was familiar with the concept of “setting hens” and knew not to touch precious eggs. Mother had made it clear eggs were precious, not playthings. Nonetheless, Jamey took an egg from another nest and hurled it. It also exploded and turned the air to sulphur to the delight of the party-goers. Kids started flinging eggs madly. Knowing they were older and wiser, I joined in. Before long we’d exhausted the supply and moved across the road to the pig pen.
My parents had frequently complained about the malodorous pig pen, but in a rural community, only consideration governs location of noxious livestock. “I ought to call Sheriff Copp on JP, but he ain’t gonna do nothin’” Daddy complained “He don’t have to smell that porcine excrement.”(paraphrased) Fortunately for the Awfuls, a vacant house with an enclosed back lot stood between our place and theirs. They had wisely appropriated the abandoned back lot for their pig pen. It was much closer to our house than theirs, a wise decision on their part. The small pen was home to a couple of sows, their extended families, and millions of flies. Due to their wise location of the pig lot, we undoubtedly got a lot more effect than they did. My mother, in particular, was offended.
Jamey, our fearless leader climbed on the rails. The smaller of the sows and her babies fled, squealing. The larger sow the size of a sofa, didn’t seem too disturbed from where she lounged in a muddy wallow across the pen. The baby pigs were so adorable! Jamey was generous “Let’s git us one!”Jamey was a wonderful host, dropping into the pen in pursuit of a little pig, followed by me and a couple more kids. I was pretty lucky. My dress tail caught on a fencepost, hanging me upside down from the top rail.
“Help! Help Git me down!” By this time I’d noticed Mama wasn’t taking any of this well. She lunged directly under me with a guttural growl, “Rrrrroofff!” running them back over the fence. Fortunately, suspended above the action, adrenaline saved my hide, though my fancy dress was done for. I wasn’t the only one who suffered wardrobe loss. As Jamey sailed over the fence, the mama pig got one of his new birthday tennis shoes.
“Oh no! Mama’s gonna git you about that shoe!” Bugeater assured him, collapsing in merriment. Clearly he anticipated his brother’s trouble amiably.
When we got back to the house, Mrs. Awful little into him. “ You little devil! Your daddy’s gonna tear you up when he gets in! We just got them @83”&$! Shoes! You ain’t had ‘em a day yet! Now you dang kids get out there so he can open them presents and get this )@/$!! party overwith!” I rarely got to hear such language.
As I said, this was my first birthday party. I was proud of the flashlight Mother had wrapped for me to bring to the party and couldn’t wait to get it back. Mother showed up just as I learned I was expected to leave it for Jamey. I wasn’t falling for that one. I was wrestling with Jamey for possession of the flashlight just as she walked in the gate. My behavior, coupled with the destroyed dress, put an end to the coffee-klatch. Mother dragged me home bawling without the flashlight, my tattered dress tail dragging in the dirt, my first big social fail. She had plenty to say.
(Continuation of story of Jamey Awful’s birthday party, without a doubt, the most fun I ever had in my life. If he gave a party today, I’d be there!)
Jamey’s birthday party was incredible. There was no sappy “Pin the Tail on the Donkey”, no party hats, just fun, fun, fun. Mama Awful didn’t concern herself with us, leaving us on our own. Of course, we ran wild, ripping through mud puddles, jumping out the barn loft, and robbing chicken nests. We splatted eggs against the side of the barn and climbed into fig trees breaking off a branch or two. My sandals were long gone and the skirt of my dress ripped from the waist band. The sash ties were mud-caked. From the look on Mother’s face when she walked over to get me, I could see she was not happy, not even going in for coffee like she usually did at neighbor lady’s houses. “I ought to tear you up for running wild like that, losing your shoes and tearing up your new dress.”
“But Mama, we was just playing. We didn’t mess up nothing in the house!” I protested. I usually got in trouble for meddling with people’s whatnots when we went to visit, a terrible wrong.
“ Don’t dispute my word!” she hissed through clenched teeth. “”You’re never going over there again!” My heart fell. Surely she didn’t mean it!
I figured Mother would forget after a few days, but no……….No visits to the Awfuls. If they noticed they were being snubbed you couldn’t tell. We were always ready to play with them if they rambled through our yard on the way to bigger and better things. During this time Daddy brought home a huge, mean turkey, to fatten for Thanksgiving. He was a monster jumping, spurring, and flogging us with when we had to feed the chickens and gather eggs. He even got bolder and started flying over the fence to attack us in our own territory. We stayed as far away as we could, but he ambushed us if he caught us off guard.
