love

Finish the Story #3

Becca and Joey had been high school sweethearts. They’d been married four rough years. Joey had finally gotten a good job with benefits. Becca was three months pregnant and finally capable of giving up babysitting the neighbor kids. One awful morning, little Joey woke up with a fever of one hundred two degrees. She hurried him in to the doctor. Within an hour, she got the worst news of her life. He had leukemia. He was going to St. Jude’s for treatment immediately. Once he was in remission, it was likely to need a bone marrow transfusion.terrified

Becca was devastated as she waited for Joey. She was terrified for two reasons. First of all, her baby was sick. She might lose him. The second was, Joey might not be Little Joey’s father. She’d turned to his buddy, David, for comfort after Joey cheated on her with her friend Cara. Three weeks later, suspecting she was pregnant, she forgave Joey and they’d reconciled. They’d married three weeks after graduating from high school.

A Glimpse into Historical Language: Dialect Words Explained

When I was a kid I was fascinated by the dialect of those of my grandparent’s generation. I am referring to family members born between 1884 and 1887. Their language was unique and intriguing. Manners were much stricter then and children were forbidden to interrupt. I learned to listen very carefully and inferred meanings from their use in context. Should I not be able to interpret, save the word until I could ask my parents. Language was intoxicating. I’ll share some from my collection below, used in context, the way I learned them.

Airy: “Airy(any)one of them tablecloths will be fine.”

Nairy: “Nairy(neither) one of them is worth the powder it would take to blow them away.”

Na’arn: Ain’t na’arn(none)of them gals acting right.”

Et: “I et(ate) all I could hold.”

Het: “She got mighty het up(angry) when her man run off!”

Heared: I just couldn’t believe it when I heared(heard) it!“

Holp: Holp(help) me with

Holpt: He holpt(helped) us quite a bit.”

Fur piece: It’s a fur piece(quite a distance) over there.”

Tolerable: I’m feeling tolerable.” (not well, but better)

Fitten: That slop ain’t fitten(good enough) for the dogs.”

Thanks for: Thanks for(please pass)the beans.”

Cyarn: That place smells like cyarn.” (Carrion)

Pert’near: He ought to know better than that! He’s pert’near (pretty near) grown!”

Young’uns: They got all them young’uns(children) to feed.”

Chillun: All their chillun(children) eats dirt.”

Farred up: Too late for talking. He’s all farred upready to fight.”

Passel: “Oh, they got a passel(a lot) of hounds under their porch.”

Lou and Lynn Part 1 Memorable Moments: Riding Bikes with Grandma

Grandma was old and slow but could be cool sometimes. She was funny, always ready to play with Lou. Best of all, when Lou they got to spend the night together, Grandma told her stories. Not the “once upon a time kind” but stories about when Grandma was a kid. She must have been a cool kid from the tales she told. The stories went on until Lou went to sleep.


Grandma was horrible at video games, so one day they decided to find something else to do.
Once they got outside, Grandma was worried about riding a scooter. She poked along on an old bicycle, wobbling every time she hit a little bump. “Whoa! Don’t go off and leave me!” It was hard to ride that slowly. Lou rode in circles so Grandma could keep up.

They didn’t get too far before Grandma needed a break. It must be exhausting being that old. Lou was dizzy from the circling anyway. As they parked under a tree and dug into their snack bags, a bolt of lightning split the sky, Thunder crashed all around them. Soon, it was raining so hard they couldn’t see as far as the road. Lou wished she was safe at home with her parents.

Grandma was upset. “There was’t a cloud in the sky when we left! How did this pop up?”

”What are we gonna do? Lou asked. “I’m scared!”

”I don’t like it either” Grandma said. Just then, another ear-splitting crash of thunder rattled the sky.

The next thing Lou knew, she was picking herself up off the ground, surrounded by fallen pears. Grandma must have been scared and run off. Lou was surprised. She didn’t think Grandma could get out of sight that fast, The sun came out. As Lou looked around, a girl fell out of the tree, almost on top of her. She dusted off her shorts and picked up a couple of pears. “Wow! You have a bike. I wish I had a bike! Do you want a pear?”
Lou had never had a pear straight from a tree, nor even seen a pear tree.

“Nah! I’ve got a juice box and some grapes in my backpack.” When Lou looked around, neither her backpack nor Grandma was anywhere in sight.

”Where am I? Where’s my grandma? She was just here.” Lou was confused.

”You’re on my family’s farm and I never saw your Grandma. We’ll look around for her. What’s your name? I’m Lynn. Come on!”

“I’m Lou and I have to find Grandma I don’t remember being this far from town. There’s not even a real road here.” Lou kicked a rock out of the dirt road.

“Come on, Lou. It looks like a break in the rain! Let’s get in the barn before we get soaked!” Lynn took off running, her ponytail bouncing. Her bare feet kicked up a dust. How in the world could she run like than on rocks?

