The first year I went to school (1960-1961) was at a one room school on Nat's Creek. Actually, it was kind of in a gap between Nat's Creek and Patrick, Ky. I don't remember how many kids attended that school but it was not a whole lot. I had three or four cousins that were close to the same age whom I'm sure went there but I don't really remember anything about any of them.
This was while we lived at the Spring Knob forestry tower so my brother would drive me to my grandparents on Sunday evening and pick me up on Friday evening to take me back home. During the week I lived with my grandparents.
Our teacher, Mrs. Cooper, lived in the little, log cabin where I was born. Her husband would drive her down the creek past my grandfather's house. I'm not sure how close he could get her to the school house as there were no roads that went there. At least none that were passable by car. There was an old road that went from my uncle Jerry's house up the hill past the school and down the Patrick side but it was impassable by car, as best as I can remember.
On the days my grandparents would allow me to go to school I would walk from their house to the school house. I am not the greatest judge of distance but it was at the very least a mile. It was down the path from my grandparent's house to the fork of the creek. Generally I'd meet some cousins there and most mornings I walked along with the Ratliff boys so I was not going alone.
From the forks of the creek we had to cross a small stream (no bridge) then down a path that went through an old barn and back to the road where it came out of the creek. Then down past the old Blessing place (where I later lived as a teen) and across a field where my cousin Jerry Lee had soy beans planted every year. Then we crossed the main creek on a 'foot log'. That was just a tree that had been felled so it landed across the street. I think someone had build some kind of hand rail on this one but I cannot recall for sure.
Then it was up the hill past the graveyard where my aunt Burnice was later buried and through a barbed wire fence and across a pasture then through a second fence, across the old road and up to the school house. In the afternoon after school the whole procedure was reversed.
I said I did this when my grandparents allowed me to go to school. They were very over protective of me. If it rained, snowed, frosted, looked like it might rain or snow, I was not allowed to go to school. So I missed quite a few days that year. I'd spend them playing around my grandparent's house, climbing the apple trees and "skinning the cat" on the quince tree in the front yard.
"Skinning the Cat" is where you grab a tree limb that is over your head and bring your feet up over your head and put your legs through your arms and flip backward. It seems so easy then and so impossible now. There was an apple tree on each side of the house and I'd climb both of them every day. And, I'd keep a weather eye out for the big, red rooster I hated and was deathly afraid of. The day he got made into chicken and dumplings was a very happy day for me.
Back then we got report cards every month. I bragged I was going to make straight "A's" the whole year. Well, I almost made it. I made all A's except one. I got one B in effort. I guess Mrs. Cooper had a sense of humor.
I loved the one room school and I still love the concept. Of course, not for large classes, but for very small classes where first through eighth grades are in one room and are taught together. I suppose it is very boring for the older kids but they got a lot of remedial teaching by having to listen to the younger kid's lessons. And, we younger kids were exposed to a lot of learning by listening to the classes for the older students. Even if we did not try a lot of that knowledge filtered into our brains.
Another reason I loved it was that first grade classes really bored me. I much preferred to listen to the classes above me. I remember when we were learning to tell time and it all seemed so simple to me but nobody else in first grade could understand it. I just could not understand what was so difficult about it all.
And, we had two recesses and a lunch hour. We'd play 'kick the can' and 'hide and seek' and every once in a while we'd all crawl through the fence to the pasture and have a game of baseball. Glorious days. Back when schools were fun.
The school was on top of the gap and had no well or other water supply so one of the older boys would be sent down the old road to my uncle Jerry's house to draw a bucket of water from their well and bring it back to the school. I got to go with one of the boys from Patrick (I cannot even come close to remembering who) once and I marvelled at how he could carry that heavy bucket of water so easily. There is a vast difference between six and fourteen years of age.
Mollett had fifth and part of sixth grades. Mr Hummer had the rest of sixth. Mr Delong had seventh and eighth grades and was principal.
When I got to West Van Lear school ceased to be much fun for a lot of reasons which I will not go into here. It was nothing like Preston's Gap where all the students were in it together and everyone older took care of all the younger kids. Maybe it was mostly because we were all related to some point. Maybe it was just more country and we did not have any of those "city" attitudes.
I guess I enjoyed my one year at Preston's Gap one room school more than I enjoyed any other school year in my life. Just one of those nostalgic things I look back on. The way time robs us of our bad memories and leaves us with only the good may mean it was not nearly as great as I remember it. But, in my mind, it was (and still is) great.