My personal favorite among the Awfuls was Junior who enjoyed a special claim to fame. He ate bugs and other strange items. He ate his first bug on a dare and liked it, saying it tasted like peanuts. From that time forward, he was generally known as Bugeater. The kids in the neighborhood took pride in finding the biggest, strangest bugs for him to eat. Bugeater did have standards, refusing to eat worms.
Before too many days, we were lucky enough to have Jamey, Bugeater, and Davey pay us a call. “Where’s that bad turkey? I wanta see it.” demanded Jamey.
“He’s out in the chicken yard but you better leave him alone! He’s real mean!” I pointed out. I watched them head for the chicken yard, wanting no part of that turkey.
Sure enough, that old devil turkey flew at them, ready to do battle. They screamed and ran like crazy, but not in the cowardly way we had. “Whoo whoo! Turn turkey run!” they shrieked, chasing him all over the chicken yard, flogging him with their caps and sticks. The terrorized turkey finally escaped up into the trees and stayed there till they sauntered off.
“That ol’turkey ain’t so bad,” Jamey said as they banged the gate shut on the way out.
”Wait, where are you going? Don’t you want to play?” I liked them even better now.
”Nah, We’re going crawfishing over in Donnie Parker’s ditch.” Jamey replied, ruining my day.
That turkey’s spirit was broken. He never bothered us again. I liked those kids even better than ever after that.
I gave Mother a little time to forget before asking to go to the Awfuls. One golden day, she had a headache and wanted to rest on the sofa until her head felt better. We played quietly for a few minutes till she went to sleep. “Mother, can I go play with the Awful’s?” I whispered. She didn’t say no, so off I went.
The Awfuls had the best place in the neighborhood. Overgrown bushes tangled into the fence so the yard was a jungle, a great place for adventures. Tall grass and junk in the yard made it easy to hide. We chased the sleeping hound dogs out of the abandoned cars and played cops and robbers. We pulled broken boards off the barn for fort-building. Best of all, there was a big tree with low-hanging branches by the front door. “Look at this!” Jamey shouted. I followed the boys up the tree and through a window into the attic. From there, we dropped through a hole into the living room ceiling and sneaked behind the furniture into a back bedroom where daft, old grandma was in the bed.
“Aigheeeeeeee!” she screeched, clutching her blankets like she’d seen a ghost.
“Y’all git out’a there! Don’t git your Granny stirred up. I got a headache” yelled Mama Awful over the TV.
They showed us a secret way out through a hole in the floor of her closet. Pelting each other with dirt clods from their bare yard, I’d never felt so free.
Eventually, Mother came stomping over. “What are you doing over here? Don’t you ever go off without asking!” she said. “I’m gonna tear you up!”
“But Mama, you said I could go!” I whined. dreading a switching. “ I asked when you was layin’ on the couch.” I told her.
I could see she remembered. “You knew I was asleep. Don’t you ever pull that again.” she threatened. Sadly, that was my last visit to the Awful’s house.
Not too long afterward, the Awfuls showed up with little Becky Awful in tow. She was about three and overdue to join their traveling show. Daddy was unhappily cleaning out a clogged septic line, bailing nasty stuff into a wheelbarrow. Not in a great mood, he sent the Awfuls on their way, not noting that Becky had remained behind playing quietly off to the side. She was making mud pies with clean white sand and septic drain sludge. As soon as he saw her, he howled for Mother. “Kathleen, get this kid out of here! She’s playing in this excrement(paraphrased) and nasty as a pig! Do I have to do everything?”
“Bill, I didn’t know she was out there.” Mother washed Becky a little under the hose and led her home. Becky was so filthy and smelly it would probably have been easier to get another little girl than to try to clean her up. As it turned out, that wasn’t a problem. Becky showed up two days later in the same malodorous outfit.
Since we couldn’t visit the Awfuls anymore, we had to make do with whatever crumbs of joy they tossed our way. My parents had their noses out of joint because Mr. Awful had shut his pigs up in a small lot between our house and theirs. Not surprisingly, it really, really stunk. Mother had us helping her hang laundry on the line when we heard a huge ruckus next door. It seems Mr. Awful had noticed Jamey’s missing birthday shoes. “You boys get out there and find them shoes or I’m gonna tear you up. We ain’t got money to waste on shoes.” he roared. I could have told him where one of them was, but Mother shushed me up. The boys made for the pigpen, wading around, looking in the muddy black hog-wallows seeking the lost shoes. Of course, it wasn’t long before Bugeater slipped and fell, then Davey, then Jamey. They forgot about the shoes and were streaking through the pig mud. Mud showered everywhere. The beleaguered pigs cowered in the corners, trying to save their bacon. Eventually, Mr. Awful came out in the yard to check the progress of the shoe search. Finding them in the pigpen meant big trouble. He pulled a spring of grass and threatened to switch them if they didn’t find the shoes.
