favorite childhood memories

[[...]]

 

((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((PJ)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

 

Really just wanted to come give you a big 'ol hug! I was baptized Southern Baptist too when I was six

 

 

...............T2

 

 

WOWZER .......Now, that's  A HUG!!!  wait a minute while I catch my breath.  No doubt about it, you are my favorite teacher 

[[re...]]

I remember running barefoot over the short tufts of rough grass to catch fireflies in the damp, dark Georgia night.

I put them in a mason jar and secure wax paper over the top with a rubber band. I'd poke holes in the wax paper with a broom straw.

 

I loved watching them blink off and on, giving me a wonderful night light.

[[Mi...]]

PJ, all those baptisms, you are triple saved for sure!

 

Don't know how Grasshopper Proffit got that name.  It wasn't a nickname, it was his real given name.  Everyone called him "Grass" for short.  He was married to MawMaw Proffit and together they terrorized us kids.  They were older than dirt or so we younguns thought.  I remember getting Grass back on occasion though.  We would hide and wait for him to go into the outhouse and then we would pitch rocks onto the tin roof just to watch him dash out still pulling up his pants.

 

Recovering, I love your firefly memories.    We used to catch june bugs and tie a long piece of thread to their leg and let them buzz around on the tether for fun.  Also we girls used to pick poke berries and use the juice to stain our cheeks, lips and nails like grown up ladies.

 

MiniMinnie

[[...]]

Lol, PJ, you should have all the bases covered!! 

 

:laugh:

[[...]]

I remember running barefoot over the short tufts of rough grass to catch fireflies in the damp, dark Georgia night.

I put them in a mason jar and secure wax paper over the top with a rubber band. I'd poke holes in the wax paper with a broom straw.

 

I loved watching them blink off and on, giving me a wonderful night light.

 

Hi rfb, 

 

Fireflies, and kids go together like soap and water.  Thank you for sharing.  Reading everyone's memories, is almost like reading a novel.  Everybody is so descriptive in their writing.

 

 

 

“When we are children we seldom think of the future. This innocence leaves us free to enjoy ourselves as few adults can. The day we fret about the future is the day we leave our childhood behind.”

............... Patrick Rothfuss

[[...]]

PJ, all those baptisms, you are triple saved for sure!

 

Don't know how Grasshopper Proffit got that name.  It wasn't a nickname, it was his real given name.  Everyone called him "Grass" for short.  He was married to MawMaw Proffit and together they terrorized us kids.  They were older than dirt or so we younguns thought.  I remember getting Grass back on occasion though.  We would hide and wait for him to go into the outhouse and then we would pitch rocks onto the tin roof just to watch him dash out still pulling up his pants.

 

Recovering, I love your firefly memories.    We used to catch june bugs and tie a long piece of thread to their leg and let them buzz around on the tether for fun.  Also we girls used to pick poke berries and use the juice to stain our cheeks, lips and nails like grown up ladies.

 

MiniMinnie

 

Hi MiniMinnie,        Thanks for the laffs  :laugh:

 

Grasshopper Proffitt, and MawMaw Proffit could have been characters straight out of a William Faulkner novel.

 

I can't  stop laughing!  That outhouse scenario is so darn funny

[[Fl...]]

Great outhouse story, Miniminnie! 

 

We had a two holer at school. And only one basketball.  I took the ball in with me and it fell down the unoccupied hole. Ewwwwww! I know. 

 

Since we didn't have much hope of getting another basketball and there was a game to finish, one of the older boys pryed the wood back and crawled down to retrieve the ball. We washed it off at the outdoor pump and the game was back on.

 

I don't remember any adults being involved or even feeling guilty. It was just part of life. 

 

[[Mi...]]

Flip, eeeeeew, I can't imagine fishing anything out like that.  As for the hole counts, having a two holer was what separated one from the have nots in my neck of the woods.

 

Now that pj has opened up this can of worms, I am remembering Dorrie Smith who lived a piece over from us and collected dolls.  Well, not the WHOLE doll, just the doll heads.  She would take off the heads and throw the body away.  When you went into her house, there were scads of doll heads perched everywhere.  They always seemed to be staring at you and their eyes followed you everywhere.  Creepy. She was the same single woman who was "not right" in the head and had 4 children from 4 different men.  She claimed they all had taken advantage while she was having a "spell"  only she pronounced it "shrell" because of teeth rotted out from a steady diet of Griffin Pie Company honeybuns.  Thereafter we all would use the word "shrell" to explain any ill advised behavior that we couldn't easily explain.  "Ma, I broke that window but I was having a shrell!"

 

MiniMinnie

[[Fl...]]

:2funny:  I don't know why I sneaked out the window to meet that boy, I must've been having a shrell! 

 

Eeeeew, doll heads?! . Very creepy!! That kind of scares me now!

 

We had a neighbor who had homesteaded. He was in his 70's and 80s when I knew him. He still lived in a railroad car that had been his home for decades.  He was the most amazing man and he knew how to talk to kids. He listened.  I'd ride my bike or horse the 3 miles to see Sam every time I had something important to discuss.

