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Just Folks Getting By Part 16

Lucille took her calendar out of her pocketbook to see if she needed to get her light bill and burial insurance premiums off in the mail.  “Well, I say, Jenny.  The twenty-ninth will be your daddy’s birthday.  He’d a been seventy-four if he’d a lived!  I guess that’s the good thing about dying young.  You don’t never git old.  In my mind, he’s still twenty-one and here I am sixty-eight.  He wouldn’t have no use for an old granny my age.  That just made me remember a dream I had a dream about me and your daddy last night.  I was the way I am now, gray hair, sore knees, and hobblin’ around my arthritis is acting up.  Any, I was somewhere that kind’a looked like a park, just a wooded area with a grassy patch and a rail fence along side a row of pine trees. The wind was a’blowin’ the pines like they was singing. The grass was just as green as it could be……looked so soft and cool, it seemed like it would a’felt good to rolled in it.  There was a rocky stream between me and your daddy.  He was a’sittin’ up on the top rail of that high fence, just as unconcerned as he could be, just the way he’d a’done when he was a young man.  He saw me and was just a’wavin’ at me to come on over, a’smiling like I was the purtiest thing he ever seen….like I was a young woman.

I knew I had to git over to him, but the path down to that stream was sloped and kind’a rocky, a challenge if you’re not nimble as a goat.   I started over his way, and didn’t have no trouble at all, though I was trying not to slip.   Once I waded that stream, I just run like a girl and jumped up on that fence with him, without thinkin’ twice.  I looked down and saw I was just as young and spry as though no time had passed since I first seen him.  We was just tickled to death to be together, again.  I don’t feel a bit worried about dyin’ now.  I don’t want to leave you girls, but I know we’ll all be together again.  I’m glad I had that dream.  It sure makes me look forward to seeing your daddy, again.”

Jenny spoke to her mother pensively.  “Mama, that was a wonderful dream, but I don’t want to think of ever losin’ you.  I don’t know how I’d go on.  I depend on you for so much.  Do you think that was a sign?”

Lucille took Jenny’s soft hand in her weathered one.  “Jenny, I don’t believe the Lord is through with me yet, but if I do go, I’ll be ready.  Sometimes, I think we git a little visit from our loved ones who’ve passed on, ’cause they probably miss us, too.  I am glad I have that little visit with your daddy.  It helped relieve my worries.

 

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Just Folks Getting By Part 15

The mail ran just as Lucille finished up the dishes.  “Mama, you got a letter from Shirley.”

Lucille dried her hands on her apron, poured a cup of coffee and sat down to read it.   “Here Jenny, sit with me.”

Dear Mama and Jenny.

Thanks so much for the baby’s christening picture.  She looks like an angel.  Jenny, you are sure getting your figure back.  I’m still carrying ten pounds from when I had Marty.  I hate that.  Seems like it gets harder after it every baby.  Martin’s brother Perry is talking about getting married again.  You remember his wife left him and Judy for the doctor she was working with and they moved off to Henderson.  Well, he’s been going with a widowed schoolteacher with a little boy and they’re talking about getting married at Christmas.  Mama Benson’s been living with Perry and Judy ever since Fran left.  You remember she said she was tired of keeping up this big, old house, just for herself, so we bought it. I don’t know where she’ll live after Perry marries.  It’s our house now.  You live in the garage apartment, and I’m not about to put you out.  She’s not an easy woman to live with.

The kids sure are enjoying their summer, but not as much as I am.  I wish I didn’t ever have to go back.  Kids don’t know teachers are as happy about summer as they are.  P I’ve got plenty here to keep me busy.  The oldest two are taking swimming lessons.  Better close and get this in the mail.

Love, Shirley

“Oh, Jenny!  What if Mrs. Benson decides she wants to move in with them?  It was her house to start with. I should have never put my three thousand dollars in fixing that nice apartment in the garage.  That’s ’bout all I had left.  I can’t afford to buy a house or pay rent.  I am sixty-eight years old, way too old to be trying to go back to work.  If Martin feels like he has to move his mama in there, I won’t have no place to go.”  Lucille felt like she’d hit bottom.

“Now Mama, don’t go borrowing trouble.  Nobody’s said a word about Mrs. Benson moving in with Shirley.  You don’t even know for sure she won’t stay on with Perry after he marries.  Martin and Shirley bought her house.  She has no claim on it.  Whatever happens, none of your kids will let you do without.  You know that.”

