They say your earliest memories are embedded inside you. If you get old and lose your memory, those early ones are the last to go.
As I approach retirement, I find myself thinking of my early years a good bit.
I remember many of those days bright and clear like they were yesterday, but some of the memories are fuzzy around the edges. Frayed. A little worn out and faded like an old 8mm movie that's been played too many times.
Today I'm remembering one of those days. I was very little. I'd say I was only two years old, as my sister, Debbie, was not yet born and she came in 1958. Mama and Daddy took my older brothers and sister and I to see some elderly people they knew. It must have been some kind of family reunion or something because there were so many strangers there that day. It could have been Thanksgiving. Maybe it was. That would make sense.
I remember the house. It was a BIG two story house with white paint that was old and peeling. The house was sitting high off the ground. The porch was so high that I could easily walk under it since I was little. There were dogs under there, so that's where I went the minute I was out of the car. I've loved dogs all my life. I was just trying to get one of the dogs to come to me when it happened. A yellow jacket stung me on my chin.
It hurt very bad and I cried like the baby I was.
The older children all made fun of me as was their way. My brother, Gene, pointed at my swelling chin and threw back his head and laughed and laughed. Mama got mad at me for making such a fuss, and then she took a dab of snuff out of her mouth and put it on the sting, which made me both hurt worse and stink to high heaven.
Mama made me stay inside after that. There were a LOT of ladies in there. Most of them were in the kitchen, but the older ones were in the sitting room dipping their snuff and spitting and talking about how children were so spoiled those days and how they had to work when they were my age. (REMINDER: I was TWO YEARS OLD!)
I remember feeling ashamed that I didn't have a job and I didn't do a good job of taking care of my Mama either.
Now, as an adult, I realize Mama was sitting with the elderly women because she would have been very pregnant that day, and they were trying to guilt me into being good because they knew Mama would have yet another child to care for in a few weeks or months.
The men were all gathered outside smoking cigarettes and doing their man gossiping. Some of them were splitting more wood for the old wood cook stove and the fireplace in the sitting room. You could hear the chop chop chopping from inside where I sat.
The chopping noise was mixed with the squeals and war whoops of the boys outside playing cowboys and Indians. The girls were much quieter in their play. The younger ones were jumping rope while the older ones were sitting around a small campfire in the yard whispering and throwing sideways glances at the older boys helping stack the wood.
The elderly men were sitting either on the porch or in the front room fussing about how long women took to cook. Some of them had pipes and were having good natured smoke ring competitions. I still love the smell of good pipe tobacco to this day. I loved those old men. They were always sweet to me. It was the old ladies that always let me know I was not good enough.
There was a big long table in the kitchen. By the time the women finished putting the food on it, it practically groaned from the weight. I didn't feel much like eating with my swollen chin that hurt so bad, but I was the only one. They attacked that food like ravenous bears and it was gone in no time. Leaving a mountain of dishes for the women to wash.
By mid-afternoon the water had been carried in from the well and all the dishes were done. The people started leaving family by family. We were one of the last to leave as my Daddy dearly loved to spend time with family and friends.
My chin finally healed, of course, but I will never forget that day.
I still do not know where I was or who the people there were, but I can see it in my mind's eye as clear as day. All the people knew my parents, so they had to have been either family or friends.
When I grew up, I asked Mama about it many times, but she never remembered. I even asked my older brothers and sisters, but they don't remember either. They say, "It could have been... or it could have been... or it could have been..." We visited a lot of places like that when I was little, I guess. Daddy loved visiting family and friends. That is true. We were always going to see someone back then.
No matter. I remember it, so I thought I'd share. I hope you have memories like this worth remembering and sharing too. Lest we forget how the times have changed and how they have stayed the same....
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