They say a child doesn’t remember much about their first few years, and at age 63 I believe it. I only have a few faded thoughts from those early years. Jasper was the nearest “town” and we lived in Saragossa, AL. I remember a huge gooseberry tree out in front of our house, with wonderful stretching limbs that gave us lots of lots of shade to play in. The berries, however, were a nuisance and left yucky, purple coloring all over the place; especially our hands and feet.
I remember a long front porch with several wooden steps leading up to it – underneath was a low, visible crawl space. Mom said I used to hide there to “suck my thumb.” W.C. said a hen laid some eggs under there one time, and he gallantly crawled under to retrieve them. He did ok until it was time to back out. He kept hitting his head, crying in pain, and continuing the procedure until all the eggs were gathered.
A lot of my memories revolve around being outside. We must have had lots of friends and family gatherings. I remember Daddy making ice cream out front, or cutting watermelons. One vivid memory involves a bat a bloody swollen lip when the boys were playing baseball and someone “threw” the bat after their hit.
Oh I loved that dirt ‚mountains” across the road. Someone had carved a wonderful hole through it. It was fun to play there, digging in the dirt, sitting in the cool isolation, and waiving at passengers who went by on the train.
The boys, Patsy and I walked to school through downtown Saragossa. This meant we left our house, walked alit way, went past the First Baptist Church, an old filling station, the General Store and on down the road until we reached the one room schoolhouse. At recess we would play outside, and the girls would head off to the girl’s outhouse (same for the boys). I remember one day being outside to form a line, a being given a delicious ripe pear. (WC said they brought in fruits to supplement our diets.)
Other memories:
- The delicious “coconut marshmallow chocolate cake that I could get “on credit” at the store.
- That funny smell and strange sight of Mama and Grandma on the front porch chopping up tons of cabbages and putting them into those large wooden barrels (sour crout in the making)
- That big black metal pot out back, bubbling and crackling over a tire when Mom was cooking those wonderful red beets. I could hardly wait until they were ready. I would grab one and peel that slick skin back and thoroughly enjoy the juicy, scrumptious flavors.
I remember Daddy telling everyone to get in the car one dark Friday night and we headed out to the movies. Wow! Yep, we went to the drive-in movie. The kids played on the swings and see-sawed underneath the bright lights of the huge screen. One time, as we were making our almost weekly trip, Daddy decided to take inventory. “Who turned off the iron?” he asked, and no one answered him. We got back home pretty quick and it turned out fairly well; just some smoke and a hole in the ironing board!
The little country church felt so loving. I would usually see my Grandparents there, and maybe a few cousins. I remember how special it was when it was your birthday. The Preacher would call you up front, they would sign to you, and you would put your birthday donation in the collection basket.
I don’t remember our move to Birmingham. I had to be 5 years old by then. Daddy got a job in town and had been commuting a while, so it was a good move for us. My oldest sister, Patsy, and WC had a rougher entering higher grades in school and coming from the “real country” where you carried your lunch to school in a “poke!”
