NANA'S MEMORIES

My Boogie Woogie Piano Aunt has an amazingly gifted grandson who has captured the attention of my thirteen year old grand daughter. Although they are cousins and she has talked non stop about him for weeks, they had not met until today. A chance meeting, a brief hug, and the subsequent swooning reminded me of the summer I saw the Everly Brothers in concert in Oklahoma City. Link here to listen to this extraordinary young man I think it was the summer I was fourteen that my parents put my two years older uncle and me on a bus headed to Oklahoma City for visits with my grandma and with his sister. Although we have always enjoyed a close relationship, my uncle was a boy of few words, as evidenced on this long bus ride with a stop at every town alongside Highway 64. We sat silently together in the same seat until I noticed after returning to my place at a bus stop that he had bought a couple of comic books. When I asked him to go back in and get me one he finally uttered these ...

I just happened to think of a little snippet as I was writing about Auntie's move to Alaska. My Grandma was in her forties when she had her last baby just two years before her first grandchild was born. That made my youngest uncle close enough in age and usually near enough in proximity that we grew up together, enjoying an almost sibling relationship that has remained today. I have another uncle three years older than I and an aunt nine years older. When you are only eight, a grown-up seventeen year old seems aloof and sophisticated. My aunt was that. She had boyfriends, she colored her hair, she wore sweater sets, she never had to go to the storm cellar, and she could play the piano. Although I am sure this teenager was not happy sharing her parents and home with a dozen younger nieces and nephews, she seemed to tolerate us well. Most of the time we rode the school bus to the farm where Grandma minded us until Daddy or Mama got off work. I don't remember Auntie hanging o...

I watched a lot of movies when I was a kid. We usually went to the drive-in theater across from the 64 Hub Truck Stop. We just called it the 64 Hub when Daddy worked there. It was a full-service gas station on the West end of town and named for Highway 64, the major East-West route before Interstate 40 went through Arkansas in the 1960's. Highway 64 is how we got to Grandma's house in Oklahoma City a half a dozen times a year and how Daddy drove us to Altus a little more frequently. Locals will know why we went to Altus. I liked going though because Daddy would get us a rarely enjoyed soft drink. All the way up there my brother and I would be deciding whether we wanted a Nehi Grape or maybe a six ounce Coca Cola. Sometimes Daddy would buy us a Baby Ruth candy bar too. We never had more than one car so Mama would load us up, usually in our pajamas, to get Daddy from work. While waiting for Daddy to finish up, we would sit across the high...

I remember Daddy's old 1950-something dark green car parked in a gravel driveway behind the asbestos siding covered duplex apartment we lived when I was six or seven years old. I was sitting in the front seat watching the tiny dust motes floating in the warm springtime sun that was brightly shining through the car's windshield.  It was not unusual for me to play alone outside while Mama cared for my three year old brother. I had my blanket wrapped baby doll with me when I noticed the cigarette lighter Daddy and Mama used to light their Pall Mall cigarettes. Actually, I think Daddy smoked Camels. Daddy would show me the front side of the Camel package and ask if I would rather live in the small tent, the large tent, or under the camel. After I chose the larger tent, Daddy would flip it over and say he would choose to live in the Turkish Palace. As I usually rode standing...

CAN YOU FIND THE DEER? I awoke early this morning to prepare for a breakfast with family and to watch the Arkansas River Flotilla go upriver toward Ozark. I rarely have time in the mornings to look outside but this morning I saw a deer just steps from my bedroom door. Although deer are not uncommon in our yard, it is unusual to see them this close. I could hardly see her in the early morning dawn. CAN YOU FIND THE PREYING MANTIS? We enjoyed a nice breakfast and get together with two of my aunts and an uncle on the back porch. Before we finished eating, this little guy was climbing up Auntie's arm. She shrieked and knocked it off into the grass. Aren't they perfectly camouflaged? WHAT ABOUT THIS PREYING MANTIS? Apparently these "walking sticks" have infested my back porch. And as demonstrated in yesterday's post Spider Webs , spiders have taken over as well. They are all pretty creepy looking but I th...

The Arkansas River Flotilla will be passing behind my house on Tuesday. As I was preparing the back porch for a possible breakfast there, I tripped over a rug, fell headlong into a lawn chair, and scraped across the cement floor into the 1950's chrome and formica dinette set I have by the window. Because I was afraid hubby would come around the corner and see me sprawled in a heap, I was able to get up more quickly than usual. Although it may seem odd to some, I am most embarrassed when hubby is aware of my awkwardness. Along that same line, but somewhat off the subject, I have never told hubby how much I weigh. He has asked on occasion telling me, "It is just a number." Since it is just a number, I may tell him I weigh 120 pounds. Hubby was with me during my pre-op for surgery one time when the nurse asked my weight. She launched into this long spiel about why it was important for administration of the anesthesia but ...

