Why are the people I love the most able to hurt my feelings easier than anyone else?
Why is it so easy for tears to fill my heart and eyes when a person I love hurts my feelings?
Why is it so easy to unknowingly hurt the feelings of a person I love the most?
Why do I feel so disappointed and hurt when I find out I have hurt the feelings of a person I love?
Why can't my brain just understand all situations thoroughly? Then the pain can be avoided.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Monday, November 1, 2010
1368.02 miles apart
Daily conversations with my daughters are the highlight of my day. Yes, I even visit daily with the one that lives three interstate hours away. Daily conversations with my mother and mother-in-law, neither live a stone's throw away, reassure me of their safety and keep me abreast of any needs.
Shopping: wow! Saving money and time has always been a favorite of my husband. And, boy can I save that gas money by shopping online. Just last week I bought a few Christmas presents. Surely I saved more in gas than I paid in shipping...but I don't think so.
Smart Phones and email accounts keep me up-to-date on work, even when I am taking a few days off. How does one spell oxymoron?
Add the texting feature we all cannot do without, and my spouse can contact me any second, any minute, any hour daily with suggestions: entertainment, food, transportation, how to fill my day, who I need to talk with, what I need to drink...
Did I say connected? What was I thinking? Connected, really? It's more like being cyber-linked, having a cyber-umbelical cord.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Waiting
Staring out my window. Looking at the cloudy fall sky, the plants gently shaking back and forth whispering to the west wind. And, I wait.
Flipping channels. Vampire reruns, zombies from isolated islands and ghosts from weddings' past dominate my big screen. Is Halloween near? And, I wait.
Driving. Listening to American Country on XM radio. Singing, howling along. Tears begin to stream down my cheeks. And, I wait.
Checking Facebook. Pushing a random "like" button. Spotting off about the positives to the "fair tax" proposal. And, I wait.
Waiting for friends. It is hard. It is painful.
When is the next blog going to be posted?
Flipping channels. Vampire reruns, zombies from isolated islands and ghosts from weddings' past dominate my big screen. Is Halloween near? And, I wait.
Driving. Listening to American Country on XM radio. Singing, howling along. Tears begin to stream down my cheeks. And, I wait.
Checking Facebook. Pushing a random "like" button. Spotting off about the positives to the "fair tax" proposal. And, I wait.
Waiting for friends. It is hard. It is painful.
When is the next blog going to be posted?
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
Relatives
Uncle: one who helps, advises, or encourages (www.merriam-webster.com)
Aunt: used as a form of address for an older woman, especially by children (www.thefreedictionary.com)
Cousin: a relative descended from a common ancestor (www.merriam-webster.com)
My first son-in-law was born in Laos and immigrated to the United States at the tender age of five. His mother and father brought with them many old family traditions and native language, Thai, from their homeland.
Our children were lucky enough to be married twice! The first time in the church both attended as youth. The 14K diamond ring was placed upon the bride’s finger in an evening ceremony. The second time was in the Laos tradition which included tying the knot before the noon hour. The traditional 18K gold rings were exchanged. The Buddha priest blessed their first home.
Upon his arrival, my oldest grandson received the traditional 18K gold ankle bracelet from his father’s family. He asked for kin cow, rice, when he was hungry and jump, dip, for his French fries long before he could say grandma. He addresses all children that are frequent visitors to his other grandparents’ home as cousin, all young adults are aunts or uncles, and all old folks are grandparents.
My family has respectfully laughed at my son-in-law and his family when they call all Laotians cousin, aunt, uncle, grandma or grandpa. But after reading the definitions above, maybe I have not educated my daughters correctly.
Aunt: used as a form of address for an older woman, especially by children (www.thefreedictionary.com)
Cousin: a relative descended from a common ancestor (www.merriam-webster.com)
My first son-in-law was born in Laos and immigrated to the United States at the tender age of five. His mother and father brought with them many old family traditions and native language, Thai, from their homeland.
Our children were lucky enough to be married twice! The first time in the church both attended as youth. The 14K diamond ring was placed upon the bride’s finger in an evening ceremony. The second time was in the Laos tradition which included tying the knot before the noon hour. The traditional 18K gold rings were exchanged. The Buddha priest blessed their first home.
Upon his arrival, my oldest grandson received the traditional 18K gold ankle bracelet from his father’s family. He asked for kin cow, rice, when he was hungry and jump, dip, for his French fries long before he could say grandma. He addresses all children that are frequent visitors to his other grandparents’ home as cousin, all young adults are aunts or uncles, and all old folks are grandparents.
My family has respectfully laughed at my son-in-law and his family when they call all Laotians cousin, aunt, uncle, grandma or grandpa. But after reading the definitions above, maybe I have not educated my daughters correctly.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Master and Me
Recently, the master took me on a trip. She describes the trip as wonderful, fascinating, exciting and thrilling. I, myself, would beg to disagree. I thought the trip bordered on boring and minimal.
The master quickly made new national colleague type friendships. I was spent a great deal of time babysitting my best friend's great-grandfather and various cousins of other old friends.
Together they laid the ground that will determine the state’s future secondary language arts teachers. I was excited to be a major part of this group! Without me, the master would have been an ineffective panelist.
They saw the amazing architecture on Princeton’s campus, visited the shops, and stood on the same ground past presidents and statesmen occupied years before! Being along only for the ride, I did not find anything thrilling here.
New York, Broadway, and Wicked were other highlights of the master’s journey. Places and events just are my cup of tea.
Then she immersed both of us in the local food scene. FOOD! Just the word perked my interest. The word was the highlight. The expensive soft drinks, cupcake, cheese cake, pizza, omelets, seafood dishes, and sauces just weren’t up to my standards.
The master quickly made new national colleague type friendships. I was spent a great deal of time babysitting my best friend's great-grandfather and various cousins of other old friends.
Together they laid the ground that will determine the state’s future secondary language arts teachers. I was excited to be a major part of this group! Without me, the master would have been an ineffective panelist.
They saw the amazing architecture on Princeton’s campus, visited the shops, and stood on the same ground past presidents and statesmen occupied years before! Being along only for the ride, I did not find anything thrilling here.
New York, Broadway, and Wicked were other highlights of the master’s journey. Places and events just are my cup of tea.
Then she immersed both of us in the local food scene. FOOD! Just the word perked my interest. The word was the highlight. The expensive soft drinks, cupcake, cheese cake, pizza, omelets, seafood dishes, and sauces just weren’t up to my standards.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Birthdays
Dora, Popsicle Hill, Softball Lake and Creaky Gate are a few of the places we visited Friday evening to celebrate Addi’s third birthday with family. I must say, I have never been to any of those places! The children, yes, even the nine year old, and the grandparents (two generations) seemed to enjoy the trip. Three sets of parents were also present, but somehow I got the feeling they may have seen these sights before.
The night before we celebrated the birthday of two other family members: Randee (my daughter and Addi’s mom) and Xayphone (my first son-in-law). They were both born on the 30th of the month and celebrate the same number of years. A rather large table in the bar area of our local “country” club was the setting. The nine year old was an angel as always. The two year olds were very well behaved, just a bit more active.
I guess I am getting old since memories of birthdays’ past have been rumbling around in my head lately. My first birthday memories come coupled with those of my cousin, Eddie. Even though I am a full 19 days older than he is, our mothers decided we could celebrate our very own special days at the same time: never on either of our birthdates.
Ruby had the best small paper cut-up cake cookbook. The book contained about a dozen cake shapes. The first cake I remember was a beautiful Barbie doll-like princess! Mom and Ruby were artists. One year Eddie’s cake was “Jack” and mine, you guessed it, was “Jill.” These are the only two birthday cake imagines I carry around with me. However, as a teenager, Ruby loaned me the cookbook. My very best friend, Suzzi, and made just about every cake in the book; there was even a fish with Life Saver scales and one lady ordered a wedding cake from us. Seeing how we did not charge, I guess it was alright to ask two very non-professionals to fix a not-so-spectacular wedding cake.
