Our school was tiny. So tiny that even with two grades sharing a room and teacher, there were still usually less than fifteen students in the two grades. The good news was, if you didn’t learn everything you should have in second grade math, you got another crack at it in third grade while the new second grade covered the same material. Though each class used different books, the lessons sounded much the same. Continue reading
family
Her Facts Didn’t Run
Our school was tiny. So tiny that even with two grades sharing a room and teacher, there were still usually less than fifteen students in the two grades. The good news was, if you didn’t learn everything you should have in second grade math, you got another crack at it in third grade while the new second grade covered the same material. Though each class used different books, the lessons sounded much the same. Continue reading
Magic Circle
Shay woke early between Kay-Lonnie and Lena but their eyes were already open, waiting for her. They never wiggled till she woke, seeming to breathe the same air, thinking the same thoughts. Susie pulled the quilt over her curly head on the other side of the big bed, grumping about Shay’s cold feet. Shay, Kay-Lonnie and Lena padded barefoot to the kitchen, hugged Mama from behind and found their places at the table as Mama set out Shay’s Campbell Soup Kids’ mug of milk and Minnie Mouse Mug for Kay-Lonnie and Lena to share since they never drank much. After their toast and jam, Shay finished off the milk, helped them wipe their faces, push their chairs in place without screeching and carried their dishes to Mama at the sink. “You’re such a good girl. Oh, and Kay-Lonnie and Lena, too.” Mama smiled.
Racing to the barn, they got there just as Daddy finished milking Jessie. “Heh! Cookie! What got you out so early?” Continue reading
Remembering the Care: A Nurse’s Reflection
Dear Patient,
You probably don’t remember me,but I was your nurse. I took care of you when you had your baby, took care of your sick child, comforted you when you were in pain. I worked extra shifts on holidays and weekends because you needed me. I rejoiced when you got better. Cried with you when you needed a friend and tried to help you find the answers. I visited with yoy when no visitors came. I sang and talked to you when you seemed unresponsive because I knew you were in there. I brought Easter baskets for your children so they wouldn’t be disappointed when they came to see you on Easter. I hugged you and your family. I inderstood and didn’t get mad when you were angry or mean when you were in pain. I talked to you about things outside the hospital to give you something else to think about, trying to bring you a story that would interest you everyday, unless you just needed me to be quiet with you. I was there for your miracle and to hold your hand when you died talking to Mama. I never corrected you, knowing it was her hand you were holding. I talked about death with you if you wanted to.
Nursing was my job, but taking care of you was my privilege. Thank you for letting me be a part of your life.
Icy Showers and Rotten Sausage
Cousin Kat was tight. We always took plenty of food when we went to visit, her in her cozy Appalachian cabin, knowing how “conservative” she was. She thought three rolls, three scrambled eggs, a little jam and a dab of butter was plenty for any number of guests there might be for breakfast. “I just don’t think there’s any point in folks being hoggish,” was her favorite phrase as she set out a meal. She was a devout believer and had probably heard that story about Jesus feeding the multitudes on five loves and three fishes one too many times.
A few days before our last visit, someone had given Cousin Kat some fresh homemade sausage. She’d eaten a bit and saved some for us. That sounded fine till I opened her tiny 1940 model refrigerator to get some water. The rank smell of bad meat nearly knocked me down. “Ooh, Cousin Kat, I think something’s gone bad in here!”
“Oh, it’s not bad. It’s just that sausage Barney gave me. It’s real spicy!” She answered, totally unconcerned. “I’m gonna cook it up for supper.”
I made up my mind then and there to eat popcorn. I’ve never smelled a spice that mimicked the smell of rotting meat so closely. Mother and Phyllis both found other options. Count Kat cooked that sausage and ate up all by herself, since she was determined not to let it go to waste. It stunk the whole house up with its nauseating odor as it cooked. We all told her it smelled like it might have “gone to the bad.” She disagreed.
