I love reading other folks blogs and think about their lives or have questions about earlier posts. Sometimes I wonder how things turned out or want to know more about a story that captured my interest. I write mostly about my family and experiences. Is there anything you’d like to know, a story that caught your interest, or just a question?
Storytelling
Tom Johnson and the Deputy
A lifetime of farming on the Kansas prairies had toughened old Tom Johnson up. With eight hard-headed boys and three girls to raise, he didn’t put up with a lot of nonsense. One morning, the boys decided, being winter, there was no need for them to get up at four-thirty in the morning to start work just because that’s what Dad always did. They lay abed, thinking he couldn’t handle all of them if they stuck together. Dad didn’t say anything, just set to getting them up.
A deputy sheriff had the misfortune to show up to deliver a summons for jury duty just as as eight Kansas farm boys between the age of ten and eighteen tore the front door down followed by Tom Johnson flailing the crowd with plow lines. The poor guy was trampled, as well as flailed, trying to escape from the irate farmer intent on putting his boys back to work. Returning to the safety of town, he told the sheriff, “If you want that summons delivered, you’ll have to find someone else. I’m not going back out to Tom Johnson’s place.”
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!
Miz Dalrymple and the Pig, True Story
The neighbors gathered after the first frost to slaughter the Jackson’s hogs. Terrified by the commotion and scent of blood, one of the pigs managed to escape and hide up under under the neighbor’s outhouse, a good ways off, where Miz Dalrymple was
enjoying a little time to herself, thinking all the menfolk was off killing hogs. Just as she got relaxed, she heard A deep voice, “I’ll git behind here ‘n poke ‘er with a stick. You hit ‘er in th’ head with th’ ax when she comes a’runnin’ out!”
Thinking madmen had ‘er fee shore, pore Miz Dalrymple come a’flyin’ out with her drawers around her ankles. It was amazing how fast an ol’ lady could run like that. It took her two days to walk back!
Sweet Hour of Prayer
Maggie married Melvin shortly after her first husband died. Maybe she should’ve waited longer, but she was exhausted after her long struggle to support Ray through his illness and then Little Ray after he died, so she was glad to have Melvin’s companionship and support, even though he was odd from the start. Things went well enough for several years, but by the time Melvin reached his late forties, he’d developed religious delusions that made him impossible to live with. Continue reading
Freedom of Expression
We enjoyed considerable freedom of expression when we were kids, as long as we felt like saying, “Yes, Ma’am. No Ma’am. Yes Sir, How high Sir? May I be excused? and God is great, God is good, Pass the beans. Amen.”
The quickest way to get in trouble was to open my big mouth and ask questions or God Forbid, tell family business. Telling Family Business assured swift and terrible punishment., like the time I told my Sunday School Class Phyllis was born June 20 and my parents got married June 29. Mother was furious. I couldn’t see any problem with that. Both facts were true. It mattered not at all to me that Mother wanted all the church ladies to be very clear on the fact that she’d been married nearly a full year before Phyllis came along. Things like that really mattered back in the 1950’s. Now folks are impressed if Mama and Daddy just get married.
Knot on Head
I used to moonlight at an urgent care clinic. Mother called me at my regular RN job one day to complain of an earache. Like I always do when people ask advice, I recommended she see a doctor. She decided to go to the urgent care clinic where I sometimes worked. I called to speak to my friend, Judy, who was working that day. I asked her to surprise Mother by telling her she had to have a full internal pelvic exam. She knew Mother, and was delighted to pull a little trick on her. Sure enough, she showed Mother to the OB/GYN exam room, telling her to prepare Continue reading
“I Wish I Had Left Whiskey Alone!”
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I was delighted when a beloved niece made this family letter available to me. An unfortunate gentlemen friend of Helen’s had become entangled with the law and needed her help. According to family stories, she held influence with many judges, lawyers, and business men, since she ran a quite well-patronized house of ill-repute and had become quite wealthy as a bootlegger. I don’t know how this gentleman’s difficulties worked out, but it is apparent for the moment, he regretted his involvement with whiskey. Sad, sad story. I hope his sweet Helen was able to assist him!
Lunch Bucket Blues
Life at our house was a mad-house on better days. Daddy worked rotating shifts. For second shift he had to leave the house by two in the afternoon. He always had a lot going on before work, so he wouldn’t sit down to dinner (lunch) until one or one-fifteen. Mother always served a hot, sit-down meal with meat, two vegetables, and biscuits or cornbread. According to Daddy, she was disorganized, so it challenged her to get Continue reading
Nutsrok 