Another birthday memory haunts my brain every time I hear the word “shit.” You wouldn’t think the words birthday and shit would be housed in the same memory cell, would you? I don’t know which year Eddie and I were celebrating this time, what masterpiece cakes the mommas made, or what presents I received, but it was a special celebration. Eddie’s uncle on his dad’s side brought monstrous, huge speakers to the party. The adults were in the living room visiting, laughing and being rather noisy. Eddie and I were down the short hall talking into the speaker system, trading things verbally. All was well for, oh, ten minutes. Then...
Me: I’ll trade you a pile of shit for a dollar.
The living room went SILENT...
Mom: RANDY LEA!
She was in front of me, yanked me up, told me my birthday was over and put me in a bed. That birthday did not end well.
The night before we celebrated the birthday of two other family members: Randee (my daughter and Addi’s mom) and Xayphone (my first son-in-law). They were both born on the 30th of the month and celebrate the same number of years. A rather large table in the bar area of our local “country” club was the setting. The nine year old was an angel as always. The two year olds were very well behaved, just a bit more active.
I guess I am getting old since memories of birthdays’ past have been rumbling around in my head lately. My first birthday memories come coupled with those of my cousin, Eddie. Even though I am a full 19 days older than he is, our mothers decided we could celebrate our very own special days at the same time: never on either of our birthdates.
Ruby had the best small paper cut-up cake cookbook. The book contained about a dozen cake shapes. The first cake I remember was a beautiful Barbie doll-like princess! Mom and Ruby were artists. One year Eddie’s cake was “Jack” and mine, you guessed it, was “Jill.” These are the only two birthday cake imagines I carry around with me. However, as a teenager, Ruby loaned me the cookbook. My very best friend, Suzzi, and made just about every cake in the book; there was even a fish with Life Saver scales and one lady ordered a wedding cake from us. Seeing how we did not charge, I guess it was alright to ask two very non-professionals to fix a not-so-spectacular wedding cake.
Another birthday memory haunts my brain every time I hear the word “shit.” You wouldn’t think the words birthday and shit would be housed in the same memory cell, would you? I don’t know which year Eddie and I were celebrating this time, what masterpiece cakes the mommas made, or what presents I received, but it was a special celebration. Eddie’s uncle on his dad’s side brought monstrous, huge speakers to the party. The adults were in the living room visiting, laughing and being rather noisy. Eddie and I were down the short hall talking into the speaker system, trading things verbally. All was well for, oh, ten minutes. Then...
Me: I’ll trade you a pile of shit for a dollar.
The living room went SILENT...
Mom: RANDY LEA!
She was in front of me, yanked me up, told me my birthday was over and put me in a bed. That birthday did not end well.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Grandparents: Precious Memories
I only have one memory of Granddad, Cyrus McGowan.
He wanted Norma June for something, and she was upstairs. Granddad was sick and downstairs. He told a very young me to go get her. I walked to the bottom of the stairs and yelled, “Norma June, get down here.” I am blessed to have one memory of Granddad and that Joplin house.
Grandma Blanch Leas McGowan is still with me daily.
I heard her in my voice when I fussed at one of the grandkids the other day. I knew when Grandma told me, “Don’t do that again, or I’ll spank you.” In reality, she could catch me repeating the offense three more times before Grandma swatted at my behind.
I saw her standing in front of me at Mom’s a couple of weeks ago. Newell was heading out the door to spend the day with Ruby. He picked up three extremely ripe bananas and said they were perfect for eating. Grandma always liked her bananas to be over-ripe: brown spots.
I see her in my house daily. She is reading one of the books she kept at the head of her bed. Little Men and The Five Little Peppers are two of books that decorate my living room. Each morning as I get out of bed and each evening as I crawl in, I see Grandma piecing a quilt while visiting with family or quilting one while listening to a Cardinal baseball game. One of her quilts is one my bed.
I see Grandma daily as I drive through town and see ladies walking to and from the grocery store. Sometimes they are by themselves and other times that have children in tow. However, seldom do any of them pull a grocery cart. Grandma was smart!
I see Grandma each spring when various women in the neighborhood begin to tend to their flower beds. Grandma loved the flowers! There is a tulip tree next door. Each year when it blooms, I see Mom, Ruby and Melvin discussing where to plant the tulip tree they bought Grandma for her birthday, or was it Mother’s day? They decided to put it over by the old chicken house so she could see it out her living area window.
I see Grandma every time I see a white chicken walking around a yard. It seems one year some adult(s) got the bright idea to buy, kill, dressed and cook several live chickens. Grandma and Melvin literally wrung their necks! All of us kids enjoyed the show in the backyard. Did you know a chicken will run like crazy around the yard for several minutes without a head? Now, that was funny. However, the smell in the kitchen was horrific while Mom and Ruby cooked the birds just enough to remove the feathers.
I see Grandma every time I run home during my lunch break for some forgotten item. She is standing in Ruby’s and Melvin’s kitchen dishing up lunch for the little boys (Harvey and Dale), Melvin and the two first graders (Eddie and me) who decided not to eat at school that day. Melvin walks in and greets everyone just as the Paul Harvey radio broadcast begins.
I see Grandma every time I pull cooking items out of the kitchen and hand them to a grandchild to be used as a toy. Grandma’s “toy box” was full of such worn out items. All the kids loved playing with them.
I feel Grandma with me daily, and I miss her.
Grandma Jesse Leas
Grandma Leas lived far, far away in the strange land of Grove, Oklahoma. It took forever to get there by car, but once there the fun began. Grandma always had cookies in the cookie jar for us.
Nap time: It usually took place in her deathly dark bedroom magically lit by what I remember to be a fake aquarium. It probably had nothing to do with fish, but it did provide a hypnotizing light by which to fall asleep for this young girl.
When we spent the night, Eddie and I slept on the back porch. It was really a narrow back room with a single bed in it. The walls seemed to be mostly glass.
Outside was really where the children had all their fun. Grandma kept a huge propane gas tank in her front side yard just for us climb on and ride. Even though, both our parents and Grandma told us not to get on it, we really knew Grandma Leas had put it there just for us, and we played on it each visit until we got caught.
Grandma also had a barn type structure in her back yard just for grandchildren. Once again, our parents did not like us having fun, and they threatened us within a inch of our lives if we peeked inside the building. I seem to remember the boys going into the barn on more than one occasion. I am sure I never did. I just stayed on the outside watching all the birds fly in and out of the tall bird houses Grandma kept in front of the barn.
Grandma Lillian Loveless Tyler
My memories of Grandma are usually in a house. She spent a lot of time in the kitchen as the other adults visited. Grandma could whip up a delicious fruit pie in minutes and cook biscuits from scratch in half that time. She loved her collections and displayed them on her walls. Music was a big portion of her life as demonstrated by her piano playing. Grandma loved to hold us children and run her hand through our hair as she visited with our parents. Her hands were as gentle as her voice.
Sometime during the fourth year of my life, we lived next door to Grandma in a labor camp in Yakima, Washington. It was fun running back a forth between the cabins and playing in yard pestering Sue, Tommy and Carol. They were Dad’s youngest brothers and sister and still living at home.
After we moved back home, we would see Grandma and Grandpa a few times each year when they wintered around the Arkansas/Oklahoma line close to Betty and Jack. After a few years, they decided to buy a house in Yakima, WA and stop moving twice a year. We were lucky enough to be able to afford two trips out there before Grandma joined our Heavenly Father.
