Pretty much like every other household, I guess, with a mom, a dad, three kids, a dog and grandma. I remember once after a pretty dramatic episode of something that had happened that had become upsetting, telling my brother, ‘I wonder how it is in other people’s homes?’ If I was able to be a fly on a wall, in a home across town, what would I find them talking about?’ He said, ‘probably the same as you will find here’. Hmm, something for my young mind to ponder. That is a word, ponder, that some people may not be familiar with, but my grandmother used it often. It means to think. I was one to ponder a lot growing up. Do people say that anymore? Ponder.
Mostly though I was a dreamer. One time in 4th grade the English teacher wanted to fail me. Keep me in the 4th grade another year, because I wasn’t doing well in English. Mrs. Gray I think. I can’t really remember her name, but we use to call her the Lysol Lady. If anyone sneezed or coughed in the classroom, she’d immediately pulled out a can of Lysol and sprayed the room for germs. My sister and brother both had her as a teacher, before me.
She sent for mama to have a conference with her. And what I mean by sent for her, she gave me a note to pass on to my mom. They discussed my participation and my performance in that I was failing her class. She told mama that she would catch me often, day dreaming and that was not good, that I needed to pay attention if I were to get good grades.
These days it’s thought of a day dreamer to be creative, smart and they should be encouraged to do great things. Back then it was a behavior less becoming, with disciplinary measures to follow. And trust they did follow, all the way down to my backside. When my mother said, I wouldn’t be sitting down for a week, if I didn’t ‘straighten up and fly right’, as she always said and she was true to her word.
Each day of the week began with up at 6:00 a.m. for breakfast, dress ready for school and pending which stage of education I was in, I walked to school, caught a bus to school and was later drove to school when I reached high school age, because the school I went to was located across town. My mother didn’t drive me though. She found people of the school to help with that, or my grandmother drove me.
Summers were pretty much the same. Up at 6:00 a.m., dress ready for the day and then disappear some where out of sight of our parents. It didn’t matter where you went. Just don’t be anywhere they could see you and assign chores for you to do.
Some Saturdays were spent shopping, my mother, my sister and I. And I hated shopping. My sister and mother loved it. Me? If I wasn’t stuck in a dressing room trying on stupid clothes that I didn’t even want to wear, I’d get stuck carrying their packages as they shopped throughout the store. And boy could they shop. I think they invented the ‘shop till you drop’ phrase. If not they took it literal, in that was what they were suppose to do.
Other Saturdays were spent cleaning house. The chores one tried really hard to get out of during the other days of the week, Saturdays were the exception and there was no escape. My sister would wash the clothes and press the ones that needed ironing. My jobs were to vacuum the floors, dust the furniture and clean the bathroom. My brother’s job was to mow the lawn and sometimes our dad would trim the hedges and trim the grass around the street curb, with an edger.
Whether a Saturday was a shopping day or a chore day, one thing always remained the same, getting prepared to go to Church on Sunday. That meant for us girls, hair, nails and think about what dress you were going to wear. And of course mama had to approve of the outfit, or you wouldn’t be going anywhere. For the men it was ice tea after the yard work and get a shower. It makes one want to switch rolls, except for the yard work.
Sundays church was pretty much an all day affair.
It’s amazing what one can do without a crock pot. However, there was a day they did not exist. Most every Sunday before we left for services, mom would put a rump roast with potatoes and carrots into the oven to bake. When we got home, lunch served made easy. After we stuffed ourselves to the point where we couldn’t take it anymore, it was time to relax. My dad to his easy chair to watch t.v. and my mom to the sofa, where she would pretend to be interested in whatever it was he was watching on t.v., but fall asleep, instead. I would go to my room and read a book, that I had picked out at the library.
My grandmother and I would later return to the church for evening services. I liked hanging out with my grandmother and her friends at the church. We would always sit together. I remember Mr. & Mrs. Dorsey and another couple, the Broghtens. I was always greeted by Mr. Dorsey with a, ‘hey chicken, wanna neck?’ It always made me laugh.
My grandmother though, she had concerns about me. She thought it odd that I would rather be there with her and her age group, than with the teenagers of my age group. She would tell me, ‘you have to be friendly, if you want to make friends’. And I would think to myself, ‘do you know them grandma?’ She didn’t have to know them, but I knew them. I knew that if I went to hang out with them, they would talk me into doing something stupid and by the time all was said and done, I wouldn’t be sitting down for a week, if my mother ever found out.
So, no, I was much happier sitting with my grandmother and her friends, for Sunday evening church services. Because that way, I would stay out of trouble with my folks. The next week would be that much more peaceful, with me, not being the center of attention in a home one learned at an early age, one never wants to be in the center of their attention.