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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

(Make by Logan’s great grandma)

Things you will need:

65 or 70 newborn disposable diapers, little stuffed animal for top, some small things to attach around cake like rattle, pacifiers, little shoes, socks, etc

Pack  of rubberbands (small & large)

Wide and narrow ribbons (just depends on what your theme will be) The wide will be long enough to go around your cake layers and the narrow will be to tie your animals, shoes and socks on with.

Small baby bottle, 2 or 3 small dowels

To make layers of cake, lay a diaper flat out with inside on a table and start to roll the diaper up all the way and put a rubber band around it. Lay that one aside and do another till you have several or enough for you first layer of cake. Stand up about 3 of the diapers with the most colored end up and put a large rubberband around them. Then just keep putting in one at a time till your have row on outside and inside, probably about 4 or 5 circles of rows. Or as big as you want your bottom layer. Then do a layer with less diapers in it for your next layer. It will look like a wedding cake. I do 3 layers so on the third layer put a small baby bottle in the middle with your rolled up diapers around it. Always with a large rubberband around them. Now being careful not to punch holes in the diapers slide a dowel straight down between the diapers to hold your layers in place.

Next with a hot glue gun and a piece of large ribbon cut it to go around the first layer and glue being careful not to touch the diaper with the glue gun (because a mother can use the diapers after the shower if she wants to). Do another layer always covering up the rubberbands so they won’t show. Then decorate it with any little thing you want to around the cake and pin them on with a straight pin. For the top get a stuffed animal and with small ribbon tie it around the baby bottle. You can use whatever you want on it. I put mine on a cake plate but you can use any thing like cardboard, etc.

Have you ever had a ketchup sandwich… or a mustard sandwich… or a mayonnaise tomato sandwich… a pan of parched peanuts, slightly burned… or maybe just a plain “Hershey” bar?

Well, I like to think of those items on the menu as favorites of my childhood pleasures and memories.

Kenneth loved ketchup sandwiches for lunch or a snack. At least he was eating. He was usually down the street playing baseball with the kids in the neighborhood.

I had to have a mustard sandwich. After all, I was too busy playing with my “Tiny Tears Doll” to eat anything else. You should see my “Tiny Tears” doll collection and others. I never really grew up when it comes to dolls.

Mama loved mayonnaise and tomato sandwiches. She was a vegetable eater. Not much on meat. She could take it or leave it.

Daddy would buy a ten pound bag of raw peanuts at the “Farmers’ Market” on Finley Avenue, they call it boulevard now instead of avenue, in Birmingham. He parched, burned a pan every other night or two. ‘Till this day, I have to have my parched peanuts slightly burned. I know where Elvis was coming from when he wanted his bacon burned. That was the way his mother cooked it.

Dougie was one of those kids like Randy Parker in the movie “A Christmas Story”. You had to bribe him to get him to eat. Tressie, Mama’s twin sister Zola’s husband, got him to eat by taking him to Paul’s store and buying him chocolate candy. He graduated to hamburgers when they built “Burger in a Hurry” up the street from us.

I will never sell my parents short. There was always meat on the table and vegetables complimenting the season.

One of my favorite memories was the smell of Daddy’s home made apple jelly. Peel the apples. Cook the peelings and the cores of the apples separate from the meat of the apples until done. The apples were canned to make apple pies. Strain the peelings through a white flour sack. It takes two people to twist the ends of the flour sack to extract the juices from the apple peelings. Measure the juice by cupfuls and keep count of how many. Add same amount of sugar. Cook until sweetened apple juice barely drips off of spoon that has been dipped into juice. Pour into jars that have been preheated with boiling water. Cover with lid. Daddy’s apple jelly always had the prettiest reddish pinkish color. Daddy did not like sure- jell. His jelly was almost candy. He liked to put a hunk of butter in a big spoonful of jelly and mash it up with a fork and eat it on Mama’s homemade biscuits. I can taste it now. I smell Mama’s biscuits cooking and Daddy’s apple jelly now…mm…! Anybody hungry?

