Easter egg hunts with my cousins were a lot more like cage boxing than gentle competitions. 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. Continue reading
humor
Bungarendeen
When warning the children not to eat potato salad that had been sitting on the counter for a week, or the need to clean and dress a cut, generally instructing them in infection avoidance instead of going into the specifics Bud would say, for example, “Don’t eat that. You’ll get bungarendeen.” He was a nurse, after all, and didn’t know better.
My daughter was in high school; her teacher was discussing various dread bacteria. Never hearing the one she’d been waiting for, she raised her hand. “What about bungarendeen?”
She was rewarded was generalized hysteria. When the teacher quit laughing, she said. “You must be John’s sister. He asked that same question three years ago.”
Picky, Picky, Picky
About ten years after I got out of high-school, I got a call from an old friend I. Hadn’t seen since we graduated. We had a lot to catch up on. She had married her sister’s discarded boyfriend. Sally wasn’t the sharpest girl around. A couple of years after they got married, he was arrested for exposing himself to some kids on a playground. Sally was waiting for him when he got out of jail. She was sure the kids had lied on him. After all that waiting, he left her for another man. Sally thought maybe it was because she got fat while he was in jail. She kept hoping he’d come back, but he died.
A year or two later, she met a guy at a bar. They had a one-night stand. A few months later, Sally went to help her Daddy cut corn. She got dehydrated and passed out. Three days later, she woke up in the hospital and found out she’d had a baby. She hadn’t even known she was pregnant.
After that, she met a guy who was just crazy about her. He worked on a road crew for the state. She was kind of thinking about marrying him, but he his feet smelled so bad, she just didn’t know if she could stand him. What did I think she ought to do? I thought it might work if they slept with the windows open.
Never Gonna Keep Up
Repost
Having attended a tiny rural high school, fearing I could never compete with those from large urban high schools, I was sensitive about my educational shortcomings. Expecting to be labeled a bumpkin and hustled back to the farm “with my own kind,” in my mind, I had gotten to college with little to recommend me but a good vocabulary, a love of Continue reading
Must Not Have Been a Beautiful Baby
My mother’s good friend Betty brought her new baby to church for the first time. Mother rushed over to her friend, all prepared to gush over the little guy. Betty had him wrapped in a beautifully crocheted shawl. Flipping back the blanket, she revealed the homeliest, poor little guy Mother had seen in quiet a while Shocked, Mother stammered, trying to remember the compliment she’d had at the ready before seeing him. “Oh, oh! It’s a baby, isn’t it!”
Jimmy Sasses Sweet Miss Billie
Sweet Miss Billie 
This is an excerpt from my book in progress. It is a collaborative memoir of my mother’s memoirs of The Great Depression.Pictured above you can see Kathleen Holdaway, left to right from grades 1 through 5 Please don’t be too hard on Miss Billie. Corporal punishment was an accepted part of education at that time.
I adored Miss Billie, my first grade teacher. I hungered for her approval, strived for perfect work, and admired every thread she wore, her floral scent, her ladylike jewelry, and her kind, modest manner. Heaven could have granted me no greater wish than to grow up and be just like her. And above all this, Miss Billie was fair and gentle. One day after lunch Jimmy Wilson shocked us all by “sassing” Miss Billie, earning me the privilege of serving as message bearer to Mr. Kinnebrew, her husband and the principal. I proudly carried a note concealed beneath red and white checked napkin covering the lunch basket Miss Kinnebrew packed for them daily. I almost felt like a member of the family, being on such intimate terms. I knocked shyly, intimidated by the powerful man. He opened the door just a crack, took the basket, and returned it to me moments later, without a word, to my great relief. I returned the basket to Miss Billie, got her smiling nod in return, and scurried back to my seat.
She, Jimmy, and the covered basket exited the room. The entire class gave the door just time enough swing closed before rushing to claim prime viewing spots at the large crack afforded by a missing panel, the faster, more aggressive kids and the lucky ones in the back rows getting the best views. Despite our enthusiasm to see the show, we restrained ourselves sufficiently not to push the door open and fall out into the hall in harm’s way. After a quick lecture on manners and respect, Miss Billie had Jimmy bend over, grasp his knees, pulled Mr. Kinnebrew’s belt from the dainty basket, doubled it and gave him three stinging licks across his backside. As Jimmy rubbed his bottom, Miss Billie tucked the belt beneath the napkin, took Jimmy by the arm, and led him back to the classroom, just ahead of the thunderous sound of the class returning its seats, which she somehow failed to notice. No mention was made of how Mr. Kinnebrew was to keep his pants up the rest of the day, since neither the basket nor the incident was referred again, but Jimmy was respectful the rest of the year. I think he’d seen a new side of Sweet Miss Billie. It was an altogether edifying and satisfying experience for the rest of us.
It Wasn’t My Fault
My son ran in from the yard, smugly ratting his sister out. “Sister threw a rock and broke a light on the car!”
Baby Girl was right behind him, protesting her innocence. “I wasn’t trying to hit the car. I was throwing it at him.”
That Makes Me So Mad/Joke
Mary called John at work. “I’ve been trying and trying to get this danged lawnmower started, but it just won’t start.”
John: “Did you choke it?”
Mary: “No, but I wanted to!”
Smart Alec and Speechless
A few years ago, we were traveling through a country area and turned the radio to a farm program. A farmer called in to advertise peas for sale, giving his name and number. A few minutes later, someone called back asking for the name and phone number of the farmer with the peas. The DJ lit rudely into the caller, telling him he should have been ready with a pencil to write the number down as it was announced. He didn’t have time to go digging through phone numbers just because people didn’t listen.
Not surprisingly, it made the caller furious. “Well, you just go to Hell!” Click!
The DJ sputtered, “Well,….well…It takes one to know one.”
Nutsrok 