Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Coon
Monday, December 12, 2011
Cardinal
Friday, December 9, 2011
Thursday, December 8, 2011
The End of Hell(part three)
Even a tiny sliver of light could not penetrate the heavy darkness. After all this time my eyes had not adjusted to the pitch black. I had to rely on my other senses to keep up with my surroundings. I could hear the dung beetles rolling turds with their hind legs. I knew by the sound when one rolled over on his side because he tried to push to much at one time. The flies buzzed on all sides of me. There must be thousands of them, their wings were deafening. As annoying as they were, I was glad that they were here. I have had no contact with humans for several years and the loneliness was devastating. Trying to make friends with these little monsters was futile. All they wanted to do was land on your face and track all around on their little stick legs.
Loneliness is a constant companion, ever deepening and gaining weight. It presses down on you so tightly that breathing is a hard labored chore. Oh, just for some human contact. Someone coming in to slap me around would be better than this nothing. If someone would just appear and utter a kind word, I think that I would break down and weep uncontrollably.
With the absence of light, there is no way to tell time. Just go to sleep when you are tired of doing nothing. Sleep is my only friend. When he comes around, he allows me to escape this deep dark pit that I am trapped in. As you can imagine, when I escape, I go to a world completely opposite of this one. The sun is warm on my face and the wind blows gently across my body. The sky is so bright and blue that it hurts my eyes to look up. I force myself to look at the brilliant white fluffy clouds.
There are so many people around, children running to and fro, playing catch and hide and seek. Daddy Frank had a large family and we all gathered up there on Sundays. He and Maw had seven children and each of those had from three to seven kids. Then there were friends and neighbors that stopped by. There was always a crowd of over a hundred people there. Definitely not lonely here.
Walter was always amazing to me. I could never get used to him being the way that he was. He was a small man, with a small head. He was always wearing overalls and never tired of asking everyone for a nickel. Some of the older cousins would offer him a quarter, but he would not hear of it. He would sit in the porch swing and smile as if he were in charge of the world. His mind never developed beyond kindergarten.
My other cousin, Denver(affectionately known as "Dimp") was younger but in the same shape. He could care less about coins and money, but his Pall Malls and toy cars made him happy. With his baseball cap pulled down to the left, almost covering his eyes, and his overalls buttoned on one side, with no shirt, he was a strange sight. His enlarged tounge could never fit into his mouth. But beware, do not make fun of him for he would pick up a rock and stone your ass. When he died at sixty eight he had been a boy all his life. Each pocket of his overalls would be stuffed with metal toy cars. That was his funeral attire. There was a crowd at his funeral and much weeping.
The game of hide and seek this day had twenty two or twenty three kids. Base was the steps at the front of the large wrap-around porch. There was an endless supply of hiding places, even in broad daylight. The barn was in disarray, with all types of things inside to get behind. There were several other outbuildings, trees and every one's favorite, the outdoor toilet behind the house. It was rotted pretty bad. Since the pit was almost full, there was no need to repair it since it would be moved soon anyway. Several boys and I were hiding behind it. Charles Cook got so excited that he pushed against the wall to hard. Oh crap, the wall gave way and he fell in. None of us would help, all we could do was laugh at him. He tried to get out of the mess, but he would slide back in again and again.
The adults were eating Sunday lunch(dinner in the south) and when they finished eating they would just sit and visit. It did not matter that you were hungry; don't even walk by and look in. Wayne ran to get Charles' mom. When she found out what was happening, she started cussing and fussing. She threatened to leave hiim there and have another child to replace him. All the men were tanked up pretty good and were having a grand old time at Charles' expense. He did get cleaned up, but is still pissed off until this day. Or should I say, "shit on."
Loneliness is a constant companion, ever deepening and gaining weight. It presses down on you so tightly that breathing is a hard labored chore. Oh, just for some human contact. Someone coming in to slap me around would be better than this nothing. If someone would just appear and utter a kind word, I think that I would break down and weep uncontrollably.
With the absence of light, there is no way to tell time. Just go to sleep when you are tired of doing nothing. Sleep is my only friend. When he comes around, he allows me to escape this deep dark pit that I am trapped in. As you can imagine, when I escape, I go to a world completely opposite of this one. The sun is warm on my face and the wind blows gently across my body. The sky is so bright and blue that it hurts my eyes to look up. I force myself to look at the brilliant white fluffy clouds.