Grandpa Alvin Tyler always loved Dale best, and that’s the truth!
Grandpa never wore anything but overalls.
He did love Dale best, and all of us grandkids knew it. Once he asked Dale if he wanted some popcorn. When Dale said yes, he took the young lad into the kitchen, locked the doors, then cooked and shared the popcorn with Dale alone while three envious young ladies banged on the door (Bobby and Kathy Bittle and me). After Grandpa unlocked the doors, Grandma did fix us some popcorn.
Grandpa knew how to raise pigs, smoke meat (Arkansas memories), grow fruit and set outside under the front yard trees (Yakima memories). He also had great, scary stories about hobos jumping from the trains that sped by next to the house in Yakima spending the night in his basement or stealing his fruit. Kathy and I were going to stay the night in the basement of our grandparents’ house once. I think we might have stayed down there by ourselves for…oh…three minutes before we were banging on the back door and begging to be housed inside. Grandma tucked us into the spare bed for a peaceful night’s sleep.
Grandma Sally Loveless
She lived in the extreme northwest portion of the state of Washington. I loved visiting her there the two times we traveled to Washington. She lived in what I thought was an apartment house full of old folks. They all shared the same hall and used an elevator to get to their own apartments. Grandma had two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen and a bird! I never knew anyone with a bird in their house, and hers could talk!
Grandma and Grandpa Rainey
After I married, I inherited two more wonderful grandparents. But, that is a story for another day.
He wanted Norma June for something, and she was upstairs. Granddad was sick and downstairs. He told a very young me to go get her. I walked to the bottom of the stairs and yelled, “Norma June, get down here.” I am blessed to have one memory of Granddad and that Joplin house.
Grandma Blanch Leas McGowan is still with me daily.
I heard her in my voice when I fussed at one of the grandkids the other day. I knew when Grandma told me, “Don’t do that again, or I’ll spank you.” In reality, she could catch me repeating the offense three more times before Grandma swatted at my behind.
I saw her standing in front of me at Mom’s a couple of weeks ago. Newell was heading out the door to spend the day with Ruby. He picked up three extremely ripe bananas and said they were perfect for eating. Grandma always liked her bananas to be over-ripe: brown spots.
I see her in my house daily. She is reading one of the books she kept at the head of her bed. Little Men and The Five Little Peppers are two of books that decorate my living room. Each morning as I get out of bed and each evening as I crawl in, I see Grandma piecing a quilt while visiting with family or quilting one while listening to a Cardinal baseball game. One of her quilts is one my bed.
I see Grandma daily as I drive through town and see ladies walking to and from the grocery store. Sometimes they are by themselves and other times that have children in tow. However, seldom do any of them pull a grocery cart. Grandma was smart!
I see Grandma each spring when various women in the neighborhood begin to tend to their flower beds. Grandma loved the flowers! There is a tulip tree next door. Each year when it blooms, I see Mom, Ruby and Melvin discussing where to plant the tulip tree they bought Grandma for her birthday, or was it Mother’s day? They decided to put it over by the old chicken house so she could see it out her living area window.
I see Grandma every time I see a white chicken walking around a yard. It seems one year some adult(s) got the bright idea to buy, kill, dressed and cook several live chickens. Grandma and Melvin literally wrung their necks! All of us kids enjoyed the show in the backyard. Did you know a chicken will run like crazy around the yard for several minutes without a head? Now, that was funny. However, the smell in the kitchen was horrific while Mom and Ruby cooked the birds just enough to remove the feathers.
I see Grandma every time I run home during my lunch break for some forgotten item. She is standing in Ruby’s and Melvin’s kitchen dishing up lunch for the little boys (Harvey and Dale), Melvin and the two first graders (Eddie and me) who decided not to eat at school that day. Melvin walks in and greets everyone just as the Paul Harvey radio broadcast begins.
I see Grandma every time I pull cooking items out of the kitchen and hand them to a grandchild to be used as a toy. Grandma’s “toy box” was full of such worn out items. All the kids loved playing with them.
I feel Grandma with me daily, and I miss her.
Grandma Jesse Leas
Grandma Leas lived far, far away in the strange land of Grove, Oklahoma. It took forever to get there by car, but once there the fun began. Grandma always had cookies in the cookie jar for us.
Nap time: It usually took place in her deathly dark bedroom magically lit by what I remember to be a fake aquarium. It probably had nothing to do with fish, but it did provide a hypnotizing light by which to fall asleep for this young girl.
When we spent the night, Eddie and I slept on the back porch. It was really a narrow back room with a single bed in it. The walls seemed to be mostly glass.
Outside was really where the children had all their fun. Grandma kept a huge propane gas tank in her front side yard just for us climb on and ride. Even though, both our parents and Grandma told us not to get on it, we really knew Grandma Leas had put it there just for us, and we played on it each visit until we got caught.
Grandma also had a barn type structure in her back yard just for grandchildren. Once again, our parents did not like us having fun, and they threatened us within a inch of our lives if we peeked inside the building. I seem to remember the boys going into the barn on more than one occasion. I am sure I never did. I just stayed on the outside watching all the birds fly in and out of the tall bird houses Grandma kept in front of the barn.
Grandma Lillian Loveless Tyler
My memories of Grandma are usually in a house. She spent a lot of time in the kitchen as the other adults visited. Grandma could whip up a delicious fruit pie in minutes and cook biscuits from scratch in half that time. She loved her collections and displayed them on her walls. Music was a big portion of her life as demonstrated by her piano playing. Grandma loved to hold us children and run her hand through our hair as she visited with our parents. Her hands were as gentle as her voice.
Sometime during the fourth year of my life, we lived next door to Grandma in a labor camp in Yakima, Washington. It was fun running back a forth between the cabins and playing in yard pestering Sue, Tommy and Carol. They were Dad’s youngest brothers and sister and still living at home.
After we moved back home, we would see Grandma and Grandpa a few times each year when they wintered around the Arkansas/Oklahoma line close to Betty and Jack. After a few years, they decided to buy a house in Yakima, WA and stop moving twice a year. We were lucky enough to be able to afford two trips out there before Grandma joined our Heavenly Father.
Grandpa Alvin Tyler always loved Dale best, and that’s the truth!
Grandpa never wore anything but overalls.
He did love Dale best, and all of us grandkids knew it. Once he asked Dale if he wanted some popcorn. When Dale said yes, he took the young lad into the kitchen, locked the doors, then cooked and shared the popcorn with Dale alone while three envious young ladies banged on the door (Bobby and Kathy Bittle and me). After Grandpa unlocked the doors, Grandma did fix us some popcorn.
Grandpa knew how to raise pigs, smoke meat (Arkansas memories), grow fruit and set outside under the front yard trees (Yakima memories). He also had great, scary stories about hobos jumping from the trains that sped by next to the house in Yakima spending the night in his basement or stealing his fruit. Kathy and I were going to stay the night in the basement of our grandparents’ house once. I think we might have stayed down there by ourselves for…oh…three minutes before we were banging on the back door and begging to be housed inside. Grandma tucked us into the spare bed for a peaceful night’s sleep.
Grandma Sally Loveless
She lived in the extreme northwest portion of the state of Washington. I loved visiting her there the two times we traveled to Washington. She lived in what I thought was an apartment house full of old folks. They all shared the same hall and used an elevator to get to their own apartments. Grandma had two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen and a bird! I never knew anyone with a bird in their house, and hers could talk!
Grandma and Grandpa Rainey
After I married, I inherited two more wonderful grandparents. But, that is a story for another day.
My Foundation
Sulphur Springs and neighboring areas in Arkansas, Oklahoma and Missouri:
a small portion of the world, but the breeding ground, foundation of my being.
