Nana. That’s what my grandchildren call me. Well, that’s what Aken, Austin, Aaron and Sam call me. Jude calls me Neena and Naomi can’t call me anything yet. I love to hear those little voices call out “Nana” (or “Neena”) when they see me.
The older I get, the more I realize how much I missed out by not having known any of my grandparents. They had all died before I was born. Growing up, I guess I really never thought about it that much. Our family never even talked about grandparents. It seems hard for me to believe now, but I hardly even knew their names. I wish I knew why it was that way, but I think that’s something I’ll never know. I do know that when Art’s Grandma Barnhill died in 2001 at age 101 and he had no more grandparents living, I began to wonder about my own grandparents and I decided to try to find out about them.
It all started when Art and I were going through old family pictures with his mom. Grandma B had died and we were looking at the old pictures that had come from her house. I asked Art’s mom if I could take some of them home with me and copy them. Then I decided that it would be good to make scrapbooks for Ken and Ross for Christmas. The project seemed to grow bigger the more I worked on it. I realized that I needed to know dates and places and the names of all the faces. So after many phone calls to Art’s mom and many hours of copying pictures, recording information, and cutting and pasting, I began making duplicate scrapbooks to give to our boys for Christmas.
In the midst of all that, I realized one night that I had all these pictures and information of Art’s family, but almost nothing of my family. That made me really sad. I shared that with Art, with tears in my eyes. At that moment, I knew that I had to search out my family and find pictures of them and discover who they were. But where would I even begin? My parents had been gone for years. All my aunts and uncles had passed away. I knew of only a couple of cousins, much older than me, who were possibly still living, but had had no contact with them in many years. Where and how would I begin the search?
I found out about an elderly woman here who was the guru of genealogy and had been teaching classes in her home for years. I called her and signed up for her next session of classes, which turned out to be some of the very last classes she taught before she died. She was a good teacher and I soaked up every bit of information she shared.
That fall I kind of became obsessed with doing family research. There are probably two reasons for that: 1) I tend to get that way when I’m really passionate about something and 2) I really felt an urgency to find out all the information I could before it was too late. You see, one of the first things Mary told us was that most people don’t get interested in their genealogy until everyone has died who could have shared information with you. I was the prime example of that.
About the only thing I knew was that my daddy had grown up in Tennessee and he had always said that he was from Hooker’s Bend. Was that a joke or was there really a place in Tennessee called Hooker’s Bend? Well, at that time Ken was living in Memphis and one day while I was talking to him on the phone I mentioned this and he immediately got on his computer and searched for Hooker’s Bend. He found an e-mail address for someone who had done research on Hooker’s Bend and he got the two of us in touch with each other. That sweet woman got me in touch with my daddy’s cousin in Savannah, TN
and he knew all about our family and lives within a few miles of where my daddy grew up. On one of our next trips to visit Ken in Memphis, we drove the 2 hours to Savannah and met Jim Garey and he took us to Hooker’s Bend and to the cemetery where my grandparents and great grandparents were buried. He had pictures and letters and all kinds of information. Wow! He opened up a whole new world to my family. He even gave me a hand written letter that my Grandma Clara Clementine Garey Joyce had written just a few months before she died! He let me copy any pictures and information that I wanted. I still stay in touch with my cousin Jim and thank God for leading me to him.
Well, so much for the genealogy thing for now. I could write a book about that and hopefully I will someday. But through all the family research, I have realized more and more how much I missed out by not knowing my grandparents and great grandparents. Because of that, I am determined to be a good Nana. I want to be a part of my grandchildren’s lives. I don’t want my grandchildren to miss having a relationship with their grandma.
Because of where God has placed us, I am fortunate to live just a few minutes away from 3 of my grandchildren…Sam, Jude and Naomi. Because of the closeness of our homes, I am privileged to see them really often. Normally I keep them all one day a week and I always look forward to that day. I try not to plan anything else on that day, because I want to devote every minute that I can to them. I love to play with them.
Sam likes to paint and his Nana does too, so we try to spend some time painting while the other two are napping. Sam likes to make cookies and of course his Nana loves to cook, so that’s usually on the agenda, too. Sam really likes for me to play with him. He’s never spent a lot of time here playing by himself. He seems to need that companionship. I love to hear him say “Nana, will you come and play with me?” You know Sam is very musically gifted and he loves for us to play the piano together or do some percussion or get out my old alto saxophone and show him how to blow a few notes on it. When you think about it….Sam and his Nana have many of the same interests. I like that. Sam likes to be held and loved on and I love to accommodate him.
Jude and I probably don’t have as many things in common, but I love to play with him. He likes to play outside with water guns and water balloons and he likes to ride his bike. Jude plays really hard and wears himself out and then he likes to “watch a show” and have a snack. He takes really good, long naps at Nana’s house. The dark quietness of our downstairs is just what he needs to get some much needed rest. I’m always excited to see him when he wakes up. He’s got a huge smile on his face and it’s one of those rare moments when I can hold him and get some snuggle time in.
Naomi is our first little girl in the family. You know, I wasn’t sure how it would be to have a girl in this family. I had no sisters. Art had no sisters. We had two boys and then they gave us 5 grandsons. I knew how Pawpaw would react and that kind of scared me. But it’s been just fine!! Naomi seems to really like her Nana and the feeling is mutual. I can hardly wait for her to get big enough for us to do things together. There is so much I want to teach her.
Aken, Austin and Aaron have always lived far from us…first in Memphis and now in Birmingham. I miss them so much. I didn’t realize how much until I had grandchildren right here in the same town. Now I know how much I’m missing in their lives. Each one of them is so special.
Aken is a very smart little boy and can carry on a conversation with you just like an adult. He spent a week with us last summer and oh how I enjoyed that. There is just something really special about your grandson visiting with you all by himself. We could give him our full attention and do what he wanted to do. Aken was our very first grandson and for that reason he will always be special. He’s growing up too fast. I hope he will always want to visit his Nana and Pawpaw.
Austin is a very sweet little boy. He loves to dress up like his daddy and oh how handsome he is. Austin is thoughtful and caring for everyone around him. I’ll never forget his words to me the first time I visited them in Birmingham. As we drove into their driveway and parked, Austin said, “Nana, this is Alabama”.
Some of my best memories of being with Aken and Austin are reading to them before they go to sleep. Those have always been special times for me…just Nana and Aken and Austin in their beds reading books.
We haven’t gotten to be around Aaron as much as the other kids. I hate that. I feel like I just don’t know him very well. But I do know that he a very special little boy at his house with his family. They all adore him and I can see why. He is adorable.
I hope God grants me many more years to spend with my grandchildren and I hope they will have good memories of their Nana. I love them all very much and I love being Nana.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Screened Porch
I really like my screened porch. It’s now my favorite room of the house.
A couple of years ago, a huge oak tree in our back yard died and had to be cut down. We hadn’t realized how much shade it had provided until it was gone. It kind of made our deck useless. I came up with an idea to put a roof over it and screen it in. Glenn, our handyman, came over and we discussed it and he got started on it right away. Of course, one thing led to another and we decided to put down indoor/outdoor carpet and I furnished it mostly with extra furniture around the house and added lots of plants, of course. I knew it would be a great place for the grandkids to play, so we added some toys. It’s like having an extra room in our house.
I love to sit out on my screened porch and just look at the trees and all the greenery in our back yard. I really like to listen to the birds and watch the squirrels run up and down the trees. It’s a great place to watch the sun set. If you’ve seen our backyard, you know the view is good. When I sit on my screened porch…it’s like the world slows down and life seems better. God seems closer. It’s such a peaceful place to be.
Screened porches have been around for generations. Art’s Grandma and Grandpa King had a screened porch and I remember playing on it when I was a little girl. When we had big dinners over there, everyone seemed to spill out onto the porch. It was the gathering place. They had a wooden swing and everyone always wanted to sit in the swing. That swing is now hanging in Ross and Staci’s screened porch!
Art’s Grandma and Grandpa Barnhill had a screened porch, too. Many times when we drove down the road and approached their house, we would see them sitting out on that porch. That made us happy. Usually when company came, they would want to join Grandma and Grandpa B on the porch. I really think lots of people came there hoping they would get to visit them on the screened porch. They had a wooden swing, too, and that was my favorite place to sit. It was quiet out there and you could look out over the fields of cotton or just the plowed rows of dirt…and the world would slow down and a peace would come over you…like no where else. Sitting on that porch was one of the most peaceful places on this earth….and I miss it. I didn’t know any of my grandparents, but I would guess that they had screened porches, too. I think lots of people had them back then…..back when life was simpler.
We had a front porch when I was a kid, but it wasn’t screened. It was closed in with aluminum framed roll-out windows. Not quite the same as screens, but better than nothing. I liked to sit out there and watch the sun set. In that flat coastal part of Texas, you could literally see the sun go down. Every evening the Brahman cattle across the road would wind their way across the pasture, one behind the other, to the trees where they would spend the night. What a sight!
We also had a screened porch on the side of our house. That’s where everybody came into our house. If someone ever came to the front door, we knew they were strangers. The side screened porch was between my bedroom and the only bathroom in that big old house. In the winter time, that screened porch was my enemy…not something I had pleasant memories of. The only way to get to the bathroom from any other part of the house was to go through the screened porch. On cold winter nights, or days, you dreaded the trip to the bathroom. For sure it was better than going outside! I would run from my room to the bathroom as fast as I could. That old butane floor heater in the bathroom sure felt good when you got in there. Sometimes you just wanted to stay a while. Eventually you had to make that trip back through the screened porch. I’m thankful that I don’t have to run through a screened porch now days to go to the bathroom.
This world is getting faster and more hectic everyday. We all need a screened porch to sit on. I’m so glad I have one for my grandkids to enjoy. I hope they’ll have fond memories of sitting on Nana and Pawpaw’s screened porch.