There are so many people around, children running to and fro, playing catch and hide and seek. Daddy Frank had a large family and we all gathered up there on Sundays. He and Maw had seven children and each of those had from three to seven kids. Then there were friends and neighbors that stopped by. There was always a crowd of over a hundred people there. Definitely not lonely here.
Walter was always amazing to me. I could never get used to him being the way that he was. He was a small man, with a small head. He was always wearing overalls and never tired of asking everyone for a nickel. Some of the older cousins would offer him a quarter, but he would not hear of it. He would sit in the porch swing and smile as if he were in charge of the world. His mind never developed beyond kindergarten.
My other cousin, Denver(affectionately known as "Dimp") was younger but in the same shape. He could care less about coins and money, but his Pall Malls and toy cars made him happy. With his baseball cap pulled down to the left, almost covering his eyes, and his overalls buttoned on one side, with no shirt, he was a strange sight. His enlarged tounge could never fit into his mouth. But beware, do not make fun of him for he would pick up a rock and stone your ass. When he died at sixty eight he had been a boy all his life. Each pocket of his overalls would be stuffed with metal toy cars. That was his funeral attire. There was a crowd at his funeral and much weeping.
The game of hide and seek this day had twenty two or twenty three kids. Base was the steps at the front of the large wrap-around porch. There was an endless supply of hiding places, even in broad daylight. The barn was in disarray, with all types of things inside to get behind. There were several other outbuildings, trees and every one's favorite, the outdoor toilet behind the house. It was rotted pretty bad. Since the pit was almost full, there was no need to repair it since it would be moved soon anyway. Several boys and I were hiding behind it. Charles Cook got so excited that he pushed against the wall to hard. Oh crap, the wall gave way and he fell in. None of us would help, all we could do was laugh at him. He tried to get out of the mess, but he would slide back in again and again.
The adults were eating Sunday lunch(dinner in the south) and when they finished eating they would just sit and visit. It did not matter that you were hungry; don't even walk by and look in. Wayne ran to get Charles' mom. When she found out what was happening, she started cussing and fussing. She threatened to leave hiim there and have another child to replace him. All the men were tanked up pretty good and were having a grand old time at Charles' expense. He did get cleaned up, but is still pissed off until this day. Or should I say, "shit on."
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
The End of Hell(part two)
As the water began to recede, I breathed a sigh of relief. As in the past, the water never rose above my ability to breathe. I knew that for a few days or even weeks, everything would return to normal. The stench would be gone, slowly to return. I would still be chained to the wall, not able to escape, but things were better. For a while anyway. I could function within my constraints. Then I could return to happier times, growing up on the farm, where the day started out cool and damp.
By mid-morning, the sun had dried the dew and warmed up the soil. While grandpa and his hired hands picked cotton, mother laid me down for a nap. What a glorious bed it was; the trailer was half filled with fresh picked, fluffy white cotton. Quite a contrast with where I am now. When I awoke, I was hot, thirsty and irritable. All the hired hands were at the end of the rows, more than a quarter mile away. All that I could see were the mules standing patiently. Half asleep, resting one back leg and still hitched to the wagon. The only sounds were the gnats buzzing in my ears and landing on my eyes. The mocking birds were singing their song in the small trees close by at the edge of the field. Thinking I was by myself, I started to cry.
Just as I did, Benny came out from under the wagon where he had been playing in the sandy soil. He climbed up the front wheel, looked over the side and smiled at me. I was embarrassed, but shouldn't have been, cause he was lonesome too.
"Come on", he said, "I'll help you out and we'll play some marbles." I was too young to play, but he didn't seem to mind. He walked over to the shade of the large oak tree at the edge of the field. From under the bush he picked up the "Daddy Bucks" gallon jug, filled with water. It had been filled with ice and wrapped with yesterday's "Dothan Eagle" newspaper. As he brought it back to me, I took a drink of the cool refreshing water. We could not drink out of the jug, because that would not be sanitary, so he poured it into the metal dipper. Everyone drank out of that. By the time he put the jug back, everyone had returned to the wagon.
Grandpa had nailed a set of cotton scales to the sideboard of the wagon and let it extend behind the wagon. It was a chore to lift the heavy sacks of cotton onto the scales. Some of the men and a few of the women had over a hundred pounds each of cotton in their sacks. A few had rocks and cotton boles mixed in with their cotton, but grandpa would throw it out and chastise them. After the weigh in, he would go to Boonie's store and get everyone a R. C. Cola and a moon pie. By the time he returned, they had made a round and were ready to weigh in again.