Rain pelted the girls as they dashed in the huge barn doors. As Lou’s eyes got used to the shadows, she saw dust dancing in the sunbeams in through the big open doors. The strange smell made her sneeze. Huge stacks of hay were stacked high up the barn walls, reaching all the way to the ceiling. A few big dog flop-eared dogs burst through the open doors, barking like the they were having a contest. Jumping up on the stairs steps of hay, they rolled around drying themselves off. A big one jumped on a couple of puppies like she was going to tear them apart!

”Stop them’” Lou yelled. “That big dog is going to hurt those puppies!” Lynn didn’t act worried at all.

”Nah. That’s their mama. She’s just teaching them some manners. Here puppies.” At that, the puppies bounced down like rubber balls, licking Lynn for all they were worth. “These silly guys always think I need a bath.”

By now, the rain was pounding the roof so hard Lou had to shout to make herself heard. “Is this a tornado?”

Lynn laughed.”No. It’s fine. Haven’t you ever heard rain on a tin roof?

To be continued

Cat Tales

We’ve had a few pets over the years, cats, dogs, birds, and one rat. It’s a good deal being our pet. Once residence is established, all their worries are over. They’re set for life.

We don’t have a cat now but we’ve had many, usually a ginger male. They always start out with a real name like Tom or Kitty Boy that disintegrates into Fat Yellow by the time they get grown. Our cat memories have all run together. We did have one cat who had the peculiar habit of hitching rides.

That’s probably how we happened on him in the first place. The kids and I stopped at a local country store and a sweet ginger cat climbed on top of a tire and tried to work his way under the hood. John grabbed him while I went in the store to report to the owner that we saved her cat.

“He’s not my cat.” She said. “He’s been hanging around yowling for a couple of days. I don’t know where he came from. Do you want him?”

Naturally, we did. He fit right in. He enjoyed the best of both words. He was an indoor/outdoor cat, clearly accustomed to taking care of himself. He had excellent manners, never making a mess. He liked to stay indoors in stormy or cold weather but spent a lot of time outdoors in summer. He frequently brought us gifts of dead mice and moles. We did have to watch him around visitor’s cars or he’d try to hitch a ride.

Once, John went to visit a friend several miles away. Fat Yellow had secreted himself in John’s car and beat him to the friend’s front door. One evening, after a twelve hour day at the hospital, I got to my car only to find Fat Yellow pacing around my front tire like he was irritated at my being so late. He had a grease mark down his side, so I’m sure he’d hitched a ride under the hood.

One day he abruptly disappeared. Though we asked everyone who’d visited, no one had seen him. He must have gone looking for a new home.

“Spontaneous Combustion” or “Because I Love You”

Pop..pop..pop..pop..pop..pop..pop…the percussion of Daddy’s belt flying out of his belt loops would have brought me out of a coma. Of his various approaches to discipline, “Spontaneous Combustion” was my specialty and the one I experienced most, being both clumsy and a smart mouth.

Things could be rocking along just fine till someone – usually me – broke a dish, made a smart remark, or embarrassed Daddy.   Though I never set out to be “smart-alecky”, I could always count on my big mouth.  What I thought was funny, didn’t always amuse him. I carefully memorized jokes, even if they were way over my head, to tell at just the right moment. My judgment of the right moment was poor, such as when we had the preacher’s family over to Sunday dinner and I told loudly a joke I’d overheard on the school bus.

I hadn’t understood it, but from the reaction of the kids on the bus, it was clearly hilarious. “What day is Queersday?” A word of explanation here. We were strict Southern Baptists. I was nine years old with absolutely no understanding of sex , heterosexual, homosexual, or otherwise.  I had never heard the word “queer” used except in the context of “unusual.” I was surprised the kids found the joke so funny, but made a point to remember it, nonetheless. There was no question of political correctness on my part. I was totally ignorant.

Patiently, the preacher asked, “I don’t know, Honey?  What is Queersday?”

I spouted back.“Only queers ask that!” and collapsed into laughter, noticing only too late, I was the only one laughing. Daddy took me by the arm, escorted me to the back yard and Pop..pop…well, you can guess the rest.

A major argument for “Spontaneous Combustion” was that even though it was swift and terrible, it didn’t involve a wait and didn’t include a lecture, both of which Daddy used to great advantage.

Misbehavior committed during regular times called for different discipline. A lecture preceded the “whipping.” I only wish that I had grown up in more enlightened times when “whipping” was abuse, but unfortunately in the fifties, it was common. The lecture started out with a full explanation of what a horrible thing I had just done, showing where I was pointed in the future should I not be whipped that day. He droned on forever, mentioning at some point that rich people didn’t take time to correct their kids, just bought them lots of stuff ,that sounded good to me, and concluding with, “I’m giving you this whipping because I love you.” I often wanted to voice, it was okay if he loved me a little less, but never did, considering he was holding a big belt the whole time.” Eventually the lecture was over and the main event began.

