Just 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
The Great Depression
Trunk Full of Treasure
(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
Hard Times With Mettie Knight Swain
Five of Maw Maw’s seven children. My father, Bill Swain is the little boy with wet pants holding the cap. One more child was born after this picture was made. It is likely someone just happened by with a camera and snapped this shot. Continue reading
Starry Night (from Kathleen’s Memoir of The Great Depression Part 1)
Like most of the people we knew, we didn’t have an car, so we never went anywhere at night we couldn’t walk, except for once. Mama got the news that there was to be a brush arbor revival in Cuthand, hosting a guest evangelist! To my everlasting amazement, we were going! We put quilts in the back of the wagon, since we’d be getting home long after dark. We hopped up in the wagon dressed in our best, headed for the revival, in a holiday spirit long before dark. I had no idea what a revival was, but couldn’t have been more excited than a kid headed for the fair!
We pulled up to find dozens of wagons parked next to a brush-arbor in a clearing, a simple roof of branches on a make-do support sheltering rough benches. Though it was summer, a few small fires were smoldering, their smoke intended to discourage mosquitoes. Before long, the song leader got us fired up with a rousing rendition of “Onward Christian Soldiers.” The singing was wonderful, but eventually gave way to the Hell-fire and brimstone sermon, something that didn’t thrill me nearly so much.
It was late by the time the preacher concluded the altar call, releasing us. After visiting a bit with our neighbors, we headed for home, long after the time I was usually in bed. I lay in the back of the wagon with Annie and John on the quilts, looking at the magical night sky. Travelling under its full moon and sparkling stars was a gift. A slight breeze cooled us, keeping the mosquitoes at bay. As the horse clomped along, Mama and Daddy told stories and talked amiably. With all those I loved around me, I never wanted this night to end.
to be continued
Bobo and the Bloomers(Part 5)
During The Great Depression, people had to wear it out, use it up, or make do. Inner tubes were a valuable commodity, used for everything from cutting into strips to use as elastic for clothes, making overshoes, to wrapping pipes. They were the duct tape of the era. One of the favorite stories about Cousin Bobo demonstrated his excellent taste and Continue reading
Aunt Vola, Love at First Sight (From Kathleen’s Memoir of The Great Depression)
Hungry one afternoon, I raced home ahead of John, hoping there might be a leftover biscuit and slice of salt pork or piece of cornbread left from dinner. Opening the kitchen door, I was surprised to see Mama and a guest sitting at the table drinking coffee. Mama had neighbors popping in all the time, but this guest had skin the color of deep chestnut. Continue reading
Kathleen’s Vintage Letter from The Great Depression
Kathleen had just gotten the results of an achievement test when she was in the fifth grade when she wrote this letter to her sister, Annie. I believe she was a bit full of herself, but did remember to ask after her sister. I will transcribe since it is hard to read. Continue reading
Swapping Lunches (from Kathleen’s Memoirs of The Great Depression)
I was fascinated with the twins, Velda and Melba Peterson, from a family of eleven kids on a poor farm way down in the low country. Their daddy “drank.” They often came to school beaten and bruised. They carried their lunch in a silver-colored syrup bucket and ate it under a big oak on the Continue reading
Jimmy Sasses Sweet Miss Billie
Sweet Miss Billie 
This is an excerpt from my book in progress. It is a collaborative memoir of my mother’s memoirs of The Great Depression.Pictured above you can see Kathleen Holdaway, left to right from grades 1 through 5 Please don’t be too hard on Miss Billie. Corporal punishment was an accepted part of education at that time.
I adored Miss Billie, my first grade teacher. I hungered for her approval, strived for perfect work, and admired every thread she wore, her floral scent, her ladylike jewelry, and her kind, modest manner. Heaven could have granted me no greater wish than to grow up and be just like her. And above all this, Miss Billie was fair and gentle. One day after lunch Jimmy Wilson shocked us all by “sassing” Miss Billie, earning me the privilege of serving as message bearer to Mr. Kinnebrew, her husband and the principal. I proudly carried a note concealed beneath red and white checked napkin covering the lunch basket Miss Kinnebrew packed for them daily. I almost felt like a member of the family, being on such intimate terms. I knocked shyly, intimidated by the powerful man. He opened the door just a crack, took the basket, and returned it to me moments later, without a word, to my great relief. I returned the basket to Miss Billie, got her smiling nod in return, and scurried back to my seat.
She, Jimmy, and the covered basket exited the room. The entire class gave the door just time enough swing closed before rushing to claim prime viewing spots at the large crack afforded by a missing panel, the faster, more aggressive kids and the lucky ones in the back rows getting the best views. Despite our enthusiasm to see the show, we restrained ourselves sufficiently not to push the door open and fall out into the hall in harm’s way. After a quick lecture on manners and respect, Miss Billie had Jimmy bend over, grasp his knees, pulled Mr. Kinnebrew’s belt from the dainty basket, doubled it and gave him three stinging licks across his backside. As Jimmy rubbed his bottom, Miss Billie tucked the belt beneath the napkin, took Jimmy by the arm, and led him back to the classroom, just ahead of the thunderous sound of the class returning its seats, which she somehow failed to notice. No mention was made of how Mr. Kinnebrew was to keep his pants up the rest of the day, since neither the basket nor the incident was referred again, but Jimmy was respectful the rest of the year. I think he’d seen a new side of Sweet Miss Billie. It was an altogether edifying and satisfying experience for the rest of us.
Nutsrok 