The Bittles
In the late 1930s two prominent families, McGowan and Tyler, lived in the area. You might ask, “What made the families so important?” For Dale and me, they were the beginning of our being.
My life is filled with fond memories of the magical place Mom and Dad called home.
Betty Tyler Bittle’s household occupies the back upper quarter of my heart. The bright pink household on the Oklahoma side of the highway was complete with an outhouse, castor oil, party-line telephone, Jack (husband), Bobbie, Kathy (2 daughters), homemade bread, brown beans and goulash. The party-line was a ton of fun. All a child had to do was pick up the telephone and listen to others conversations or sing “Happy Birthday” to a neighbor! How much fun is that? Eventually the place had in-door plumbing, brick and new occupants.
Then there was a one room rented dwelling. Even though the whole family lived there, the Bittles always made room for Mom, Dale and me to stay the random weekend. I don’t know how they put up with me. Unlike today, I was loud, failed to mind my own business and love to talk others into things I knew we would not get caught doing. We always got caught.
The Bittles built another house on the Oklahoma side of the highway. I only remember the house, barely. I must not have had time to cause too much trouble there.
Building a third house brought the Bittles to civilization: the Arkansas side of the same highway. I loved this place as much as the pink house. Bobbie insisted on kissing my dirty bare foot after a day of playing outside. Once again, Jack and Bobbie both blamed me! Just because I told Bobbie a small kiss on the foot would get me to play with her again is no reason to blame an innocent child.
I must have been a terrible child because the Bittles up and moved as far away from me as they could: Yakima, Washington. They never returned to live in the land of magic. I have missed them daily since.
The DeShazers
Mary, Grandma McGowan’s oldest, rented a large two story white house a couple of blocks behind the main street.
Noreen always let me walk to town to check the DeShazer Post Office Box. She let me walk on the rock retaining wall that ran for miles from her house to town. It is the only Post Office Box I remember any family member ever owning; I was pretty sure they were a rich family.
Jeanne could be heard from every corner of the house although, she could nearly always be found upstairs in one of the two hardwood floored bedrooms.
Bruce was a fun playmate on the stairs, upstairs and under the stairs!
Lee was kind enough to let me work the push mower all over the yard! I am sure it was very safe since there was no motor, gas or oil to harm a young girl.
Rita thought she was an adult at an early age. She did not hang out with us youngins.
Somewhere close-by a Tyler descendant (Lou and her family) lived. I was able to walk by myself to her house if Mom knew I going over to play.
Willie’s
Willie lived outside of Kansas City for several years before returning to heaven on earth. Earl and Willie moved their two young boys to Springdale for a couple of years before moving to Earl’s hometown of Decatur. The first Decatur house was gray in color and small, but Willie and Earl were use to small spaces.
The sewing machine was always handy; it seemed at home on the kitchen table. Under Willie’s skillful hands, it produced all of my drill team outfits, a scanty outfit mandated for this Jr./Sr. prom server and a complete wardrobe for an entering University of Central Arkansas student (Willie never told me no). On the front porch, it was common to hear the hum of a hand-cranked ice-cream maker during the summer months and see one of the many youngins turning the crank. Fresh peach was my favorite.
Willie eventually moved back to her home town. Her house was fantastic; it was shaped a lot like Iroquoian Longhouse. The stairs came equipped with a chair anyone could use to ride to the second floor where Willie, Jim and dog resided. Two apartments could be found on either side of the stairs on the bottom floor. Jim’s dad occupied one, and he was seldom seen.
Noel, Missouri: the dentist and the Owens
Ruby and Mom thought they needed a day on the town every six months. Together they coordinated the date, one made the dentist appointment, they piled five children into the back seat of an old Mercury or Ford and then they made the eight hour round trip to Noel. Still today I believe they were more interested in making money than fixing the children’s teeth. The dentist gave each child a shiny, new nickel if a cavity was found, and I always had at least one! Before heading home, Mom and Ruby had to have lunch. As for the children with cavities, eating was out of the question and ice cream was all that was allowed. Now I know why I am so skinny today; Mom did not always believe in feeding me.
Alice along with David (husband) and children (Wayne, Doris and Jonnie) lived high on a hill that looked down not only on the beautiful town but the train track. Playing in and around the yard was as fun-filled as only eight young children could make it. I still have a pleasant, warm, calming feeling when I place myself in the yard. I guess the “adults” did not like the sounds of our voices or footsteps as I do not remember being inside the house.
My heart still misses a beat recalling Mom’s, Ruby’s and Grandma’s anxiety after hearing a breaking news story of a train explosion August 3, 1969. A train traveled into Noel with a burning flat car carrying two cylinders or vats of ammonium per chlorate, an oxidizer for propellant fuel and a box car containing alfalfa meal. The explosion killed one person, injured many more, demolished many homes and business, and damaged even more. Not knowing about Alice, David and the children was heart-wrenching. Even if all escaped the explosion, what about the ammonia in the air? Everyone knows how dangerous it is to breathe that stuff. They were fine, thanks be to God. I loved the next visit to their house. It did receive some damage but nothing like the homes on the streets that separated their house from the rail-road track.
The Park
The Sulphur Springs Park has been in my life as long as I can remember. Mom, Ruby and Grandma found it somehow amusing to trick each small child into taking a drink from each of the three wells in the middle of the park. All three were frugal by nature; maybe they just wanted to work the pump and not waste the water. I don’t recall any of them tasting the fruits of that magical land.
The Grand Stand was a perfect place for the children to dance and sing. Although, they weren’t allow to very often. I wonder why? Could it have been it was out in the sunshine without shade and they could not see us from the fold up chairs setting under the trees?
The lake! Swimming was always fun there. Playing on the rock dam, walking across the lake and even sneaking a swing on the rope tied to the tree limb provided visions of heaven for this old lady. I don’t think the fly families were ever invited to this wonderland.
One of my favorite side trips was a walking trek across a “narrow foot bridge” to Lithium Springs. Now that water was not only cool but tasted wonderful! I cannot believe it does not run anymore.
Ending Thoughts
I have been reminiscing with Mom as she drifts in and out of sleep here at UAMS. Thank you, Mom, for allowing me to visit with you these past three days. Next time let’s leave the hospital part out, okay?
a small portion of the world, but the breeding ground, foundation of my being.
The Bittles
In the late 1930s two prominent families, McGowan and Tyler, lived in the area. You might ask, “What made the families so important?” For Dale and me, they were the beginning of our being.
My life is filled with fond memories of the magical place Mom and Dad called home.
Betty Tyler Bittle’s household occupies the back upper quarter of my heart. The bright pink household on the Oklahoma side of the highway was complete with an outhouse, castor oil, party-line telephone, Jack (husband), Bobbie, Kathy (2 daughters), homemade bread, brown beans and goulash. The party-line was a ton of fun. All a child had to do was pick up the telephone and listen to others conversations or sing “Happy Birthday” to a neighbor! How much fun is that? Eventually the place had in-door plumbing, brick and new occupants.
Then there was a one room rented dwelling. Even though the whole family lived there, the Bittles always made room for Mom, Dale and me to stay the random weekend. I don’t know how they put up with me. Unlike today, I was loud, failed to mind my own business and love to talk others into things I knew we would not get caught doing. We always got caught.
The Bittles built another house on the Oklahoma side of the highway. I only remember the house, barely. I must not have had time to cause too much trouble there.
Building a third house brought the Bittles to civilization: the Arkansas side of the same highway. I loved this place as much as the pink house. Bobbie insisted on kissing my dirty bare foot after a day of playing outside. Once again, Jack and Bobbie both blamed me! Just because I told Bobbie a small kiss on the foot would get me to play with her again is no reason to blame an innocent child.