When I reached up to scratch my head, the chains clattered against the stone and woke me up. I was irritated to be back here.
By mid-morning, the sun had dried the dew and warmed up the soil. While grandpa and his hired hands picked cotton, mother laid me down for a nap. What a glorious bed it was; the trailer was half filled with fresh picked, fluffy white cotton. Quite a contrast with where I am now. When I awoke, I was hot, thirsty and irritable. All the hired hands were at the end of the rows, more than a quarter mile away. All that I could see were the mules standing patiently. Half asleep, resting one back leg and still hitched to the wagon. The only sounds were the gnats buzzing in my ears and landing on my eyes. The mocking birds were singing their song in the small trees close by at the edge of the field. Thinking I was by myself, I started to cry.
Just as I did, Benny came out from under the wagon where he had been playing in the sandy soil. He climbed up the front wheel, looked over the side and smiled at me. I was embarrassed, but shouldn't have been, cause he was lonesome too.
"Come on", he said, "I'll help you out and we'll play some marbles." I was too young to play, but he didn't seem to mind. He walked over to the shade of the large oak tree at the edge of the field. From under the bush he picked up the "Daddy Bucks" gallon jug, filled with water. It had been filled with ice and wrapped with yesterday's "Dothan Eagle" newspaper. As he brought it back to me, I took a drink of the cool refreshing water. We could not drink out of the jug, because that would not be sanitary, so he poured it into the metal dipper. Everyone drank out of that. By the time he put the jug back, everyone had returned to the wagon.
Grandpa had nailed a set of cotton scales to the sideboard of the wagon and let it extend behind the wagon. It was a chore to lift the heavy sacks of cotton onto the scales. Some of the men and a few of the women had over a hundred pounds each of cotton in their sacks. A few had rocks and cotton boles mixed in with their cotton, but grandpa would throw it out and chastise them. After the weigh in, he would go to Boonie's store and get everyone a R. C. Cola and a moon pie. By the time he returned, they had made a round and were ready to weigh in again.
When I reached up to scratch my head, the chains clattered against the stone and woke me up. I was irritated to be back here.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
The End of Hell (as i know it)
The dark frigid water is over my top lip, but if I tiptoe, I can raise another three inches. There is no way that I can escape, the chains holding me to the wall are to strong. The skin on my wrists has been torn and bruised by my panicked attempts to escape. There is not enough time to pull my hands off and if I would, I don't think that I have the strength. Besides my wrists have gotten bigger in the four years that I have been here, because of the inactivity. Not only is the water dark, cold and swift, but there are things touching me that aren't supposed to.
Even though the water is terrifying, it has brought a cleansing to my dark, cold and dirty cell. With the chains only six or seven feet in length, I soon ran out of room to do away with my bodily wastes. It took a while to become accustomed to the smell, but I could never become comfortable with the filth and degradation of living in my own waste. How could I? Indeed, how did I even get into this mess? With that question, I forgot the rising water and drifted back to my earliest memory.
Everyone was standing close together in the cold, small living room. The out of place bed was highlighted by the flickering light of kerosene lamp, which was the only source of light in the small three room house. The tired flames in the fireplace gave out a small amount of heat. If we moved away from the front of the fire, the cold would attack our small fingers and sock less feet. Mom and Grannie were crying uncontrollably. Now and again we could hear them sobbing with low moans. Dad and Grandpa were silent and forlorn, overcome with worry. My brothers Wayne, Benny and I were too young to understand what was happening, but we did know that something terrible was going on.
It turns out that mom was going to catch a bus to Mobile. where she would seek treatment for a nervous breakdown. The Mobile Infirmary was across the state from home and mom was fortunate that her parents could afford to send her there. Dad joined her in a few days, just before she received the shock therapy. In a few weeks, when she returned home, nothing was ever the same. We never spoke of it in the family, but I supposed that it was post-partem depression, since I was just a toddler. Mother and I never bonded as she did with Benny and Wayne. I blame that on the shock therapy erasing her short term memory of having given birth to me. It has been a life long struggle for she and I to connect. In 1950, who knew that this was a risky procedure?