A couple of years ago, a huge oak tree in our back yard died and had to be cut down. We hadn’t realized how much shade it had provided until it was gone. It kind of made our deck useless. I came up with an idea to put a roof over it and screen it in. Glenn, our handyman, came over and we discussed it and he got started on it right away. Of course, one thing led to another and we decided to put down indoor/outdoor carpet and I furnished it mostly with extra furniture around the house and added lots of plants, of course. I knew it would be a great place for the grandkids to play, so we added some toys. It’s like having an extra room in our house.
I love to sit out on my screened porch and just look at the trees and all the greenery in our back yard. I really like to listen to the birds and watch the squirrels run up and down the trees. It’s a great place to watch the sun set. If you’ve seen our backyard, you know the view is good. When I sit on my screened porch…it’s like the world slows down and life seems better. God seems closer. It’s such a peaceful place to be.
Screened porches have been around for generations. Art’s Grandma and Grandpa King had a screened porch and I remember playing on it when I was a little girl. When we had big dinners over there, everyone seemed to spill out onto the porch. It was the gathering place. They had a wooden swing and everyone always wanted to sit in the swing. That swing is now hanging in Ross and Staci’s screened porch!
Art’s Grandma and Grandpa Barnhill had a screened porch, too. Many times when we drove down the road and approached their house, we would see them sitting out on that porch. That made us happy. Usually when company came, they would want to join Grandma and Grandpa B on the porch. I really think lots of people came there hoping they would get to visit them on the screened porch. They had a wooden swing, too, and that was my favorite place to sit. It was quiet out there and you could look out over the fields of cotton or just the plowed rows of dirt…and the world would slow down and a peace would come over you…like no where else. Sitting on that porch was one of the most peaceful places on this earth….and I miss it. I didn’t know any of my grandparents, but I would guess that they had screened porches, too. I think lots of people had them back then…..back when life was simpler.
We had a front porch when I was a kid, but it wasn’t screened. It was closed in with aluminum framed roll-out windows. Not quite the same as screens, but better than nothing. I liked to sit out there and watch the sun set. In that flat coastal part of Texas, you could literally see the sun go down. Every evening the Brahman cattle across the road would wind their way across the pasture, one behind the other, to the trees where they would spend the night. What a sight!
We also had a screened porch on the side of our house. That’s where everybody came into our house. If someone ever came to the front door, we knew they were strangers. The side screened porch was between my bedroom and the only bathroom in that big old house. In the winter time, that screened porch was my enemy…not something I had pleasant memories of. The only way to get to the bathroom from any other part of the house was to go through the screened porch. On cold winter nights, or days, you dreaded the trip to the bathroom. For sure it was better than going outside! I would run from my room to the bathroom as fast as I could. That old butane floor heater in the bathroom sure felt good when you got in there. Sometimes you just wanted to stay a while. Eventually you had to make that trip back through the screened porch. I’m thankful that I don’t have to run through a screened porch now days to go to the bathroom.
This world is getting faster and more hectic everyday. We all need a screened porch to sit on. I’m so glad I have one for my grandkids to enjoy. I hope they’ll have fond memories of sitting on Nana and Pawpaw’s screened porch.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
To make the best better
To make the best better. That’s the 4-H Club motto. Well, at least it was when I was in 4-H. Hopefully, it’s still their motto. I think that’s a pretty good goal for anyone.
4-H Motto and Pledge:
In support of the 4-H Club Motto, To Make the Best Better, I pledge: My Head to clearer thinking, My Heart to greater loyalty, My Hands to larger service, and My Health to better living, For my club, my community, and my country.
I didn’t have to look this up. It’s been in my head since I was nine years old. That’s when I joined the 4-H Club. You had to be nine to join. But I was involved long before that. My brothers were very active in 4-H and both my parents were adult leaders. 4-H was a huge part of our lives.
The 4-H symbol is a green 4-leaf clover with a white H on each leaf….with the H’s representing head, heart, hands and health.
The older I get, the more I appreciate what I learned in 4-H. The lessons learned and the experiences I had, have a huge bearing on who I am today. Basically, 4-H taught me skills I needed to be a better wife and mother.
In previous blogs I’ve written about showing steers, cooking, sewing, the county fair, etc., but there was so much more to 4-H than just those things. We were taught leadership, responsibility and record keeping. We were encouraged to learn many new skills and then teach the younger members what we had learned. We went to camps and experienced being away from our parents and families. We were taught to be independent and competitive but also to be a part of a team. In everything, we were encouraged “to make the best better”.
I can’t even imagine what my life would have been like without the experiences of 4-H. When I stop and think about all the things I’ve done in my life, I know without a doubt that the knowledge and skills I learned in 4-H have had a huge impact on me.
Our 4-H meetings were very structured. We opened with prayer, said the pledge of allegiance to the American flag and repeated the 4-H motto and pledge. We elected officers, followed parliamentary procedure and conducted our meetings in a very respectful, disciplined, grown-up manner. We wore our 4-H Club uniforms to many of our activities. And we also had lots of fun. There was always music and dancing…folk dancing and square dancing. Some of my fondest memories are of sitting around campfires at 4-H camp and singing.
Every summer, we had our county 4-H camp at Marble Falls, Texas, near Austin. I was so ready and anxious to get into the 4-H Club. I remember that our county agent was at our house one day and he told me and my parents that he would let me go to camp the summer before I turned 9. I was so very excited. I went every year for many years. Camp was rather rustic, now that I think back on it, but at the time, I thought it was great! At camp, we slept on cots in dorms.…the girls all in one dorm and the boys in another. The camp grounds were next to a big lake. We played, cooked, ate, danced, sang, etc. in a big screened in building across the way from the dorms. There was no air conditioning and it was terribly hot in the Texas Hill Country in the summer. But none of us were accustomed to air conditioning, so it was no big deal. I always looked forward to camp. There were kids there from all over the county, so we got to be good friends with kids from other communities….Wharton, El Campo, East Bernard, Hungerford, etc.
We had a county 4-H council and a county 4-H banquet where we interacted with the same kids we went to camp with. We also competed with those same 4-Hers at the county fair and at other county contests. The winners of those events went on to compete on the district level and then on to state. State winners had the opportunity to receive college scholarships. Record keeping was an important part of all the contests, and for some reason, I really liked doing that. I still have the last 4-H record book that I compiled and entered in a contest.....almost 50 years ago.
Another highlight of each summer was our trip to the Texas A&M campus for the annual 4-H Club Round-up. That’s where most of the state competitions were held. A group of girls from our Iago club competed in the “share the fun” contest, which was basically a talent show. I was a part of that. We didn’t win, but we had lots of fun and it was a great experience to stay on campus and meet and compete with kids from all over Texas. After I was married, I had the honor of serving as a judge for the state cooking contest at round-up.
I don’t know what 4-H is like in 2009, but I have an idea that it’s very different than it was in the 1950’s. I know things change, but that’s one thing I wish had stayed the same. I wish my grandchildren could experience the 4-H Club that I knew, or something similar.
I hope that the 4-H motto….to make the best better….continues to be a part of my life.
4-H Motto and Pledge:
In support of the 4-H Club Motto, To Make the Best Better, I pledge: My Head to clearer thinking, My Heart to greater loyalty, My Hands to larger service, and My Health to better living, For my club, my community, and my country.
I didn’t have to look this up. It’s been in my head since I was nine years old. That’s when I joined the 4-H Club. You had to be nine to join. But I was involved long before that. My brothers were very active in 4-H and both my parents were adult leaders. 4-H was a huge part of our lives.
The 4-H symbol is a green 4-leaf clover with a white H on each leaf….with the H’s representing head, heart, hands and health.
The older I get, the more I appreciate what I learned in 4-H. The lessons learned and the experiences I had, have a huge bearing on who I am today. Basically, 4-H taught me skills I needed to be a better wife and mother.
In previous blogs I’ve written about showing steers, cooking, sewing, the county fair, etc., but there was so much more to 4-H than just those things. We were taught leadership, responsibility and record keeping. We were encouraged to learn many new skills and then teach the younger members what we had learned. We went to camps and experienced being away from our parents and families. We were taught to be independent and competitive but also to be a part of a team. In everything, we were encouraged “to make the best better”.
I can’t even imagine what my life would have been like without the experiences of 4-H. When I stop and think about all the things I’ve done in my life, I know without a doubt that the knowledge and skills I learned in 4-H have had a huge impact on me.
Our 4-H meetings were very structured. We opened with prayer, said the pledge of allegiance to the American flag and repeated the 4-H motto and pledge. We elected officers, followed parliamentary procedure and conducted our meetings in a very respectful, disciplined, grown-up manner. We wore our 4-H Club uniforms to many of our activities. And we also had lots of fun. There was always music and dancing…folk dancing and square dancing. Some of my fondest memories are of sitting around campfires at 4-H camp and singing.
Every summer, we had our county 4-H camp at Marble Falls, Texas, near Austin. I was so ready and anxious to get into the 4-H Club. I remember that our county agent was at our house one day and he told me and my parents that he would let me go to camp the summer before I turned 9. I was so very excited. I went every year for many years. Camp was rather rustic, now that I think back on it, but at the time, I thought it was great! At camp, we slept on cots in dorms.…the girls all in one dorm and the boys in another. The camp grounds were next to a big lake. We played, cooked, ate, danced, sang, etc. in a big screened in building across the way from the dorms. There was no air conditioning and it was terribly hot in the Texas Hill Country in the summer. But none of us were accustomed to air conditioning, so it was no big deal. I always looked forward to camp. There were kids there from all over the county, so we got to be good friends with kids from other communities….Wharton, El Campo, East Bernard, Hungerford, etc.
We had a county 4-H council and a county 4-H banquet where we interacted with the same kids we went to camp with. We also competed with those same 4-Hers at the county fair and at other county contests. The winners of those events went on to compete on the district level and then on to state. State winners had the opportunity to receive college scholarships. Record keeping was an important part of all the contests, and for some reason, I really liked doing that. I still have the last 4-H record book that I compiled and entered in a contest.....almost 50 years ago.