We planned a road trip for the four of us to go into Amish Country and packed a nice picnic …no sausage. Phyllis and Cousin Kat decided to take their showers the evening before so The four of us wouldn’t be competing in the morning. Cousin Kat told her how she could run a bit of water in the tub, sit on the edge, wash her face, ears, neck, then her body before washing the best parts and her feet. That way, she could get by with just a little of that expensive hot water. Well, I do believe I heard the shower running while Phyllis was in there, despite her lesson. Cousin Kat perked up her ears, too. When Phyllis came out, Cousin Kat said, “I hope you stopped up the tub and saved your water for me. Just one person don’t mess up bath water none.” Shamefaced, Phyllis had to admit she run it all down the drain. Cousin Kat gave her a look.
We went on to bed. I snore and talk in my sleep, so no one would bunk in with me. I am always early to bed, so I took the small bedroom. Cousin Kat gave Mother an inflatable mattress her son had left there to put on the living floor. Unfortunately, he had taken the pump home with him, so they sent a great deal of time trying to inflate it with a small hand-held hairdryer, the wrong tool for the job. Eventually, it approximated a mattress, though it flattened out the minute Mother reclined on it. They hadn’t bothered to pad the floor with quilts, so Mother was freezing the minute she lay down that frosty October evening. She got up, dragged her covers tote old-fashioned bi-fold sofa and tried to warmup. It was hard, lumpy, and had a couple of exposed springs but it was better than the icy floor.
Meanwhile, things weren’t going much better for Phyllis in the large, unheated upstairs bedroom. She’d chosen it because she liked to sleep in the cold. She’d dawdled and was the last to get to bed. I was quickly asleep though I kept up a listen for retching during the night, expecting Cousin Kat to come down with food poisoning, but the next thing I knew, Phyllis was climbing in the small creepy bed with me. “I thought you were too good to sleep with me.” I reminded her.
“I am, but when I got upstairs and switched on that dim overhead light, and everything looked fine, but when I turned back the quilts, rice scattered all over the place. I couldn’t imagine why rice would be on the bed, like that. I turned on that little flashlight Cousin Kat gave me and saw the bed and floor covered in mouse pellets. Mice were scattering everywhere. I can’t sleep up there with all those mice. She was mad! I was laughing so hard the springs were creeping. We sounded like honeymooners.
As I mentioned earlier, I don’t sleep well, I talk in my sleep. In truth, it’s much worse than that. I curse and hurl epithets, language I’d never use during waking hours. Once I drifted off, Phyllis and I rolled up in that ancient mattress like a couple of hotdogs in a bun. She swears I shoved her and screamed at her to “get the f…. Out of here. I don’t remember a thing about it!
In a huff, she got up in search of a place to sleep. Seeing that Mother had abandoned the perfectly good air mattress, she gave it a try. Of course, it put her right on the floor. Not to be defeated, she folded it in half and stretched out. That was a little better. Just as she drifted off, it gave up the ghost and blew out. Hearing all the racket, Mother and I got up to help. I invited her to share my bed, but she was mad and wouldn’t have any part of it. Mother offered to share the bi-fold sofa, but there was no way that would work. She ended up spendinding the rest of the night wrapped in a blanket trying to sleep in a not-so-easy chair.
We got up early to Have breakfast and get ready for our trip. At the kitchen table, We chatted over breakfast and sipped coffee. Mother and Phyllis lied about the extent of their miserable night. Phyllis had to come up with an excuse about abandoning the mousy attic. Cousin Kat polished off the last piece of the rancid sausage with her breakfast.
I got the first shower, keeping it short, since I remembered Cousin Kat’s lesson. It was pleasantly hot, but Mother said Cousin Kat ducked down to the basement to “get something” while I showered. Mother was next in line. When she got in, the water was nice and hot while she soaped up, but in just a minute, an icy blast hit her. Obviously, Cousin Kat’s basement errand was to cut off the water heater. The water came from a spring, so Mother’s hot shower was over. She had to wipe the soap off with a wet washcloth dipped in icy water.
She was furious when she shivered out of her shower, accusing me of using all the hot water.
“Mother, I wasn’t in there but a couple of minutes. I didn’t use that much!”
All the while, Cousin Kat sat humming contentedly, finally offering, “Oh well, that water heater’s old. I guess it just gave out.” Only the day before she’d told us that her son had just put in a new one, over her objections. “I can heat what water I need on the stove and save the heating bill.” She made no mention of turning off the water heater.
Finally, the cold, sleepy bunch was ready to start the trip.
