A visit back to my childhood… Christmas Breakfast

August 28, 2009

By Martha Jean Whitehead Killian

‘Twas the night before Christmas…Ahh… you’ve already heard that story. Charles Dickens wrote that one. This is my story:

It was the night before Christmas and everyone was stirring. Mama making her three cakes that she always made every year. An apple and orange cake for Daddy, a chocolate cake for us kids, a coconut cake for her and Ma until, she got the recipe for “The Lane Cake”. Three cakes made from scratch. She started baking them about two days before Christmas. Oh, how me and Kenneth wanted a piece of that chocolate cake. Dougie didn’t have a say so in the matter at that Christmas. Mostly because he wasn’t old enough to talk. We would have settled for either one. “No, these are for Christmas dinner. I’m not cuttin’ them ‘til Christmas.” That didn’t stop the begging. The cakes weren’t cut until Christmas Day. I remember getting a piece of chocolate cake at breakfast one year. Well… it was already Christmas Day. What a treat! I felt special. After all I was helping her make dressing. I think I did more tasting than helping. I liked raw dressing. That is what I called it even though everything that went into Mama’s dressing recipe was already cooked. All ingredients were cooked and then mixed and chicken stock poured over it and then mixed again. Then it was put in a big long pan and then into the oven to brown.

Being awakened by Mama and Daddy on a cold Christmas morning was the best. “You wait Martha Jean until I get Kenneth dressed.” I remember shaking and my teeth chattering. I don’t know if it was from being so cold or from being so excited. Mama and Daddy always turned the floor furnace off at night. Mama was afraid it would catch the house on fire. After we were dressed we couldn’t run to see what Santa Claus had left under the tree until Mama said alright go see what “Sandy” Claus brought. That’s what she called Santa.

Breakfast call came after we had examined all our presents that Santa had brought. I don’t know which was best, the breakfast or the presents. Breakfast was the same as any morning; Mama’s homemade biscuits, eggs scrambled in bacon grease or sausage grease and a strong cup of coffee. Daddy and Mama didn’t like stump water. That’s what they called weak coffee. It had to be strong. Mama didn’t want us to drink much coffee. After all we were just kids. Don’t worry “Suz”, that was a nickname Daddy gave Mama, there is more caffeine in a Coke than there is in a cup of coffee. Back then Cokes only came in a six ounce bottle and cost a nickel. Mama never said anything else about how much coffee we drank. Their coffee was made by using the drip coffee pot. You boil the water and pour it into the top of the pot and the water drips down through the ground coffee fresh from Royal Cup where Daddy worked. There is something about that Christmas morning. The aroma of all the wonderful smells of Christmas and the breakfast all mingled together with the taste of the coffee is still with me. It is still in my mind and in my heart. I can still smell it now…can’t you?…and so… until the next visit.

Patsy: My Cousin, My Friend

August 27, 2011
By: Martha Jean Whitehead Killian

Going to the mail box used to be a joy when you could look forward to receiving a letter from a friend or a loved one. I experienced that feeling yesterday when I went to the mail box. In the middle of a handful of junk mail and bills was a hand written letter addressed to me, Martha Jean Killian. I recognized the hand writing immediately without looking at the return address. I have been receiving letters like this one since I was about ten years old. I am now sixty three, don’t tell anyone. The letter brought back memories of my childhood during the fifties when this seventeen year old girl took the time to write a young girl a letter.
I had only seen this young lady probably, about twenty times in my young life. Those times were at decorations and funerals. When distance keeps you apart, it is like a family reunion when someone dies. I didn’t understand that when I was ten.
This young lady helped bestow upon me the importance of friendship and family ties. I attribute the inheritance of this gift that was bestowed upon us to my mother, Lola Box and her mother Ada Box. I believe that we share the same closeness that our mothers shared as friends and cousins.
Many years have passed since those early days. Many decorations, funerals and births and now marriages have brought us together since the start of those first letters. And though, the letters and the pictures keep us together; the miles still keep us apart. The only thing that changed in our letters over the years is a different last name. Maybe the hand writing is not quite as steady and a few more wrinkles were added to our pictures along with a few more grandchildren. Although, we may not have much to say but, hello, thinking of you, we’re always looking forward to that next letter traveling from one mailbox to another.

Childhood Memories

by: Kimberly McDonald Benton

As I get older I stop and look back at all the childhood memories I have and also remember. Since we all lived by each other all of us cousins would get together on the hillside and play and just spend time together.

There was a lot of things we done while we were growing up. There were times we would go and build many playhouses in the woods including teepees.

Our parents always taught us no playing in the house so therefore that left us no choice but to stay outside.

When we built out playhouses we couldn’t be satisfied where we wanted them, so I bet you there wasn’t a spot on the hillside that we didn’t build on. We would always get daddy to either mow or weeded our spots for out houses. Either way we always had fun.