Another highlight of each summer was our trip to the Texas A&M campus for the annual 4-H Club Round-up. That’s where most of the state competitions were held. A group of girls from our Iago club competed in the “share the fun” contest, which was basically a talent show. I was a part of that. We didn’t win, but we had lots of fun and it was a great experience to stay on campus and meet and compete with kids from all over Texas. After I was married, I had the honor of serving as a judge for the state cooking contest at round-up.
I don’t know what 4-H is like in 2009, but I have an idea that it’s very different than it was in the 1950’s. I know things change, but that’s one thing I wish had stayed the same. I wish my grandchildren could experience the 4-H Club that I knew, or something similar.
I hope that the 4-H motto….to make the best better….continues to be a part of my life.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
A stitch in time............
There’s an old saying “a stitch in time, saves nine”. I like that. I like to sew. I’m in the midst of sewing for my 5 month old granddaughter, Naomi.
“My granddaughter” is still a new concept for me. Being the only girl in a family of 6 children and then having two sons and five grandsons, I have few experiences with little girls. In fact, except for baby shower gifts, I’ve never sewn for a little girl, other than myself.
I have a feeling that I’ll be sewing more for this little girl than I have for my grandsons….and I hope God gives me lots of years to do that. I made pajamas and a few other clothes for the boys when they were little, but as they got older that wasn’t in their plan. Sam and I have sewn some silly little outfits for him and Austin has helped me sew some things, and I’ve made some bedding for the grandsons, but that’s about all the sewing I’ve done with or for my grandsons.
Since I started making Naomi’s crib bedding a few days ago, I’ve had time to think about sewing and all my memories of the stitches I’ve made. While sewing, I can think a lot. I realize that I enjoy doing things that allow me to think and work at the same time. I mean that two ways. I like using my brain…which is required in sewing…and I’ll explain more about that later. And I also like to have the quiet time while I’m working alone, with my hands. Sewing is good for me.
I had no grandmother to teach me to sew and my mother couldn’t even sew on a button, so I had no experience with sewing until I was 9 years old. The 4-H Club introduced me to the art, and science, of sewing and from the first moment I sat at a sewing machine and realized what I could do….I loved it! The summer after I had turned 9 in January, I took a sewing workshop at Wharton County Jr. College and made my very first thing. I don’t recall what it was…..maybe a simple gathered skirt. I just remember that I was so proud of it.
In high school I got a double dose of sewing lessons as I took home economics classes each year, along with my continued time in the 4-H Club. I started out making very simple articles of clothing and moved on to make tailored, lined suits with bound buttonholes. I made lots of my own clothes and loved the creativity of it. I would dream up an outfit or see something in a magazine that I thought was really cool and I would go look for a pattern and fabric and make it for myself. Even when I didn’t have time to sew, or couldn’t find the right pattern, I would take the fabric and the idea to a seamstress in Wharton, and she would make it for me. I can remember to this day, 50 years later, some of those cute skirts and tops and dresses that I created. Sometimes people say ugly things about “homemade” clothes. I made sure that my “homemade” clothes were made better than ‘store bought”. In fact, I would compare my “homemade” clothes to the “store bought” ones and realize how much better made mine were….and so much cheaper! I’ve saved lots of money by making my clothes and being able to alter the ones that I did buy.
As I mentioned, my mom couldn’t sew on a button or hem her own skirts, so I did a lot of that for her. I even made dresses for her.
In 1961, during my junior year in high school, I won the Wharton County Dress Revue and went on to win the district (19 counties) competition at the University of Houston and that qualified me to be in the state competition at the State Fair of Texas in Dallas. There I modeled my outfit on a stage in front of hundreds of people. For this little country girl, that was a pretty big deal! I still remember that outfit. It was a 2-piece suit made of dark charcoal 100% fine wool that was very soft and light weight. The straight, just below the knee, skirt had a black lining. The jacket was lined with white and charcoal print Italian silk. My accessories included a black wool beret (hat), black fabric gloves, and black calf heels and hand bag. That’s the way we dressed up in those days…hat, gloves…the whole deal!
Somewhere in my later years I stopped making my own clothes and I also stopped “dressing up” like I did when I was younger. I think some of it is laziness and some of it is because of our current culture. People just don’t seem to “dress up” like they used to. In some ways I like that, but in other ways I kind of miss it.
In college I took more sewing classes, as a home economics major, and improved my sewing skills even more. In one sewing class I remember making a good looking
lined wool suit with bound buttonholes and fur trimmed collar and sleeves. I wish I had saved those suits. They were beautiful works of art….probably my best sewing efforts. Anyway, I continued to sew. I designed and made my wedding dress and lots and lots of other clothes for myself.
I continued to make my clothes and sew for other people after I got married. In fact, for many years I was a seamstress, on the side….one of those many jobs I’ve had. I took several different classes from a very professional seamstress and learned to make my own
patterns, and from those patterns I made some really awesome pants and blouses. That was really when the geometry and math came in. My teacher was from Austria and she only knew the metric system. I really had to use my brain for those classes and learned so very much.
When Art was in the Army we lived in Virginia and we were poor, I made his dress slacks, leisure suits and even a regular tailored suit. Now that was a real accomplishment. One of the most difficult things about making a man’s suit was to find the fabric. Most fabric stores don’t have fabric suitable for making a man’s suit. I felt like I had really reached the top of my sewing career when I finished that project, but I knew I would never do it again. I like challenges, but that was a bit much!
Sewing requires lots of things…..patience, math, measuring, knowledge of fabrics, patience, flexibility, measuring, creativity, more measuring and more patience. I see some young ladies sewing now who don’t have the basic knowledge that I was fortunate to get in the 4-H Club and my home economics classes. They don’t seem to have a clue about the selvages, the bias or the grain, pressing each seam after it is sewn, using a pressing cloth, a sleeve board and pressing ham, hand stitched hems that don’t show, precise measurements, straight stitches or buttons sewn on properly. All those things really do make a difference in the finished product. I’m afraid that those basic things are a dying art, because it’s not popular anymore for girls to be in 4-H and take home economics in high school or college. That makes me sad. It also makes me glad that I grew up in the country when and where I did. I got some really good training. I could write a book about the training I received from the 4-H Club. The 4-H Club motto “to make the best better” was instilled in me. Maybe my next blog will be about that.
Proverbs 31 speaks to us about a ‘virtuous woman”. The verses that mention how she seeks wool and flax and works willingly with her hands and how she lays her hands to the spindle; and makes herself coverings of tapestry; and she makes fine linens and sells them; and she perceives that her merchandise is good..…….all those things tell me that sewing is a good thing for a woman to do. Proverbs 31:31 says “Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own words praise her in the gates.”
I hope Naomi will want to learn to sew and I hope and pray that I’ll still be around to teach her. I so want to share with my granddaughter what I know about sewing and maybe I can share with her some of my wisdom and with God’s guidance, she will strive to become a virtuous woman.
“My granddaughter” is still a new concept for me. Being the only girl in a family of 6 children and then having two sons and five grandsons, I have few experiences with little girls. In fact, except for baby shower gifts, I’ve never sewn for a little girl, other than myself.
I have a feeling that I’ll be sewing more for this little girl than I have for my grandsons….and I hope God gives me lots of years to do that. I made pajamas and a few other clothes for the boys when they were little, but as they got older that wasn’t in their plan. Sam and I have sewn some silly little outfits for him and Austin has helped me sew some things, and I’ve made some bedding for the grandsons, but that’s about all the sewing I’ve done with or for my grandsons.
Since I started making Naomi’s crib bedding a few days ago, I’ve had time to think about sewing and all my memories of the stitches I’ve made. While sewing, I can think a lot. I realize that I enjoy doing things that allow me to think and work at the same time. I mean that two ways. I like using my brain…which is required in sewing…and I’ll explain more about that later. And I also like to have the quiet time while I’m working alone, with my hands. Sewing is good for me.
I had no grandmother to teach me to sew and my mother couldn’t even sew on a button, so I had no experience with sewing until I was 9 years old. The 4-H Club introduced me to the art, and science, of sewing and from the first moment I sat at a sewing machine and realized what I could do….I loved it! The summer after I had turned 9 in January, I took a sewing workshop at Wharton County Jr. College and made my very first thing. I don’t recall what it was…..maybe a simple gathered skirt. I just remember that I was so proud of it.
In high school I got a double dose of sewing lessons as I took home economics classes each year, along with my continued time in the 4-H Club. I started out making very simple articles of clothing and moved on to make tailored, lined suits with bound buttonholes. I made lots of my own clothes and loved the creativity of it. I would dream up an outfit or see something in a magazine that I thought was really cool and I would go look for a pattern and fabric and make it for myself. Even when I didn’t have time to sew, or couldn’t find the right pattern, I would take the fabric and the idea to a seamstress in Wharton, and she would make it for me. I can remember to this day, 50 years later, some of those cute skirts and tops and dresses that I created. Sometimes people say ugly things about “homemade” clothes. I made sure that my “homemade” clothes were made better than ‘store bought”. In fact, I would compare my “homemade” clothes to the “store bought” ones and realize how much better made mine were….and so much cheaper! I’ve saved lots of money by making my clothes and being able to alter the ones that I did buy.
As I mentioned, my mom couldn’t sew on a button or hem her own skirts, so I did a lot of that for her. I even made dresses for her.
In 1961, during my junior year in high school, I won the Wharton County Dress Revue and went on to win the district (19 counties) competition at the University of Houston and that qualified me to be in the state competition at the State Fair of Texas in Dallas. There I modeled my outfit on a stage in front of hundreds of people. For this little country girl, that was a pretty big deal! I still remember that outfit. It was a 2-piece suit made of dark charcoal 100% fine wool that was very soft and light weight. The straight, just below the knee, skirt had a black lining. The jacket was lined with white and charcoal print Italian silk. My accessories included a black wool beret (hat), black fabric gloves, and black calf heels and hand bag. That’s the way we dressed up in those days…hat, gloves…the whole deal!
Somewhere in my later years I stopped making my own clothes and I also stopped “dressing up” like I did when I was younger. I think some of it is laziness and some of it is because of our current culture. People just don’t seem to “dress up” like they used to. In some ways I like that, but in other ways I kind of miss it.