“I do know that, Jenny, but I thought I was settled and don’t want to move again.  I’m gittin’ to old to worry like this.  Sometimes, I just wish I could go on and be with Russ. I think I’ll go lay down awhile.  I’ll do them dishes later.”  Lucille trudged back to her bedroom.

 

Just Folks Getting By Part 14

“Oh Mama, this apple pie is so good.  I never will get this baby weight off if you don’t quit baking pies like this.  I just can’t say no.”  Jenny pushed her plate back.  “I am going to save some out for Ben and freeze the rest if you don’t mind.  It will be wonderful to pull it out for a treat one day.”

“That is a good idea, Jenny, but your weight is coming off real good.  I been here two weeks and I can tell a big difference since then.  Breast-feeding really helps.  After my babies was born, I breastfed as long as I could ’cause some folks said it helped keep from gittin’ another baby too quick.  Didn’t seem like it helped too much, but I guess it might a’helped some.  I got thataway as soon as your daddy got home and had three babies two years apart.  I never had no trouble keepin’ my weight down, workin’ in the cafe and chasin’ young’uns.  You was a big help, though.  I don’t know how I’d a’got by without you.  I kind a’hate to tell you, now, but I was gonna bake two peanut butter pies today.  I promised one to the American Legion Bake Sale, but I guess I can send ’em both if you think I ought to.”

“Ooh, don’t you dare!  Ben would have a fit if he knew I let you send off his peanut butter pie.  I’ll just make myself stay out of it!  I lost two pounds this week and I don’t want to put it back on.  How did you learn to bake such great pies?  Seemed like everybody that came in our cafe was crazy for your pies.”  Jenny took one final bite of her pie, then put her fork down.

“Bessie Sears got me started making pies when I was a dishwasher at the Peabody Cafe.  She ran that boarding house and I went down to help her make pies ever’ mornin’ between the breakfast and lunch shifts.  It got to where she got more orders than she could handle, so she passed ’em on to me.  Mr. Peabody let me bake in the cafe kitchen, long as I furnished him first.  ‘Course, I bought my own supplies. Mr. Peabody gave me fifty cents a pie and sold it for fifteen cents a slice, so we both made money.  I charged ever’body else seventy cents a pie and couldn’t keep up.  Sometimes I sold as much as much as fifty pies a week.  That’s how I was able to save up enough for us to get a restaurant when your daddy come home.  I was right proud.”  Lucille smiled proudly.

“I liked living over that cafe when y’all first opened it.  I didn’t want to move.  It always smelled like apple pie when I was going to sleep at night.”  Jenny grinned.

“Yeah, I always ran up to tuck you in bed right after I put the pies on to bake at night.  Then me and your daddy would clean up and do the books while they baked.  It worked out good we could live over the cafe…..and  the price was sure right, fifteen dollars a month for that buildin’.   It was nice and warm in winter, but hot as blazes iin summer.”

Southern Peanut Butter Pie

2/3 cup white sugar1/2 teaspoon salt 1 cup dark corn syrup 1/3 cup creamy peanut butter 3 eggs 1 cup salted peanuts 1 (9 inch) unbaked pie crust
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C).
Combine all ingredients Pour filling into pie crust.
Bake 40 to 50 minutes, or until crust is golden brown.

Center may be soft but will firm up as it cools

Flaky Vinegar Pie Crust
2 1/4 cups all purpose flour
1 cup butter, cold and cut into several large pieces (may substitute shortening)
1 tbsp sugar
1/2 tsp salt
2 tsp vinegar
6-10 tbsp ice water

Vinegar makes this crust flaky and sugar helps it brown.  You won’t taste vinegar.

Mix flour, fat, salt, and sugar with pastry cutter or blender till it is grainy and well-mixed.  Mix in vinegar and ice water until it makes stiff mix that can be pressed into a ball.  Wrap and chill 1-2 hours.  Roll out on floured surface and transfer to pan.  Makes one double crust or two nine inch crusts.  I make half a dozen up ahead of time and freeze dough.  Must thaw an hour or so before rolling out.

 

 

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Just Folks Getting Part 13

Jenny so loved the talks she and Lucille shared.  When Lucille started a story, she got a faraway look in her eyes, paused to think, then the enchantment began.  Today was no different.