“No don’t whoop me,” whined Jamey. Then the other boys chimed in.
“He backed down. “ Well, I won’t whoop you, but you gonna have to git a bath before bedtime.
It did my heart good to see they could get in trouble. It’s hard to live next door to kids with a perfect life.
I entered the Land of Enchantment when I passed through that gate.Shrubs had entangled and obliterated the tangled yard fence.An amazement of possibilities greeted me.Hounds and a few chickens lounged on the drooping porch.A long-abandoned truck rested on blocks.Old tires, stacks of lumber, pots and pans, and broken toys littered the dirt yard.The hounds had dug dozens of holes, which the kids had expanded.A few wild children were whooping with joy, slinging missiles of Chinaberries at each other.I never wanted to leave.Mrs. Awful disappeared into the house while we set about entertaining ourselves, a perfect system.
At four, I was not concerned about social order, so I made my way to the doorless truck, shoving a hound off the battered seat so I could drive, my first opportunity to get behind a wheel.I stood behind that wheel, turning it madly, till I was shoved over by a late-comer.I wasn’t particularly disturbed, I knew bigger kids got the first crack at stuff, so I didn’t waste time whining, just kept shoving till they moved on.I did hurl a broken toy car as they ambled off, but they didn’t bother to come back after me.
All around me, unsupervised kids were running wild, screaming, shoving, running over smaller kids, and just having a wonderful time in general.Fortunately, there was a wide age-range of kids, so I was able to get in on the fun.Eventually, Mrs. Awful made it out with birthday cake, serving it up to us on napkins.She didn’t linger long, quickly returning to her soap opera.We heard the organ music pouring out the window.For some reason, she left her toddler, Becky, among us as she returned to her soaps.
Unlike a couple of the little girls, I had no interest in playing Mama, particularly since Becky’s diaper appeared fully loaded.I had a baby brother and grasped the significance of that drooping diaper.Within minutes, Becky’s secret was out.Kids ran screaming as she approached, like she was “It” in a mad game of chase.Several tumbles in the dirt did little to clean her up.Even though she was a baby, Becky understood and protested the shunning.She stood bravely squalling in the midst of the melee.Even that didn’t bring her mother to the rescue.Jamey took mercy and turned the water hose on her, hoping to sanitize her and make her more socially acceptable as he stripped her of her diaper.To the universal delight of the party-goers, his enterprising brother grabbed the hose sprayed the general crowd, including dogs and chickens.Should you ever want to plan a good party, be sure to put a water hose first on your list?We joyously ripped through the spray, fighting for control of the hose.Our game was cut short by Mrs. Awful hurling curses at us.If only we had not sprayed water on the television through the open window, our fun could have lasted longer.She scooped naked Becky up and exiled us to the barnyard.Fortunately, the barnyard was promising.
I had only been out of the bathtub about 10 minutes when this picture was made. After that birthday party, this dress was never the same. I never saw that little purse again.I first became aware of the Awfuls on the occasion of Jamey Awful’s fifth birthday.I was probably about four and totally ignorant of what birthday parties entailed.I only knew that Mother ruined a perfectly good day by calling me away from my sand pile to take a bath in the middle of the day, an unheard of event.I was disturbed especially since she insisted on washing the sand out of my hair.I’d just spent a good portion of the morning pouring sand on the top of my head, enjoying its powdery coolness showering down on my shoulders and the back of my sundress and saw no reason for her outraged reaction.“I told you not to get dirty.We have to go somewhere today.”
As far as I was concerned, sand was clean.Mud was dirty.Axle grease was dirty.Chicken poop was dirty.Sand was white and dusted right off.It was not dirty.At any rate, Mother filled the tub with water and sprinkled in a tub with Tide Powder and plunged me in.That was what passed for bubble bath at our house.I would have been content to spend the afternoon there, but she washed my hair and hurried me out, ruining another good time.Then she brushed my stick straight hair and stuffed me in a fluffy petticoat, a white fluffy dress with red and blue polka-dots, white socks, and sandals.Worse yet, I had to submit to a photo session.Mother was a novice with a camera making me pose forever, staring into the sun.She’d gone to a great deal of fuss making matching dresses for me and Phyllis for Easter and was extremely proud of the effect.Too bad the confection was wasted on me.When she’d said Easter outfit, I’d envisioned a cowboy getup.