In college I took more sewing classes, as a home economics major, and improved my sewing skills even more. In one sewing class I remember making a good looking
lined wool suit with bound buttonholes and fur trimmed collar and sleeves. I wish I had saved those suits. They were beautiful works of art….probably my best sewing efforts. Anyway, I continued to sew. I designed and made my wedding dress and lots and lots of other clothes for myself.
I continued to make my clothes and sew for other people after I got married. In fact, for many years I was a seamstress, on the side….one of those many jobs I’ve had. I took several different classes from a very professional seamstress and learned to make my own
patterns, and from those patterns I made some really awesome pants and blouses. That was really when the geometry and math came in. My teacher was from Austria and she only knew the metric system. I really had to use my brain for those classes and learned so very much.
When Art was in the Army we lived in Virginia and we were poor, I made his dress slacks, leisure suits and even a regular tailored suit. Now that was a real accomplishment. One of the most difficult things about making a man’s suit was to find the fabric. Most fabric stores don’t have fabric suitable for making a man’s suit. I felt like I had really reached the top of my sewing career when I finished that project, but I knew I would never do it again. I like challenges, but that was a bit much!
Sewing requires lots of things…..patience, math, measuring, knowledge of fabrics, patience, flexibility, measuring, creativity, more measuring and more patience. I see some young ladies sewing now who don’t have the basic knowledge that I was fortunate to get in the 4-H Club and my home economics classes. They don’t seem to have a clue about the selvages, the bias or the grain, pressing each seam after it is sewn, using a pressing cloth, a sleeve board and pressing ham, hand stitched hems that don’t show, precise measurements, straight stitches or buttons sewn on properly. All those things really do make a difference in the finished product. I’m afraid that those basic things are a dying art, because it’s not popular anymore for girls to be in 4-H and take home economics in high school or college. That makes me sad. It also makes me glad that I grew up in the country when and where I did. I got some really good training. I could write a book about the training I received from the 4-H Club. The 4-H Club motto “to make the best better” was instilled in me. Maybe my next blog will be about that.
Proverbs 31 speaks to us about a ‘virtuous woman”. The verses that mention how she seeks wool and flax and works willingly with her hands and how she lays her hands to the spindle; and makes herself coverings of tapestry; and she makes fine linens and sells them; and she perceives that her merchandise is good..…….all those things tell me that sewing is a good thing for a woman to do. Proverbs 31:31 says “Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own words praise her in the gates.”
I hope Naomi will want to learn to sew and I hope and pray that I’ll still be around to teach her. I so want to share with my granddaughter what I know about sewing and maybe I can share with her some of my wisdom and with God’s guidance, she will strive to become a virtuous woman.
Friday, January 23, 2009
My College Days
I graduated from Boling High School in May of 1963. There was never any question about me going to college. In our family, it was just a given…at least that was what my daddy wanted for us. I always thought that my mom really didn’t care if I went to college or not. One time she said something about the only reason I should go to college was to find a husband.
Anyway, the summer after I graduated from high school, I enrolled in Wharton County Junior College and took 6 hours each summer semester. At the end of that summer, I had 6 hours of freshman English and 6 hours of history.
In the fall, I moved to Huntsville, Texas to start classes at Sam Houston State. The main reason I chose that school was because they had a very good home economics program and that was the only thing I had ever wanted to major in. My brothers had gone to the University of Texas (or what I soon learned to call tu) and Texas A&M. At that time, A&M was not an option for me, since girls were not accepted there, and even back then, I had absolutely no desire to be a t-sip.
My parents drove me to Huntsville and dropped me off in front of Estel Dormitory, my home for the next nine months. It was kind of sad for me, and a little frightening, but I was really excited about this new chapter in my life.
I had dreamed of meeting my roommate, having meaningful discussions with her and developing a wonderful relationship with my first college roommate. What a surprise! Donna was from Austin and I never understood how she ever graduated from high school and was accepted into college. She couldn’t spell or write a complete sentence and was the sloppiest person I had ever been around. She might have taken 3 baths the entire time we lived together for 9 months! You might ask how I know that? Well, let me give you several reasons…the smell and her bar of soap. Have you ever seen how a bar of soap will get deep cracks in it when it never gets wet? I know, not many people use bars of soap these days, but back then we didn’t have body wash and shower gel, etc. We just had bars of soap. The same bar sat on the side of the tub for 2 semesters and didn’t get any smaller. Nor did she change the sheets on her bed the entire 2 semesters. I know…you’re wondering why I stayed with her all that time and didn’t ask for a different roommate? I don’t know. Maybe I felt sorry for her and thought I could help her. Who knows? She seemed to like me and I thought she needed me. Whatever….
I made good grades at Sam Houston. It was known (maybe still is) for being a party school, but I didn’t party while I was there. I went to class and studied, went to the BSU (Baptist Student Union) and apparently ate a lot. I gained about 10 or 15 pounds that year. My home economics classes were interesting and informative and I got involved in the home economics club. I met some really good friends….mostly in my dorm. My suitemates and I got along really well. Ruby was from Splendora and Francis was from Woodville, I think. On another floor, in my dorm, I met some great friends, Sandra and Janet. They were from Schulenberg. Sandra married Howard, who Art knew from the Corps at A&M, and I think they’ve lived in Franklin for as long as we’ve lived here in Bryan. We see them once in a while.
President Kennedy was assassinated in November while I was at Sam Houston. I remember where I was on campus when I heard the news that our president had been shot.
For some reason, I wasn’t satisfied with Sam Houston and thought that I wanted to go to a more “Christian” school and decided to go to Baylor the next year. My dad wasn’t really excited about that. He knew it would cost a lot more, so he told me that if I went to Baylor, I would have to use the money that had been set aside for my college fund in a savings account, and he wouldn’t help me at all. So, that’s what I did. When I was very young, daddy had started a savings account for me at Colorado Savings and Loan. I had a passbook and could keep up with how much money I had.
My parents drove me to Waco the next fall and let me out in front of Memorial Dormitory…my new home at Baylor. I had no car and knew no one there, but I thought it was where I was suppose to be. Other than my shoes, I don’t recall what I had on that first day on the Baylor campus, but I immediately became aware that I wasn’t dressed like everyone else. Now keep in mind, just a few months before, I was dressed very similar on the Sam Houston campus….and everything was okay. The main thing that stood out to me was that I was the only girl who was wearing little white socks with her penny loafers. They were just fine at Sam, but all the little rich city girls at Baylor laughed at my socks. They were wearing hose. Well, this little country girl didn’t want to be laughed at and I sure as heck didn’t want to be out of style, so as soon as I got my stuff in my room, I asked for directions to the nearest department store. I was told that Cox’s was in that direction not too far from campus. Cox’s was in downtown Waco and if you’ve ever been to Waco, you know that downtown isn’t just real close to Baylor…especially if you’re walking in central Texas heat and you really don’t know where you’re going. Anyway, after what seemed like hours, I got to Cox’s and bought myself a pair of hose, took my socks off in the dressing room and wore my hose and penny loafers back to the campus. You know, if I had been thinking clearly, I should have called my mom and dad that night and said, “come get me”. But I didn’t and that was the beginning of a miserable year at Baylor.
I just didn’t fit in. To start with, Baylor turned out to be a big disappointment to me. Maybe I was expecting too much. It seemed to me that if you were a girl at Baylor and you weren’t in a sorority, you just didn’t quite fit in…and I never have been nor ever will be a sorority girl. It was at Baylor where I met the first atheist that I had ever encountered. Yes, at Baylor. Also, at Baylor, I first found out about legalism….just didn’t know back then that there was a name for it. I only knew that I didn’t want to be told that I had to be at chapel at a certain time however many times a week. And I didn’t want to be told that I had to take religion courses. They were good classes with great professors. I just didn’t think I should be made to take them. I didn’t think I should be told that I had to be in my dorm room by 10 o’clock every night (or some such ridiculous hour). I discovered that everyone there wasn’t Baptist, nor was everyone a Christian, nor did it seem that anyone but me was poor and from the country. On top of all that, the home economics department was much weaker than the one I had left at Sam Houston. What was I doing there? I was miserable.
My roommate at Baylor was much better than the one I had at Sam. At least she took baths daily, changed her sheets often, could read and write and generally was okay. But she didn’t do much to help my self esteem when she made fun of my “country” accent and asked me to say “little ol’ me” and act like that was the funniest thing she had ever heard. She couldn’t believe that there was such a place like Iago, Texas. She wondered out loud where I was from when I would call home and talk to the operator and ask if she knew if my parents were at home or if they were at my brother’s house. Apparently in Houston, where she was from, she didn’t know the telephone operator that well.
I really liked my suitemates at Baylor…..Helen and Millie. Helen played the organ at our wedding and it was at our wedding that she met her future husband, Tom. Helen was Baptist and was a great pianist and organist. We still stay in touch. Her husband Tom was one of Art’s corps buddies at A&M.
I do have some fond memories of Baylor…it wasn’t all bad. I don’t recall how we met, but I had a great friend there, David. Every Sunday (that I was in town), David picked me up in his old, raggedy car and we drove to a tiny church on the other side of Waco where he led the music and I played the piano. I can still remember it, like it was yesterday. David had all the traffic lights timed just right and as we drove through downtown Waco on Sunday mornings, he would scare me crazy. There was very little traffic and he was always driving the top speed that he could without getting a ticket. I would be screaming for him to slow down and just as I would think that we would be running a red light…it would change just as we got to it…..sometimes just as we were going under it! I remember that car being so cold in the winter and air just whistling in from everywhere. I guess it didn’t have a heater. David had a girl friend and I was engaged to Art, so it was just a very good friendship. We had so much fun at that little church. Everyone there was very poor, uneducated and pretty much lower class folks, but they loved us and seemed to really appreciate us helping them out on Sunday mornings. It was cold in that little drafty church, too. I remember playing the piano with my coat on and my fingers were cold and stiff. I really felt that God was using me there. David’s parents had a beach house in Freeport and that’s where Art and I spent our honeymoon. David knew that Art and I had very little money when we married and his family offered that beach house for us to use at no cost. I’ve lost touch with David. I need to try to find him. Thanks again to the good old internet, I just found him and called him and we had a wonderful visit and plan to stay in touch!
