WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Chapter Five continued...

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Chapter Five continued...:                                    * After little Jesse was born, daddy decided to build a two room shack on the back side of Grandpa’s ...

Chapter Five continued...

                                   *

After little Jesse was born, daddy decided to build a two room shack on the back side of Grandpa’s place. Once it was finished, Daddy, Myrtle, Sissy, Franklin, Jesse and I took up residence. Sissy and I slept on the floor on a toe-sack filled with leaves, corn shucks, grass and bed bugs.  It wasn’t easy trying to sleep on a bed of this nature.

We led a simple life, no radio, no phone. I remember sitting in the evening on the floor shelling corn. As we sat there our hands busy, daddy told us stories. Some of them he made up and they made us all laugh. Before we knew it, we had shelled two sacks of corn. The next day daddy would take the corn to the mill to be ground into corn meal. He would give the Miller one of the sacks of corn in payment for the grinding.

Cowpeas, black-eyes peas, and Crowder peas were grown with a dual purpose in mind. When they were ready to be picked, Sissy and I would carefully put the dry peas in our tow-sacks, and then pull the vines. The vines we put into the barn for the cows to eat in the winter time. Times were terribly hard. I often don’t see how we survived. I’m surprised when I reflect back on what we didn’t have, that there was ever any contentment at all.

Yet, if one has never known any other existence, how can they know what they are missing? We accepted things as they were, knowing there wasn’t any reason to complain.

                                 *

We would dig wild roots. There were so many different kinds and we knew them all. Once they were dug and dried, daddy would take them also to Rogers to sell. I never knew what he got for them.

In the fall our attention turned to the chore of picking up walnuts. They were covered with a green hull which we had to beat off with a rock. Our hands were so stained with the green walnut juice that it looked like we had brown hands. Once the wagon was piled high with the hulled walnuts, daddy would take them into town to sell. He got Sissy a pair of high top pointed toe shoes on one visit. He got me a pair of black and tan boy’s shoes. I was so proud of my new shoes, I ran over a mile to show my best friend, Tommy Renfroe.

Sissy wasn’t as proud of hers as I was mine though. She took them out behind the house and cut the tops and toes off with the axe. I think she invented the first toe-less shoes. Once re-styled, she wore them proudly.

In the fall besides the walnuts, we picked up hickory nuts, chinkapins and hazelnuts. When it was too cold to go out in the winter, we’d sit by the fire and eat the nut fruits. Sometimes we’d parch field corn. I thought it had a wonderful taste. It’s hard to believe there could be happy times; we were so poor, unwanted and in the way all the time, or so it seemed. Sissy and I had our own way of making life bearable, we found fun and joy just being together.

                                     *

Gooby and Grandpa Kirk had a dog named Frisco. One day we were out in the woods and Frisco was with us. There was a ground hog up in an old leaning tree. Sissy filled her bloomer legs with rocks, climbed the tree and knocked that ole ground hog out. Frisco caught it almost before it hit the ground. Sissy took the wounded animal from his mouth and drug it to a nearby stream. There she held it under the icy cold water until it was dead.

We weren’t the only poor people in the area. We had some friends who were just as bad off as we were. They were Lettie, Leona, Verba and Elvira Metcalf. There were also two older boys, Elmer and Luz.  When we wanted to play with them, we had a certain way to holler. Our calls echoed in the mountains as we waited for their answer. If they could play, they returned the holler, their reply merging with our echoes. It was a mournful yet pleasant sound to our ears.

They lived high on a hill and we had to go down a long hill, across the hollow wand up yet another long hill to their house. We played in the woods, mostly.

Sometimes we would knock hornet nests out of trees. If the hornets tried to attack us, we would fall flat on the ground and hold our breaths. It must have worked as we never once got stung.

I remember fine stage shows we’d put on. We’d sing or recite poems. We stood an old bucket upside down in the middle of the smoke house, (that’s where the hogs were smoked after they had been butchered) then took turns taking center stage.