On March 18th 2006  a part of me died along with my dear sweet mama. She meant the world to me. For 64 years and 11 days she was there for me. When I was happy or when I was sad she rejoiced or wept with me. As I grew older I seemed to become more like her. As others would say, “you sound just like your mama”. I know that she is at home now with daddy and others who have passed on over to that paradise realm.If any two people lived their lives in a way to deserve heaven it was my mama and daddy. I hope to live as half as good as they did. One day I would like to stand before God and hear him say, “well done thy good and faithful servant.” If I can just make it to the gate that will be good enough for me just to see their sweet face again and hear them say, “hello hun.”??
Notes from Patsy:I remember so many good things about my mama. She would do anything to help any of us in the family and outside the family also. She was a devoted Christian all her life. She attended Church when she didn’t feel like getting out. I remember the things she would get for me like little dresses to start in first grade. She ordered six  little dresses for me from the Sears Roebuck catalog. I thought they were so pretty. One dress had a book satchel that matched. Her and daddy would go all out to make Christmas a happy time of year for me. We always had a tree decorated up real pretty with homemade ornaments. I would wake up to a big fire that daddy had built in the fire place and look at the tree and way up  in the top would be a pretty doll. In my stockings, hanging by the fireplace, there would be a stick of peppermint candy, an apple and orange, some nuts and several little trinkets. They must have loved me very very much to have made such a fun and happy time of year for me. I realize now they must have planned the whole year to have money to buy those gifts that meant so much to me.Mama was my mama and my best friend. We would call each other over the years at least twice a week and as she got older I would call you every day. I know she and daddy are together now and I hope some day to see them again. They were my whole life.

The only store within several miles of home was C. M.

Hubbert’s store near the church, school, cotton gin, and grist mill.

Like most country stores, it carried in stock most of the necessities

needed around a home or farm. Mr. Hubbert also owned the

gin and purchased corn, cotton, and other commodities from the

farmers living in the community. Much of his merchandise was

sold on credit with payment due in the fall when crops were

harvested. Many farmers were never able to get out of debt since

their crops would not take care of all they owed. The first thing

you saw when you entered the store was the candy counter. The

candy was housed in a glass covered counter. Inside were Baby

Ruth, Butterfinger, and Milky Way candy bars, gum drops, Jaw

breakers, suckers, and many kinds of sweets. You could purchase

small candy bars for one cent—if you had the penny, or brought

an egg to pay. for it (which we often did). As you proceeded down

the left aisle you found tobacco, sugar in a barrel, crackers in a

barrel, flour in 24-and 48-pound bags, coffee, canned goods, as

well as buckets, dippers, etc. The farm supplies and equipment

were kept in an addition in the rear of the store. The right side was

devoted to dry goods such as overalls, shirts, piece goods, hats,

shoes, coats, socks, etc. Motor oil was kept in a tank on the front

porch and was pumped by hand into a quart measuring container

to be poured into the automobile.

Kerosene (coal oil) was stored in 55 gallon drums on the side

of the store. If you wanted kerosene—an absolute necessity for

lighting—you brought a one gallon can and the kerosene was

pumped into your can. A potato was added to the spout and away

you went. Gasoline pumps had hand levers to pump into an over

head glass holding tank. Let’s say you wanted to purchase five

gallons of gas: the gas was pumped into the overhead tank until it

reached the five mark then drained by gravity into your gas tank.

The store was a gathering place for the men in the community.

You could find out the news there—who had died—who was

sick—who had a new baby, etc. The men would sit on the edge of

the porch and smoke or chew their tobacco and talk about the

weather and what was happening. In the winter time they gathered

in chairs or sat on nail kegs around the coal fired “pot bellied”

stove. Mother often had me take a Rhode Island rooster or hen to

the store to trade for soda, salt or whatever she needed. I would tie

the chicken feet together, tuck it under my arm and head for the

store a mile away. I always hated to walk in the store with a group

of people gathered around with the rooster or hen under my arm.

You had to be careful in holding the chicken so your clothes

wouldn’t get messed up.

AUTOMOBILES

The first car we owned that I vaguely remember was a 1923

Model T Ford. I remember the next car, a 1927 Model T Ford,

much better. It was an open touring car, black as all T models

were. The upholstery was black leather..Since it did not have side

glasses, in rainy or cold weather,curtains were mounted over the

low side doors. They had some small cellophane places so you

could see out the side, somewhat. This car didn’t have a

speedometer, heater, or any modem equipment. It had three pedals

on the floor. One was the low gear pedal, the center one was the

brake pedal, and the other was the reverse pedal. You could expect

at least one flat tire for each 100 miles traveled. The driver made

his own tire repairs by patching the hole in the tube with a repair

kit he carried. He then remounted the tire and pumped it up with a

hand pump. We often got stalled in the muddy roads we traveled

in those days. It was better than the travel by wagon and buggy

still used by many families. We took an exceptionally long trip

for a Model T in 1928. We went to visit Mother’s sister and her

family near Shannon, Mississippi, a distance of over 75 miles

from home. Boy, this was a long way to go with a family of six in

a Model T Ford. The next car we owned was a 1929 Model A

Ford. It was a classic in its day and even today, some 60 years

later, is still classed as a classic. The car was a two-door sedan.