Other fun memories that Art and I talk about frequently are the “moose pots”. Let me explain. Art was going to A&M and at that time, there were no girls there. Aggies were always looking for dates at other colleges. When Art decided he could get off to make a trip to Waco for the weekend, he would line up a bunch of his buddies to come with him. He would let me know how many were coming and I would line up that many Baylor girls for blind dates. On the way to Waco, the guys would put money in a “moose pot” and whoever got the ugliest date would get all the money from the “pot”. Of course, we never told the girls about it. This was just between me and the guys! To this day, one of those guys says something about it every time we see him…and he is a big time hot shot at Texas A&M!
A couple of girls across the hall from me were really sweet, but I don’t even remember their names. I just remember that their sorority or some club they were in sold donuts every morning and one of the girls ate a whole dozen donuts every day! Yep, she gained a little weight that year. I can still see that girl. Wish I could remember her name.
I didn’t make very good grades at Baylor. My heart just wasn’t in it! Art and I had decided to get married the next summer. I spent lots of my time designing my wedding dress and planning our wedding. Some of my friends at Baylor gave me a lingerie shower just before we left for the summer.
At the end of the spring semester, I left Baylor and moved back home to Iago to spend the summer getting ready for the wedding in August. Art had not done well at A&M that year either and there was a little discussion about him getting to go back in the fall. At that time, Dr. Potts was the man to make that decision. He was the Associate Dean of Agriculture. Anyway, when he found out that Art was getting married, he asked for us both to come and visit with him in his office. I felt a little anxious, to say the least, and a little intimidated to be in that office. Dr. Potts asked me lots of questions and made it clear that if Art was to succeed in college, as a married man, it was up to me to make that happen. Wow! He said that whether or not married guys made it in college depended totally on the woman they were married to. What a load for me to carry. I assured Dr. Potts that I would help my husband every way that I could. He told me that I would need to allow Art to study and to encourage him along the way. Evidently I said the right things and he felt that I was sincere, because he allowed Art to register for the fall semester of 1965. I was so grateful to Dr. Potts that I made him a pie and took it to him.
That was the end of my full time college days, but not the end of college for me. After Art and I married, I continued to take classes at A&M. There was no home economics department there and I was told that there never would be. I didn’t want to change majors and I didn’t want to commute to Sam Houston, so I just took random classes at A&M. During my time as a lab technician, they allowed me to leave work and take one class each semester and I did. In those days, girls could only go to A&M if their dads were professors or their husbands were students. In most of my classes, I was the only female. Most of the time I didn’t mind it, except for when I took a sociology class called “marriage and the family”. It was a little embarrassing at times. I took economics, political science, botany, some education, psychology and sociology classes. I took first aid in the athletic department and criminology and toured a unit of the Texas Department of Corrections. I just signed up for classes that interested me…with no degree plan in mind. I ended up with about 100 hours of college credit, but no degree. After the boys were born, I checked into commuting to Huntsville in hopes of finishing my degree in home economics, but I decided it would be too much for me to be a wife and mother and student. During Art’s last semester as an undergraduate, the Ag Ed Department presented me (and other wives) with a PhT diploma. Pushing Hubby Through! They had a very nice banquet and made a really big deal out of it. And I am just as proud of that as I would be of any other diploma. The night I received that diploma, I thought about my visit with Dr. Potts. He was a good man who gave us some really good advice and he made a very wise decision. Art graduated and his last semester he was on the dean’s list and named the outstanding student in his department.
I have no regrets about not finishing college. If I had gotten a degree, then I might have been tempted to work full-time while the boys were growing up and I don’t think that’s where God wanted me. Financially, maybe we would have been better off, but money’s not everything! And you certainly don’t have to be taking college classes to learn. I love to learn new things and I hope that desire never leaves me.
Anyway, the summer after I graduated from high school, I enrolled in Wharton County Junior College and took 6 hours each summer semester. At the end of that summer, I had 6 hours of freshman English and 6 hours of history.
In the fall, I moved to Huntsville, Texas to start classes at Sam Houston State. The main reason I chose that school was because they had a very good home economics program and that was the only thing I had ever wanted to major in. My brothers had gone to the University of Texas (or what I soon learned to call tu) and Texas A&M. At that time, A&M was not an option for me, since girls were not accepted there, and even back then, I had absolutely no desire to be a t-sip.
My parents drove me to Huntsville and dropped me off in front of Estel Dormitory, my home for the next nine months. It was kind of sad for me, and a little frightening, but I was really excited about this new chapter in my life.
I had dreamed of meeting my roommate, having meaningful discussions with her and developing a wonderful relationship with my first college roommate. What a surprise! Donna was from Austin and I never understood how she ever graduated from high school and was accepted into college. She couldn’t spell or write a complete sentence and was the sloppiest person I had ever been around. She might have taken 3 baths the entire time we lived together for 9 months! You might ask how I know that? Well, let me give you several reasons…the smell and her bar of soap. Have you ever seen how a bar of soap will get deep cracks in it when it never gets wet? I know, not many people use bars of soap these days, but back then we didn’t have body wash and shower gel, etc. We just had bars of soap. The same bar sat on the side of the tub for 2 semesters and didn’t get any smaller. Nor did she change the sheets on her bed the entire 2 semesters. I know…you’re wondering why I stayed with her all that time and didn’t ask for a different roommate? I don’t know. Maybe I felt sorry for her and thought I could help her. Who knows? She seemed to like me and I thought she needed me. Whatever….
I made good grades at Sam Houston. It was known (maybe still is) for being a party school, but I didn’t party while I was there. I went to class and studied, went to the BSU (Baptist Student Union) and apparently ate a lot. I gained about 10 or 15 pounds that year. My home economics classes were interesting and informative and I got involved in the home economics club. I met some really good friends….mostly in my dorm. My suitemates and I got along really well. Ruby was from Splendora and Francis was from Woodville, I think. On another floor, in my dorm, I met some great friends, Sandra and Janet. They were from Schulenberg. Sandra married Howard, who Art knew from the Corps at A&M, and I think they’ve lived in Franklin for as long as we’ve lived here in Bryan. We see them once in a while.
President Kennedy was assassinated in November while I was at Sam Houston. I remember where I was on campus when I heard the news that our president had been shot.
For some reason, I wasn’t satisfied with Sam Houston and thought that I wanted to go to a more “Christian” school and decided to go to Baylor the next year. My dad wasn’t really excited about that. He knew it would cost a lot more, so he told me that if I went to Baylor, I would have to use the money that had been set aside for my college fund in a savings account, and he wouldn’t help me at all. So, that’s what I did. When I was very young, daddy had started a savings account for me at Colorado Savings and Loan. I had a passbook and could keep up with how much money I had.
My parents drove me to Waco the next fall and let me out in front of Memorial Dormitory…my new home at Baylor. I had no car and knew no one there, but I thought it was where I was suppose to be. Other than my shoes, I don’t recall what I had on that first day on the Baylor campus, but I immediately became aware that I wasn’t dressed like everyone else. Now keep in mind, just a few months before, I was dressed very similar on the Sam Houston campus….and everything was okay. The main thing that stood out to me was that I was the only girl who was wearing little white socks with her penny loafers. They were just fine at Sam, but all the little rich city girls at Baylor laughed at my socks. They were wearing hose. Well, this little country girl didn’t want to be laughed at and I sure as heck didn’t want to be out of style, so as soon as I got my stuff in my room, I asked for directions to the nearest department store. I was told that Cox’s was in that direction not too far from campus. Cox’s was in downtown Waco and if you’ve ever been to Waco, you know that downtown isn’t just real close to Baylor…especially if you’re walking in central Texas heat and you really don’t know where you’re going. Anyway, after what seemed like hours, I got to Cox’s and bought myself a pair of hose, took my socks off in the dressing room and wore my hose and penny loafers back to the campus. You know, if I had been thinking clearly, I should have called my mom and dad that night and said, “come get me”. But I didn’t and that was the beginning of a miserable year at Baylor.
I just didn’t fit in. To start with, Baylor turned out to be a big disappointment to me. Maybe I was expecting too much. It seemed to me that if you were a girl at Baylor and you weren’t in a sorority, you just didn’t quite fit in…and I never have been nor ever will be a sorority girl. It was at Baylor where I met the first atheist that I had ever encountered. Yes, at Baylor. Also, at Baylor, I first found out about legalism….just didn’t know back then that there was a name for it. I only knew that I didn’t want to be told that I had to be at chapel at a certain time however many times a week. And I didn’t want to be told that I had to take religion courses. They were good classes with great professors. I just didn’t think I should be made to take them. I didn’t think I should be told that I had to be in my dorm room by 10 o’clock every night (or some such ridiculous hour). I discovered that everyone there wasn’t Baptist, nor was everyone a Christian, nor did it seem that anyone but me was poor and from the country. On top of all that, the home economics department was much weaker than the one I had left at Sam Houston. What was I doing there? I was miserable.
My roommate at Baylor was much better than the one I had at Sam. At least she took baths daily, changed her sheets often, could read and write and generally was okay. But she didn’t do much to help my self esteem when she made fun of my “country” accent and asked me to say “little ol’ me” and act like that was the funniest thing she had ever heard. She couldn’t believe that there was such a place like Iago, Texas. She wondered out loud where I was from when I would call home and talk to the operator and ask if she knew if my parents were at home or if they were at my brother’s house. Apparently in Houston, where she was from, she didn’t know the telephone operator that well.
I really liked my suitemates at Baylor…..Helen and Millie. Helen played the organ at our wedding and it was at our wedding that she met her future husband, Tom. Helen was Baptist and was a great pianist and organist. We still stay in touch. Her husband Tom was one of Art’s corps buddies at A&M.
