Poor Hungry Kool-Aid Kids

Kool

Mary was the child-bride (victim) of an old-goat in his seventies.  God only knows what kind of situation he’d rescued her from, since she clearly adored him.  When I first met them on a ramble with Daddy when I was about ten years old, they lived with their two babies on a creek bank an old school bus that had been converted into a trailer for hunters.  Two full bunks ran across one end.  Twin army cots were stacked along both sides.  A stove, powered by propane sat near the front door.  The family’s few belongings were stored in boxes under the beds.  Though I was only a kid, I could see that Mary was just a teenager.  Mother later told me she was only eighteen.  She was hugely pregnant.  I was enchanted with their trailer, thinking how nice it would be if our family lived such an adventure.

Not long afterward, the neighborhood learned of the family’s dilemma, helping them into a small rental house not far from us.  My youngest sister Marilyn was an infant at the time with rampant milk allergies.  In consultation with her doctors, Mother had tried many formulas.  Finally, in desperation, she and the doctor settled on a frequent feeding regimen, supplemented by feeding her warm Jell-O in her bottle, so she would still have the experience of sucking.  Finally, she thrived.  Young Mary, struggling with two babies under two and newborn twins and a husband averse to working, was struggling find milk for her babies.  All four of her children cried all the time.  The neighbors brought food in, but the newborns just looked pitiful.  She was visiting one morning and told Mother she had put her babies on Kool-Aid, like Mother had, thinking it would help, but it looked like the babies were starving.  Mother was shocked and explained that she was giving her baby Jell-O, not Kool-Aid, and supplementing with frequent feedings.

The church provided many cases of canned milk, as well as other food.  All the children did much better.  Social Services was notified. Mary got some help, though she did have four more children over the years before we lost touch with them.

We did eventually end up with that classy camper, but that’s a story for another day.

I Ain’t Havin’ It!

Pointing finterJust this morning Mother told me this fascinating story.  Before she started school, she’d tagged along behind her father to the local blacksmith shop to have a bit of work done.   The blacksmith, Dud Baker, was fairly new to the community and newly-married.  His young wife was a widow.  She’d brought the men a cup of coffee.  As they were drinking and visiting over Continue reading

More Gravy?

imageBud said his mother almost killed his ambition when he was a kid.  He asked her what was the difference in the food they ate and what rich people ate.

She explained, “Oh, we eat the same food.  They just have more gravies and sauces than we do.” Continue reading

Messed Up Family

It just occurred to me that Mother may have been raising a tribe of cannibals during the time Aunt Bonnie and Uncle Edward lived with us and I bit my cousin Cathy.  My brother Billy was five months old to Cousin Eddie’s six weeks and much bigger.  Mother and Aunt Bonnie had Snowmanput the two babies on a quilt to play while they did their housework.  Eddie had colic and cried all the time, so Aunt Bonnie wasn’t too surprised at the wailing.  She went in to check on him after a few minutes to find Billy, who was teething, had worked his way over to Eddie. He had a foot in one hand, a thigh in the other, and was gnawing him like a Thanksgiving Turkey.

Biting Cousins

Cathy and Linda0001When I was about three years old, my cousin Cathy’s parents moved their tiny egg-shaped trailer house under a big shade tree in our front yard. It was about as roomy as a nice bathtub. Like any right-thinking parents with two tiny children, they quickly moved into the house with our family, leaving us with four adults, a six-year-old, a three-year-old, an eighteen month old, and two newborns in a three bedroom house.  The women cooked, cleaned and watched the kids together every day.  Mother said it was a great time.

Pictured above are my cousin Cathy and me.  She was much smaller though only a year younger than I.  She also developed a nasty habit of biting.  After I was bitten a few times, Mother told me to “bite her back.”  She didn’t specify how hard.

The next time Cathy bit me, I bit her just below the eye and hung on.  Cathy screamed and Mamas came running.  Still I hung on.  Mother told me to turn loose but I was too wrought up to hear her.  She had to smack me to make me turn loose.  It hurt my feelings.  “You told me to bite her.”

“I didn’t tell you to bite a chunk out of her face.!”

Cathy had a bruise showing all my tooth prints.  It turned from purple to green to yellow.  I’m sorry, Cathy.

Goofy in the Airport

imageMother accompanied me to visit a relative a few months ago.  It was a route I flew often enough to get expedited security.  I explained to security I did not want to be separated from my elderly mother.  They saw her in her wheelchair, which she always requests for convenience.  She immediately put on her goofiest look, which is quite convincing.  Starting her Alzheimer’s act, she started firing questions at me and security.  They rushed her through.  Frankly, I considered abandoning her, she was making such a pest of herself.  I was glad when we got out of security and she got back to her normal goofy self.

“Do Not Disturb!”

honeymoonHad a hilarious complaint from a patient when I was a nurse.  The doctor came out of a room saying the patient’s wife wanted us to give her a “Do Not Disturb” sign to put on her husband’s door.  We kept disturbing them when they were trying to have sex.  Didn’t take us long to get that sign made.  You can believe they weren’t disturbed any more than necessary!

Hysteria in the Night

man and womanMother awoke to the chilling realization that someone was trying to break in the house. “Bill! Bill! Wake up Bill! Somebody’s trying to get in!!”   Daddy didn’t normally sleep: he went into a coma, but adrenaline jolted him into action. He grabbed his loaded shotgun and crept to the window.  In the darkness, a tiny light glowed in the darkness of the front porch.  It wasn’t just Mother’s imagination!  Someone was trying to get in! Continue reading

Trunk Full of Treasure

homestead (2)

(Excerpt from my mother’s memoirs which I will be publishing soon.  This is from my mother’s childhood, during The Great Depression)  The woman in the picture is my Great Grandmother Elvira Perkins Holdaway.  She is picture in her wedding dress, photographed just a few days before her death in 1903.  She had given birth to 12 children and was survived by only 4 Continue reading