Friday, April 6, 2012
Monday, April 2, 2012
Birds
I love having birds around. Not parrots or parakeets but real, wild birds. What got me to thinking of this is today the microwave repairman came and when I opened the front door to let him in he pointed out to me a bird nest with four, beautiful, speckled eggs in it and mentioned mama bird had flown away when he approached the door.
That has brought back so many memories of when I was a small child and lived with or visited my grandparent's house down on Nat's Creek, Ky. On the front porch on one side of the door was my grandfather's rocking chair and on the other side was the porch swing. There on the front of the porch were four posts holding the roof up and between those posts were two troughs like a window box planter. Only there were no plants. They were there for Poppy's birds. Every day Granny would have to make extra biscuits or corn bread when she cooked just for Poppy to put in those thoughs for his bids.
I can remember him coming out with a bunch of bread and calling, 'Pee, pee, pee, pee' and the birds would come flocking around from all directions. He'd scatter the bread in those boxes and the birds would congregate and have a feast with no apparent fear. He also had a lard bucket lid nailed to (horizontally like a shelf) to the big tree on the edge of the bank in the front yard. He'd put bread on that as well and the birds would flock around until every last scrap was gone.
That did not really awe me then as it was something I was used to but is sure awes me now. I really wish I could do that. Call birds to me and have them gather around to eat with no fear. I love having wild things around me. I guess that is a product of my childhood in the country. My wife is a city girl and she just does not understand my love for having "critters" around. At one time she had a hanging basket fern on the front porch and each spring birds would build a nest there. Each time we'd come out the front door the bird(s) would flash out of that fern and she'd jump like she'd been shot. Finally she just took that fern down and we don't have any hanging plant our there. Have not had any birds make a home on our porch in years.
Now one has. It has made a nest in the wreath my wife had placed on our front door. I've told her she just has to use the garage door to go in and out as I don't want my birds messed with. I can't explain why it means so much to me but I feel so much better just knowing they are out there. I want to put up a bird feeder on the porch so mama will not have to go so far in search of food.
Isn't it amazing something that happened over a half century ago has such an impact on me today. I wish I could get some photos of her/them. I wish I could call them to me and spread bread out for them and all their friends. Is this just a sign of getting old?
That has brought back so many memories of when I was a small child and lived with or visited my grandparent's house down on Nat's Creek, Ky. On the front porch on one side of the door was my grandfather's rocking chair and on the other side was the porch swing. There on the front of the porch were four posts holding the roof up and between those posts were two troughs like a window box planter. Only there were no plants. They were there for Poppy's birds. Every day Granny would have to make extra biscuits or corn bread when she cooked just for Poppy to put in those thoughs for his bids.
I can remember him coming out with a bunch of bread and calling, 'Pee, pee, pee, pee' and the birds would come flocking around from all directions. He'd scatter the bread in those boxes and the birds would congregate and have a feast with no apparent fear. He also had a lard bucket lid nailed to (horizontally like a shelf) to the big tree on the edge of the bank in the front yard. He'd put bread on that as well and the birds would flock around until every last scrap was gone.
That did not really awe me then as it was something I was used to but is sure awes me now. I really wish I could do that. Call birds to me and have them gather around to eat with no fear. I love having wild things around me. I guess that is a product of my childhood in the country. My wife is a city girl and she just does not understand my love for having "critters" around. At one time she had a hanging basket fern on the front porch and each spring birds would build a nest there. Each time we'd come out the front door the bird(s) would flash out of that fern and she'd jump like she'd been shot. Finally she just took that fern down and we don't have any hanging plant our there. Have not had any birds make a home on our porch in years.
Now one has. It has made a nest in the wreath my wife had placed on our front door. I've told her she just has to use the garage door to go in and out as I don't want my birds messed with. I can't explain why it means so much to me but I feel so much better just knowing they are out there. I want to put up a bird feeder on the porch so mama will not have to go so far in search of food.
Isn't it amazing something that happened over a half century ago has such an impact on me today. I wish I could get some photos of her/them. I wish I could call them to me and spread bread out for them and all their friends. Is this just a sign of getting old?
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Watching Andy Griffith
I was born in Kentucky. I started listening to UK basketball games when I was around nine or ten years old on and old radio that had been converted from batter to regular electricity. When I was growing up and UK was on TV we would all watch the game but we would turn the sound off and listen to Cawood Ledford calling the game on the radio.