 

He made violins. I was never in his little house that there weren't pieces of hand cut, sanded, soaked, bent, drying pieces of wood hanging from the low ceiling. He took showers outside under a tripod that held a rain water barrel.  He let me pull the rope once and I got soaked. Hehe.

 

He was happy!! He laughed a lot and his eyes twinkled.  What a great role model he was. I'm blessed to have known him.

 

Wow, this thread is brining up some really  nice things. Thanks PJ for starting it.

[[...]]

Great outhouse story, Miniminnie! 

 

We had a two holer at school. And only one basketball.  I took the ball in with me and it fell down the unoccupied hole. Ewwwwww! I know. 

 

Since we didn't have much hope of getting another basketball and there was a game to finish, one of the older boys pryed the wood back and crawled down to retrieve the ball. We washed it off at the outdoor pump and the game was back on.

 

I don't remember any adults being involved or even feeling guilty. It was just part of life. 

 

Only a tough, horse 'ridin, country gal could have done what you did. 

[[Fl...]]

Lol. I had a crush on the poor guy who had to crawl down there and get it, though, PJ.  That ended our "romance" 

[[...]]

:2funny:  I don't know why I sneaked out the window to meet that boy, I must've been having a shrell! 

 

Eeeeew, doll heads?! . Very creepy!! That kind of scares me now!

 

We had a neighbor who had homesteaded. He was in his 70's and 80s when I knew him. He still lived in a railroad car that had been his home for decades.  He was the most amazing man and he knew how to talk to kids. He listened.  I'd ride my bike or horse the 3 miles to see Sam every time I had something important to discuss.

 

He made violins. I was never in his little house that there weren't pieces of hand cut, sanded, soaked, bent, drying pieces of wood hanging from the low ceiling. He took showers outside under a tripod that held a rain water barrel.  He let me pull the rope once and I got soaked. Hehe.

 

He was happy!! He laughed a lot and his eyes twinkled.  What a great role model he was. I'm blessed to have known him.

 

Wow, this thread is brining up some really  nice things. Thanks PJ for starting it.

 

Your welcome, Flip 

 

I am recalling things that I hadn't though about in many years.

 

Flip, what an interesting man he was.  He was right:  You talk to kids by listening to them.  Thanks for sharing.

[[...]]

Flip, eeeeeew, I can't imagine fishing anything out like that.  As for the hole counts, having a two holer was what separated one from the have nots in my neck of the woods.

 

Now that pj has opened up this can of worms, I am remembering Dorrie Smith who lived a piece over from us and collected dolls.  Well, not the WHOLE doll, just the doll heads.  She would take off the heads and throw the body away.  When you went into her house, there were scads of doll heads perched everywhere.  They always seemed to be staring at you and their eyes followed you everywhere.  Creepy. She was the same single woman who was "not right" in the head and had 4 children from 4 different men.  She claimed they all had taken advantage while she was having a "spell"  only she pronounced it "shrell" because of teeth rotted out from a steady diet of Griffin Pie Company honeybuns.  Thereafter we all would use the word "shrell" to explain any ill advised behavior that we couldn't easily explain.  "Ma, I broke that window but I was having a shrell!"

 

MiniMinnie

 

I cannot get enough of your stories, MiniMinnie.  You must write a book, and be sure to include Grasshopper, Maw Maw, and Dorrie Smith. 

[[...]]

It was Springtime.  I got on the bus to join the other kids on our trip to school.  I got pretty close to the school, when I  thought to myself', "the heck with it.  It's too nice outside to be in school today," so I when I got off the bus, I started walking towards the downtown area. 

 

 

I became lost because I wasn't familiar with the surroundings.  It was past lunch time, and I was hungry, and tired.  so I went up to a house, and knocked on the door.  A kind lady answered, and I explained to her that I was lost.

 

She sat me down at her kitchen table, fixed me a peanut butter sandwich, and offered me a glass of milk.  A short time later the cops came and took me back to where I was living.  The cop showed me how all the gadgets worked in his car, and even let me activate the siren.

 

 

I had a fun adventure that day.  Much more fun than sitting in a stuffy class room full of noisy first graders.

 

 

We should all play hooky more often from the rigidity of life. When a 90 year old man was asked what he regretted not doing more often, he replied: "Going barefoot,  skipping school, and not eating more ice-cream." 

 

 

“I think that the best thing we can do for our children is to allow them to do things for themselves, allow them to be strong, allow them to experience life on their own terms, allow them to take the subway...let them be better people, let them believe more in themselves.”

                                C. JoyBell

 

 

 

 

[[Mi...]]

Flip, I love your memories of the old violin maker who lived in the railroad car.  I would like to have known him too.  When I was a kid the "Boxcar Children" books were a favorite and I often fantasized about living in a boxcar on my own as they did.

 

PJ, your day of hooky, what a sweet memory!  Can you imagine a 6 year old being out of pocket these days and the perils they would face?  We can only hope for a sweet lady offering peanut butter sandwiches and cold milk.  I can't say that I've ever been in a police car, much less played with the siren!

