Floyd Lewis was a holdover from another time. Daddy hired him whenever he needed help clearing new ground, cutting timber, or work of that sort. Illiterate, with no social graces, Floyd muttered an unintelligible answer if asked a direct question. Considering our financial situation, I know Daddy couldn’t have paid him much. It is doubtful Floyd ever attended school, since he was of the generation before attendance was Continue reading
Storytelling
Are You Hungry?
That was the first question Daddy asked every person who entered his house, should they be a friend, relative, or Kirby Vacuum Cleaner Salesman who happened to be hopelessly lost on the back roads of rural Bossier Parish. Raised during The Great Depression, always hungry, he frequently did a day’s work for no more than food. He swore if he ever got grown, no one would ever leave his house hungry. “Are you hungry? Kathleen will fix you something to eat!” The burden of his good intentions Continue reading
Turned Out In The Cold
Uncle Joe sent word he needed the boys to cut firewood one November day in 1934. He’d be ready about ten the next morning. They walked barefoot three miles through the woods, kicking at the fallen leaves, since it was a still a warm day as November often is in Nortwest Louisiana. Shoes had to be saved for school, but the opportunity to get a day’s work took precedence over school. They needed whatever Uncle Joe paid, whether it be a little money or food. Maybe they’d get a meal or some cast off clothes, too. Continue reading
I Want It! I Want It!
I was an acute hemodialysis nurse for thirty years, caring for thousands of patients over that time. The most important thing I learned was listen to your patient. I’d cared for Miss Ann for many years, through numerous hospitalizations, surgeries, and procedures. Prior to this admission, she’d told her husband, “I don’t ever want any more surgery.”
Unfortunately, this time she was in ICU on a ventilator and couldn’t speak for herself. She appeared to be unaware of what the doctor was explaining to her, so he asked her husband for surgical consent. Sadly, her husband refused, citing Miss Ann’s intention not to have surgery again. Meanwhile, behind the two of them, Miss Ann was frantically waving her arms trying to get their attention. She wanted surgery.
Miss Ann got her surgery, recovered, and did well for quite a while after that.
Long Lost Treasures
I’ve recently been writing about my paternal grandmother, Mettie Knight Swain, whose life I didn’t know nearly so much about as my mother’s family. I reached out to my cousins who were kind enough to send me pictures. I am grateful to receive these. Pictures can tell you so much more about a person than you’d expect. The man in the hat is my grandfather, Eddie Swain, Mettie’s husband. He died of a brain tumor at the age of forty-two. The family picture is one of the earliest I’ve found with Eddie and Mettie Swain and their three children, Geneva, standing left, Parnell, and Edward in Mettie’s lap. They had four more, Bill, Bessie, Esther, and Ola Bea. This photo would have probably been made about 1922. Continue reading
Too Good To Be True!
Mother and I ran by the garden center while we were running errands today, as any right-thinking person would. As I was strolling about, measuring the beauty of the flowers against the high cost of divorce, should I purchase any more this month, a miracle occurred. One of the vendors walked up to me and asked if I liked flowers. She cut me off before I really got started. She lived at ——Jones Street. She’d collected so many flowers she couldn’t take care of them. They were all in her yard and on her porch. Go by and get all I wanted.
“Is this a joke? What if your neighbors see me loading flowers and call the police”
“Oh, that’s no problem. Just take a picture of me and show it to them if they say anything, or tell them to call me. It will be fine.” That sounded reasonable. I snapped her picture making the peace sign and sped to _______Jones Street. The neighbors were on their doorstep watching us, probably wondering why they hadn’t been offered anything. I showed them the lady’s picture, telling them she said we could have her plants. They looked suspicious, but didn’t yell at us. The plants were gorgeous. She’d even started a couple of nice pineapples. I was thrilled to get them when I noticed we were on ______Patterson Street. We put all the plants back, explained to the neighbors, and took off.
We never did find ________Jones Street, but at least we haven’t been arrested, yet. I’ll bet that woman in the garden center is still laughing.
Jolly Funeral Policy
Agents selling funeral policies were a fixture in the rural South. Our budget was too tight for such luxuries, so Mother tried hard to keep us alive. Myrtle Harper sold policies for Jolly Funeral Home and Watkins products. She was a nosy do-gooder who carried sunshine from house to house, dispensing information about people’s financial situations Continue reading
Buzzy’s Exotic Vacation
On our recent trip, Buzzy had a great time visiting family. Lest I mislead you, I never claimed he was a brave dog. He ran from some house cats, but they were bob-tailed. In his defense, He’d never seen a bob-tailed cat and was unsure how dangerous they might prove to be. He walked into a swimming pool by accident, his first experience with one. He was an excellent swimmer, but had no idea how to get out. He seemed to enjoy his little swim.
His introduction to Aunt Beulah’s chickens was hysterical. He was waiting expectantly when she opened the door to the hen house. When Bonnie and Clyde strutted out, he set a new land-speed record for American Eskimo Dogs, if there wasn’t one before. I believe he would have passed up Greyhounds trying to escape those bobbling fowl, even though they showed no interest whatsoever in him.
We are back home now. I’ll keep you posted of his future adventures.
Evil Incarnate on a Pink Tricycle
Mother gets pretty hot about a few things. One of these is problems with mail delivery. One day, she got to her mailbox to find her mail tattered,torn, and lying on the ground. Worst of all, a government check had been ripped. Somebody was going to pay for this crime! Rabid with rage, she cornered a couple of kids who gladly gave up the perpetrator to save their own sorry hides. They’d seen a little blonde-haired girl with pig-tails standing on her pink tricycle rifling through Mother’s box. Mother gave the little snitches a five dollar reward after they located the child’s tricycle parked in front of a house two streets over.
Armed with this information, Mother called the Sheriff’s Department to report the heinous crime. Regaling him every shocking detail, the criminal’s description, description of the getaway vehicle, and last known address. The deputy laughed, asking if she’d had the check back.
“Yes, but that’s not the point. I want this stopped! Tampering with the mail is a Federal Crime!”
“Lady, what do you want me to do, put out an APB on a little three-year-old girl on a pink tricycle?
Nutsrok 