We did not see a lot of the games live but they were replayed on a delayed basis at 11:30 PM. On game nights I never got to bed before 1:30 AM. And I listened to Cawood call the game live first. I'll tell you, Cawood was no 'homer'. I'd watch the delayed telecast and not recognize the game except for the score. Cawood was hard on "our boys" even if he was paid by UK.
Then when the VCR came along I'd listen to Cawood live, watch (and record) the game at 11:30 then watch it every day on the VCR until the next game came on. You might say I was a UK fan. I'd never miss a second of a UK basketball game if I could help it.
That all changed in the 1978 NCAA tournament against Duke. Early in the game Duke was delivering a good butt kicking to my beloved Cats. I could not stand to watch that (especially because it was Duke) so I flipped channels until I came to an old Andy Griffith show.
I'd flip back to the game to check the score and UK would be closing the gap. Until I started watching the game then Duke would pull away again so I'd go back to watching Andy. This was repeated and the longer I watched Andy the closer UK got. Eventually, UK won and whenever UK has been behind since I've always switched channels and preferably to Andy Griffith reruns. I'm firmly convinced I'm a UK Jinx. As long as I don't watch the game they will win but as soon as I tune in they start screwing up and I go back looking for Andy so the Cats will win.
Tomorrow is the NCAA finals. My Cats are one of the teams. I'd love to be watching them kick some Jayhawk butt but I'll be looking for Andy Griffith reruns so the Cats will win. I'll sacrifice my pleasure in watching the Cats so I won't Jinx them. I hope everyone appreciates my sacrifice in this.
GO BIG BLUE!
We did not see a lot of the games live but they were replayed on a delayed basis at 11:30 PM. On game nights I never got to bed before 1:30 AM. And I listened to Cawood call the game live first. I'll tell you, Cawood was no 'homer'. I'd watch the delayed telecast and not recognize the game except for the score. Cawood was hard on "our boys" even if he was paid by UK.
Then when the VCR came along I'd listen to Cawood live, watch (and record) the game at 11:30 then watch it every day on the VCR until the next game came on. You might say I was a UK fan. I'd never miss a second of a UK basketball game if I could help it.
That all changed in the 1978 NCAA tournament against Duke. Early in the game Duke was delivering a good butt kicking to my beloved Cats. I could not stand to watch that (especially because it was Duke) so I flipped channels until I came to an old Andy Griffith show.
I'd flip back to the game to check the score and UK would be closing the gap. Until I started watching the game then Duke would pull away again so I'd go back to watching Andy. This was repeated and the longer I watched Andy the closer UK got. Eventually, UK won and whenever UK has been behind since I've always switched channels and preferably to Andy Griffith reruns. I'm firmly convinced I'm a UK Jinx. As long as I don't watch the game they will win but as soon as I tune in they start screwing up and I go back looking for Andy so the Cats will win.
Tomorrow is the NCAA finals. My Cats are one of the teams. I'd love to be watching them kick some Jayhawk butt but I'll be looking for Andy Griffith reruns so the Cats will win. I'll sacrifice my pleasure in watching the Cats so I won't Jinx them. I hope everyone appreciates my sacrifice in this.
GO BIG BLUE!
Rabbits, maybe.
When I was young I was a carnivore, pure and simple. I hated most things that were not meat. Well, my mother's biscuits and vanilla custard pies were an exception. But, a meal without a lot of meat was a meal I did not want to eat.
Now, I'm getting older and I have a lot of medical problems. And, now, I'm completely losing my "meat love". When I was younger I was an avid hunter. That changed back in 1984. I went squirrel hunting on the land of the family of one of my classmates in the Computer class at Mayo State Vocational and Technical School at Paintsville, Ky. I killed one squirrel that day but did not even clean it and cook it. That is the last time I've gone hunting. Nothing overly moral as I have no problems with eating squirrels (rabbits, deer, etc) someone else has killed. I just lost my own ability to kill animals.
Since then all my meat has been "store bought" or provided my my family on my rare trips "home". Though, right now I'd "kill" for some squirrel (especially the heads), squirrel gravy and home made biscuits, I doubt I could kill the squirrels myself.
When we are young we do not understand (or even consider) all the changes we will experience in our lives should we manage to live long enough to experience them. I think my food love changes are more to do with my medical conditions than anything else. Just, now, I can barely stomach most meats. From the guy who used to eat TWO Wendy's triples with cheese (all the way) to the guy who now can barely even eat a hamburger (with all the vegetables one can pack on it) is a big change. It did not happen over night but it has happened.
