memoir

Puke

As I walked in my first grade classroom in December 1956,  I  wondered what all the excitement in the back of the room was about. The kids were buzzing around a mushy, malodorous pile of paper towels on the floor.  “What happened?

“Belinda puked!”  Jody giggled and pointed.

“What’s puke?”  I was glad someone else asked because I didn’t know either. It sounded like a bad word and Mother had so far prevented me from hearing as many bad words as I would have liked..  Jamey Alston picked up the corner of the towel and revealing a puddle of puke, educating me and several others.  Nancy Pearson walked in just in time to puke when she saw it.

Everyone but Belinda and Nancy thought it was hilarious.  The teacher shooed us out so the janitor could clean it up before someone else wanted to know what puke was.  What a great day!  I learned a very useful word and the class got an extra recess.  I also learned I didn’t want to be a janitor, my first taste of career conseling.

Most days at school were all right.  I loved recess and lunch, but they didn’t last long enough.  Sometimes the classes got boring and I daydreamed.  Miss Angie said I was a scatterbrain, meaning that I didn’t pay attention, drew pictures in class, lost my homework, and chattered to my friends. She even said I could make straight A’s if I only tried. I was so pleased since it was certainly all true! I thought scatterbrained was good till she sent a note home.  Daddy and Mother didn’t agree that scatterbrained sounded good and explained it in a way I couldn’t confuse!

Trouble always seemed to be looking for me.  How was I supposed to know what I wasn’t supposed to say in class?  My teacher, Miss Angie’s face got red when I told her, “My mother said she wouldn’t take her dog to see Dr. Lewis!”

Putting her hand on her hip and snapped at me, “I’ll have you know my daddy is a very good doctor!”  Then she made me stand at the blackboard with my nose in a chalk ring.  I got in trouble again when I got home and told Mother how mean Miss Angie was to me.  After that, Mother called one of the other mothers and told her she wouldn’t be able to help with the class Christmas party the next day because the baby was sick.  The baby didn’t look sick to me, but it seemed like a good time to practice to keep my mouth shut.

Kathleen Carries On  Part 5 or Kathleen Tries to Takeover Windsor Castle

Kathleen surprised
Kathleen, Surprised

Windsor Castle Attempted Takeover

It’s not likely you heard this on the news, but I suspect my mother, Kathleen tried to stage a takeover of Windsor Castle about twenty years ago when she was merely seventy-five or so. You see, Kathleen has been jealous of Queen Elizabeth ever since she knew there was such a person as Queen Elizabeth. She was only a year younger and probably a much more deserving person of all that went along with being a princess. For instance, in her pictures, Princess Elizabeth always had curly hair. Kathleen’s hair was, blonde, straight, and fine. Worse yet, Kathleen’s father kept her hair in a bowl cut. She felt sure the king didn’t perch Princess Elizabeth on a stool in the kitchen and lop her hair off. Besides, if it was naturally curly, that was even more unfair, Princess Elizabeth’s family had plenty of money to get her a perm. Kathleen was poor with straight hair.

The magazines were full of photos with Princess Elizabeth going here and there in sumptuous clothes. What had she done to deserve all that fuss? Kathleen worked hard in school, behaved in church, and helped her parents in the house and garden. She was much more deserving. The princess probably did nothing all day except play with snooty kids, go to tea parties, and sit on a cushion in her crown. It just wasn’t right.

Worse yet, when she got married and had children people went crazy for her. Kathleen had five children and had to manage on her own no matter how hard things got.

Considering all this, I believe when Kathleen got to Windsor Castle , she tried to stage a coup. The story I heard was, “We were the last group of the day. I didn’t want to miss a thing, so I put off going to the bathroom as long as I could. I darted in the bathroom for just a minute, and when I came out everybody was gone. I had to look around and find a guard to let me out. It took a while.” I don’t doubt the part about ducking in the bathroom. Mother knows everything bathroom between her own and Timbuktu. The part I don’t believe is the “just a minute” part. We’ve timed Mother. Her shortest bathroom visit is thirteen minutes. I don’t know what she does.

Meanwhile, her tour group was waiting outside, twiddling their thumbs and questioning where she could be. They would have probably left her had my sister not been with them.