We made our own Christmas gifts. It might be a corn cob doll or a handkerchief made from a piece of cloth. We’d make fringe on the cloth by pulling the threads from the ends. Once our presents were made, we’d wrap them up in a brown paper sack or newspaper. We were always so proud and appreciative of whatever we received on Christmas morning.

                                      *

In the summer time, we would catch little gray,  fence lizards to play with. They wouldn’t hurt you and we naturally wouldn’t hurt them. We’d put twine string on them for a harness and they would pull little sticks across the ground. We pretended they were pulling logs to build a large mansion. When we tired of playing with them, we’d turn them loose.

There was another family in the area we played with some; not as often as the Metcalf’s, as these kids had a terrible mean streak. I wonder sometimes why we played with them at all. Maybe they had to be so mean to get any attention, as there were eighteen kids in all. It was told amongst the community that they got a new baby every Christmas. Their last name was Evans. I won’t try to name all of the kids. They lived in a two room house with a porch and a little lean-to kitchen. There were four or five kids at each end of the beds and at least two old hounds in bed with them. They were awfully dirty!

We had to walk to school with some of the Evans kids. Sometimes they would ride mules and they would try to run over Sissy and me. We would get behind trees or climb one to keep them from running us down. One day they threw hickory nuts at us. My head had knots all over it from where they had pelted me.

One cold winter day Gooby had the wood stove oven 

full of baked sweet potatoes. Doney Evans happened to stop by. She had on an old Army over-coat and it had big pockets in it. After she left, Gooby went to get the sweet potatoes and because Doney had filled her big pockets, almost all of the yams were gone. Boy was Gooby mad! I was so thankful it wasn’t Sissy or me this time.

One of my fondest memories of time spent with Sissy was when we would make a playhouse. We would lay out rocks for the rooms. Then we would find pieces of broken dishes or jar-lids which we used for our dishes. Green moss became fine carpet for the floors. Sissy’s name was ‘Lucille” and mine was “Grace.” I thought that Grace was the prettiest name I had ever heard. We would walk around on our tip toes with our mouths all pooched out. Strutting so, in our opinion gave us an air of elegance, pure country-refined.

It was our job to gather all the wood we used for heating and cooking. We had a sled with side boards on it and we would pull it to put the wood in. The best kind of wood to burn was pine-knots. They were made of rosin and would really burn fast and hot.

A light rain had begun to fall one cold afternoon as I sat whittling on a spool. Myrtle told me to stop my whittling and when I didn’t stop as soon as she told me to, she began beating me with a broom handle. Sissy yelled at her to stop, but she just kept on hitting me. Sissy grabbed me by the arm and out the door, into the rain we went. “You’ll not be beat again,” She said as we ran through the woods.

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Chapter Five

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Chapter Five:                             Chapter Five I soon acquired two half-brothers, Franklin and Jesse. They were alright, I suppose for lit...

Chapter Five

         Chapter Five

I soon acquired two half-brothers, Franklin and Jesse. They were alright, I suppose for little boys. Now that I had brothers, I thought even more often about James, and hoped one day he would be with Sissy and me. I think in my heart I knew however, this would never be.

Melissa returned to our home after being in Kansas City for a long time. She was very sick. One night Sissy and I heard some of the grown-ups talking about her illness. She’d had an abortion and there were complications.

She also had contacted a terrible disease, called syphilis, which put big water blisters all over her body. The disease made her have a fever which would be so high she would be out of her head for hours on end.

She suffered a horrible death. I thought it must be because she was so evil. When she died, it’s terrible to say, Sissy and I laughed and laughed. Melissa was only in her twenties the day she was buried in mid-March. From our front porch I looked at the mountain and smiled; he too, didn’t weep.

One day, long after Melissa’s demise, Sissy and I found one of her high heels shoes. We would take turns wearing it. We also had acquitted a boyfriend. When he was mine for the day, I would wear the shoe. When he was Sissy’s she would wear it. We wore that old shoe until the heel turned completely backward. About the time the shoe wore out, we decided we didn’t want a boyfriend any longer either.