I do have some fond memories of Baylor…it wasn’t all bad. I don’t recall how we met, but I had a great friend there, David. Every Sunday (that I was in town), David picked me up in his old, raggedy car and we drove to a tiny church on the other side of Waco where he led the music and I played the piano. I can still remember it, like it was yesterday. David had all the traffic lights timed just right and as we drove through downtown Waco on Sunday mornings, he would scare me crazy. There was very little traffic and he was always driving the top speed that he could without getting a ticket. I would be screaming for him to slow down and just as I would think that we would be running a red light…it would change just as we got to it…..sometimes just as we were going under it! I remember that car being so cold in the winter and air just whistling in from everywhere. I guess it didn’t have a heater. David had a girl friend and I was engaged to Art, so it was just a very good friendship. We had so much fun at that little church. Everyone there was very poor, uneducated and pretty much lower class folks, but they loved us and seemed to really appreciate us helping them out on Sunday mornings. It was cold in that little drafty church, too. I remember playing the piano with my coat on and my fingers were cold and stiff. I really felt that God was using me there. David’s parents had a beach house in Freeport and that’s where Art and I spent our honeymoon. David knew that Art and I had very little money when we married and his family offered that beach house for us to use at no cost. I’ve lost touch with David. I need to try to find him. Thanks again to the good old internet, I just found him and called him and we had a wonderful visit and plan to stay in touch!
Other fun memories that Art and I talk about frequently are the “moose pots”. Let me explain. Art was going to A&M and at that time, there were no girls there. Aggies were always looking for dates at other colleges. When Art decided he could get off to make a trip to Waco for the weekend, he would line up a bunch of his buddies to come with him. He would let me know how many were coming and I would line up that many Baylor girls for blind dates. On the way to Waco, the guys would put money in a “moose pot” and whoever got the ugliest date would get all the money from the “pot”. Of course, we never told the girls about it. This was just between me and the guys! To this day, one of those guys says something about it every time we see him…and he is a big time hot shot at Texas A&M!
A couple of girls across the hall from me were really sweet, but I don’t even remember their names. I just remember that their sorority or some club they were in sold donuts every morning and one of the girls ate a whole dozen donuts every day! Yep, she gained a little weight that year. I can still see that girl. Wish I could remember her name.
I didn’t make very good grades at Baylor. My heart just wasn’t in it! Art and I had decided to get married the next summer. I spent lots of my time designing my wedding dress and planning our wedding. Some of my friends at Baylor gave me a lingerie shower just before we left for the summer.
At the end of the spring semester, I left Baylor and moved back home to Iago to spend the summer getting ready for the wedding in August. Art had not done well at A&M that year either and there was a little discussion about him getting to go back in the fall. At that time, Dr. Potts was the man to make that decision. He was the Associate Dean of Agriculture. Anyway, when he found out that Art was getting married, he asked for us both to come and visit with him in his office. I felt a little anxious, to say the least, and a little intimidated to be in that office. Dr. Potts asked me lots of questions and made it clear that if Art was to succeed in college, as a married man, it was up to me to make that happen. Wow! He said that whether or not married guys made it in college depended totally on the woman they were married to. What a load for me to carry. I assured Dr. Potts that I would help my husband every way that I could. He told me that I would need to allow Art to study and to encourage him along the way. Evidently I said the right things and he felt that I was sincere, because he allowed Art to register for the fall semester of 1965. I was so grateful to Dr. Potts that I made him a pie and took it to him.
That was the end of my full time college days, but not the end of college for me. After Art and I married, I continued to take classes at A&M. There was no home economics department there and I was told that there never would be. I didn’t want to change majors and I didn’t want to commute to Sam Houston, so I just took random classes at A&M. During my time as a lab technician, they allowed me to leave work and take one class each semester and I did. In those days, girls could only go to A&M if their dads were professors or their husbands were students. In most of my classes, I was the only female. Most of the time I didn’t mind it, except for when I took a sociology class called “marriage and the family”. It was a little embarrassing at times. I took economics, political science, botany, some education, psychology and sociology classes. I took first aid in the athletic department and criminology and toured a unit of the Texas Department of Corrections. I just signed up for classes that interested me…with no degree plan in mind. I ended up with about 100 hours of college credit, but no degree. After the boys were born, I checked into commuting to Huntsville in hopes of finishing my degree in home economics, but I decided it would be too much for me to be a wife and mother and student. During Art’s last semester as an undergraduate, the Ag Ed Department presented me (and other wives) with a PhT diploma. Pushing Hubby Through! They had a very nice banquet and made a really big deal out of it. And I am just as proud of that as I would be of any other diploma. The night I received that diploma, I thought about my visit with Dr. Potts. He was a good man who gave us some really good advice and he made a very wise decision. Art graduated and his last semester he was on the dean’s list and named the outstanding student in his department.
I have no regrets about not finishing college. If I had gotten a degree, then I might have been tempted to work full-time while the boys were growing up and I don’t think that’s where God wanted me. Financially, maybe we would have been better off, but money’s not everything! And you certainly don’t have to be taking college classes to learn. I love to learn new things and I hope that desire never leaves me.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
My brother, David
My brother, David Ray Joyce, was four years older than me. He was a very handsome red-headed young man and lots of people called him “Red”. I didn’t. He was always David to me.
David graduated from Boling High School in May of 1959. He was a pretty good athlete and had been the quarterback on the football team. He was a leader. He had been president of the student body his senior year. He was respected and lots of younger kids looked up to him. He had followed in his brothers’ footsteps and raised and shown prize winning steers at the Houston Fat Stock Show. He was smart. He had made good grades in school and he had been accepted into Texas A&M for the upcoming fall semester. David had not quite decided what he would major in. For years he had wanted to be a veterinarian, but during the last part of his senior year, he believed that God was leading him to go into the ministry and was considering seminary after he finished college or maybe even changing plans and going to a small Christian college. He was really growing in the Lord. David was in love. He was engaged to marry Polly, a beautiful red haired girl from Wharton.
David was my hero. Unlike my other brothers, at times he was in the same school as I was. We were closer in age and I knew him better. I was so proud to be his little sister. He didn’t tease me unmercifully like my other brothers did. He protected me as a brother should. I wasn’t really looking forward to him going off to college and getting married. I would be going into the 9th grade and I wouldn’t have him at the high school to watch over me. But he was growing up and I knew he had to leave.
As soon as he graduated, he enrolled in summer classes at Wharton County Junior College, about 10 miles down the road. Every week day morning, he and two other guys and two girls carpooled to Wharton. They took a couple of morning classes and then headed back home before noon. David had a black and white ’55 chevrolet and on the morning of July 1, 1959, he was driving.
Mom and I were in the kitchen cooking a big lunch using our fresh vegetables just picked from our summer garden. We always cooked a big lunch (back then we called the noon meal dinner and the night meal supper). David should be home any minute. The table was set. We were getting the meatloaf and baked beans out of the oven and putting the food on the table. I remember it as if it were yesterday. We were scurrying around in that hot kitchen anticipating David’s arrival from school. Daddy walked in unexpectedly and told us that David had been killed in a horrible car wreck.
The next few hours and days are kind of a blur to me. We heard the details of the wreck. David was driving, one of the guys was in the front with him and the other boy and the girls were in the back seat. As they approached Burr, a very small community between Wharton and Iago, a young man, whose driver’s license had been suspended for drunk driving, came speeding across the railroad track and didn’t stop. He hit them broadside and pushed them into a beer truck that was meeting them. David died instantly. The other boys died, too and the girls were seriously injured, but survived.
Iago, Boling and Newgulf…..very small towns. Everybody knew everybody. They had all been in the same high school. All smart, popular, young people going to college. Devastating to everybody who knew them and even people who heard about it, but didn’t know them.
Our house was flooded with people….relatives from out of town and out of state and it seemed like everybody we knew and even some people I had never seen. People from all over Wharton County and who knows where else. David’s funeral service was unbelievable. The little Iago Federated Church was packed…even people were in the Sunday School rooms. The church yard was overflowing…people standing everywhere and there were cars parked down the road for miles and miles. I have never, before or since, seen that many people in Iago, Texas.
I have the dozens of cards and notes that people sent to us and I have the personal things that were his that my mom still had when she died….his report cards, high school yearbooks, pictures, and his favorite book that he got when he was a toddler, ‘The Littlest Angel”, given to him by our brother, Bub. I even have the envelope from the funeral home, marked “Joyce personal affects”…..the things that were on David’s body that last day of his life here on earth……his pocket knife, his Boling High School ring, four nickels and one penny and his wallet. In his wallet are several pictures of Polly, David showing a steer in our front yard, a picture of our brother, Bub, David’s social security card, the receipt for the diamond engagement ring bought at Sharman’s two months before that, some newspaper clippings, and other papers.
It’s been 50 years, this year….2009. And I still can’t write about this without shedding a
few tears. I’m sure I did ask “why” at the time, but I have never been angry at God about it. That day, as soon as I heard the devastating news, I went to my Protector, my Comforter, my Shield….my Heavenly Father and He took care of me. I was only 14 years old, but I already knew Him and I knew who was in control. Many times when things like this happen to people, they get angry with God and turn away from Him. God blessed me. Through this trial, He brought me closer to Him and I learned to trust Him even more. That’s when He became my best friend. At a very young age, I found out that others may leave you, at any time…we have no guarantee of how long we will have someone in our lives…..but God never leaves us.
We were all grieving. I don’t remember much about how we comforted and consoled each other. We weren’t a very intimate family….no hugs…no kisses. We were in shock Devastated. I just know that I found my comfort and consolation in my Lord. At that very young age, I knew that God was there for me, if no one else was. There were so many people hurting, especially my mom and dad. They had suddenly and without warning lost their baby boy. Daddy had to identify him in that horrible state. That horrific wreck had left David’s body in such disarray….no daddy should ever have to witness such a scene. He never talked about it, to me. We didn’t talk about things like that, but I’m sure he was never able to forget it.