Lucille put her crochet down and said.  “They was a doctor in with your daddy.  Did I ever tell you about that? He said folks didn’t talk much about themselves, but didn’t mind talkin’ about other folks.  Some things don’t change.”

“No. What in the world was he in for?”  Jenny was all ears.

“He cut his wife’s throat then kilt the rest of the family.”

“A doctor?”  Jenny couldn’t take it in that a doctor could commit such a heinous crime.  “What in the world would make a doctor do such a thing?”

“Honey, doctors is just folks like the rest of us, some good, some bad.  This doctor fell on hard times, just like ever’body else back then.  Nobody had no money to pay him, then after a while, nobody had nothin’ to offer in trade.  He’d always been known as a hard man for a’beatin’ his wife and such.  That was a family matter.  He lost his place and started toward California on Route 66 like so many others, thinkin’ things would have to be better out there.  Anyhow, he got to sellin’ his wife to other men along the way.  People just camped along the side of the road under trees close to water wherever they could, so they saw a lot of the same folks day after day.  Early one mornin’ the doctor hitched a ride with a family movin’ out early, sayin’ he had to get to the next town to git a part for his old car.  Nobody thought nothin’ ’bout that.  Folks was always a’hitchin’ rides.  Late that afternoon when folks was a’settin’ up camp in the grove of trees along by the crick, they noticed flies a’buzzin’ around a tent.  A feller went to check and found a pregnant woman and two little bitty kids with their throats cut.  It turned out, the doctor didn’t want his wife havin’ that baby, not knowin’ if it was his and wanted to git rid of it.  She fought him on it, and he ended up a’cuttin’ her throat.  He kilt them them kids to cover it up.  They called the sheriff and he was picked up down at the rail yard train’ to catch a ride on a train.  It’s just hard to believe a feller could be so cold.  Most men would fight to the last to save their family.  Anyhow, he was still on death row when your daddy got out.”  Lucille sighed at the end of her tale.  “There must be a special place in Hell for folks like that!”

“That’s horrible.  Did y’all ever hear any more about him.”  Jenny was all ears.

“No.  Never heard no more once your daddy got home. He Disn’t seem like the kind of feller you’d want to keep up with.”  They both got a good chuckle out of that.

 

 

 

Just Folks Getting By Part 12

img_1998Jenny brought the mail in just as Lucille finished the dishes.  ” Mama, you got a letter from Miss Bessie!”

“Thank you, Jesus!  I been so worried ’bout Bessie. You remember her.  We used to spend the day with her sometimes on your day out.  She had that little red-headed girl, Peggy.  She wrote me she was havin’ gall bladder surgery, and I ain’t heard from her in over a month.”  Lucille dried her hands and sat down to read her letter.

Jenny settled with the baby to hear her mother’s letter.  “I sure do remember going there.  I loved playing with Peggy.  She had that rag doll her mama made.  She always let me play with it.  How is Miss Bessie?”

“Well, let’s read this letter and see.”

Dear Lucille, I hope this letter finds you well.  I had my surgery and it’s starting to look like I might live, but if you ever have a choice between having gall bladder surgery and jumping in front of a train, pick the train.  You know I ain’t one to complain, but that surgery like to killed me.  The doctor cut me in half one day and then that big old nurse come in swishing in the next morning telling me I had to get up and walk.  I was hurting so bad I couldn’t even get a good breath and she was on me about walking.  She got me up, but I thought it would kill me, for sure.  Then before I could even get my false teeth in and comb my hair, the doctor come in wanting to know if I was passing gas! I was never so embarrassed in my life!   Now that’s just something it ain’t decent to talk to a man about.  Every day after that he come busting in wanting to know if my bowels was moving.  I never heard of such a thing!

Sally, my boy Reggie’s wife, come to stay for a couple of weeks when I went home.  She done the best she could, but I sure wished Peggy could have come.  She’s big pregnant and has a two year old and her doctor wouldn’t let her go off.  He probably wanted to keep her handy to ask her about her bowels! Ha!  Sally done real good except she didn’t put enough salt in nothing.  She does make fine pies, though.  She fixed lunch for me and Martha. You remember my sister don’t you?   Sally sure made some good chicken salad with walnuts and raisins, but I did notice she was using my fine tea towels to dry dishes.  I didn’t say nothing, but I made sure to gather them up when she went to the bathroom, putting some drying towels out.  I know she didn’t mean no harm, but my mama embroidered them towels and I want to keep them nice.    Well, I better close and get this in the mailbox.  I know you and Jenny are having a good visit.  Kiss that baby for me.  I tucked in a little keepsake christening cap I made for the baby.  She can use it later for a bride’s hanky. All my love, Bessie.