To be continued
Cousin Kathleen and the Groundhog
This is the time of year we’d visit Cousin Kathleen, a tiny, self-sufficient, little mountain woman. The first time Bud and I went to visit at her little house clinging to the side of a mountain in Virginia’s Blue Ridge Moutains we were lingering over coffee at the breakfast table overlooking her garden when she spotted a fat groundhog eating her tomatoes. Without a word, she jumped up, grabbed a 357 pistol off the top of her refrigerator and flew out the back door firing a shot. The ground hog escaped, but she blew the tomato plant away! She was quite disappointed, since she’d been planning to eat him. Later that morning, we caught a couple of trout in Little Wilson Creek, Just down from her house. Bud usually practiced catch and release, but she was outraged at the thought. Rushing us home, by ten- thirty she had cooked and trout eaten them all herself, horrified to think they might have been wasting their afternoon back in the creek.
That afternoon, we had to go see the cemetery. Cousin Kathleen proudly confided she “ran” the cemetery. Not sure what that meant, I had to ask.
“I am in charge of the man who mows. I keep up with the money. I decide where folks get plots. I am the one to call in case of emergencies.”
I wanted to ask what kind of emergencies cemeteries might have, except for the rapture, of course, but kept my mouth shut.
One morning, Cousin Kathleen took us out to see the countryside. Deep in the hills, she had Bud whip into a drive. “I used to work with the woman who lives here. Come on. I want you to meet her.” Uncomfortable at dropping in on unknown mountaineers, we dragged a little getting out. A man in overalls sat on the porch.
“Where’s Molly? I sed to work with her.” Cousin Kathleen greeted him.
“Molly’s gone.”
Clearly anxious to see her friend, Cousin Kathleen demanded, “Gone where? When will she be back?”
“She’s dead. She ain’t gonna be back.”
“Oh well, see you later, then.” She scurried back to the car with us right her. “Well, I sure never heard she was dead!” I kind of thought she hadn’t by that time.
We went fishing that afternnoon. For dinner that night, we had fresh-caught trout, green beans and potatoes, tomatoes, and cucumbers fresh from the garden. For dessert, we had fresh rhubarb cobbler. What a wonderful dinner and day of memories!
Now and Always
Who are your current most favorite people?
First and always, , my family members are my favorite people. The longstanding relationships are imprinted on my soul. I am so grateful.
Lessons from a Large Family Gathering
We grew up in a huge extended family. My grandmother had more than forty grandchildren and many great-grandchildren. It was common for many of them to gather on holidays. When my brother was about four, one cousin in particular, Gary, was bad about hitting. Bill was not an aggressive kid and came crying to mother.
Before the next visit, in an effort to teach him to stick up for himself, Mother told Bill to hit Gary back. Bashful, Billy didn’t want to. Knowing he had to learn, Mother told Billy if he didn’t she’d spank him. He definitely didn’t want that.
The next day when the families got together, Billy chased Gary around in view of all the parents, calling out to Mother over his shoulder.. “Do you want me to hit him now, Mama? Can I hit him now?”
Hard Time Marrying Part 2
“These young’uns is got scarlet fever. You ain’t leaving ‘em for this town to deal with. Jist take ‘em on back where you come from.” The sheriff steadfastly refused responsibility for the children.
“But they ain’t mine. I don’t even know their names.”
“Ya married their ma ago ain’t cha? Then they’s yourn! I hate it for ‘ya, but I ain’t gonna letcha leave ‘em here to sicken the whole town. We’ll getcha some provisions to help out, but that’s it. Ya got to git out’a town with them sick young’uns. Pull this wagon out to that mesquite tree ‘n I’ll git ‘cha some supplies.
Morosely, Joe waited on the edge of the sorry town as a wagon pulled up. Shouting at him to stay back, a gimpy old geezer rolled off a barrel of flour, putting a burlap bag of beans beside it, and piling a few cans of milk, a bolt of material, and a few paper wrapped parcels on top of it. He went on his way, leaving Joe to wrestle them into the wagon the best he could, stowing them so they wouldn’t crush the burning children.
Joe felt as low as he’d ever had, pulling up to his rough cabin. He knew nothing about children or the sick. Maybe these poor wretches wouldn’t suffer too long.
Nutsrok 