I didn’t like having syrup for breakfast on school mornings when I was a little kid since I was was lazy about washing up afterwards. In class, my papers stuck to me all morning till I went out at recess. Then I usually romped around and came back in with dirt sticking to the syrupy patches. Either way, I lost.
Storytelling
Girl’s Night Out
I am very fortunate to come from a close family with three sisters and one brother. The girls get together periodically for a girl’s night out. For some reason, my brother, bows out on our girl’s night out. We gathered this time in honor of Mother’s birthday and Mother’s Day. In the second picture back left is me , 2nd daughter, back right, Phyllis eldest daughter, bottom left Mother, bottom center, Connie 4th daughter, bottom right Marilyn the youngest. In the third picture, Mother is reacting to being kissed by Marilyn’s little dog.My brother Bill is pictured with my Mother in the top picture. In the fourth picture, a dear family friend, Elaine, joins us. We had a wonderful night, laughed till we were exhausted, and enjoyed every minute together.
Things Mothers Do
I miss all the things my mother used to do for me. Even though she had to get up to a freezing house at five-thirty in winter to do it, she always had a hot breakfast on the table when we got up, usually hot biscuits, eggs, fresh milk, homemade jam or preserves, and either grits or oatmeal. Like most kids, I didn’t want it, but she insisted. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!” After the whirlwind of getting the older Continue reading
Dirty, Old Man
Warning: This story may be disturbing to readers who are triggered by stories of child sexual abuse.
There was a crazy, dirty, old man in the neighborhood where I grew up in the 1950s and 1960s. He’d lived there for years and raised a family. No woman would walk near him. Upon moving into the neighborhood, the first thing every woman learned was to stay away from him and to warn their little girls to run if they saw him coming. A cry would go up at his appearance and little girls from all directions literally ran home to Mama. You can believe I was severely warned never to approach “that” house. Thank God we have made progress in the way child molestors and sex predators are treated now. Just think how many people this man must have harmed and lives he must have ruined.
Buzzy the Barbarian
My dog Buzzy weighs twenty-five pounds. Twenty-five nipple-stomping,bladder-compressing, and according to some sources scrotum-squashing pounds. I don’t know how or why he does this, but if he catches one of us stretched out on the sofa, he makes a bee-line for our recumbent body, leaping on our tenderest portions joyously. I don’t know how he’s lived this long, except that by the time we’ve recovered, he’s moved on. He looks sweet, but he’s a killer.
Mothers Day Pinto
Mother was a slow learner. It took her forever to learn that Daddy was not the thoughtful kind of guy who would ever surprise her with lovely gifts and gestures. He was more the kind of guy who felt sorry for himself when she got her feelings hurt or got mad. After all, he was pretty sure he’d gotten her something last year, for her birthday or Christmas, one or the other. What had she done with that eggbeater?
This year was going to be different. Virgil Hughes had a nice Pinto horse. It was a good deal since it “wasn’t broke” yet. Nobody really wanted it since it stomped Euless and broke his leg, but Daddy was sure he could make a fine riding horse out of it. Kathleen was scared of horses, but she’d get over that. If she didn’t, he’d ride it. Daddy stopped off on the way home from work the Friday before Mother’s Day to pick it up. It was kicking the side rails when he pulled in. He called Mother out to see her beautiful Pinto and she hit the ceiling. “Of all the things I need, you come bringing in a horse. We need another useless animal to feed like I need a hole in the head.” She stormed in, furious.
Daddy stomped off, putting the horse in the pasture. “Kathleen didn’t appreciate anything he did for her. It would be a cold day in Hell before he brought her anything else!
Happy Mother’s Day!
Conquering Corwin (Part 2)
Aunt Essie got her nose out of joint when her little guys came home bringing tales of how badly Uncle Bill had treated them, so he didn’t hear from her till she fell on hard times a couple of years later. She had married her own fella named Bill by that time, strangely enough. This Bill was an affable enough guy, though he must not have taken time to meet Continue reading
Conquering Corwin (Part !)
In my family of “Mixed Nuts” Cousin Corwin was the winner, hands down. When he was about twelve, he and his twin Kelvin got in a little “dust up” with the police, so it seemed like a good time to get out of town. Aunt Essie called Daddy, asking if the twins could come spend a few days. Now if the image “twins” brings to mind thoughts of “barefoot Continue reading
It’s My Head
My mother could be so unreasonable about what I did with my own head when I was a kid. I was sitting on the floor at the end of the kitchen table playing one evening after dinner, when Phyllis tipped over a bowl of canned peaches. The syrup ran off the end of the table, onto my head. It felt cool and good. I didn’t complain. The next morning Continue reading
Nutsrok 