“Well, ain’t that something!”  She passed the tissue wrapped cap to Jenny.

“This is the sweetest little cap.  I will have to be sure to keep it nice for Lucy.  She’ll be proud of this one day.  I fell kind of embarrassed now, I almost laughed out loud at her about not complaining.” Jenny confessed.

“Honey, don’t you worry none about that.  Bessie’s a good friend, but she does complain, but lots of times, she’s real funny when she does it.   She also made a precious gift.  Recognizing the truth don’t hurt nothing.  I better get a little note off to her.”  Jenny took her hand as she started to get up.

“Mama, let me write a note first, then you can add yours to it.  I need to thank her for this sweet gift and the times I spent at her house.”  Jenny folded the tiny cap back in tissue.

“That would be good, Jenny.  She is a friend to us both.”

 

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Just Folks Getting By Part 11

farmgirlsewardcountynebraska1930s8x                                      Image from Smithsonian collection

“Did you ever get to go see Daddy in prison, Mama?” Jenny and Lucille were reminiscing over coffee.

“Only once, when your daddy was up for parole.  For him to git out early, I had to show up with my marriage license saying I would take him back. I hadn’t ever asked no time off from work before, so when I talked to Mr. Peabody, my boss, he didn’t give me no trouble.  I was surprised, but he gave me five dollars for my trip, almost a week’s pay. Anyway,  I took two days off and rode the bus down a’gittin’ there about five-thirty.  I walked to the YWCA and got a room, then got the Blue Plate Special at the Woolworth across the street for supper.  I even finished off with a piece of lemon meringue pie and cup of coffee.  It was kind of nice knowing somebody else was a’washin’ my dishes.  They was gittin’ ready to close, but I had time to buy some blue earbobs and a lipstick.  I ain’t seen your daddy in almost four years and wanted to look purty for him.  I felt almost like a bride.  I didn’t hardly sleep none that night.  I was a’waitin’ at the door when they opened at eight.  A trusty brung me to see the warden.  He told me Russ was up for parole, but they had to know he had somebody and something to go home to.  I showed him your picture and my bank book.  He was right surprised I’d managed to save money from my job. I told him about you a’livin’ in the Hope Home and me a’stayin’ in the pantry where I worked.  A year or so before that, I had bargained to make the pies and cakes Mr. Peabody had been a’sendin’ out for.  I even sold ’em to a couple of other places.  That’s how I really filled my pocketbook.  I knowed by that time your daddy had a chance a’ comin’ up for parole and wanted us to have a start.  Anyway, the warden stood up and shook my hand when we was through a’talkin’ and said I was a fine woman.  I ‘preciated that.  He told the trusty to bring your daddy to his office.  I never would a’hoped that.

When he brung him in, it was like I was a’seein’ him for the first time.  I had thought I would a’run and grabbed him, but we was bashful till the warden said we could hug.  When I was in his arms, it was like no time had passed.  We didn’t want to let go, but was embarrassed to keep hangin’ on to each other.  Back then folks was more private-like with their lovin’.  Anyway, the warden give us a minute to talk then sent Russ back.

When I left, the warden said our meeting was confidential and I’d be hearing after the parole board met.  I felt real hopeful as the trusty showed me out.

That was the best day I’d had in a long time.

 

 

Just Folks Getting By Part 10

img_1994Weekly bus pass for 1937.  Lucille would have  needed only a dime ticket since she boarded at her job.