I trust if someone else provided the squirrels I could devour them made with gravy and biscuits. And, in that same category is rabbits. In my life I've killed a lot of rabbits. And if the gunshot did not finish them then a grab of the hind legs and a "karate chop" to the back of the neck would. Easy to skin and easy to cook. I think I may prefer squirrel over all but rabbit is quite good. I like it both fried and stewed with gravy made over it. It may be close to twenty years since I've had squirrel but it is probably forty since I've had a rabbit.
We have a local meat market near where I live that is quite nice. Once when I was in there I saw a box labeled "rabbit" and I grabbed one. When I saw t he price was over $36.00 I put it right back. Nostalgia is good but not that good. Still, in my memory, I love rabbits. I've been looking on line for places to buy them and I finally found one place that sells them for a reasonable price.
With all my medical bills I've not been able to afford the extra expense to buy some and try them out. But if I ever get a month where doctors are not taking my every spare penny I'm going to order some rabbits. I know I'll be the one cooking them as my wife has no clue about game meat. But, I wonder, if my changing tastes will make my fond memories a lie and today's reality is that I cannot eat them.
I hate wasting food. I especially hate wasting food some animal had perished to provide. Maybe I should just stick to pasta.
Now, I'm getting older and I have a lot of medical problems. And, now, I'm completely losing my "meat love". When I was younger I was an avid hunter. That changed back in 1984. I went squirrel hunting on the land of the family of one of my classmates in the Computer class at Mayo State Vocational and Technical School at Paintsville, Ky. I killed one squirrel that day but did not even clean it and cook it. That is the last time I've gone hunting. Nothing overly moral as I have no problems with eating squirrels (rabbits, deer, etc) someone else has killed. I just lost my own ability to kill animals.
Since then all my meat has been "store bought" or provided my my family on my rare trips "home". Though, right now I'd "kill" for some squirrel (especially the heads), squirrel gravy and home made biscuits, I doubt I could kill the squirrels myself.
When we are young we do not understand (or even consider) all the changes we will experience in our lives should we manage to live long enough to experience them. I think my food love changes are more to do with my medical conditions than anything else. Just, now, I can barely stomach most meats. From the guy who used to eat TWO Wendy's triples with cheese (all the way) to the guy who now can barely even eat a hamburger (with all the vegetables one can pack on it) is a big change. It did not happen over night but it has happened.
I trust if someone else provided the squirrels I could devour them made with gravy and biscuits. And, in that same category is rabbits. In my life I've killed a lot of rabbits. And if the gunshot did not finish them then a grab of the hind legs and a "karate chop" to the back of the neck would. Easy to skin and easy to cook. I think I may prefer squirrel over all but rabbit is quite good. I like it both fried and stewed with gravy made over it. It may be close to twenty years since I've had squirrel but it is probably forty since I've had a rabbit.
We have a local meat market near where I live that is quite nice. Once when I was in there I saw a box labeled "rabbit" and I grabbed one. When I saw t he price was over $36.00 I put it right back. Nostalgia is good but not that good. Still, in my memory, I love rabbits. I've been looking on line for places to buy them and I finally found one place that sells them for a reasonable price.
With all my medical bills I've not been able to afford the extra expense to buy some and try them out. But if I ever get a month where doctors are not taking my every spare penny I'm going to order some rabbits. I know I'll be the one cooking them as my wife has no clue about game meat. But, I wonder, if my changing tastes will make my fond memories a lie and today's reality is that I cannot eat them.
I hate wasting food. I especially hate wasting food some animal had perished to provide. Maybe I should just stick to pasta.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Songs to Live By
I've always loved music. When I was younger I did not care so much about Bluegrass or (real as opposed to 'the new' Country) though I have come to love it later in life. My early days were more top 40. We had one station we could get that was a top 40 station. WKEY from Huntington, WV. I listened to them constantly. When I was not in school I'd nap in the back bedroom between radio broadcasts of the top 40. I saved my money to buy "Hit Parader" magazine every week and I'd memorize the lyrics to all the top 40 songs of the week. Forty years later I still know a lot of them.
Some of them made a real mark on me. I only had radio so I never knew which groups were white and which were black. I always thought "Chicago" was a black group. Wrong. I always thought Dobie Grey was white. Wrong. Isn't is amazing at what you can think when there is no visual evidence? That should make you think.
One of my favorite songs during that period was "Brother Louie". Can't recall who did the song but I can remember a lot of the lyrics: "She was black as the night, Louie was whiter than white, there's a danger when you taste brown sugar, Louie fell in love over night".