I must have been a terrible child because the Bittles up and moved as far away from me as they could: Yakima, Washington. They never returned to live in the land of magic. I have missed them daily since.
The DeShazers
Mary, Grandma McGowan’s oldest, rented a large two story white house a couple of blocks behind the main street.
Noreen always let me walk to town to check the DeShazer Post Office Box. She let me walk on the rock retaining wall that ran for miles from her house to town. It is the only Post Office Box I remember any family member ever owning; I was pretty sure they were a rich family.
Jeanne could be heard from every corner of the house although, she could nearly always be found upstairs in one of the two hardwood floored bedrooms.
Bruce was a fun playmate on the stairs, upstairs and under the stairs!
Lee was kind enough to let me work the push mower all over the yard! I am sure it was very safe since there was no motor, gas or oil to harm a young girl.
Rita thought she was an adult at an early age. She did not hang out with us youngins.
Somewhere close-by a Tyler descendant (Lou and her family) lived. I was able to walk by myself to her house if Mom knew I going over to play.
Willie’s
Willie lived outside of Kansas City for several years before returning to heaven on earth. Earl and Willie moved their two young boys to Springdale for a couple of years before moving to Earl’s hometown of Decatur. The first Decatur house was gray in color and small, but Willie and Earl were use to small spaces.
The sewing machine was always handy; it seemed at home on the kitchen table. Under Willie’s skillful hands, it produced all of my drill team outfits, a scanty outfit mandated for this Jr./Sr. prom server and a complete wardrobe for an entering University of Central Arkansas student (Willie never told me no). On the front porch, it was common to hear the hum of a hand-cranked ice-cream maker during the summer months and see one of the many youngins turning the crank. Fresh peach was my favorite.
Willie eventually moved back to her home town. Her house was fantastic; it was shaped a lot like Iroquoian Longhouse. The stairs came equipped with a chair anyone could use to ride to the second floor where Willie, Jim and dog resided. Two apartments could be found on either side of the stairs on the bottom floor. Jim’s dad occupied one, and he was seldom seen.
Noel, Missouri: the dentist and the Owens
Ruby and Mom thought they needed a day on the town every six months. Together they coordinated the date, one made the dentist appointment, they piled five children into the back seat of an old Mercury or Ford and then they made the eight hour round trip to Noel. Still today I believe they were more interested in making money than fixing the children’s teeth. The dentist gave each child a shiny, new nickel if a cavity was found, and I always had at least one! Before heading home, Mom and Ruby had to have lunch. As for the children with cavities, eating was out of the question and ice cream was all that was allowed. Now I know why I am so skinny today; Mom did not always believe in feeding me.
Alice along with David (husband) and children (Wayne, Doris and Jonnie) lived high on a hill that looked down not only on the beautiful town but the train track. Playing in and around the yard was as fun-filled as only eight young children could make it. I still have a pleasant, warm, calming feeling when I place myself in the yard. I guess the “adults” did not like the sounds of our voices or footsteps as I do not remember being inside the house.
My heart still misses a beat recalling Mom’s, Ruby’s and Grandma’s anxiety after hearing a breaking news story of a train explosion August 3, 1969. A train traveled into Noel with a burning flat car carrying two cylinders or vats of ammonium per chlorate, an oxidizer for propellant fuel and a box car containing alfalfa meal. The explosion killed one person, injured many more, demolished many homes and business, and damaged even more. Not knowing about Alice, David and the children was heart-wrenching. Even if all escaped the explosion, what about the ammonia in the air? Everyone knows how dangerous it is to breathe that stuff. They were fine, thanks be to God. I loved the next visit to their house. It did receive some damage but nothing like the homes on the streets that separated their house from the rail-road track.
The Park
The Sulphur Springs Park has been in my life as long as I can remember. Mom, Ruby and Grandma found it somehow amusing to trick each small child into taking a drink from each of the three wells in the middle of the park. All three were frugal by nature; maybe they just wanted to work the pump and not waste the water. I don’t recall any of them tasting the fruits of that magical land.
The Grand Stand was a perfect place for the children to dance and sing. Although, they weren’t allow to very often. I wonder why? Could it have been it was out in the sunshine without shade and they could not see us from the fold up chairs setting under the trees?
The lake! Swimming was always fun there. Playing on the rock dam, walking across the lake and even sneaking a swing on the rope tied to the tree limb provided visions of heaven for this old lady. I don’t think the fly families were ever invited to this wonderland.
One of my favorite side trips was a walking trek across a “narrow foot bridge” to Lithium Springs. Now that water was not only cool but tasted wonderful! I cannot believe it does not run anymore.
Ending Thoughts
I have been reminiscing with Mom as she drifts in and out of sleep here at UAMS. Thank you, Mom, for allowing me to visit with you these past three days. Next time let’s leave the hospital part out, okay?
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
I Did It My Way
Like my youngest granddaughter, I made my appearance into this world on my own terms. I refused to hang out up-side-down butting my head against the unforgiving bones of my mother. Instead I took it upon myself to just sit on my rear and wait for my mother to push me into unknown surroundings.
Did I make the right decision? I have been reading about breech births and am making the judgments a reader must in order to sort reality from myth.
Most say that I am not as smart as my non-breech brother. As much as I hate to admit it, that is a truth.
Other state I have an awesome chance of being schizophrenic. One of my favorite movies is The Three Faces of Eve. There is just something idealistic about being able to just turn on another personality and not be judged by others. I would love to just be me all the time instead of only when I am alone.
Violent is another attribute common to us lucky breech babies. I don’t agree with this one. I hate controversy of all kinds.
Now for my favorites, according to mythology and folklore:
Healing-walking on someone-me! Oops, that would be a ride in either a hearse or an ambulance. Prostitute, I can assure you that profession never entered my mind or the minds of anyone that has ever laid eyes on me. Now, vampire...maybe.
Did I make the right decision? I have been reading about breech births and am making the judgments a reader must in order to sort reality from myth.
Most say that I am not as smart as my non-breech brother. As much as I hate to admit it, that is a truth.
Other state I have an awesome chance of being schizophrenic. One of my favorite movies is The Three Faces of Eve. There is just something idealistic about being able to just turn on another personality and not be judged by others. I would love to just be me all the time instead of only when I am alone.
Violent is another attribute common to us lucky breech babies. I don’t agree with this one. I hate controversy of all kinds.
Now for my favorites, according to mythology and folklore:
- a person born "footling" (breech) has the power to heal others by walking on them
- On the other hand, according to these same sources, a footling may become a prostitute
- or "harmless" vampire!
Healing-walking on someone-me! Oops, that would be a ride in either a hearse or an ambulance. Prostitute, I can assure you that profession never entered my mind or the minds of anyone that has ever laid eyes on me. Now, vampire...maybe.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Coma
The first time I spoke the words, “I awoke from a wonderful eight hour coma,” I told my husband. I did not dream. I did not have to wake up to use the potty. The telephone did not ring. Heaven, I thought.
Upon arriving at work, I heard a teacher tell a student, “Wake up out of your coma!” The student was staring into space, deep in his own thoughts and oblivious to everything around him. Yes, day dreams help us get through hard days.
This afternoon my mother called, “Ruby is hospitalized and in a coma.” My dearest aunt is not responding to a team of medical personal. Is she enjoying the deep, dreamless sleep I love? Is she enjoying the day dreams of a child? Or is she trapped and can’t get out?
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Lessons Learned: Elementary School
Springdale, Arkansas
1st grade
Lessons: 1. Don’t Jump Over Drainage Ditches
2. Always walk through the culvert.
Awe, 1960, lunch-time memories, my heart melts simply reminiscing. This six year old had one full hour to briskly walk from point A to point B (school to Ruby’s), eat Grandma’s cooking with her, Melvin, Dale and Harvey then playfully wonder from point B to point A.