These are some of the things you may have seen advertised Below and how much food and groceries cost in the 30’s
Shoulder of Ohio Spring lamb 17 cents per pound Ohio 1932
Sliced Baked Ham 39 cents per pound Ohio 1932
Dozen Eggs 18 Cents Ohio 1932
Coconut Macaroons 27 cents per pound Ohio 1932
Bananas 19 cents for 4 Pounds Ohio 1932
Peanut Butter 23 cents QT Ohio 1932
Bran Flakes 10 cents Maryland 1939
Jumbo Sliced Loaf of Bread 5 cents Maryland 1939
Spinach 5 cents a pound Maryland 1939
Clifton Toilet Tissue 9 cents for 2 rolls Ohio 1932
Camay Soap 6 cents bar Ohio 1932
Cod Liver Oil 44 cents pint Wisconsin 1933
Tooth paste 27 cents Wisconsin 1933
Lux Laundry Soap 22 cents Indiana 1935
Suntan Oil 25 cents Pennsylvania 1938
Talcum Powder 13 cents Maryland 1939
Noxzema Medicated Cream for Pimples 49 cents Texas 1935
Applesauce 20 cents for 3 cans New Jersey
Bacon, 38 cents per pound New Jersey
Bread, white, 8 cents per loaf New Jersey
Ham, 27 cents can New Jersey
Ketchup, 9 cents New Jersey
Lettuce, iceberg, 7 cents head New Jersey

From The People’s History

 

Lucille rocked the baby as Jenny crocheted.   “Mama, one time we went someplace with two big stone lions standing outside the doors of a big building.  An old man picked me up and out me on one of them.  I felt like I was the biggest thing around.  Where was that?  Oh yeah, and remember, I cut my foot in that little wading pool!””

“Well, I say.  I never would a’thought you’d remember that.  That was in front of the library of a big old college in Dallas.  One day me and Uncle Melvin was lucky enough to get off together and we took you out together for the day.  I packed a picnic and we caught the bus and spent the whole day in the park.  You couldn’t have been three yet, ’cause we hadn’t been there too long.  It was a real nice late spring day, but not hot yet. You pulled your shoes off and waded in a little pool.  You did bloody up your toe a little on a sharp rock.  Lordy, you was a’howlin’ to high heaven.  I don’t know if you’d ever seen blood before.  Soon as Uncle Melvin tore a strip of hanky off and wrapped it, you was fine.”  Lucille chuckled.

“Do you remember, Uncle Melvin bought a kite from a man peddling them in the park?  It must have been a perfect day.  He had that kite all the way out to the end of the string.  I wanted him to get it back down.  I thought God and Jesus were going to get it!”  Jenny and her mother both laughed.

“I laughed till I nearly wet my pants.  You was a’runnin’ and yelling, ‘Don’t let God and Jesus git it!  Don’t let God and Jesus git it!’  Folks in that park must a’thought I was raisin’ a little heathen, for sure.  Whoever heard of a kid tangling with God and Jesus over a kite?  I’m so glad you reminded me of that.  I felt so bad about leavin’ you, but we had us some good times. didn’t we Honey?”

Jenny broke in, “Mama, I know you hated to leave me, just like I would hate to leave Lucy, but I didn’t miss what I didn’t know.  I looked forward to all those days out.  We went to the museum and the library and all the parks around town.  I really did love going to play at that little red-headed Peggy’s house.  She had a kitten and there were chickens in a pen behind the house.  Best of all was when we went to the movie.  You took me to all the Shirley Temple Movies.  The other girls at the Hope Home just love hearing about the movies.  Sometimes we had picnics and a couple of times we ate at the counter at Woolworth.  That must have been hard to afford that on your wages.”  Jenny looked deep in thought.

“I had three dollars a week after I paid your board.  I made sure I always saved at least dollar a week. I figured that would give us a start when your daddy got out. I manage to save nearly three-hundred dollars. Bus fare was a dame, exchanges a nickel.  Picnic food didn’t cost me nothing.  I couldn’t buy you clothes or toys, so I figured I’d spend a little money on you on our days.  It really didn’t cost me much to live.  I just needed a few stamps, a couple of dresses, a pair of shoes and a few toiletries from time to time.  That job was purty good to me.”

 

 

 

 

 

Just Folks Getting By Part 9

Kathleen Holdaway in flowered dress0002

“My mother, Kathleen Holdaway circa 1946.  She would have been about the age of Jenny in this story.

Look here, Jenny.”  Lucille settled in a kitchen chair and pulled a letter out of her apron pocket.  “You know I never go nowhere without my Mama’s Bible.  I forgot I had the first letter I wrote your daddy at Huntsville.  He wrote me back on the back side. Do you want to hear it?”