Then she walked us over to the Awful’s house.I doubt Mother knew Mrs. Awful, since we’d never been to her house for coffee, even though they only lived a couple of houses over.I guess the poor woman was scraping the bottom of the barrel to find enough kids for a party, since I was a year younger and Phyllis was a couple of years older and neither had ever laid eyes on Jamey.
Mrs. Awful met us at the back gate.There were a dozen or so kids running round in the yard, so once Mother made Mrs. Awful’s acquaintance, she headed home, promising to be back for us in a couple of hours.Mrs. Awful ushered us in the back gate and the fun began.I was in Heaven!
Connie and Marilyn were adorable little girls, born a little over a year apart. Born fouth and fifth of five children, we all doted on them, with the exception of my brother Billy, who was displaced by all that cuteness. Mother dressed them in pastel shades of the same style dresses as much as she could. Connie was fair and blue-eyed with cotton white hair; Marilyn olive-skinned, brown-eyed with darker hair. Naturally, they were inseparable. Connie, the older, was protective of Marilyn and invariably gave over to her, calling her “Myrnie.”
As Mother rocked Connie, it was obvious the sweet toddler was deep in thought. After a bit, Connie asked, “Mommy did God give me to you and Daddy?”
“Yes,” Mother answered.
Connie thought, “Did God give Myrnie to you and Daddy?”
“Yes.”
“Why, God didn’t want no kids.?” Connie puzzled.
Like most large families, we all had responsibility. Phyllis and I helped to care of the little ones. I was very scatterbrained, so whichever one Phyllis took care of got a better deal than my charge. When they were three and four, both were invited to a birthday party one Saturday afternoon. Phyllis and I dressed them in their little party dresses. Both were ready with one small exception. I left Marilyn’s little ruffled panties in the dryer till the last second. As they sat in a chair to stay clean, Mother came through and was delighted at the sight of her precious little girls. She took their little hands and led them to the car. Mother was running behind and hadn’t really had time to dress up for the party, so she just sent the girls in and went back home to fix herself up to socialize with the ladies when she got back.
On her return, as she pulled into the drive, the little party-goers were all gathered around the front steps. Marilyn was on the top step with all the children yelling for her to jump. As Mother watched from the car, Marilyn’s little party dress fluttered, the kids cheered. Mother was concerned, not remembering Marilyn having panties that odd nude color. Mother skipped coffee rushing the little girls to the car. She anxiously ran her hand up Marilyn’s leg. Just as she’d feared, Marilyn didn’t have any nude-colored panties. The ruffled panties matching her dress still waited in the dryer at home.
Mother was livid when she stormed home with Marilyn and her bare bottom. You’d think Marilyn was the first girl who ever went to a party without panties. She assumed I was at fault and not ready to hear any excuses. As Mother said her piece, it finally struck her as funny. The more we talked, the funnier it got. When the hysteria crescendoed the preacher dropped by. Naturally, he was worried to find us all with h tears streaming down or faces. Phyllis and I abandoned Mother to make her explanations.
This wasn’t my first or last mess up. I never knew why Mother considered me capable.
Reposting an older story to introduce part II. I loved playing with these kids. Illustrations by Kathleen Swain.
Water play at the Party
Freedom at the Awful’s
The Awfuls were awesome. Even though their name was Alston, the neighborhood mothers thought Awful was a better fit. We all envied them as they roamed the neighborhood with a freedom we only imagined. They weren’t mean; Continue reading →
(Continuation of story of Jamey Awful’s birthday party, without a doubt, the most fun I ever had in my life. If he gave a party today, I’d be there!)
Jamey’s birthday party was the most fun I’ve ever had. There had been no “Pin the Tail on the Donkey”, no party hats, just fun, fun, fun. When my mother walked over to get me, I could tell she was not happy. She didn’t even go in for coffee like she always did at neighbor lady’s houses. Boy was I in trouble with my ruined party dress, lost shoes, and muddy self. She said I could never go to the Awfuls again.
I figured Mother would forget after a few days, but no……….No visits to Continue reading →
I entered the Land of Enchantment when I passed through that gate.
Nutsrok 