“It couldn’t be helped!”

Mother has stage-four Terminal ADD. It hasn’t killed her yet, but it came close several times.  Back when I was a kid, it was called being disorganized, procrastination, and not getting things done. Having five kids, a-worse-than-unhelpful-husband, Mother had more work than six women could have accomplished. That put the icing on the cake.  Daddy should have been a Continue reading

Miss Ruby and the Bagwells

The companionable thing about growing up in the fifties and sixties in the rural South was that everyone went to the same school, churches and knew everything about everyone.  When the women got the kids off to school, beds made, dishes done, wash on the line, and the beans on to soak for supper, they might have a little time to visit a neighbor for coffee before heading home to get the baby down for a nap, finish their Continue reading

Mother Tried to Raise Me Right

Church was hard on me Church clothes were designed by the devil. My mom made fancy dresses with twirly skirts, puffy sleeves, lace, fancy collars, and gigantic sashes that tied in the back in a big bow. Just in case I might get a little comfortable, she starched and ironed them till they were so stiff they could stand alone. Getting ready for church started Saturday night with a bath and hair washing. No problem with that. The trouble started when Mother got out the hair pins and tissue paper. She clamped me between her knees Continue reading

Pass the Chicken Please or Fowl Friends

We went places and saw people that most people would never encounter.  Daddy had heard of somebody who lived back in the woods about four miles off Tobacco Road who had something he might be interested in buying.  He had to check it out, driving forever down muddy roads that looked like they might disappear into nothing.  Finally we got back to Mr. Tucker’s shack.  Mr. Tucker was wearing overalls and nothing else.  Continue reading