“Spontaneous combustion” was not Daddy’s exclusive domain. Mother could be prompted into action, but it took a little doing. She was a diminutive little woman with a high, squeaky voice but when she did cut loose, I felt ridiculous getting swatted by Minnie Mouse. One day the Standard Coffee Man came to call. In the fifties, the Standard Coffee Man made regular rounds calling on housewives. Mother routinely bought three pounds of medium roast delivered fresh in its round, white canister with gold stars. I always coveted those canisters, but she selfishly kept them for herself, storing other goods like flour, sugar, meal, and beans in them. Since we were a one-car family, and Mother rarely kept the car, any variation in the daily routine was a welcome event. While Mother went to fetch her purse and pay the coffee-man, I perched my smarty little self on the couch right next to our guest. Always friendly and chatty, I confided that Tommy Lindsey had told me a joke, and yes, Mr. Coffee Man did want to hear it.

“How did the little moron die?”  The coffee-man had no idea. “He was smoking on the roof and threw the wrong butt off!” It was the funniest thing I’d ever heard, and the Coffee-Man laughed, too. He was still laughing when Mother walked back in with his money. Mother snatched me off the couch, spatted my bottom, and sent me to my room. I never even got to say, “Goodbye” to my new best friend. The spat didn’t hurt, but I was embarrassed to have gotten a swat in front of company.

You don’t hit out of love. You hit because you can!

All Smiles

Mother recently moved The Bloom in Bossier City, Louisiana, in an independent living apartment. She struggled at leaving her home of more than forty years but is now ecstatic about her new life. She’s made so many new friends and gotten her walking habit back. She’s enjoying attending church again since she hasn’t attended regularly since she stopped driving. Her new apartment is centrally located between her children, so almost every day one or two drop by. We can enjoy a meal with her any time for a minimal price. I haven’t seen her without her beautiful smile since she moved in. We are all so happy she’s happy at her lovely new home!

Mama, the Twins and Aunt Suzi

My friend Ellen planned to adopt her sister’s Suzi’s newborn due about the same time as her own. Ellen was Suzi’s birth coach and put the newborn baby girl to her own breast at its birth, taking it home with her the next day.  Suzi went back to college, missing only one day of class.

A couple of days later, Ellen sat in the obstetrician’s office, hugely pregnant, nursing her newborn baby girl amidst a bevy of confused pregnant women in the waiting room.  The next day, she gave birth to a baby girl.

The girls considered themselves twins, calling Ellen, Mama, and cherishing Suzi as their favorite aunt. It was a happy solution to a challenging situation.

Most Expensive Meal

What’s the most money you’ve ever spent on a meal? Was it worth it?

The most we ever spent on a meal was fifty dollars a person for my dear daughter-in-law’s birthday. She wanted an evening out with us and another couple she loved. The food was good and the company was wonderful. I loved that she wanted to share her birthday with us. We are so lucky she loves us.

Ader’s Place Part 6

Mettie was abandoned by her mother, Cynthia, as an infant, leaving her with her own mother.  Though divorce was almost unheard of at that time, Cynthia was twice-divorced. Her father went on to remarry and took no responsibility for her.  He only visited her once, when she was the widowed mother of seven. Late one night, Mawmaw told this tale of her early years, the only time I ever heard this.

“I jist turned nine years old, ‘bout the age you are now. Me and Ma had picked some beans in the cool a’the mornin’ an’ I was a’helpin’ ‘er git ‘em ready fer canning. Ma set down in her rocker to rest jist a minute an’ I was a’playin’ with my kitten. I was glad she was a’sleepin’ a while since I didn’ want’a mess with them beans no how. After a spell, I saw Ma’s head was kinda hung to one side an’ spit was a’runnin’ out’a her mouth kinda foamy. She wouldn’ wake up. I got up to run over to git Miz Jone’s an’ seen there was a fire between our place an’ hearn. There warn’t nothin’ to do but run through it the best I could. Them flames was a’lickin’ at my feet an’ I was jist a’cryin’. I got Miz Jones, but it ain’t made no difference. When they got over to see ‘bout Ma, she was dead. They sent for Uncle Jeb to git’er buried.

I had to go to Uncle Jeb’s, then. He was awful good to me, but Aunt Lottie was jist hard down. She whooped on me ever chancet she got, an’ they was plenty. She made shore I ain’t done no sittin’ aroun’. I married soon’s I could, jist to git outta her way.

I never really had no home after Ma died.  I knowed Aunt Lottie didn’t want me around ‘lessen they was work to be done.  She’d put me out to help a woman that was having a baby, help with the canning, or help with the sick.  I never seen no pay, just worked for my keep.  Sometimes my mama would get settled and send for me, but I had to stay out of the way of her man,  so back I’d go to Uncle Jep and Aunt Lottie, till she could put me off on somebody else.  It was hard times for sure.”