                                    *

There were many unique remedies for different aliments, or just simply to ward off sickness. For Itch, lard and sulphur was used as an ointment. Once our bodies were smeared with the smelly mixture, we had to take a bath in boiled poke root. It would burn so bad; when I got out of the tub, my skin was beet red. I don’t think it cured the Itch, either.

For snake bite, green cow manure was applied to the wound, which was supposed to draw out the poison. One day Sissy and I were playing and found a little snake about two feet long. We beat it to pieces and as we did some of the blood got on my arm. Sissy grabbed me by the arm and ran as fast as she could to the cow lot. She didn’t just put cow manure on my arm. She put it all over me – face and all. To this day she claims she saved my life.

Gooby would make a tea from all kinds of roots and barks, then make us drink it. It was terrible.  So bitter our mouths drew up in a pucker, and shivers would go through our body. The “cure” was supposed to purify our blood. We’d hold it in our mouth and if we could, we’d spit it out. Unfortunately, Gooby usually watched us pretty close and made sure we swallowed every drop of it.

                                  *

I loved spring time in Arkansas. Following a long cold winter and spring rains, the woods and hollows seemed to come alive. The May apple was the first sign of spring as it poked its head through the dead leaves on the ground; then all kinds of wild flowers would dot the fields and mountains with color and a sweet aroma. And then, the mushrooms.

Right after a rain, and if the sun came out nice and warm, you could almost see the mushrooms pop through the ground. They grew in the hollows and Sissy and I would take two big buckets and fill them to the brim. They were really a treat after eating beans, cowpeas and cornbread all winter. 

Sometimes we had to endure cornbread and molasses three times a day for days and days -- a delicacy from God were the mushrooms.

Other times, Sissy and I would take a knife and two buckets and go into the woods to hunt wild greens. We knew exactly what to gather, cow parsley, dock, crows-feet, lambs quarter, square weed, pike, dandelion, thistle, lamb’s tongue and wild lettuce.

Spring meant garden time, also, for us. We worked hard keeping the weeds out and cultivating the soil. Sissy and I would take turns hoeing and hauling rocks which were embedded in the ground. I didn’t mind hauling the rocks, but did not find any pleasure in using the hoe.

After the soil had been properly cultivated, fields of corn were planted. When the corn stood about a foot high, climbing pole beans were planted at each hill of corn. The time of bean harvest when they had matured and turned dry, would find Sissy and me with toe-sacks over our tiny shoulders. We were usually careful when picking the beans as we knew this would be our winter meal.

One day, we grew tired of picking the beans and decided to rest. We began to take the bean leaves and stick them to our dresses, making pretty designs. I’m not sure which of us began, but soon both Sissy and I were really giving Gooby the dickens. We called her every cuss word we knew. We imitated the way she chewed her chaw, then spit. Such fun we were having.

Suddenly, the air took on the feeling of impending doom, like tornado weather on the horizon. Even the birds in the trees grew quiet. We looked around and there stood Gooby.

She had been watching and listening to Sissy and me the whole time. She tore into us, beating us across our shoulders and back with a long stick. I didn’t mind the licks, I felt what we had said was true and I wasn’t one bit sorry. I don’t believe Sissy was either. Neither of us cried.

About the only time Sissy or I ever cried was when we thought about our mama. We were always looking for her to come and rescue us. We could hear the freight train whistle all the way from Rogers and would sit, hoping that she was on that train. I remember the lonesome sound of that ole train whistle and the pain in my heart as if it were today.

Wild geese would fly overhead on their yearly pilgrimage south, and we’d wonder if they had a home; and if they too, were sad and hungry. I think we thought they might be like us, unloved and unwanted.

One day our prayers were answered, almost. Mama did come to get us, but Daddy wouldn’t let us go. I don’t know how mama got there, nor do I recall what we did together. I just remember the visit was short. I do, painfully, remember when she left.