Somehow, all seven of us were able to get into it. I may not

remember what I ate for breakfast this morning, but I remember

the cost of the Model A was $631. It was an ideal car for rural

areas and roads—reliable, high off the ground, economical,

reasonably comfortable and durable. I learned to drive this car. In

1938 we traded the Model A for a two-door deluxe Chevrolet

sedan. This was a real fine car. I drove this car thousands and

thousands of miles between 1938 and 1946 when I purchased my

first car,

Some of my fondest memories involve the visits by my

Grandmother Hallmark and Uncle Arthur. He had an old (about

1921) Model T truck that was completely open. In fact, it didn’t

even have a windshield. The seat on which he and Grandmother

sat was some old springs with quilts on top of them. To start the

truck, he would jack up one of the rear wheels, turn on the switch,

and using the hand crank, turn the motor until it started. He would

then push the truck off the jack, run and catch up with it, jump on

and drive off.

School buses were built on a plain truck chassis using

a home built wooden body. The seats were benches mounted on

each side with the children facing each other. A center bench was

also used. Side curtains made from canvas were used to keep out

the rain and part of the cold. Since we lived only one mile from

school, we had to walk back and forth to school. Daddy would

carry us and pick us up in rainy weather but in cold weather we

walked.

Excerpted from “A Walk Across The Stage” by Thomas Perry.

Mr. Perry grew up in the Hubbertville community. He has written

a book about his many experiences and the people involved.

A personal note: If my information is correct, my Father, Taft

Whitehead, drove the first school bus in Glen Allen. He and his

brother Benton, who was the schoolteacher, bought the truck and

rigged the body as Mr. Perry describes above. I recall him

laughing about having to back up the hill from Bazemore because

of the gravity flow fuel tank…….. lew

Doug Whitehead

As told by Lola Box Whitehead to Doug Whitehead

It was about October 1955, Birmingham, Alabama when this happen. I have heard my mother Lola Box Whitehead and her twin sister, Zola Box McClusky talk and tell this story many times as the years went by. Betty Anderson a neighbor of ours had started her day out with a Doctors appointment. She had been experiencing abdominal pain and cramping. At first the doctor thought it may just be a stomach virus that had been going around the local school. The doctor had seen several kids over the last few days with this virus. But Betty had no children, she was 25 years old and had never married and had not been exposed to any children.

One week later a return to the doctor was necessary as the pain had increased. Testing showed that she had cancer. In those days, not much could be done for anyone with cancer. It was more or less a death sentence. The medication that was given to her helped, but only made life a little better. Betty turned to God and started attending a local Church of Christ, located just a few blocks from her home. She would attend church regularly whether or not she was up to the drive or up to sitting through a service, she was there.

One Sunday Betty did not show up for church. The pastor and his wife dropped by to check on her as they were aware of her condition. Betty was very sick that morning and was still in bed. The pastor’s wife fixed her some soup. This was about all she could eat at this stage of her cancer. Later that day Betty’s sister Sandy stopped by to check on her too. The pastor’s wife had called her to inform her of Betty’s condition. Sandy took Betty to the hospital where Betty spent the next week. Upon some improvement, Betty was discharged and sent home. The doctor told Sandy that there was not anything more that could be done.

Sandy informed Betty’s neighbors of her condition and ask that they check on her throughout the day while she was working and tending to needs of her family. As the days went by Betty’s condition worsened. She was unable to tend to herself. It had come the time to start the around the clock care. More or less it was a death watch. The women worked out a schedule where Betty would have someone with her around the clock. My mother’s time to stay with her was about 6 PM until 9 PM. One night as it was approaching 9:00 one of the other women who was to stay from 9 PM until 1 AM had arrived a little early.

As my mother and her were sitting by Betty’s bed side, she suddenly awoke, staring toward the foot of her bed, she said, “look an angel, all dressed in white” My mother and the other woman saw nothing. Betty soon fell back to sleep. The next day, the other women who had been sitting with her said that Betty had said to them that she could see an angel standing at the foot of her bed, and she was so pretty and dressed in white. Betty died later that day with several of the women present with her and her Sister, Sandy. They said she died staring toward the foot of her bed and had a smile on her face. My mother, her twin sister, Zola Box McClusky and all the other women believe this to be a miracle. They believed God had sent this Angel to be with Betty in her last hours on this earth.