Another was "Living in the Love of the Common People": "It's a good thing you don't have bus fare, You'd lose it through the hole in your pocket, in the snow on the ground, Walking to town, trying to find a job. Listen at little sister, crying 'cause she doesn't have a dress without a patch, for the party to go"... It was just music but it opened up a world for me that I could not live in or really understand at the time. Skin color was meaningless. It was all about the words and the music. And, the new thoughts those words and music put in your mind if you were willing to listen to it and think about it.
There have been so many songs in my life that have special meaning I cannot even begin to recall or state them all. I think the first one was, "Behind Blue Eyes" by The Who. "But my dreams are not as empty, as my conscience seems to be". Then Bob Seger with "Against the Wind": "I'm older now but I'm still running against the wind". Kansas doing "Dust in the Wind". I don't need to quote this one as it cannot be taken in small parts. Just listen to it. That is me.
So many songs over so many years... Tony Rich with "Nobody Knows it But Me". Peabo Bryson with "Can You Stop the Rain". Then there are the Bluegrass songs I came to love later in life. The Stanley Brothers with "Stone Walls and Steel Bars", "Roving Gambler", "Man of Constant Sorrow". Earl Scruggs (RIP Earl) with "Foggy Mountain Breakdown". Just so much music over the years I love.
I know I won't be able to have all the songs I love as "funeral" songs as it would take way too danged long. It is even harder to decide than what songs you want to remember. What songs do you want remembered by?
Some of them made a real mark on me. I only had radio so I never knew which groups were white and which were black. I always thought "Chicago" was a black group. Wrong. I always thought Dobie Grey was white. Wrong. Isn't is amazing at what you can think when there is no visual evidence? That should make you think.
One of my favorite songs during that period was "Brother Louie". Can't recall who did the song but I can remember a lot of the lyrics: "She was black as the night, Louie was whiter than white, there's a danger when you taste brown sugar, Louie fell in love over night".
Another was "Living in the Love of the Common People": "It's a good thing you don't have bus fare, You'd lose it through the hole in your pocket, in the snow on the ground, Walking to town, trying to find a job. Listen at little sister, crying 'cause she doesn't have a dress without a patch, for the party to go"... It was just music but it opened up a world for me that I could not live in or really understand at the time. Skin color was meaningless. It was all about the words and the music. And, the new thoughts those words and music put in your mind if you were willing to listen to it and think about it.
There have been so many songs in my life that have special meaning I cannot even begin to recall or state them all. I think the first one was, "Behind Blue Eyes" by The Who. "But my dreams are not as empty, as my conscience seems to be". Then Bob Seger with "Against the Wind": "I'm older now but I'm still running against the wind". Kansas doing "Dust in the Wind". I don't need to quote this one as it cannot be taken in small parts. Just listen to it. That is me.
So many songs over so many years... Tony Rich with "Nobody Knows it But Me". Peabo Bryson with "Can You Stop the Rain". Then there are the Bluegrass songs I came to love later in life. The Stanley Brothers with "Stone Walls and Steel Bars", "Roving Gambler", "Man of Constant Sorrow". Earl Scruggs (RIP Earl) with "Foggy Mountain Breakdown". Just so much music over the years I love.
I know I won't be able to have all the songs I love as "funeral" songs as it would take way too danged long. It is even harder to decide than what songs you want to remember. What songs do you want remembered by?
Thursday, March 29, 2012
"Oh, my my, Oh hell yes...."
Back in around 1994 and 1995 I spent six months in Norway with a friend and co-worker. We were supposed to be evaluating a Life Insurance System that was developed by a company purchased by the company we both worked for. It was a very interesting time and we visited lots of touristy places and walked endlessly around the old town.
On the weekends we'd frequent a place called "Ye Olde English Pub". Hey, they spoke English.
Now, at this time we worked with a woman named Linda and she was fond of the Tom Petty song, "Mary Jane's Last Dance" and would often be singing the lyrics, "Oh my, my, Oh hell yes, better put on that party dress" and the next line or two.
"Ye Olde English Pub" had a juke box. Three songs for ten kroner. At the time it was about seven kroner to the dollar so it was about a dollar and a quarter for three songs. My friend, Russ, and I would take turns feeding ten kroner to the juke box. We could play anything we liked for two songs but one of the songs every time had to be "Mary Jane's Last Dance". I'm sure after a few nights everyone hated seeing us come in.