“Oh yes, Mama, if It’s not too personal.”  Jenny examined the worn envelope. “It’s good you wrote small so he could scratch your name out and use the same envelope to write back. You wrote this in pencil.  I’d have thought you’d have written in pen.  This writing is so faded.”

“Honey, I didn’t have no pen.  We was poor.  I was at Aunt Lu’s and she gave me a dozen eggs.  I took ’em to the store and traded for two sheets of paper, an envelope, and two stamps.  She knew your daddy wouldn’t have no way to git stamps.  The store owner had the post office, too.  He told me how to address the envelope so your daddy could reuse it. I had to borry his pencil.  Anyway, let me read it to you.  It’s faded and you might not make it out.”

My Dearest Russ, We have fell on some hard times.  I got word from Uncle Melvin about you and Luther gitting in trouble.  I wish you had stayed clear of trouble, but I know you was trying to take care of me and the children.  I will be waiting for you when you get out, for I love you.

That brings me to sad news.  Our boy Jimmy died three days after we got here.  We buried him down by the creek.  My heart is broke to have to tell you when you already got trouble.  I will stay here with Aunt Lucy.  Jenny is well, but misses you and Jimmy.

Please write to me on the back of this letter.  A stamp is folded inside.  I love you always and will pray for you.   I will write you again when I can get a stamp. Till we are together again.  Your loving wife Lucille

“Now look here on the back where he wrote back.” Lucille said.

Dear Wife, When I put you on the bus, I feared it was the last time I’d see Jimmy.  I wished I’d figured a way to git y’all away soon enough to save him.  I hope Jenny is well. They say I will be here five years. You are a young, pretty woman.  If you meet someone else and have a chance at a better life, I will set you free.  I broke the law and must serve my time, but you don’t need to suffer along with me.  I will always love and pray for you.

You must not worry about me.  I will not do anything to get in trouble.  I miss your cooking.  We mostly get beans.  The man in my cell don’t talk, but he don’t give me no trouble.  Nobody here talks about what they done.  I would be glad for a letter if you can get a stamp, but don’t do without to get one.  Take care of yourself and Jenny.  I hope God lets us be together again.

All my love, Russ

Lucille took her glasses off, took a hankie out of her pocket, wiped her eyes, and cleaned her glasses.  She refolded the letter and returned it its envelope.  “Don’t  let me forget to put this back in my Bible.”  She looked up to see Jenny with tears running down her cheeks.

“That’s so sad, Mama.  Your heart must have been breaking when you had to write Daddy that Jimmy was dead.”

“That was one of the saddest things I ever done.  I was still numb from losing Jimmy.  That was the worst.  Next to that was walkin’ off and leavin’ you a’cryin’ at the Hope Home.  You were’t even three and ain’t never been away from me even one night.  You done lost Jimmy, your daddy, and now I was a’walkin’ off.  I never felt so low.”

It was three months before I got to write to your daddy again.  I found a dime in the dust of the road when I was a’walkin’ to the store to get some lye for Aunt Lucy.  That was the first money I’d had since before Jimmy died. I bought you a lollipop, two three-cent stamps, two sheets of paper.  The store-owner gave me an envelope with a coffee stain and loaned me his pencil.  I wrote your daddy I’d be a’waitin’ when he got out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just Folks Getting By Part 8

img_1990

Shot of a sweater I am crocheting my granddaughter.

“Now that’s some purty crochet.  You’re getting real smooth with them stitches.  Does it feel like your hands is gittin’ the idea?”  Lucille and Jenny were at the kitchen table with Lucy resting in a basket at their feet.  “Just look how sweet she looks with this pink.”  Lucille held a skein of pink baby yarn next to her little granddaughter’s face.  “Don’t tell Shirley, but I was always hopin’ for a girl ever’ time she got that away.  I wonder if it was because I just never got enough of you when I had to put you in the Hope Home. The thing was, I never even cried.  I just had to toughen up to get by.  I was afraid if I started, I’d fall apart.  I had to work and get the three dollars a week to the home or I might lose you.  That’s all I kept thinkin’ when the work got hard and the hours got long.”

“I can’t even imagine how hard that must have been, especially with Daddy in jail.  How did you find out what happened to him?  Weren’t you at Aunt Lucy’s?” Jenny was trying to piece her family’s past together along with learning to crochet.