Things were never the same around our house. It took a toll on both my mom and dad. I’m not sure they ever got over it. I was not the same. I learned many things from
that terrible time in my life and many years later, some of those memories lingered and
influenced me in a huge way. I guess they still do. Because of the situation of that
wreck…a driver who shouldn’t have been driving because of alcohol…pushed my
brother’s car into a beer truck. He hit David’s car with such force that the imprint of his license plate was embedded in the passenger side door of David’s car. Get the picture? I hate drinking and driving and beer and drunkenness. Sorry, but for some reason, I just don’t like that! Some people don’t seem to understand why I don’t tolerate that very well, but then most people don’t know how that affected my life. When our teenage boys started driving and came home a little late, I panicked. Why? I know how quickly tragedies can occur and I know that no one is immune. It can happen to anybody at any time. I learned how to comfort someone when they experience the loss of a loved one. Words are not necessary. But hugs and prayers are. I learned how important community is. Living in a small community and going to a small church where everyone is close…..I experienced community at an early age. That’s something that many churches are stressing now and sometimes it seems that they think it’s something new. It’s not. I experienced community growing up and especially during that turbulent time in my life. The whole community suffered together.
I recall that in my room, alone, at night I talked to God and I talked to David…and that brought comfort to me. I think…no, I know that I grew up really fast when I was 14 years old.
The most important thing I learned from this experience was that I never wanted God to leave me…and he never will! How can people go through such heartache without Him? I was so blessed to have Him already in my life and there beside me, holding me and comforting me. I learned that with Him, I can do anything. I learned how very important it is to know when you lose a loved one that there is no doubt that they are in heaven immediately. There are theological disagreements about that, but not in my mind. David had a close relationship with the Lord and I knew where he was and where he is today. I learned how important it is to know the Lord at a very early age. David was just 18. I was just 14. But we knew Him! I learned that God’s plan for your life cannot be questioned. Of course, I missed David and still do. Many times I’ve wondered how my life would be different if that had not happened. I’ve wondered how much different our family would have been? Would it have been closer? I wish my sons and grandchildren could have known their Uncle David. I think they would have loved him. I’m so glad that my husband knew him and loved him. David would be 68 now. I just turned 64. I think we would have been close….much closer than I am to my other brothers. But I quickly turn from those thoughts and know that it was not in God’s plan for David to live to be an old man. Instead of becoming bitter when things like this happen, I think God wants us to learn and grow in Him. God wants us to trust and depend on Him. He wants us to use these experiences and trials to help others. He wants us to learn how to better serve Him.
I thank God for my brother David and I so look forward to seeing him one day soon.
David graduated from Boling High School in May of 1959. He was a pretty good athlete and had been the quarterback on the football team. He was a leader. He had been president of the student body his senior year. He was respected and lots of younger kids looked up to him. He had followed in his brothers’ footsteps and raised and shown prize winning steers at the Houston Fat Stock Show. He was smart. He had made good grades in school and he had been accepted into Texas A&M for the upcoming fall semester. David had not quite decided what he would major in. For years he had wanted to be a veterinarian, but during the last part of his senior year, he believed that God was leading him to go into the ministry and was considering seminary after he finished college or maybe even changing plans and going to a small Christian college. He was really growing in the Lord. David was in love. He was engaged to marry Polly, a beautiful red haired girl from Wharton.
David was my hero. Unlike my other brothers, at times he was in the same school as I was. We were closer in age and I knew him better. I was so proud to be his little sister. He didn’t tease me unmercifully like my other brothers did. He protected me as a brother should. I wasn’t really looking forward to him going off to college and getting married. I would be going into the 9th grade and I wouldn’t have him at the high school to watch over me. But he was growing up and I knew he had to leave.
As soon as he graduated, he enrolled in summer classes at Wharton County Junior College, about 10 miles down the road. Every week day morning, he and two other guys and two girls carpooled to Wharton. They took a couple of morning classes and then headed back home before noon. David had a black and white ’55 chevrolet and on the morning of July 1, 1959, he was driving.
Mom and I were in the kitchen cooking a big lunch using our fresh vegetables just picked from our summer garden. We always cooked a big lunch (back then we called the noon meal dinner and the night meal supper). David should be home any minute. The table was set. We were getting the meatloaf and baked beans out of the oven and putting the food on the table. I remember it as if it were yesterday. We were scurrying around in that hot kitchen anticipating David’s arrival from school. Daddy walked in unexpectedly and told us that David had been killed in a horrible car wreck.
The next few hours and days are kind of a blur to me. We heard the details of the wreck. David was driving, one of the guys was in the front with him and the other boy and the girls were in the back seat. As they approached Burr, a very small community between Wharton and Iago, a young man, whose driver’s license had been suspended for drunk driving, came speeding across the railroad track and didn’t stop. He hit them broadside and pushed them into a beer truck that was meeting them. David died instantly. The other boys died, too and the girls were seriously injured, but survived.
Iago, Boling and Newgulf…..very small towns. Everybody knew everybody. They had all been in the same high school. All smart, popular, young people going to college. Devastating to everybody who knew them and even people who heard about it, but didn’t know them.
Our house was flooded with people….relatives from out of town and out of state and it seemed like everybody we knew and even some people I had never seen. People from all over Wharton County and who knows where else. David’s funeral service was unbelievable. The little Iago Federated Church was packed…even people were in the Sunday School rooms. The church yard was overflowing…people standing everywhere and there were cars parked down the road for miles and miles. I have never, before or since, seen that many people in Iago, Texas.
I have the dozens of cards and notes that people sent to us and I have the personal things that were his that my mom still had when she died….his report cards, high school yearbooks, pictures, and his favorite book that he got when he was a toddler, ‘The Littlest Angel”, given to him by our brother, Bub. I even have the envelope from the funeral home, marked “Joyce personal affects”…..the things that were on David’s body that last day of his life here on earth……his pocket knife, his Boling High School ring, four nickels and one penny and his wallet. In his wallet are several pictures of Polly, David showing a steer in our front yard, a picture of our brother, Bub, David’s social security card, the receipt for the diamond engagement ring bought at Sharman’s two months before that, some newspaper clippings, and other papers.
It’s been 50 years, this year….2009. And I still can’t write about this without shedding a
few tears. I’m sure I did ask “why” at the time, but I have never been angry at God about it. That day, as soon as I heard the devastating news, I went to my Protector, my Comforter, my Shield….my Heavenly Father and He took care of me. I was only 14 years old, but I already knew Him and I knew who was in control. Many times when things like this happen to people, they get angry with God and turn away from Him. God blessed me. Through this trial, He brought me closer to Him and I learned to trust Him even more. That’s when He became my best friend. At a very young age, I found out that others may leave you, at any time…we have no guarantee of how long we will have someone in our lives…..but God never leaves us.
We were all grieving. I don’t remember much about how we comforted and consoled each other. We weren’t a very intimate family….no hugs…no kisses. We were in shock Devastated. I just know that I found my comfort and consolation in my Lord. At that very young age, I knew that God was there for me, if no one else was. There were so many people hurting, especially my mom and dad. They had suddenly and without warning lost their baby boy. Daddy had to identify him in that horrible state. That horrific wreck had left David’s body in such disarray….no daddy should ever have to witness such a scene. He never talked about it, to me. We didn’t talk about things like that, but I’m sure he was never able to forget it.
Things were never the same around our house. It took a toll on both my mom and dad. I’m not sure they ever got over it. I was not the same. I learned many things from
that terrible time in my life and many years later, some of those memories lingered and
influenced me in a huge way. I guess they still do. Because of the situation of that
wreck…a driver who shouldn’t have been driving because of alcohol…pushed my
brother’s car into a beer truck. He hit David’s car with such force that the imprint of his license plate was embedded in the passenger side door of David’s car. Get the picture? I hate drinking and driving and beer and drunkenness. Sorry, but for some reason, I just don’t like that! Some people don’t seem to understand why I don’t tolerate that very well, but then most people don’t know how that affected my life. When our teenage boys started driving and came home a little late, I panicked. Why? I know how quickly tragedies can occur and I know that no one is immune. It can happen to anybody at any time. I learned how to comfort someone when they experience the loss of a loved one. Words are not necessary. But hugs and prayers are. I learned how important community is. Living in a small community and going to a small church where everyone is close…..I experienced community at an early age. That’s something that many churches are stressing now and sometimes it seems that they think it’s something new. It’s not. I experienced community growing up and especially during that turbulent time in my life. The whole community suffered together.
I recall that in my room, alone, at night I talked to God and I talked to David…and that brought comfort to me. I think…no, I know that I grew up really fast when I was 14 years old.
The most important thing I learned from this experience was that I never wanted God to leave me…and he never will! How can people go through such heartache without Him? I was so blessed to have Him already in my life and there beside me, holding me and comforting me. I learned that with Him, I can do anything. I learned how very important it is to know when you lose a loved one that there is no doubt that they are in heaven immediately. There are theological disagreements about that, but not in my mind. David had a close relationship with the Lord and I knew where he was and where he is today. I learned how important it is to know the Lord at a very early age. David was just 18. I was just 14. But we knew Him! I learned that God’s plan for your life cannot be questioned. Of course, I missed David and still do. Many times I’ve wondered how my life would be different if that had not happened. I’ve wondered how much different our family would have been? Would it have been closer? I wish my sons and grandchildren could have known their Uncle David. I think they would have loved him. I’m so glad that my husband knew him and loved him. David would be 68 now. I just turned 64. I think we would have been close….much closer than I am to my other brothers. But I quickly turn from those thoughts and know that it was not in God’s plan for David to live to be an old man. Instead of becoming bitter when things like this happen, I think God wants us to learn and grow in Him. God wants us to trust and depend on Him. He wants us to use these experiences and trials to help others. He wants us to learn how to better serve Him.
I thank God for my brother David and I so look forward to seeing him one day soon.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Country Girl
I’m a country girl…..and proud of it. A couple of years ago, I heard a woman in Art’s office make a derogatory comment about another woman…..saying that she was from “the country” and I don’t really remember the exact words that followed, but she obviously thought that being from “the country” made the woman less than fitting to her standards. That made me angry and I wanted to say something, but didn’t. I guess that’s a good thing, otherwise we might not still be friends. But I haven’t forgotten it and I’ve thought about it more than once and maybe someday I will talk to her about it or maybe just tell her to read this.