Eddie and I had one big decision each day during our leisurely walk back to school. We could take the short cut which consisted of a climb down into a culvert and trek through it to the other end of the block. Or, we could stay on the road and jump over a three foot wide, two foot deep ditch.
The ditch was guarded by a rose bush stump, hidden beneath a few blades of strategically placed green grass. Eddie and I pretended we needed a small push to elongate our jump across the vast expanse. On day Eddie pushed, I landed on my knees and the rose bush stump attacked. Eddie walked his screaming cousin back home, and Melvin took a much longer lunch than planned to take my knee to Dr. White’s office for twelve well-placed stitches.
2nd grade
Lesson: Randy will never be able to read.
“I want to be in the same reading group as Karen,” I pronounced.
The long faced witch, Mrs. Long, replied, “Karen is a good reader. You can’t read.”
I believed her for many years.
Jones Elementary School
Springdale, Arkansas
3rd grade
Lesson: Brother can sound like a donkey.
“YEE HAW, YEE HAW.”
“There’s a donkey at school!” shouts Mrs. Calico’s 3rd grade class.
“YEE HAW, YEE HAW.”
“Dale Tyler! I told you yesterday that you are NOT to bray like a donkey in the lunch line,” shouted Mrs. Kidd. I did not get the first school paddling in our household.
4th grade
Lessons: 1. Don’t Bale Out of the Swing
2. Teacher ego is more important than learning.
School Rule: Do Not Bale Out of Any Swing
RRRIIINNGG
One last swing, I feel the breeze push my hair from my face as I fly high into the sky. The pendulum swings in the opposite direction, and my hair is blown into my face. The pendulum swings forward again. I grab the thick gray chains tighter, my dress is pushed behind the wooden seat, I extend both legs and at the precise moment I JUMP. Smiling at a perfect landing, OH NO, my skirt is still swinging. Laughter from the strange children that share my classroom invades my brain. Left standing in front of the swing with the top of a new dress and a white slip, I cried.
Mrs. Jones, a Mrs. Long clone, showed no sympathy for the small rule breaker. Even though I was a ‘walker’ and kept emergency cloths at Ruby’s literally minutes away, she found pleasure in making me wear ill-fitted, donated clothes. You know, the ones saved for girls who still wet their panties?
5th grade
Lesson: School is more fun when the teacher likes you best.
Mrs. Alexander loved me. I was the teacher’s pet.
Central Elementary School
Springdale, Arkansas
6th grade
Lessons: 1. I will never be able to spell.
2. Recess is not important.
3. If Randy copies spelling words 200 times each weekly, she will spell.
Not only can I not read, but now I am told I will not ever be able to spell.
“Randy, you have to spend your recess writing your missed spelling words each Friday,” commanded Mrs. Smith. No she wasn’t related to my first grade teacher. In fact, after years of reflection, I am convinced she was Mrs. Long’s grandmother.
Alright, I didn’t like it, but since she was in charge I always showed up right after lunch. I picked up my paper, sat down and begin to write.
Umm, several months passed, my routine was down pat, and Mrs. Smith failed to put my failed spelling test in the normal place. I waited hours for her to show, and then I made the very logical decision to join my classmates on the playground.
That day, Dale was no longer the only child in our family to be paddled at school.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Uncle Dale and Aunt Ressie
“Baby Dale, come here.” or “Baby Dale, stop that!” or “Randy what is Baby Dale doing?”
My brother has been known by many names during the course of his last 53 years; Dale, Alvin, Hutch, Mr. Tyler and Baby Dale are a few I can share with the family. As a child, I thought the word “Baby” in front of Dale was used because of his birth placement. The real reason for addressing him as Baby Dale became clear to me during my primary school days. It was during those young years after we moved back to Arkansas, Uncle Dale became a very special person in my life and I understood why Momma called my brother Baby Dale.
Uncle Dale and his bride, Aunt Ressie were very special people to our Grandma McGowan. Dale Leas was Grandma’s baby brother; the one she helped raise after she recovered from small pox. The long grueling trip from Springdale to some destination in or around the Joplin, Missouri area became a regular outing for our family.
Melvin, Ruby, Momma, Grandma, Eddie, Dale, Harvey and I loading into a car built in the late 1940’s sometime during 1960 and traveling to a small white house many hours away to visit Uncle Dale and Aunt Ressie is among one of my first memories. We spent the night. The small house did not have indoor potty facilities. I remember going to a small building, outhouse, during the day and at night using a potty chair inside the house. At that time I didn’t realize potty chairs were used in hospitals! I also remember playing around a well and seeing the neighbors’ homes all around, so I know the house had to be in some town. I only recall one visit to this place and do not remember either Uncle Dale or Aunt Ressie as anytime but other more adults.
My close relationship began to develop with my favorite great-uncle and aunt when they moved to a country location. The house was two-story without running water. Where I remember the outhouse when they lived in town; I don’t remember one being used here. I do remember the pump at the kitchen sink, helping draw water from the well, taking baths in a tin tub on the back porch, feeding the chickens, sitting under the trees to snap green beans and playing on the front porch (even though we weren’t suppose to play there). The upstairs was reserved for sleeping only. I remember there was something different about the two bedrooms upstairs but I don’t really recall what it was. Maybe there was no electricity up there. Uncle Dale and Aunt Ressie’s bedroom was downstairs next to the living room. I loved this place. I spent a couple of weeks with my dearest aunt and uncle here.
Uncle Dale would go to work during the day. Aunt Ressie and I would do all the housework before noon, eat a fried egg sandwich and settle in front of the huge black and white television to watch Days of Our Lives and Another World. Yes, Aunt Ressie taught me the value of watching a good soap opera every afternoon. I am sure she is the reason I missed more than a few afternoon college classes. After the soaps we would walk down the dirt road/driveway (I don’t remember which) to get the mail from the mailbox (back home the mailman put the mail right outside our front door). Aunt Ressie taught me the song A Tisket A Tasket A Green and Yellow Basket during our daily walks.
Aunt Ressie taught me how to do laundry with a wringer washer, now that was FUN! Thinking back on that experience, I know there was telephone in this house. Aunt Ressie was helping me to feed towels through the wringer after the washing machine stopped agitating. We were left with wash clothes when the telephone rang. The telephone was in the front room, the washing machine was in the kitchen and they were separate by a large dining room. Aunt Ressie told me, made me promise, not to touch the washing machine while she was gone. You all know I usually did not do what I was told not to, but this time I knew I was capable of helping my favorite great aunt finish her morning chores quickly by feeding the wash clothes through the wringer while she was on the telephone. My small hands guided the first wash cloth halfway through the wringer and all was well. The second half of the wash cloth began its journey through the wringer with my small fingers still attached. Aunt Ressie quickly hung up the telephone at the first panicked cries from this young lady. After she turned the machine off, took the wringer apart and freed the small fingers, she just hugged me. Aunt Ressie never punished me. However, Uncle Dale did.
Uncle Dale was always a lot of fun. He loved to chase the kids, wrestle and tickle with them and pick at each for what seemed to be hours. I loved to play with him. However, no one was to get between him and the television during a Cardinals baseball game. He really wasn’t crazy about kids running in the house either. Uncle Dale only punished me once, and it was for running in this house.
After a couple of years, Uncle Dale and Aunt Ressie moved into town to a house with electricity and running water. The house was up on a small hill with a backyard. Sadly, they did not bring the chickens with them. This was a wonderful house. The front door opened to the living room which had a door to one of the bedrooms. The kitchen was entered by walking straight from the front door to the back of the house. There was a door off the kitchen to the indoor bathroom and a second door into the bathroom from another bedroom. Both the front bedroom and this back bedroom had doors that lead into a middle bedroom. Aunt Ressie’s treadle sewing machine was in this room. Who cared about the house design? The children did. The racetrack design allowed us not the run but to walk fast in circles chasing Uncle Dale and each other; hours of fun were enjoyed that way.