I fully believe had that nosy guard not interfered, Mother would have perched herself on the throne.

I Love Mr. Henry

 

loveMr. Henry was the one admitted as a patient, but the nurses took care of Miss Alice, too.  Mr. Henry had to have been in his late forties when he married simple-minded little Miss Alice, a girl of fourteen.  Nowadays, that would have been a case for the courts, but when it happened back in the sixties, there was no one to speak for Miss Alice.  They’d been married more than thirty years when I knew them and appeared to dote on each other.  Miss Alice never voluntarily left his side, except to go down to the courtyard to bum cigarettes from patients and staff smoking in the long ago days when hospitals had smoking areas.  Sometimes she even talked folks out of a little money.  After a successful run, she’d bring a couple back up to him to smoke in the room.  Miss Alice ended almost every conversation with, “I love Mr. Henry

Knowing Miss Alice didn’t have money to eat in the cafeteria, the staff always slipped her the “extra tray.”  She also knew her way around the kitchen and dipped into the popsicles, ice cream, juice, and milk for herself and Mr. Henry.  Over the three or four years I cared for Mr. Henry, I saw him get sicker and sicker.  Though he loved Miss Alice, he was a horny old-goat.  Staff had to dance to keep from being patted and pinched, but he was savvy enough not to do it in front of Miss Alice.  She told us she’d whipped a couple of women over Mr. Henry.  I, for one, didn’t want to get patted and “whipped.”  One day, he had a seizure.  We initiated resuscitation and worked to get him back.  The first sign of success was when he squeezed a nurse’s breast while she was trying to get his blood pressure.  We felt pretty sure he was back to normal, then.

Even though he was an unapologetic, old lecher, we were fond of Mr. Henry, probably because we loved Miss Alice. One day, I heard Mr. Henry had died. I’ve wondered so many times how Miss Alice fared after his death.

She loved Mr. Henry.

 

Favorite Food

Crisp, golden brown, fried chicken! There was nothing so delicious as Mother’s fried chicken. Fortunately for her family, Mother loved chicken and the price was right. Sometimes she could get it for Twenty-five cents a pound, so we got lots of fried chicken. Paired with mashed potatoes , gravy, and biscuits, it was a mouth watering meal. With five kids around the table, that chicken disappeared in a heartbeat. The added treat was the scrambles left on the platter. Thanks Mother!

Bumps in the Road Part 7

Roscoe married Lizzie Perkins from a prominent family in Virginia. She had obtained a teacher’s certificate and was hired at a school. Sadly, her father, a schoolboard member, interfered, put a stop to that. He didn’t want the neighbors to think he couldn’t support his daughter. At twenty-two, she married Roscoe and moved to Texas. He was an excellent farmer. Though many went hungry during The Great Depression, his family never went hungry. Fortunately, they lived in East Texas, not The Dustbowl. He and Lizzie never owned a farm, just rented.

Kathleen was born into a quiet, well-respected family. Roscoe Holdaway was one of twelve children born to John Holdaway and Elvira Perkins Holdaway. John was a Texas Ranger who was conscripted, along with his entire company, into the Confederate Army.

Kathleen was the third of their children, born to them late in life, sheltered but not spoiled, an excellent student and a regular at church. After completing the ten grades at Cuthand School, her parents rented a house in Clarksville, Texas so Kathleen could graduate. She lived with her sister Annie who had just been discharged from Women’s Army Corp her senior year. Annie worked at the phone company. The girls boarded at the local hotel. It was the best time of Kathleen’s life. While attending high school, she worked at a nearby cafe for two dollars and a meal every shift.

Kathleen Carries On Part 4 or Locked in a Museum Garden

Kathleen , Surprised

Mother was showing her septuagenarian visitors around town when they made a late afternoon stop at the museum garden. One of her visitors had a bad foot and was on a cane, so she thought a gentle stroll would be just what they needed while they killed time waiting to go to Cracker Barrel, the designated old folks watering hole.

Mother led them from one unique corner in the garden after another. She is an enthusiastic host, if nothing else. Eventually, Cracker Barrel’s siren song wooed them. They made for the tall wrought-iron gates, only to find them locked. They’d overstayed visitor’s hours and were incarcerated.