I remember we would act like we owned a restaurant by shoveling up mud-pies as our food and getting jars of water for our drinks. We would get rocks and act like they were our steaks and hamburgers. Whatever we used we always had some kind of food at our restaurant. Now that I work at one I realize it’s a lot harder than just shoveling up mud.

We would always ride out bicycles up and down the hillside. We knew they were just our bicycles but we pretended we were policeman, taxi cab drivers and so much more. Also we pretended that they were our cars. Needless to say we stayed busy doing something even though we were out for the summer. Something was always to be done on the hillside.

Now that we are older we have our own lives and we can have a chance to grow up and have children and teach them how to be hard little workers and playful children.

Also now that I am married and got my own life it isn’t  as easy as it was back in those childhood days. I really enjoy married life and would go back to being a child for nothing.

Childhood memories are so dear to everyone’s family. When you stop and think back at all the times you and your family have shared it can really put a smile on your face.

In closing just remember to cherish every moment with your family cause time flies when your having fun.

One Night in 1958

 By: Martha Jean Whitehead Killian

August 2011

Listen…do you hear that…? It’s dry flies. Just the sound takes me back to my childhood…

We just got through eating a wonderful supper of fried catfish that Daddy caught the last time he went fishing. Mama had frozen the fish in milk cartons filled with water. Mm…Mama’s homemade slaw and hush puppies were especially good tonight. Zola brought her homemade baked beans. She found the recipe in the Birmingham News. Tressie ate so much he got a stomach-ache. Mama was so busy picking the bones out for Dougie and Kenneth that she was still eating by the time Zola cleared the table.

Tressie carried Dougie’s play pen out on the front porch while Daddy took the garbage out back. Now, it is time for my favorite…Daddy’s homemade ice cream. Daddy went to the ice house to get the large block of ice while Mama was starting supper.

While he mixed the ice cream, Tressie chipped the ice with the ice pick. Kenneth and I started turning the crank but, we didn’t last long before Tressie had to take over.

We thought it would never freeze.

“You young’uns don’t eat that ice…! That salt will dry up your blood. Sit back and wait ‘till your daddy gets that lid off.”

Mmm… I believe that was the best ice cream Daddy ever mixed up.

After the ice cream dishes were cleaned up, Mama and Zola finally settled down to relax. Dougie fell asleep while playing in his play pen. Kenneth, just like every night was never ready to go to sleep. I was just about ready to fall a sleep when I heard Zola say, “Wake up Tressie! It’s time to go!”

Daddy had just rolled him anotherPrince Albert, as Tressie roused up and lit his pipe. All I could say was, “Aw… y’all don’t go…stay all night!”

“Naw…we better go!” Zola was always on pins and needles to get back home.

I wanted them to stay all night. I always enjoyed their company. They were like substitute parents to us since, they had no children of their own. I guess the fact that Mama and Zola were fraternal twins made us all closer to them.

“Please, please stay.” I had a way with getting what I wanted at that age. “Y’all can sleep on the couch!”

I guess you are wondering how two people were going to sleep on one couch…it had a nice double hide-a-way bed in it. That’s what it was called back then. Today it is called a sleeper-sofa.

“Aw… come on Ann”, that’s what Tressie called Zola, “let’s stay.”

“Well… it is gettin’ late. I guess we can.”

They would have to drive from our house inNorth Birminghamto their duplex apartment onGraymont Avenueacross from Legion Field. It was about a twenty five to thirty minute drive for Tressie. Zola wouldn’t let him drive over twenty five and that was too fast sometimes.

It was going on eight o’clock. Back then there was no day light savings time. Dark came early.

I was so happy. They were going to stay!

Kenneth finally fell asleep in Tressie’s arms.

We all awoke the next morning to the wonderful smell of Royal Cup Coffee, bacon and eggs, Daddy’s homemade muscatine jelly, he had just made a couple of weeks ago. He built his own arbor out of old pipes in the backyard and plantedmuscatinevines that grew into a beautiful canopy. We had an abundance of muscatines every season. Daddy’s jelly paired with Mama’s homemade biscuits made the start of another perfect day in my childhood…

The last one to go to bed last night was the first one to get up this morning.

Thank you, Mama. I love you!

My First Great Grandson

by

Great Grandma Johnson

June 8, 2011

On March 8, 2011 we all went down to St. Vincent’s Hospital in Birmingham, ALto wait the arrival of Justin and Terri’s first son, Logan Broc Johnson. I followed his Grandpa Chris and Grandma Sherrie Johnson down in my car so we all got there pretty early. Terri was in a room and Justin was keeping her company as he kept notes on everything that was going on. He was doing a website http://lilbabyjohnson.wordpress.com/ and was adding all the information into it which he did such a great job writing.

Logan was born at 4:25 pm and weighted 7lb and 14oz. He is the best looking little baby boy and as sweet as can be. He is 3 months old today and is starting to hold his toys and play. I love him very much and cherish every moment with him.