After work and on weekends, Uncle Dale stayed in the front room most of the time. Aunt Ressie stayed in the kitchen. I remember her cooking some type of fried meat, fried potatoes and a couple of fruit pies. Man she was a great cook! Doris remembers cream pies, can you believe that?
The bathroom was one of my favorite places to play. Uncle Dale had a white cup with a funny basting brush thing in it. I would watch him put soap and water in the cup, mix them up with the brush thing, put the soapy mixture on his face, pick up a razor and shave his face. I don’t remember how many times I watched the ritual before I decided I needed to try it for myself. I closed the bathroom doors, turned on the water and repeated Uncle Dale’s steps. I don’t remember who came running after hearing my screaming cry. I do remember Momma doctoring my cheek and punishing me for trying to tackle a new skill.
Uncle Dale was a mechanic like Melvin. Uncle Dale took care of his wife, three daughters, his grandchildren, his nieces, and his great nieces and nephews. Aunt Ressie, like Grandma, didn’t drive. Uncle Dale drove her everywhere she needed or wanted to go. He took care of all the money matters too. Uncle Dale and Aunt Ressie welcome us and allowed me to spend one or two weeks with them every year, my favorite vacations!
My brother has been known by many names during the course of his last 53 years; Dale, Alvin, Hutch, Mr. Tyler and Baby Dale are a few I can share with the family. As a child, I thought the word “Baby” in front of Dale was used because of his birth placement. The real reason for addressing him as Baby Dale became clear to me during my primary school days. It was during those young years after we moved back to Arkansas, Uncle Dale became a very special person in my life and I understood why Momma called my brother Baby Dale.
Uncle Dale and his bride, Aunt Ressie were very special people to our Grandma McGowan. Dale Leas was Grandma’s baby brother; the one she helped raise after she recovered from small pox. The long grueling trip from Springdale to some destination in or around the Joplin, Missouri area became a regular outing for our family.
Melvin, Ruby, Momma, Grandma, Eddie, Dale, Harvey and I loading into a car built in the late 1940’s sometime during 1960 and traveling to a small white house many hours away to visit Uncle Dale and Aunt Ressie is among one of my first memories. We spent the night. The small house did not have indoor potty facilities. I remember going to a small building, outhouse, during the day and at night using a potty chair inside the house. At that time I didn’t realize potty chairs were used in hospitals! I also remember playing around a well and seeing the neighbors’ homes all around, so I know the house had to be in some town. I only recall one visit to this place and do not remember either Uncle Dale or Aunt Ressie as anytime but other more adults.
My close relationship began to develop with my favorite great-uncle and aunt when they moved to a country location. The house was two-story without running water. Where I remember the outhouse when they lived in town; I don’t remember one being used here. I do remember the pump at the kitchen sink, helping draw water from the well, taking baths in a tin tub on the back porch, feeding the chickens, sitting under the trees to snap green beans and playing on the front porch (even though we weren’t suppose to play there). The upstairs was reserved for sleeping only. I remember there was something different about the two bedrooms upstairs but I don’t really recall what it was. Maybe there was no electricity up there. Uncle Dale and Aunt Ressie’s bedroom was downstairs next to the living room. I loved this place. I spent a couple of weeks with my dearest aunt and uncle here.
Uncle Dale would go to work during the day. Aunt Ressie and I would do all the housework before noon, eat a fried egg sandwich and settle in front of the huge black and white television to watch Days of Our Lives and Another World. Yes, Aunt Ressie taught me the value of watching a good soap opera every afternoon. I am sure she is the reason I missed more than a few afternoon college classes. After the soaps we would walk down the dirt road/driveway (I don’t remember which) to get the mail from the mailbox (back home the mailman put the mail right outside our front door). Aunt Ressie taught me the song A Tisket A Tasket A Green and Yellow Basket during our daily walks.
Aunt Ressie taught me how to do laundry with a wringer washer, now that was FUN! Thinking back on that experience, I know there was telephone in this house. Aunt Ressie was helping me to feed towels through the wringer after the washing machine stopped agitating. We were left with wash clothes when the telephone rang. The telephone was in the front room, the washing machine was in the kitchen and they were separate by a large dining room. Aunt Ressie told me, made me promise, not to touch the washing machine while she was gone. You all know I usually did not do what I was told not to, but this time I knew I was capable of helping my favorite great aunt finish her morning chores quickly by feeding the wash clothes through the wringer while she was on the telephone. My small hands guided the first wash cloth halfway through the wringer and all was well. The second half of the wash cloth began its journey through the wringer with my small fingers still attached. Aunt Ressie quickly hung up the telephone at the first panicked cries from this young lady. After she turned the machine off, took the wringer apart and freed the small fingers, she just hugged me. Aunt Ressie never punished me. However, Uncle Dale did.
Uncle Dale was always a lot of fun. He loved to chase the kids, wrestle and tickle with them and pick at each for what seemed to be hours. I loved to play with him. However, no one was to get between him and the television during a Cardinals baseball game. He really wasn’t crazy about kids running in the house either. Uncle Dale only punished me once, and it was for running in this house.
After a couple of years, Uncle Dale and Aunt Ressie moved into town to a house with electricity and running water. The house was up on a small hill with a backyard. Sadly, they did not bring the chickens with them. This was a wonderful house. The front door opened to the living room which had a door to one of the bedrooms. The kitchen was entered by walking straight from the front door to the back of the house. There was a door off the kitchen to the indoor bathroom and a second door into the bathroom from another bedroom. Both the front bedroom and this back bedroom had doors that lead into a middle bedroom. Aunt Ressie’s treadle sewing machine was in this room. Who cared about the house design? The children did. The racetrack design allowed us not the run but to walk fast in circles chasing Uncle Dale and each other; hours of fun were enjoyed that way.
After work and on weekends, Uncle Dale stayed in the front room most of the time. Aunt Ressie stayed in the kitchen. I remember her cooking some type of fried meat, fried potatoes and a couple of fruit pies. Man she was a great cook! Doris remembers cream pies, can you believe that?
The bathroom was one of my favorite places to play. Uncle Dale had a white cup with a funny basting brush thing in it. I would watch him put soap and water in the cup, mix them up with the brush thing, put the soapy mixture on his face, pick up a razor and shave his face. I don’t remember how many times I watched the ritual before I decided I needed to try it for myself. I closed the bathroom doors, turned on the water and repeated Uncle Dale’s steps. I don’t remember who came running after hearing my screaming cry. I do remember Momma doctoring my cheek and punishing me for trying to tackle a new skill.
Uncle Dale was a mechanic like Melvin. Uncle Dale took care of his wife, three daughters, his grandchildren, his nieces, and his great nieces and nephews. Aunt Ressie, like Grandma, didn’t drive. Uncle Dale drove her everywhere she needed or wanted to go. He took care of all the money matters too. Uncle Dale and Aunt Ressie welcome us and allowed me to spend one or two weeks with them every year, my favorite vacations!
Saturday, January 9, 2010
A Loving Family
The McGowan Family
Those simple three words never fail to warm my heart and flood my mind with fifty-four years of memories. Memories that make me laugh, cry, rejoice, regret, and above all feel love all at the same time.
At the tender age of five, life or fate ripped a major player in my immediate family out of the lives of the remaining three players. The very wise young mom of twenty-five, Dorothy, moved back to Arkansas to be near her mom, Blanch McGowan.
