THINGS LONG GONE

By: JT ( Johnny) Jones

Date: 10-26-2009

THINGS LONG GONE

When I write this, I am speaking of this section of Alabama and particularly Fayette County. The coachwhip snake was abundant in the hills northwest of Hubbertville when I was a kid. I was afraid of this snake more than any other. The coachwhip held its head off the ground and would make attempts to chase me for short distances. This snake was a dark color about halfway from the head down the body; then a lighter color from mid length to the tail. I have not seen this snake in the last 40-50 years. The small Green Snake is a thing of the past and the last one I saw was about 5 years ago and I caught it and remembered playing with them when I was a kid. I had not seen one before that in many years.

The Bullbat (Night Hawk) flew way up high in the air in the late afternoon. Late afternoon was the only time anyone would ever see it. The bird would fly along and suddenly swoop down in a dive while making a booming sound.  I saw one in Fayette in the early 1970’s and none since.

The Sand Scorpion was not a scorpion at all but a brightly colored lizard that ran very fast across sandy places in the hot summertime. The large Brown Lizard that was about 6-8 inches long is another long gone species. A large Brown Lizard with a good hold on a dog’s ear was a show to watch.

Bob White Quail have basically disappeared from the wild. I heard one call about 4 years ago ant can’t remember the one before that. Thirty to forty years ago a person would not have to walk far to see a covey  of 12 or more birds fly up.

The Scrooch (Screech) Owl hasn’t been heard around here is so many years that I have forgot when I heard the last one.

Back in the 40’s and 50’ I could walk down any small stream and turn over a rock or two and find a small crawfish under it. I have not been able to find one in the streams around here in a long, long time.

I’m sure someone else can think of some of Nature’s things that are long gone.

Together

Submitted by: Imogene Tidwell Persall

We held hands through fire and smoke

And hail that made us quake.

We shook and trembled in tempest winds.

We bent but didn’t break.

We withstood the snow and sleet

And many kinds of weather,

But the best part was, through all of this,

We grew old together.

Unknown

A Visit Back To My Childhood- Trick-Or-Treat

By: Martha Jean Whitehead Killian

We haven’t had a trick-or-treater at our house in about fifteen years. But oh…what a grand time we had when we were kids…

“Oh Mama, I want to be a ghost! Have you got an old sheet I can have?”

“Martha Jean, “how do you think you’re gonna see?”

“I can cut holes in it for eyes.”

“I’m gonna be a pirate or maybe an army man.”

“Well, Kenneth, you do have that army suit that Sandy brought you last year for Christmas.”

“Mama, Mama it won’t fit! I know, I know I can be a pirate!”

“Kenneth, how do you think you’re gonna see with that patch on you eye?”

“I can see, I can see.”

“Kenneth, watch where you’re goin’! You like to have stepped on Doug.”

“Mama, we need a sack.”

We didn’t buy no scronny little plastic pumpkin to carry around to collect our treats. We carried a large paper grocery bag.

“Now, you young’uns don’t go no farther than the school house and then you turn around and come back down the other side of the street. Kenneth, don’t you run off and leave Martha Jean. You stay with her.”

“Ok, I will I will!”

“Kenneth, wait for me!”

“Splat”…!

“Jean! Are you alright?”

“I’m ok. I tripped over my sheet.”

“Trick-or-treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat.”

“Kenneth, don’t say that. That’s not nice!”

The school house was “John J. Eagan School” where we both attended. It was only five blocks from our house. But when you’re a little kid it seemed like a long, long way.

“Kenneth, where’s your patch?”

“It’s in my sack.”

“Why’s it in you sack? Your gonna get candy on it”

“I couldn’t see.”

Our little neighborhood was a safe little neighborhood. Everybody knew everybody. If there happened to be someone we didn’t know, someone else knew them. So, they were o.k.

It was a pitch black night but yet we could see as good as if it were daylight. Everyone had their porch light on and there was a street light at the end of every block.

The elderly would often put the candy on the banister if they were not up to the constant bell ringing and the shouting of “Trick-or-treat”! Sometimes there would be maybe ten to fifteen kids at one time ringing and knocking and shouting. But, it was only once a year. I think the adults enjoyed the trick-or-treaters as much as we enjoyed trick-or-treating. The treat that was left out on the banister was usually unwrapped peppermint sticks in a box. That’s what all the elderly ate. At least my grandmother, “Ma” did. There was a note attached to the box that read, “Please take just one”. We only took just one. We were afraid they were watching out the window and they would tell our mothers that we took more than one. That was back when “a village, a neighborhood in our case, raised a child”. Words borrowed from a very wise man, “Nelson Mandela”.

For all we knew, a dog could have licked it. There were no leash laws back then.

We went down five blocks and came back home five blocks. By the time we got home, we were exhausted.

Mama had two dish pans ready. The ones she shelled peas in. We dumped all that candy in the dish pans. It ran over.

“Mama, Daddy, look what we got!”

“Here’s you an orange!”

Daddy loved orange slices.

“Mama, Mama here’s the kind you like.

It was a caramel kiss with a nougat center.

“Here Kenneth, here’s a green sucker.”

“Here’s a yellow and orange one too.”

I didn’t like those flavors. I only liked cherry and grape.

Sometimes I got a trade out of the deal.

“Here Dougie, here’s you a chocolate kiss.”

Doug was too little to go trick-or-treating with us but, we shared with him. He didn’t like anything but chocolate candy. I think he is still that way.

“Wow! Here’s my favorite! “Baby Ruth and Zero candy bars.”

No, they weren’t fun size. They didn’t make those back then. They were full size candy bars.