We'd drink Guiness stout, play darts and constantly play the jukebox. Just how many times can one listen to "Mary Jane's Last Dance"? I don't know but we did it around ten times an evening. Still, when it comes on the oldies station I have to crank the volume and sing along.
Not one of my funeral songs I guess but one of those songs that will always have memories tied to it. Russ and I in Norway with the snow falling outside, the streets covered in ice in that nice, warm bar getting wasted and listening to Tom Petty.
Good time.
On the weekends we'd frequent a place called "Ye Olde English Pub". Hey, they spoke English.
Now, at this time we worked with a woman named Linda and she was fond of the Tom Petty song, "Mary Jane's Last Dance" and would often be singing the lyrics, "Oh my, my, Oh hell yes, better put on that party dress" and the next line or two.
"Ye Olde English Pub" had a juke box. Three songs for ten kroner. At the time it was about seven kroner to the dollar so it was about a dollar and a quarter for three songs. My friend, Russ, and I would take turns feeding ten kroner to the juke box. We could play anything we liked for two songs but one of the songs every time had to be "Mary Jane's Last Dance". I'm sure after a few nights everyone hated seeing us come in.
We'd drink Guiness stout, play darts and constantly play the jukebox. Just how many times can one listen to "Mary Jane's Last Dance"? I don't know but we did it around ten times an evening. Still, when it comes on the oldies station I have to crank the volume and sing along.
Not one of my funeral songs I guess but one of those songs that will always have memories tied to it. Russ and I in Norway with the snow falling outside, the streets covered in ice in that nice, warm bar getting wasted and listening to Tom Petty.
Good time.
Playing Hookey
I always had a problem with school. I was bored and did not want to be there. So, from the eighth grade on through my senior year I skipped school at every opportunity. I had it down to a science. I'd pick a day when I had not tests and miss school. Then I'd use my best excuse and if I got an "excused" absence slip I'd just keep it and never let the teachers sign it. I'd do this in the first nine days of the month. That way I could skip again and just put a one or a two in front of the original day and be able to make up any tests I had missed.
Now, I had a twenty-one mile bus ride to and from school and most days when I skipped school I'd be back (near) home before the school bus driver was back at his own house.
This particular day I was skipping with two of my cousins, Stevie and Benny Boyd. We all got home at a reasonable time in the morning. We bought a chicken from Wanda Boyd (another cousin) and went to Stevie's house to get a pot to cook it in. We were walking into the front door when I heard my mother's voice so I did a fast U-Turn and headed out to a convenient hiding place.
Steve and Benny came back with a pot (cooker, whatever... we just called it a small kettle) and a loaf of bread. We went up a small branch across from Wanda's house where now there is a family graveyard on one side and a house trailer on the other. I cleaned and cut up the chicken and we got water from the stream and built a fire and cooked that chicken. I tore up chunks of "light" bread for dumplings and Benny used some salt and pepper he had taken from his house or Steve's house to season the chicken with.
When we finished there was nothing but a dirty kettle and gnawed chicken bones scattered around where we were. Stevie took the kettle back to his house and Bennie went back to his house and I headed to my own home at about the right time to have ridden the bus home from school.
I know I was so sick from that improvised meal I could not eat any of my regular supper. Still, in all, it was a good day and one I'll always remember. I wonder if Stevie and Bennie remember that day?
Now, I had a twenty-one mile bus ride to and from school and most days when I skipped school I'd be back (near) home before the school bus driver was back at his own house.
This particular day I was skipping with two of my cousins, Stevie and Benny Boyd. We all got home at a reasonable time in the morning. We bought a chicken from Wanda Boyd (another cousin) and went to Stevie's house to get a pot to cook it in. We were walking into the front door when I heard my mother's voice so I did a fast U-Turn and headed out to a convenient hiding place.
Steve and Benny came back with a pot (cooker, whatever... we just called it a small kettle) and a loaf of bread. We went up a small branch across from Wanda's house where now there is a family graveyard on one side and a house trailer on the other. I cleaned and cut up the chicken and we got water from the stream and built a fire and cooked that chicken. I tore up chunks of "light" bread for dumplings and Benny used some salt and pepper he had taken from his house or Steve's house to season the chicken with.
When we finished there was nothing but a dirty kettle and gnawed chicken bones scattered around where we were. Stevie took the kettle back to his house and Bennie went back to his house and I headed to my own home at about the right time to have ridden the bus home from school.
I know I was so sick from that improvised meal I could not eat any of my regular supper. Still, in all, it was a good day and one I'll always remember. I wonder if Stevie and Bennie remember that day?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)