The words on the next few pages are brought about by my annoying oldest child
who won't leave me alone. She insists that I have family history and stories
that she and future generations want to hear. I am doing this to humor her
and so she will get off my back. Names are either not given or changed to
protect the guilty.
I was born in 1931. My parents were farmers, as were all the people in my
neighborhood. Bear in mind that the present day concept of "neighborhood"
versus my childhood neighborhood, is slightly different. I was born in
Whitfield County, Georgia. My father was born in Gilmer County, Georgia
and my mother was born in Gatlingburg, Tennessee. Both were rural mountain
counties where the primary jobs revolved around farming.
My father was 63 when I was born. My mother was 24. Some of my brothers and
sisters were already grandparents when I was born. I had 5 brothers and 4
sisters on my father's side from 2 marriages. Those wives had died. My
mother had 3 sons from a previous marriage. Her husband had died six months
before her youngest was born.
When I was growing up,we had no electricity. We used kerosene lamps and wood
stoves for cooking. We had drilled a well and my Dad bought a hand pump for
it. That was really a step up. I had already married and left the area
before electricity was available.
Tools of the Everyday Housewife
Basically, we grew all our food. We sold eggs and bought things like coffee,
sugar and soap. I walked the mile or so to the little country store with a
dozen or so eggs maybe a couple of times a week.
One time, I had started to the store with my little bucket of eggs.
Our neighbor up the road stopped me. She wanted to swap her eggs for mine.
She had a different kind of chicken than ours and she wanted to set her hen
and hatch some like ours. I WOULD NOT LET HER HAVE THEM. Mom told me to take
them to the store and that's where I took them. She told my Mom a few days
later about it. Mom told her that she should have made me let her have them.
She said "OH NO"! And that I would have cried and run home, and I would
never have had any use for her. Needless to say, I was told it was OK to swap
eggs next time. They were all the same price.
My allowance was one egg.
I always picked out the biggest one, thinking I would get more for it. At
that time, you could get several pieces of candy for a penny. I did have a
problem with saving for a rainy day at that time which took me awhile to
adjust to after I became an adult. I found that a piggybank was really not
the proper place for my allowance. An egg in a piggybank is yucky!
When I was growing up the women children worked in the fields same as the
men and boys. We raised most of our food plus we raised cotton to sell. We
chopped and hoed cotton. By early fall it was ready to be picked. IT WAS
A LOT OF FUN DRAGGING THAT PICKSACK AND PICKING COTTON ALL DAY. :) But we
really did look forward to taking the wagon load of cotton to the cotton gin.
Everytime my Dad would let me, I was right in there with him and the boys.
I usually got some new shoes or cloth for a new dress when we sold our
cotton.
We also grew cane to make sorghun syrup. This cane grew real tall. When
ready to harvest the leaves had to be stripped off. They were sharp and
cut like a paper cut. We were glad when we got new syrup every year. We
usually had enough to last all year but it got stronger and went to sugar
after a few months. My mother used syrup in sweetbread especially during
the war when sugar was rationed and we did not have any. WE MADE DO! Also,
we raised our corn for feed for the cattle and took corn to the mill to be
ground for cornbread. We ate a lot of cornbread and milk!
SURGEON GENERAL WARNING
The following paragraph may cause hardning of the arteries
in the general population. Only those above the age of 90 may read it.
We raised hogs for our meat and used the fattest parts for lard. I don't
know when I saw my first can of Crisco. Everbody used pure lard. Nobody
worried about clogged arteries. I seldom make biscuits anymore, but to this
day I keep PURE LARD for that purpose. Nothing like buttermilk and lard
biscuits sopped in milk gravy or good old sorghum and butter.
I started school when I was 5 years old. There was 4 rooms but only 2 were
being used. After a couple of years, only one was used. We probably had
about 30 students and one teacher. We used a wood heater. One of the older
boys went early and built a fire. If not, the teacher had to when she got
there.
We walked about a mile. Some walked further. One snowy, winter day,
we walked and played in the snow on the way to school. About a foot of snow
had fallen by the time we got there. We were wet and cold. The teacher sent
us right back home. IT WAS NOT FUNNY GOING BACK HOME! *S* School was out
for about 2 weeks until the snow melted.
When I was 10, my school, along with two or three more small ones,
consolidated with a bigger school. We had plumbing at this school, but the
bathrooms were still outside. OH GLORY!-We now rode a school bus. Really
getting uptown now.
And any comments from my children will get them the speech
"I walked 10 miles through the snow to get to school!"
.
I always loved school and did not want to miss any days. I had an older
brother pass away that lived several states away. They brought him home for
burial. I did not see any reason to stay home on that account. My mother
bribed me with a new tablet if I would stay home. We didn't get many tablets
and pencils, so at six years of age, I could be bribed. I stayed home.
This was a brother I probably had never seen before.
When I was going to school, I had several teachers that stand out in my mind.
One when I was in the 7th, I believe (These dates are written in sand).
We were quite rowdy and loud. I always loved to talk. This teacher was
calling us all down. He told me he would talk to Mr. WP. (MY DAD-name changed
to protect the guilty!) I was so embarrassed that he was on a first name
basis with my dad. I kinda cooled it after that. As far as I know, he never
had that talk with my dad. Dad would have been really disappointed with me.
Remember this was in the thirty's. We had no car or carpools to worry
about. No city buses (or school buses) or taxicabs. Everybody had wagons
and horses. Back then, we had REAL HORSEPOWER. Certainly didn't have to
worry about getting a driver's license to look cool at school.
My father never drove a car. One of my brothers bought one when I was probably
8 or 9. It was a thrill just to sit in it. We thought it was something GRAND.
At that time you didn't have to take a test for driving. You sent for the
permit by mail. I don't know what they cost, but 2 dollars then would have
been a lot of money. I never dreamed that someday I would drive and own a
car. But in 1969 I got my license and have been driving ever since.
I got my first car when I was around 38. Hadn't had it long when I scraped a
post while parking at work. The car had red paint all down the side of it.
When I came home, I did not say anything about it. When my husband saw it, I
let him think someone had run into me. :) That was better than an argument.
He never knew the difference.
That's all for the moment. I hope you will visit my next page where I reveal
to my children that I was once a kid. But not as much a pain as they were and
can still be at times.
Email: bhibbs@alltel.net
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