Blanch had lost her life-mate a couple of years earlier. Devastated, she moved from her home in Joplin, Missouri to Lowell, Arkansas. Her third child, Ruby, and her dear husband, Melvin, asked Blanch to live with them. They said they desperately needed a babysitter, and who could better perform the job than the lady that raised twelve children of her own!
Ruby and Melvin Clark rented a house in the rural community. It was small, but to the new five-year-old resident, it seemed a magical castle. Just remembering bedtime brings a flood of warm memories. Everyone had a bed at night even though many were in the same room and two people to each one. Ruby and Melvin were the only two that shared a bed in a room by themselves. They surely missed out on the fun we had in the other rooms!
Outside brought many adventures. Somewhere Melvin had a garden. Ruby and Mom put the veggies into jars they cooked. Then cousin Eddie and I got to help Grandma, Ruby or Mom carry those precious jar into a mysterious place called the storm cellar in the side yard! The yard was full of frogs, turtles and it even had a few snakes. We had fun there for a very short time.
The Clark’s landlord decided the rent house had increased in value. Based on that piece of information, Ruby and Melvin found a slightly smaller castle for sale in which to move their immediate and extended family. Ruby and Melvin still shared a bed in their own room, but this time all the rest of use shared one bedroom. Grandma and the youngest, Harvey slept in a double bed next to bunk beds. The top bunk was filled nightly with two five-year-olds, Eddie and Randy. The bottom bunk housed Dorothy and her three-year-old son, Dale. Several months down the road, Dorothy moved with her children to a three bedroom rental house within easy walking distance of the castle.
Both houses functioned as one. A garden was maintained close to the castle grounds. Grandma eventually bought, moved and occupied her own piece of heaven on the castle grounds. The rental house kept the laundry going for both households. The McGowan family gathered in and around the castle regularly. I now enjoyed the love and direction of three women (Mom and mom figures) and one man (father figure). Eventually additional parental figures were housed closer to the castle; Hazel (with son Paul) and Willie and her husband Earle (with sons David and Danny). Then another regular was Alice, her husband (David) and three children (Wayne, Doris and Jonnie) as transportation allowed. Occasionally the castle was honored with the presence of other McGowan offspring. Eileen brought her husband and four children, Luther came with his wife and four children, Velma and her husband Bob visited (they even settled close for a few short years) and Norma June brought her three children around once or twice.
Children’s laughter was often heard. The children laughed as they jumped from the top bunk bed to the double bed. They laughed as they went into the neighbor’s garage. They laughed as they threw toys at the yellow-jackets’ nest in the rose bush. They laughed as they helped put seeds in the ground of the garden. They laughed as they played games with the neighborhood children or random cousins on the castle grounds. They laughed as they bounced balls inside the castle walls. They laughed as they sat on the back of the couch. They laughed as they snuck cookies from the cookie jar. They laughed when they played in the ditch in the front yard.
Tears, silent or not, could be heard when they children were caught doing anything they had been told was not permissible. The moms loved to swat. Melvin was different. He found it amusing to make the small tikes repeat the offense. It was amazing how the laughter turned to tears so quickly. But, the life-long lessons were learned.
Other life lessons were learned with much frustration on the part of both children and adults. Subject-verb agreement, or rather disagreement, seemed to prolong many conversations! I remember hating to hear Ruby’s broken record, “What?” until the correct usage was found by the child attempting to tell a story. Making me stand up straight seemed to be the focus of both my mother and Ruby during my teenage years. I can still feel the whack across my back as I walked by either of them with my shoulders slumped. Transferring the love of reading came from all directions. I hated the written word. In spite of the fact, Mom modeled her love, Ruby read to us daily and Grandma talked about the books she read and reread. Now I teach others how to read.
The love for each just came and stays today. Thank you Momma.
Those simple three words never fail to warm my heart and flood my mind with fifty-four years of memories. Memories that make me laugh, cry, rejoice, regret, and above all feel love all at the same time.
At the tender age of five, life or fate ripped a major player in my immediate family out of the lives of the remaining three players. The very wise young mom of twenty-five, Dorothy, moved back to Arkansas to be near her mom, Blanch McGowan.
Blanch had lost her life-mate a couple of years earlier. Devastated, she moved from her home in Joplin, Missouri to Lowell, Arkansas. Her third child, Ruby, and her dear husband, Melvin, asked Blanch to live with them. They said they desperately needed a babysitter, and who could better perform the job than the lady that raised twelve children of her own!
Ruby and Melvin Clark rented a house in the rural community. It was small, but to the new five-year-old resident, it seemed a magical castle. Just remembering bedtime brings a flood of warm memories. Everyone had a bed at night even though many were in the same room and two people to each one. Ruby and Melvin were the only two that shared a bed in a room by themselves. They surely missed out on the fun we had in the other rooms!
Outside brought many adventures. Somewhere Melvin had a garden. Ruby and Mom put the veggies into jars they cooked. Then cousin Eddie and I got to help Grandma, Ruby or Mom carry those precious jar into a mysterious place called the storm cellar in the side yard! The yard was full of frogs, turtles and it even had a few snakes. We had fun there for a very short time.
The Clark’s landlord decided the rent house had increased in value. Based on that piece of information, Ruby and Melvin found a slightly smaller castle for sale in which to move their immediate and extended family. Ruby and Melvin still shared a bed in their own room, but this time all the rest of use shared one bedroom. Grandma and the youngest, Harvey slept in a double bed next to bunk beds. The top bunk was filled nightly with two five-year-olds, Eddie and Randy. The bottom bunk housed Dorothy and her three-year-old son, Dale. Several months down the road, Dorothy moved with her children to a three bedroom rental house within easy walking distance of the castle.
Both houses functioned as one. A garden was maintained close to the castle grounds. Grandma eventually bought, moved and occupied her own piece of heaven on the castle grounds. The rental house kept the laundry going for both households. The McGowan family gathered in and around the castle regularly. I now enjoyed the love and direction of three women (Mom and mom figures) and one man (father figure). Eventually additional parental figures were housed closer to the castle; Hazel (with son Paul) and Willie and her husband Earle (with sons David and Danny). Then another regular was Alice, her husband (David) and three children (Wayne, Doris and Jonnie) as transportation allowed. Occasionally the castle was honored with the presence of other McGowan offspring. Eileen brought her husband and four children, Luther came with his wife and four children, Velma and her husband Bob visited (they even settled close for a few short years) and Norma June brought her three children around once or twice.
Children’s laughter was often heard. The children laughed as they jumped from the top bunk bed to the double bed. They laughed as they went into the neighbor’s garage. They laughed as they threw toys at the yellow-jackets’ nest in the rose bush. They laughed as they helped put seeds in the ground of the garden. They laughed as they played games with the neighborhood children or random cousins on the castle grounds. They laughed as they bounced balls inside the castle walls. They laughed as they sat on the back of the couch. They laughed as they snuck cookies from the cookie jar. They laughed when they played in the ditch in the front yard.
Tears, silent or not, could be heard when they children were caught doing anything they had been told was not permissible. The moms loved to swat. Melvin was different. He found it amusing to make the small tikes repeat the offense. It was amazing how the laughter turned to tears so quickly. But, the life-long lessons were learned.
Other life lessons were learned with much frustration on the part of both children and adults. Subject-verb agreement, or rather disagreement, seemed to prolong many conversations! I remember hating to hear Ruby’s broken record, “What?” until the correct usage was found by the child attempting to tell a story. Making me stand up straight seemed to be the focus of both my mother and Ruby during my teenage years. I can still feel the whack across my back as I walked by either of them with my shoulders slumped. Transferring the love of reading came from all directions. I hated the written word. In spite of the fact, Mom modeled her love, Ruby read to us daily and Grandma talked about the books she read and reread. Now I teach others how to read.
The love for each just came and stays today. Thank you Momma.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)