This Way To My Blog

This Way To My Blog

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Cotton Top


Things I remember from living at this place. My Daddy was a farmer and lightening killed the mules.
My Mama and Daddy use to move the furniture outside, roll up the linoleum, and invite their friends to dance on Saturday night. They made me go to bed but I wanted to dance.
After my sister was born she was on goat's milk because cow's milk didn't agree with her. I thought the goat was my pet and when she no longer needed the milk they sold the goat bacause it was eating the clothes off the line and getting on the car. I cried and cried.
At Christmas my Grandpa gave my little sister a rocking chair. He gave me an ugly pair of brown gloves which I thought were boy's gloves so I cried and cried. Mama bought me a rocking chair later but it didn't feel the same.
Once there were javelinas in the field. Everyone went out to shoot them and Daddy told me to stay inside. I wanted to go out and see them too. I probably cried, I don't remember.
On Easter Mama surprised me with a hen egg she had decorated some how on a pillow on the bed. I wouldn't have anything so do with it. I think I thought a rabbit couldn't lay that big ole egg.
I must have been a brat because my sister and brother were ten and eight years older then me. While we lived at this place I remember my younger sister being born and that is when my status changed.

13 comments:

Sayit-baldys said...

PAULA, THANKS FOR THE NICE ENTRY.
IT BRINGS MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD.

WE WERE VERY POOR THOUGH DAD WAS A HARD WORKER ON OUR HOMESTEAD, SOMETIMES WORKED AFTER DARK CLEARING LAND WITH A 'GRUBHOE' AND BURNING BRUSH. ALL THE HOMESTEADERS WERE HAVING IT TUFF. DEER MEAT HELPED WITH FOOD.

ONE CHRISTMAS WHEN I WAS STILL A BABY AND WANTED A DOLL AND MOTHER MADE SOME CHANGES WITH ARTISTRY WORK ON AN OLDER SISTER'S DOLL FOR SANTA CLAUS TO BRING TO ME. NICE DOLL CLOTHES AND FIXED UP REAL NICE.

THEY SAID I TOOK ONE LOOK AT IT, THREW IT IN THE CORNER AND SAID, 'I KNOW THAT OLD DOLL'.

sam

garnett109 said...

great story thanks for sharing

jack69 said...

I love the memories. Funny how we can remember a brat at times. But we were so sweet SO MANY times it is hard to remember. Shirl never remembers how sweet I WAS! LOL.

I bet you were about as sweet as Sherry, who never was a BRAT! LOL
She will be here in a little while. WE only have one computer now.

sober white women said...

OHHHH I love the picture! I think it is funny the stuff we remember when we look back.
Kelli

Lucy said...

I thought I was the only one that remembered stuff like that. I to was a cotton top and I hated it when one of my dads friends called me blondie. Oh the memories. I may have been a wee bit spoiled since I was the last and A TOTAL SURPRISE.

Sheila said...

Love the pic. Great memories, thanks for sharing. I liked Sam's comment too...ha. Oh the things kids say and do...ha.
Have a great day, Sheila

Shirl 72 said...

Wonderful memories. We would always say Mama loved Jack best and Dad love me best. If you knew what all Jack would get into it would
verify why trouble follows him now. I think
we were both brats. I sometimes wonder how
our parents ever survived our child-hood.

Shirl

Lisa said...

What a wonderful entry, I liked reading about your childhood memories but it sounds like you cried alot. So the mules were struck by lightning and the dancing sounds fun. I bet people don't do that anymore. I remember my grandma would dance in the kitchen with her friends late at night too. I wasn't allowed out either....I probably cried.

Sheila said...

Well I tried setting up the fans outside to blow some rain to you. I guess I will have to load Hubby's truck up with some and bring it out...ha.
Take care, Sheila

Shirl 72 said...

The opossum was OK when I was singing. When
I started the drums it looked like is was walking on two back legs with its paws over the ears as it mosied on down from the bench and headed for the woods. I don't think I will see
him return if so I would just sing.

Shirl

kanyonlandking-annk.blogspot.com said...

My husband went hunting and came home with two baby javelina. One died but my sister-in-law took the other one home and kept him by her bed. She fed him with a bottle and he grew until spring when he ate dandelions and died.
Who would know? I loved your stories of childhood.

Jimmy's Journal said...

Nice entry. I, too, was raised on goat's milk but I don't ever remember seeing a goat or even the taste of the milk. I'm relatively normal (as far as I know) but I think goat's milk probably tsted Baaaad.

Jimmy

Gerry said...

I have not been out your Texas way for a while, and have missed you, so thought I would drop by today as I waited for maintenance to go through my wall trying to find the leak that is going down to the apartment below. The guy next next door would not answer the door so they had to saw a hole in my wall, but I guess I have to take my turn. I mention this because of your comment on the possible plumbing problems at the WHo. That is not even the half of it! My shower is down to tiny trickle Anyway back to Texas and your history as a little girl growing up in the country. Enjoyed this entry. And related. Gerry