 

This is more my mother's memory than mine.  I was born at home with a midwife named Granny Cabbage attending.  Mommy went into labor the morning of a Friday the 13th and Granny Cabbage was superstitious and prayed I would wait until after midnight to be born.  Onery from the start, I did not comply and was born around 8 pm. Granny predicted my life would  be difficult because of my birth date.  Mommy paid Granny Cabbage 6 chickens for my birth but took back two chickens for the bad prediction.  I have not been unlucky, in fact, I am having a pretty good life with no more than my share of difficulties  and have been astounded at my good luck on occasion.  Friday 13 continues to be a very lucky day for me.  I consider my benzo battle part of the difficulties and maybe that was what Granny Cabbage forsaw.

 

MiniMinnie

[[...]]

Flip, I love your memories of the old violin maker who lived in the railroad car.  I would like to have known him too.  When I was a kid the "Boxcar Children" books were a favorite and I often fantasized about living in a boxcar on my own as they did.

 

PJ, your day of hooky, what a sweet memory!  Can you imagine a 6 year old being out of pocket these days and the perils they would face?  We can only hope for a sweet lady offering peanut butter sandwiches and cold milk.  I can't say that I've ever been in a police car, much less played with the siren!

 

This is more my mother's memory than mine.  I was born at home with a midwife named Granny Cabbage attending.  Mommy went into labor the morning of a Friday the 13th and Granny Cabbage was superstitious and prayed I would wait until after midnight to be born.  Onery from the start, I did not comply and was born around 8 pm. Granny predicted my life would  be difficult because of my birth date.  Mommy paid Granny Cabbage 6 chickens for my birth but took back two chickens for the bad prediction.  I have not been unlucky, in fact, I am having a pretty good life with no more than my share of difficulties  and have been astounded at my good luck on occasion.  Friday 13 continues to be a very lucky day for me.  I consider my benzo battle part of the difficulties and maybe that was what Granny Cabbage forsaw.

 

MiniMinnie

 

MiniMinnie, I can't thank you enough for sharing those priceless memories. 

 

Grasshopper Proffit,  Maw Maw Proffit, Dorrie Smith, and Grandma Cabbage would have been right at home in the Li'l Abner comic strip along with the likes of Moonbeam Mc Swine, Earthquake Mc Goon, Nightmare Alice, Pantless Perkins, and Jubilation T. Cornpone.  All residents of Dogpatch Kentucky.

 

The lady, and the peanut butter sandwich, remind me that there are still many kind, and decent people out there.  She probably still remembers my name, but I have forgotten her name.  Yes, kids definitely have to be more on their guard, the last 30 years or so.

[[te...]]

Another wonderful childhood memory....

 

My DAD was a school teacher/coach for 35 years. As children, our DAD read to us every night. Mostly Dr. Seuss books, the colorfully bound Disney books, and Bible stories. When he'd go to teacher conferences, he'd bring us back books--Tarzan, Heidi, Tom Sawyer, the S.E. Hinton books........because Dad read to us and asked us questions afterwards, we could all read before we went to school. To this day, I love reading and love books and authors & illustrators.

[[...]]

Another wonderful childhood memory....

 

My DAD was a school teacher/coach for 35 years. As children, our DAD read to us every night. Mostly Dr. Seuss books, the colorfully bound Disney books, and Bible stories. When he'd go to teacher conferences, he'd bring us back books--Tarzan, Heidi, Tom Sawyer, the S.E. Hinton books........because Dad read to us and asked us questions afterwards, we could all read before we went to school. To this day, I love reading and love books and authors & illustrators.

 

Hi teacher,

 

What a great Dad! 

 

He knew how important it was to read to children, and to teach them about the exciting, and interesting things to be found in books.  That is so neat, that he asked questions about what he had read to you.

 

"The more that you read, the more things you will know.  The more that you learn, the more places you'll go."..........Dr. Seuss     

 

 

     

 

 

         

 

 

     

 

[[...]]

I talked with several Boy Scouts today, and it jogged my memory, and reminded me of when I was a scout, and spent two weeks at an isolated scout camp.  I was eleven years old.  We did our own cooking, bathed in the river, had outdoor bathroom facilities.  We really roughed it!

 

Late at nite we would sit around the campfire, tell ghost stories, and sing songs like John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt, and I've Got Sixpence....songs that have been sung by Boy Scouts for many years.

 

We younger scouts had the rank of Tenderfoot.  The older scouts would, late at nite, take us on, what they called a snipe hunt.  We were given a sack, told to hold it open, yell as loud as we could, and the snipe would fly into the sack.

 

We fell for it!  There weren't any such creature as a snipe.  We got punked, big time

[[Ch...]]

Spending childhood summers on a lake in Maine.  Swimming, pumping our drinking water from a communal pump, fireflies, fiddleheads, saggy antique iron beds and old oak dressers, the old iron crib my mother slept in as a baby, old lace curtains billowing in the breeze, knotty pine walls, ceilings and floors, electrical storms, loons calling in the early morning stillness of the lake, fishing for sunfish, old wooden boat docks, canoe rides, lobster races on the floor...rich memories, they are.

Challis