Growing up, I never recall wishing that I lived in a city or even the little bitty town a mile from our house. I never considered myself missing out on anything that was happening in a town or city. The older I get, the more I appreciate what I learned from country living. Looking back, I guess I should have felt lonely, and maybe I was, but at the time I didn’t know it.
We had a big family…..mom and dad, five older brothers and me, but we never all lived in the same house together. When I was born, my two oldest brothers were already in college and living in Austin. By the time I started to school, the third oldest brother was in college and living in College Station. Do you see a problem already? Two sips and an Ag. Then the next brother was eight years older than me and the last one was four years older than me. We lived on 37 acres and the closest neighbors were about a quarter of a mile down the road and they had boys. Needless to say, there were no girls around for me to play with. I spent lots of time alone.
Alone, but not idle. I’ve always wanted to learn and explore new things…not adventurous, but cautiously curious and very observant of everything going on around me. As a child, I was very quiet. So quiet, that some of my mom’s friends thought that I couldn’t talk. For years, they never heard me say a word. I would go with my mom to her Home Demonstration Club meetings. All the other ladies in the club were older than my mom, or at least they had older children or only boys, so I was the only kid there. I would just sit by my mom and listen and watch. I learned a lot.
I remember spending hours walking and sitting in the pasture, picking wild flowers and examining them carefully. Buttercups were my favorite and I was always sad that they wilted almost immediately after I picked them. The delicate pink petals…so thin, you could almost see through them and the buttery yellow center. The flower looked like a pale pink cup with butter in the center….thus, buttercup. And then there were the little yellow flowers called dandelions that turned into a ball of fuzz that could be blown away into the wind. And the lacy clusters of Queen Anne’s Lace growing wild in the ditches beside the roads and in the pastures….snow white, tall and regal. I can still remember how the fresh green clover felt and smelled in the springtime. I would sit in it for hours and look for the coveted 4-leaf clover. Oh my goodness…I just thought of a song that I haven’t sung in years. “I’m looking over a 4-leaf clover that I overlooked before. One leaf is sunshine, the second is rain, third is the roses that grow in the lane. No need explaining the one remaining is somebody I adore. I’m looking over a 4-leaf clover that I overlooked before”. Then there were the hours that I spent in the hay barn…climbing on the scratchy, dusty, dry hay and searching for eggs that the chickens had just laid. I would climb to the highest stack and touch the rafters in the top of the barn. I felt like I was on top of the world. In the fall, there were the long walks around the perimeter fence of our 37 acres looking for and picking up pecans….the little native pecans. Our big yard was full of pecan trees, too. Picking up pecans is still one of my favorite things to do. I had lots of time to bond with nature, and think, and spend time with God. Alone, but not idle.
There were always lots of animals around….our dog Patsy, chickens, the dreaded mean rooster (that I was scared to death of), pigs, cows, horses. When I got older and in the 4-H Club, I helped my brothers raise steers, chickens and pigs to show at the Wharton County Fair and Houston Fat Stock Show (now called the Houston Livestock Show). After school and on weekends, we spent lots of time walking the steers and training them to be judged. Lots of discipline and learning there.
Across the road from our house was a big, open pasture with some woods at one end. The pasture was the home to a big herd of Brahman cattle. We called them “bramers” and for years I didn’t know that they were really Brahman cattle. Anyway, I don’t remember who owned that land. I just know that as a kid I thought they had to be rich. Late every evening, just as the sun was going down, those cows would slowly walk one behind the other in a long line…headed for the woods for the night. That was a beautiful sight! Even then I recognized how special it was to live where I could see that every evening. I so wish I had a picture of that….but it’s in my mind as clear as it was 60 years ago.
We had a big garden and I helped my daddy plant it, water it, weed it and gather the harvest. I learned how to tell when vegetables and fruits were just right to pick and then I learned to shell peas, shuck corn, snap beans, cut okra and get all itchy, dig potatoes, make pickles out of cucumbers, make plum, grape and berry jelly, crack and pick out pecans, kill, dress and cut up a chicken, freeze, can, cook…..you name it. How many city kids learn to do all that? I even picked cotton. I didn’t have to…nobody made me. I just wanted to. I put that big cotton sack on my shoulder and I walked between the rows and picked off those beautiful fluffy cotton bolls and filled my sack, or at least as much as I could carry back to the scales. They weighed it and paid me by the pound. Seems like it was less than 10 cents a pound and it takes lots of cotton to weigh a pound!
I haven’t even skimmed the surface, but I know one thing…….that woman in Art’s office obviously has none of these memories. I wouldn’t trade my life growing up in the country for anything. Yes, I’m a country girl…..and I’m proud of it. The things I learned, the experiences I had…..the simple way of life. I’ll never forget. God’s creations and their beauty were so evident to me as a very young child. Sitting in a lush green bed of clover with a fresh spring breeze blowing through my hair, studying the beauty of a buttercup……a lonely little girl knows there’s a God. A God who has made all this and so much more.
Growing up, I never recall wishing that I lived in a city or even the little bitty town a mile from our house. I never considered myself missing out on anything that was happening in a town or city. The older I get, the more I appreciate what I learned from country living. Looking back, I guess I should have felt lonely, and maybe I was, but at the time I didn’t know it.
We had a big family…..mom and dad, five older brothers and me, but we never all lived in the same house together. When I was born, my two oldest brothers were already in college and living in Austin. By the time I started to school, the third oldest brother was in college and living in College Station. Do you see a problem already? Two sips and an Ag. Then the next brother was eight years older than me and the last one was four years older than me. We lived on 37 acres and the closest neighbors were about a quarter of a mile down the road and they had boys. Needless to say, there were no girls around for me to play with. I spent lots of time alone.
Alone, but not idle. I’ve always wanted to learn and explore new things…not adventurous, but cautiously curious and very observant of everything going on around me. As a child, I was very quiet. So quiet, that some of my mom’s friends thought that I couldn’t talk. For years, they never heard me say a word. I would go with my mom to her Home Demonstration Club meetings. All the other ladies in the club were older than my mom, or at least they had older children or only boys, so I was the only kid there. I would just sit by my mom and listen and watch. I learned a lot.
I remember spending hours walking and sitting in the pasture, picking wild flowers and examining them carefully. Buttercups were my favorite and I was always sad that they wilted almost immediately after I picked them. The delicate pink petals…so thin, you could almost see through them and the buttery yellow center. The flower looked like a pale pink cup with butter in the center….thus, buttercup. And then there were the little yellow flowers called dandelions that turned into a ball of fuzz that could be blown away into the wind. And the lacy clusters of Queen Anne’s Lace growing wild in the ditches beside the roads and in the pastures….snow white, tall and regal. I can still remember how the fresh green clover felt and smelled in the springtime. I would sit in it for hours and look for the coveted 4-leaf clover. Oh my goodness…I just thought of a song that I haven’t sung in years. “I’m looking over a 4-leaf clover that I overlooked before. One leaf is sunshine, the second is rain, third is the roses that grow in the lane. No need explaining the one remaining is somebody I adore. I’m looking over a 4-leaf clover that I overlooked before”. Then there were the hours that I spent in the hay barn…climbing on the scratchy, dusty, dry hay and searching for eggs that the chickens had just laid. I would climb to the highest stack and touch the rafters in the top of the barn. I felt like I was on top of the world. In the fall, there were the long walks around the perimeter fence of our 37 acres looking for and picking up pecans….the little native pecans. Our big yard was full of pecan trees, too. Picking up pecans is still one of my favorite things to do. I had lots of time to bond with nature, and think, and spend time with God. Alone, but not idle.
There were always lots of animals around….our dog Patsy, chickens, the dreaded mean rooster (that I was scared to death of), pigs, cows, horses. When I got older and in the 4-H Club, I helped my brothers raise steers, chickens and pigs to show at the Wharton County Fair and Houston Fat Stock Show (now called the Houston Livestock Show). After school and on weekends, we spent lots of time walking the steers and training them to be judged. Lots of discipline and learning there.
Across the road from our house was a big, open pasture with some woods at one end. The pasture was the home to a big herd of Brahman cattle. We called them “bramers” and for years I didn’t know that they were really Brahman cattle. Anyway, I don’t remember who owned that land. I just know that as a kid I thought they had to be rich. Late every evening, just as the sun was going down, those cows would slowly walk one behind the other in a long line…headed for the woods for the night. That was a beautiful sight! Even then I recognized how special it was to live where I could see that every evening. I so wish I had a picture of that….but it’s in my mind as clear as it was 60 years ago.
We had a big garden and I helped my daddy plant it, water it, weed it and gather the harvest. I learned how to tell when vegetables and fruits were just right to pick and then I learned to shell peas, shuck corn, snap beans, cut okra and get all itchy, dig potatoes, make pickles out of cucumbers, make plum, grape and berry jelly, crack and pick out pecans, kill, dress and cut up a chicken, freeze, can, cook…..you name it. How many city kids learn to do all that? I even picked cotton. I didn’t have to…nobody made me. I just wanted to. I put that big cotton sack on my shoulder and I walked between the rows and picked off those beautiful fluffy cotton bolls and filled my sack, or at least as much as I could carry back to the scales. They weighed it and paid me by the pound. Seems like it was less than 10 cents a pound and it takes lots of cotton to weigh a pound!
I haven’t even skimmed the surface, but I know one thing…….that woman in Art’s office obviously has none of these memories. I wouldn’t trade my life growing up in the country for anything. Yes, I’m a country girl…..and I’m proud of it. The things I learned, the experiences I had…..the simple way of life. I’ll never forget. God’s creations and their beauty were so evident to me as a very young child. Sitting in a lush green bed of clover with a fresh spring breeze blowing through my hair, studying the beauty of a buttercup……a lonely little girl knows there’s a God. A God who has made all this and so much more.
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