That and the following years set me up to be an independent and self reliant person. I did not have good people skills, but I could take care of myself and do things that should not be done by one person. I had so much confidence in myself that I did not need anyone, much less God. However I did believe in Him, but why would He be concerned with me? No one else was and He, being Omnipotent and omniscience, could not be bothered by someone as worthless as I was.
The coldness of the water brought me back to the reality of the dungeon. The stench of the cell overpowered me and I held my breath under the water until my lungs screamed out for air. When I raised my head out of the dark water the stench of myself hit me full in the face again. This time it was mixed with fear and anguish emanating from the only part of my body above water. Regret has a stench that is truly offensive to the senses. Green, putrid, oozing, sticky and overpowering, it cannot be removed, no matter how hard you try. The smell is unbearable and you begin to wonder if you will ever be able to escape it.
So many regrets, some that were intentional and some that were not. The end result is the same. One of the unintentional regrets involved my grandmother and her three ducklings. She was a kind soul and had a unique way with animals. They all seemed to realize her kindness and bonded with her. My great aunt, Collier, who was mom's age brought her three ducklings to stay on the farm. I was a small child and left outside with the ducklings. I had never seen anything like them before, but I did know that ducks could swim. I carried them off to the mule's watering trough and held them underwater for much to long. When I turned them loose, they sank to the bottom of the trough. No matter how hard I tried, I could not get them to come to life again. Even though I was a small child, when I saw the look on Grannie's face, that was a life long regret...............
Even though the water is terrifying, it has brought a cleansing to my dark, cold and dirty cell. With the chains only six or seven feet in length, I soon ran out of room to do away with my bodily wastes. It took a while to become accustomed to the smell, but I could never become comfortable with the filth and degradation of living in my own waste. How could I? Indeed, how did I even get into this mess? With that question, I forgot the rising water and drifted back to my earliest memory.
Everyone was standing close together in the cold, small living room. The out of place bed was highlighted by the flickering light of kerosene lamp, which was the only source of light in the small three room house. The tired flames in the fireplace gave out a small amount of heat. If we moved away from the front of the fire, the cold would attack our small fingers and sock less feet. Mom and Grannie were crying uncontrollably. Now and again we could hear them sobbing with low moans. Dad and Grandpa were silent and forlorn, overcome with worry. My brothers Wayne, Benny and I were too young to understand what was happening, but we did know that something terrible was going on.
It turns out that mom was going to catch a bus to Mobile. where she would seek treatment for a nervous breakdown. The Mobile Infirmary was across the state from home and mom was fortunate that her parents could afford to send her there. Dad joined her in a few days, just before she received the shock therapy. In a few weeks, when she returned home, nothing was ever the same. We never spoke of it in the family, but I supposed that it was post-partem depression, since I was just a toddler. Mother and I never bonded as she did with Benny and Wayne. I blame that on the shock therapy erasing her short term memory of having given birth to me. It has been a life long struggle for she and I to connect. In 1950, who knew that this was a risky procedure?
That and the following years set me up to be an independent and self reliant person. I did not have good people skills, but I could take care of myself and do things that should not be done by one person. I had so much confidence in myself that I did not need anyone, much less God. However I did believe in Him, but why would He be concerned with me? No one else was and He, being Omnipotent and omniscience, could not be bothered by someone as worthless as I was.
The coldness of the water brought me back to the reality of the dungeon. The stench of the cell overpowered me and I held my breath under the water until my lungs screamed out for air. When I raised my head out of the dark water the stench of myself hit me full in the face again. This time it was mixed with fear and anguish emanating from the only part of my body above water. Regret has a stench that is truly offensive to the senses. Green, putrid, oozing, sticky and overpowering, it cannot be removed, no matter how hard you try. The smell is unbearable and you begin to wonder if you will ever be able to escape it.
So many regrets, some that were intentional and some that were not. The end result is the same. One of the unintentional regrets involved my grandmother and her three ducklings. She was a kind soul and had a unique way with animals. They all seemed to realize her kindness and bonded with her. My great aunt, Collier, who was mom's age brought her three ducklings to stay on the farm. I was a small child and left outside with the ducklings. I had never seen anything like them before, but I did know that ducks could swim. I carried them off to the mule's watering trough and held them underwater for much to long. When I turned them loose, they sank to the bottom of the trough. No matter how hard I tried, I could not get them to come to life again. Even though I was a small child, when I saw the look on Grannie's face, that was a life long regret...............
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Elba United Methodist
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