There was nothing to do but call 911. The ladder truck showed up to hoist the seventy-somethings over the fence. It took some maneuvering but the firemen eventually even liberated the lady with the cane and the bum foot. A good time was had by all! The firemen had a good laugh at their expense. They’d certainly worked up a good appetite by the time they finally got to Cracker Barrel.

Dreaming

I dreamed about Aunt Ola Bea again last night.

Aunt Ola Bea, the woman holding the baby. I am the messy girl standing next to her.

I dream about her at least once a month, particularly if I am stressed. She was my dad’s youngest sister. We saw his family a lot. He was the fourth of seven fertile children resulting in a mob of forty wild grandchildren for my poor beleaguered Grandma Mettie who most often had to live with one of her children. She greeted us warily but was clearly relieved when we rushed away to play with the cousins. She must have had PTSD from rotating between their parents. Once in a while she’d somehow save up enough to rent a duplex from her friend, Mrs. Reavis, but soon enough someone would have a domestic situation and need her help with rent. Perhaps she’d not be able to make her rent and move back in with one of her kids. Amazingly, they competed for her.

At any rate, the family got together as much as possible on weekends and holidays, as often as not, at Aunt Ola Bea’s, Mawmaw’s youngest daughter and favorite. Aunt Ola Bea was irritable and overworked, likely because she had six children in ten years. Their family always had a baby and a little baby. The baby was usually handed off Sissy, the eldest girl, probably close to four when she was handed her first charge. I remember her balancing a chubby knee baby on her tiny hip who probably weighed nearly as much as she did while Aunt Ola Bea smoked and nursed the squalling, new baby. One time, she was horrified to drop ashes on the bald head of the new baby. I think she quit smoking while nursing after that. Every year or so, a new, new baby came along, and the old new baby became Sissy’s charge and the big baby was promoted to droopy-diapered toddler, to follow Sissy around.

Aunt Ola Bea barked sharply at her kids when they got out of line. Some of the wild ones got a lot of barking. Though she never cut loose on me, I feared I would be reamed out next. Though I steered clear as much as I could, I was delighted if she spoke kindly to me in a quiet moment. I really wanted her to like me. I think that’s why I dream of her in times of stress. I fear the worst and hope for the best.

Mawmaw. I never saw her look this lighthearted

Kathleen Carries On Part 3 or The Wedding Crasher

One beautiful June afternoon, Mother found herself at loose ends. A bit miffed that everyone else had plans that didn’t include her she decided to take the high road and visit The American Rose Center. She strolled around for a while, thinking how cute she must look in her floppy garden hat with its silk roses, neat denim shorts and socks dyed to match her shirt.  She thought she must be about the cutest thing  around with no one there to see her.

Happily, she noticed a quaint little chapel with welcoming doors thrown wide open.  Lush roses bloomed on either side of the doors.  “Oh ! They’re having some kind of program.  How nice.”. She took a seat on the left front pew, hoping there would be good music.  After a while, the speaker wandered to the front.  In rapid succession, Well-dressed people started taking their seats.  As proud as she’d been of her outfit earlier, she started to feel a bit underdressed in her shorts and sneakers.  It finally occurred to her when the mother of the bride was escorted down the aisle by an usher.  The lady gave Mother a hard look as she was seated behind the interloper.  Mother scurried toward the back of the chapel as the organist began the Wedding March.  She tried to be invisible in the corner till the bridal party took their places at the altar

Mother said they were the most unfriendly family she’d ever seen!

Johnny

Johnny was my first crush in first grade. I wanted to play with him but he preferred Nona, his neighbor. I couldn’t blame him. She wore cowboy boots, flannel shirts, and brown corduroy pants. Not only that, she could spit through the gap between her front teeth and was the fastest runner in the first grade. She also had beautiful thick-lensed eyeglasses with red plaid frames. I might have had a chance with Johnny if I hadn’t told the teacher he stole my milk nickel. He hadn’t. The teacher made me clean out my desk. There it was plain as day, just under my rough paper tablet.

I never stood a chance after that.