“Let me show you how to do a double crochet so you can practice while I tell the story.  It’s a long one.  Okay, watch this.” Lucille demonstrated slowly, then picked up speed.  “Keep the tension on and git a rhythm.  There, now you are doing good.  Do a few till it gits easy, then I’ll show you how to turn for the next row.”  Jennie concentrated on her crochet while her mother picked up her own crochet and started her tale.

“You remember your daddy had sent us to Aunt Lucy’s on the bus to git us out of the dust when Jimmy was sick.  Well, Jimmy never did git another good breath.  He coughed up muddy stuff and kept getting worse.  We propped him up to sleep and built him a tent so he could breathe steam from a tea kettle with a few drops of kerosene in it.  We even give him three drops of kerosene in a spoon of sugar to ease the coughin’ and it worked some, but he still died about four days after we got there.  I didn’t have no way to git in touch with your daddy in time, so we had to go ahead and bury him on Aunt Lucille’s place.  We put him right near the creek, where you could hear the water running all the time.  The sound of that running water give me some comfort, at least knowing he wouldn’t be breathing dust no more.  Anyway, I wrote your daddy.  A few days later, I got a letter from Uncle Melvin lettin’ me know your daddy and his boy, Luther, had got caught runnin’  moonshine.  I was never so shocked in my life.  I thought Russ was drivin’ a truck. Uncle Melvin said they both got five years at Huntsville.  That just about kilt me, comin’ right on top of losin’ Jimmy.  He’d sent my letter back and gave me an address where I could write Russ in jail.  He’d been a’hopin’ I’d write ’cause he didn’t have no idear how to reach me.  It like to broke my heart to write your daddy in jail.

I didn’t know what to do.  I went straight to bed a’cryin’ my eyes out.  You followed me to bed, just a’pattin’ my face with your little hands.  I never got up that day.  Your Aunt Lucille left me alone, but the next mornin’ she come in and told me to git up and cook you some eggs.  You was hungry.  Then I had to help her get a wash out.  She was takin’ in washin’ then to make the rent.  I told her I didn’t feel like it, to leave me alone.  She said, “Gal, git your behind outta that bed before I take a broom to you.  You got a baby to raise.  It ain’t her fault her brother died and her daddy’s in jail.  I didn’t take you to raise!”

Lucille laughed,”I believe she’d a done it, too.”  I mean to tell you I jumped outta that bed and got to cookin’.  Soon as I got done with the dishes, she set me to drawin’ water for the wash.  I had to fill two of them big ol’ iron wash pots.  We shaved in homemade lye soap and scrubbed dirty spots on a rub board before puttin’ clothes to boil a while.  Then we dipped ’em out with a stick and put ’em in the rinse water.  We done the whites first, then good clothes, and finally towels and work clothes.  You had to go from cleanest to dirtiest or you’d mess up your whites.  When the wash water got too dirty, we’d put soap in the rinse water and finish the wash with it.  ‘Course I had to fetch clean rinse water.  I hated wringin’ them clothes.  They was so heavy.  The sheets, towels, diapers went straight on the line.  The dresses, aprons, shirts, and overalls had to be starched before dryin’.  Aunt Lucille stirred some corn starch in cold water, mixed it real smooth, and stirred it in the boilin’ rinse water.  When it was smooth, she dunked the clothes and poked ’em around with her stick till they was soaked up good.  We fished them steamin’ clothes out an’ wrung ’em out when they cooled enough.  We had four long lines of clothes flappin’ in the breeze by the time we was finally done.  The diapers and sheets was usually ready to take in by the time we got the last of the wash on the line.

By the time we got through washin’ and foldin’ I was whipped.  We ate cornbread crumbled in  buttermilk and sliced tomatoes for supper.  I thought I wouldn’t be able to keep my eyes open to eat, I was so tired.  The next mornin’ Aunt Lucille had me up at six to start the ironin’ while she picked beans.  That afternoon, we canned  beans.   She had two big pressure cookers so we put up twenty-eight quarts of green beans that afternoon.  If Aunt Lucille came in and caught me wipin’ tears, she’d set me to another task.  Every night, I was so tired, I just drug myself off to bed.  I still grieved, but it was kind of like I put my grief in a drawer and just took it out when I was free to be alone.  Aunt Lu knew what she was doing.  She’d  lost three children in one week.  She still had four to raise that needed more than a broken piece of a mama.