Yes, memories are funny things. There is so much that I was told, that I really have no memory of. I have heard Mother and Mama discussing the early days. Mama told of how she and Grandaddy Boggs courted. He saw her at church, and decided she was the one for him. They were all very poor and the only transportation available were the work horses, which could not be used for pleasure, and "shank's mare" - walking. She told how Grandaddy walked miles between his home and hers, and finally was rewarded when she accepted his proposal.
I know that we lived in many places after I was born. Mother told of going to Bakersfield, California, in the late '30s looking for work. I don't know the year for sure. I don't know if Carole had been born yet. I was born in April, 1937, and Carole was born in June, 1938. The country was slow recovering from the Depression which started in 1929. I think they also lived in tents while there. Maybe that is where Norma's memory of the grass fire comes in. Of course, of great interest to me, was the story of my contracting pneumonia while there. Mother said I couldn't breathe, and they took me to the hospital. The doctors there told her I needed to be in a higher elevation and if they didn't get there soon, I wouldn't survive. So, they packed everything up in the car (no idea of how the obtained a car, but must have had one to get to California in the first place) and started for Roswell, NM. She said they didn't stop for anything except potty breaks and gassing up the car. Mama and Grandaddy were living on the hill in Roswell where Grandaddy was farming, and when they arrived, she carried me in to Grandaddy and put me in his arms. Evidently, I survived, as I am here writing this in the year 2009!
Seventy years ago! It is said that the memories of older people hark back to their younger days. My most vivid memories start when I was six or seven, and we live at East Grand Plains south of Roswell. That's where I started to school, I think. One incident which has stayed with me happened in school. I saw a peanut on the floor of the classroom, and, naturally, picked it up and put it in my mouth. The teacher, I think she was a large older lady named Mrs. Davis, asked me what I had in my mouth. I was ashamed to tell her I had put something from the floor into my mouth (my mother had taught me that was not a good thing to do), so I just didn't answer her, or else said "nothing". Whatever the response, Mrs. Davis was not happy with me. She sent me to the principal's office to get "the board of education". Well, I knew what that meant. A paddling!! So, I left the room, but did not proceed directly to the Principal's office. I went behind some bushes that were growing by the side of the building and sat down and cried. I think it was mostly shame that possessed me at the time. I would have to pass by the windows of some of the other classrooms on the way, and knew that on the way back, they would know what was in store for me. I finally completed the journey, got my whipping, and, sure enough, had to TAKE THE BOARD OF EDUCATION BACK TO THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE!! Not only that, I knew someone would carry the tale, and I would get another whipping when I got home. Needless to say, I NEVER picked up something from the floor and put it in my mouth again - at least not at school. And I made a special effort never again to do anything that would culminate in a visit to THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE!
Dot
I know that we lived in many places after I was born. Mother told of going to Bakersfield, California, in the late '30s looking for work. I don't know the year for sure. I don't know if Carole had been born yet. I was born in April, 1937, and Carole was born in June, 1938. The country was slow recovering from the Depression which started in 1929. I think they also lived in tents while there. Maybe that is where Norma's memory of the grass fire comes in. Of course, of great interest to me, was the story of my contracting pneumonia while there. Mother said I couldn't breathe, and they took me to the hospital. The doctors there told her I needed to be in a higher elevation and if they didn't get there soon, I wouldn't survive. So, they packed everything up in the car (no idea of how the obtained a car, but must have had one to get to California in the first place) and started for Roswell, NM. She said they didn't stop for anything except potty breaks and gassing up the car. Mama and Grandaddy were living on the hill in Roswell where Grandaddy was farming, and when they arrived, she carried me in to Grandaddy and put me in his arms. Evidently, I survived, as I am here writing this in the year 2009!
Seventy years ago! It is said that the memories of older people hark back to their younger days. My most vivid memories start when I was six or seven, and we live at East Grand Plains south of Roswell. That's where I started to school, I think. One incident which has stayed with me happened in school. I saw a peanut on the floor of the classroom, and, naturally, picked it up and put it in my mouth. The teacher, I think she was a large older lady named Mrs. Davis, asked me what I had in my mouth. I was ashamed to tell her I had put something from the floor into my mouth (my mother had taught me that was not a good thing to do), so I just didn't answer her, or else said "nothing". Whatever the response, Mrs. Davis was not happy with me. She sent me to the principal's office to get "the board of education". Well, I knew what that meant. A paddling!! So, I left the room, but did not proceed directly to the Principal's office. I went behind some bushes that were growing by the side of the building and sat down and cried. I think it was mostly shame that possessed me at the time. I would have to pass by the windows of some of the other classrooms on the way, and knew that on the way back, they would know what was in store for me. I finally completed the journey, got my whipping, and, sure enough, had to TAKE THE BOARD OF EDUCATION BACK TO THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE!! Not only that, I knew someone would carry the tale, and I would get another whipping when I got home. Needless to say, I NEVER picked up something from the floor and put it in my mouth again - at least not at school. And I made a special effort never again to do anything that would culminate in a visit to THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE!
Dot
1 comment:
By the way, Dot. I am so glad you couldn't live in Southern California. When Jeff and I went out there a few years ago, it was so hot and miserable, I thought I would die. Bakersfield, California is not my ideal place to live! It's hotter than South Texas!
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