I want to share this cute little saying someone had on facebook a while back. Although it is humorous, and I did repost it on facebook, it exposes a real concern I think we all have. I was reminded of an article I read of how Sandra Day O'Connor's husband had been moved to an assisted living center where he met another Alzheimer's victim. He fell in love with her and would sit on the porch holding her hand. He had no recollection of his wife or his children. As stated in the New York Times article, she was relieved he was happy again. I was saddened to think how this cruel disease had robbed them of their former life. I often see children struggle to care for parents long after the loved one knows or recognizes them. Although there are many programs in place that allow the elderly, and sometimes not-so-elderly, to remain in their own home, sometimes it is not possible to keep them there safely and other measures must be tak...

Mama was born in Missouri. Grandpa had bought land in Branson, Missouri back in the 1940's and promptly sold it saying, "I have no use for this pile of rocks." (Those of you who have been to Branson realize the irony in this statement).  He loaded up his family and moved to Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. Mama was raised in the city with her four brothers, whom she loved dearly until the day she died. They doted on her and she grew up headstrong, stubborn, and rebellious. She roller skated, went dancing, rode motorcycles (before it was cool), and was definitely a wild child.  When Daddy met her, Mama was a petite sixteen year old with pretty white teeth, full lips, and beautiful, long, auburn hair. She looked like Rita Hayworth. Rita Hayworth was at the height of her popularity when I was born so Mama named me after her. There aren't many girls (if any) named Rita nowadays. I am going to sidetrack a little here to relate a story about Rita Hayworth....

As mentioned in previous posts, I broke my ankle the summer I turned thirteen and spent that summer with a cast on my right leg. I got out of doing chores until Mama caught me scuffling with David and then I was back to doing dishes.  I did walk to town with a friend several weeks after initially learning to use crutches. I had to stop a couple of times walking back up Cherry Street hill in front of the high school. But most of that summer was spent sitting in front of a fan while watching television.  Mama was working then so we had a babysitter that came to the house. (I have a story to tell about her in a later post entitled "Pinto Beans and Frogs). I was thirteen and could have taken care of my younger brother and sister but I guess my parents thought too much of them to leave in my custody all day. This babysitter was an older woman who wore her hair in two braids twisted across the top of her head that put me...

I have heard that Grandpa Middleton was not always a man of God. In his earlier years, he did not go to church at all.  I understand he used to go to moving picture shows and that he loved westerns. Someone said he had a high temper and a short fuse. Maybe he was known to drink alcohol or enjoy tobacco, although I cannot imagine that being the case.  How I wish I had listened to how he came to God. Was it at an old brush arbor meeting? Did he kneel at the altar of some church camp ground? Or did he finally succumb to his Mother's pleading and walk through the doors of a local church?  However and whenever this salvation took place, it was long before I was born. I only remember Grandpa as a prayer warrior and a mighty man of God. Grandpa was small in stature but stood so tall in the eyes of God. He prayed aloud and long. And God listened.  If you were at his house at bedtime you knelt beside the bed, a chair, the sofa, the piano bench...

The saying is, "I wouldn't take a million dollars for it." That is how I feel about this small handmade table. I think my Mother's daddy made it. As I am now an orphan with only younger siblings, I have no way to authenticate this sweet table's history.  But just in case, it is not for sale. Although this pretty print in an original frame is not the same one Grandma had at the farm, it is still precious to me. I must have been the age my little Sierra is now when Grandma gently explained the meaning of the picture. She said Jesus sent a beautiful angel to watch over the two children as they crossed the broken bridge over the dangerous waters. I think she wanted me to also notice how the older sister was helping her little brother and hoping I would be kinder to my own brother. Anyway, I am comforted to think of the angel's protection.                    ...

     The year I turned 13 was not my favorite summer. I don't think we had ambulances in Clarksville then because Dr. Manley came in a small beige car to take me to the hospital when I hurt my leg jumping from a tree.  After seeing it was actually broken, the doctor put his arm around my waist to help me up. I told him he couldn't carry me to the car. His breath smelled of cigarettes when he said, "I'm not. You're going to hop."  My foot flopped up and down with each step.      I had to stay a couple of nights in the hospital with my foot iced before the swelling went down enough to have it set. Trying to save the nurse some trouble one busy night, I attempted to get the heavy metal bedpan out of the drawer beside the bed. Luckily I had not used it yet when I dropped it on the tiled hospital floor. The nurse said she knew what had happened when she heard...

Mama's treadle machine A lost art among girls today is sitting with her legs together. I think it is probably because they rarely wear dresses. But in the 1950's, girls wore full skirted dresses with pinafore bodices and puff sleeves. Mama made me a lot of pretty little dresses on her old treadle sewing machine. Actually this machine was probably not that old when I started to school in 1957. 1950's dress pattern I remember playing one hot summer afternoon at the farm.  I was wearing a shirtwaist dress fastened with tiny buttons and a wide sash tied in a big bow in the back. I was having so much fun playing with the many cousins gathered at Grandma's house that I almost waited too long to go to the toilet, which at this time was outside. After having my aunt unbutton my dress, I quickly ran to take care of business.  It wasn't until I returned to have the dress buttoned and tied again that I realized dresses do not have to come off to use the bathroom....