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Saturday, March 05, 2011

Young Me up a tree

In writing the post yesterday I sort of traveled back in time and alot of memories from those days came flooding back. I will just randomly recall events from the time living in this house, in this little town.

As I mentioned, my dad was handicapped, but that didn't mean he was helpless. He always had a big garden and provided for us the best he could. Frequently he raised rabbits. I always said that its a wonder I didn't hop instead of walk. He got permission from someone to garden down near the river, which was just across the street a block from us. The soil was very sandy and he raised sweet potatoes and one year he raised peanuts. I don't remember to well how the process of boiling or roasting the peanuts went. He caught a snapping turtle once and was determined to get it out of the shell so mom could make us turtle soup. I remember the turtle but not the soup. Probably a good thing.

Another time I was playing dress up with some old discarded high heels and had been marching around for some time. When I took them off there was a huge spider sitting on my toes! Yikes! He could have bitten me but guess he had room and just waited for me to get my foot out of his home.

We played with a couple girls down the street. They were "rich" by our standards. (They already had walking dolls.) But as kids it didn't seem to matter much. At dusk we would play under the only street light and throw things in the air to coax the bats to swoop down. We played along the river, always trying to find stuff.

During the winter when the river froze over, the "rich" friends would go out on their pretty white ice skates. Their dad would go with them and if snow was on the ice he would scoop it off to make a big circle. The guy that we rented from gave us an old old pair of brown men's skates. With a few layers of socks I was able to get out on the ice and actually learned to skate a little.

One memory that I will end with is a favorite of my mother. As I mentioned we didn't have electricity but she would read to us. Back then books like The Bobsy Twins, Big Red, Old Yeller, and Black Beauty were published in what was called Big Golden Books. I have a vivid memory of leaning over Mom's shoulder as she was reading one and having tears fall down onto her shoulder because it was a really sad part.

Thought for the day: Always be yourself, because the people that matter, don't mind. And the ones that mind, don't matter.

1 comment:

Coffeypot said...

I hear about parents reading to their kids all the time, but I have no memories of anyone reading to me...except for my dad reading me the riot act. I did read to my daughter and do to the grandkids, but it didn't happen to me. At climbing trees was a required part of being a Southern boy…and a few girls.