Mama didn’t limit our intake of our Halloween candy. We never got sick either. Mama and Daddy enjoyed our trick-or-treat candy as much as we did. There was an amazing variety. After all it was a treat. We couldn’t just go out everyday and buy a candy bar or a coke. Even though cokes were only a nickel and candy was a penny a piece and candy bars were three cents. It just didn’t happen. We ate good home cooked meals three times a day and always a delicious home made dessert.

It’s almost Halloween. Look out for the goblins! Boo…until the next visit…

A Visit Back to My Childhood–Mama’s Quilt

August30, 2009

By: Martha Jean Whitehead Killian

It was a cold and damp night last night. I wasn’t feeling up to par. I snuggled up in my blankets but just couldn’t get quite comfortable. I got to thinking about how easy it was to go to sleep when I was a little girl and so… a visit back to my childhood …

Mama, can I quilt? I want to quilt. Come on over here and sit down. Now be careful and don’t stick yourself with the needle. Here, put my thimble on your finger. No, not that finger, your middle finger. You need to be able to push the needle through the thick quilt so you won’t stick the needle through your finger. O.k., o.k. I can do it. Ouch! See, I told you to be careful. Don’t get blood on the quilt!

After a while I got the hang of it. There was Ma, Mama, Zola, Ola and me sitting around the quilting frames Daddy had made for Mama. Mama always said she could tell who worked on which side of the quilt. Ma’s stitches were long. Ola’s were longer. Zola’s were short and Mama’s stitches were sort of in-between. I don’t know what she thought of mine, pretty messy I guess. But she never criticized anyone. If anything you got praised for your efforts.

I didn’t have a hope chest but Mama had two draws in my chest of draws full of things she had saved for me. Towels, wash cloths, dish towels, dish cloths, free on the end of a twenty five pound flour sack. Drinking glasses and bowls all were free inside “Duz” washing powder boxes and “Crystal” oat boxes. In the top of my closet were my beautiful quilts Mama had put so much love into making. The quilts that would one day keep me and my future husband and the children that we would have warm on a cold winter’s night. I guess I just realized how much love went into those quilts as I am writing this story.

As soon as cold weather set in the quilts were brought out and put on all of our beds. Me being the only girl, I had my own bed. It would get cold at night and Mama put cotton blankets that Daddy had brought back from Texas when he was in the army on my bed instead of sheets. They looked like Indian blankets. They were so warm. In addition to the blankets were four quilts sometimes five depending on how low the temperature dropped. We stayed warm.

When spring came and there was no chance of any more cold weather the quilts were taken off the beds. No, they were not washed. Washing would wear them out. They were hung out on the clothes line and sunned all day long. They smelled better than they would have if they had been washed.

Mama continued making her quilts. She heard women were making them on their sewing machines so, she started making her quilts on her sewing machine. Each grandchild got a quilt when they married and sometimes for their birthday. When Mama passed she had about fifteen quilts she had made and never used. Those quilts were her last material gifts to us kids. They will be sunned and never washed for the quilts my Mama made will be a gift to me every time I am cold and miss her. I guess you know by now, I pulled out one of my gifts last night and with the warmth and love that went into making that quilt, I went to sleep. I have those quilting frames and Doug has the sewing machine and we all have our gifts…and so until the next visit…

A Visit Back to My Childhood-The Radio and the Truck

August 27, 2009

By: Martha Jean Whitehead Killian

Listen…don’t you hear it? Daddy just turned on the ol’ Philco radio. It’s Hank Williams singing, “Your Cheatin’ Heart”. He’s on the Grand Ol’ Opry. Can’t you hear it? I can. There’s Daddy and Mama, me and Kenneth. There’s Dougie in his playpen. We’re all sittin’ around the radio. Dougie is jumping up and down as if he is dancin’ to the music. It’s a nice summer evening. I hear the sound of the dry flies coming through the screen door. I feel the balmy breeze brought in by the window fan. Look outside. The lightnin’ bugs are twinklin’ like the lights on a Christmas tree. What…what was that loud crash? Daddy turned down the volume on the radio and paused and then ran to the front door. Oh no! Somebody just hit my truck! The right finder on Daddy’s green1950 Ford pickup truck was crushed. The man had been drinkin’. Daddy said a few cuss words then ask if the man was alright. The man replied, “I’m alright, I’m sorry man. I‘m sorry!” Then Daddy said a few more cuss word. Now, get on outa’ here.

After all the excitement it was bedtime for us kids. I smell the fresh clean sheets Mama washed today on her wringer type washin’ machine. The sheets had just come off the clothes line only hours ago. She had to push the washing machine up to the sink and hook it up to the facet. At least I don’t have to boil the clothes in a wash pot and scrub them on a rub board, I heard her say time after time. Her finger nails came off one time from scrubbing on a rub board with lye soap.    We heard hammering for about an hour after Mama had tucked us into bed. It was Daddy trying to straighten out the bent finder away from the tire so he could go to work the next morning. Mama got up at five o’clock every morning to cook Daddy homemade biscuits.

We all awakened the next morning to the wonderful smell of fat back, homemade biscuits, scrambled eggs, coffee and Daddy’s homemade apple jelly. Yes…Daddy’s homemade apple jelly. Cook apples, strain apples through a piece of cotton flour sack while still hot. Mama always had plenty of flour sacks. Making homemade biscuits every morning, she bought the flour in a twenty five pound sack about once a month and poured it in a tin can with a lid on it. I think the tin can once held twenty five pounds of lard. One cup of juice to one cup of sugar. Cook until it barely drops off the spoon. Wait…what’s that other smell? Uh oh…The ol’ Philco radio was never turned off. Never again will it bring us the Grand Ol’Opry. Never again will we hear Hank Williams, Box Car Willie or Patsy Cline comin’ from the arch shaped wooden box. The ol’ Philco has burned up! …and so…until the next visit…