Sissy and I walked about a mile with her down the dusty road which led to town. We sat for a time side-by-side, under a sycamore tree. I believed in my heart she would stay, how could she not? We were her two daughters, we were important to her.

When she walked away, leaving us standing alone in the middle of the dusty lane, we knew life would not change for us. We held hands and cried all the way home.

to be continued ...

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Chapter Four

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Chapter Four:                            Chapter Four Myrtle being my step-mother and Gooby, my step-grandma was only a portion of my bad luck. My...

Chapter Four

                           Chapter Four

Myrtle being my step-mother and Gooby, my step-grandma was only a portion of my bad luck. Myrtle had a sister named Melissa. I didn’t know it at the time, but she was a lady of the night in Kansas City. She had a mean streak in her just like her ole mama, Gooby. She took great delight in mistreating Sissy and me.  

Although she could yell and cuss almost a bad as her mama, her meanness lay in her threats. I remember one time she threatened to chop mine and Sissy’s head clean off, just because she was mad at us.

She was coming toward us with the axe which Grandpa Kirk used for chopping kindling when Myrtle; doing probably the only nice deed she’d ever done, stopped her.

Melissa scared me so bad; I thought my heart would jump out of my throat. I could see my chest pounding - even heard it in my ears. I closed my mouth as tight as I could to keep my heart inside.

I truly believe she stayed up nights just thinking of ways to get Sissy and me in trouble.

Not far from our house was an old strawberry patch that was over-gown with Sassafras bushes and blackberry vines. One day when everyone was gone, Sissy and I ventured into the patch. We sought out and found almost a quart of the juicy, ripe strawberries. We stopped at the spring and washed them before heading home.

Not wanting to dirty any bowls, we decided to eat them straight out of the bucket. We first covered them with fresh cow cream and sugar. What a sweet treat they were. Unfortunately, we made the mistake of also adding a spoonful of vanilla.

The very instant Melissa waltzed into the house; she stopped still in the middle of the kitchen. She stood like a wooden soldier; her feet spread apart, her hands on her hips. Then she sniffed the air looking just like daddy’s ole hunting dog, Blue.

She bent at the waist, putting her face right in front of us and snarled … “What you kids been up to? I smell vanilla.”

We confessed we’d picked the strawberries and she flew into a rage. I covered my ears as she began yelling, “I was going to use those berries for Sunday dinner!”

Now I knew and so did Sissy that she wasn’t going to use those berries. I doubted seriously if she even knew there were strawberries or blackberries nearby. True to her mean streak, she made us lie on the floor with our noses in a crack for the rest of the day.

We didn’t’ dare move, talk or take our nose out of the crack. When Myrtle and daddy came home, they walked around the room, conducting their business without even a thought about Sissy and me lying there. I could never understand why daddy allowed everyone to mistreat us like that.

Many days, we would stay in the woods so we wouldn’t be whipped or mistreated. It’s so sad to carry a cloak of fear, especially when you are just a child.

The woods became an arena of freedom for us. There wasn’t a tree Sissy or I couldn’t name or climb. We’d shinny up big Oak trees, and then ride a limb down to the ground. We were like two little monkeys. We made grapevine swings and swung far out over deep hollows and creeks. Our wild yells echoed in the hollows as did our childish laughter.

We feasted on the many wild berries and grapes, my favorite being summer grapes. They were deep purple like a concord grape, only they grew on vines which wound high up into the trees. Sissy and I would eat the berries closest to the ground first, then without a care climb high up into the trees to feast on the ones that reached out to the heavens. 

We would eat, and eat, and eat the sweet grapes. Our purple stained lips framed smiles of freedom. How, I loved those grapes and the feelings I had inside me as I ate them in abandonment.

There were times when the woods gave me a scare. I could always rely on Sissy to be there for me if I needed her, and once I remember as we walked through the woods, we came upon a bunch of wild hogs. As fast as we could we climbed up into a nearby tree. We stayed perched on the limb watching the hogs push their snouts into the dirt, looking for food.

They made ugly snorting sounds, pawed at the ground and pushed and shoved one another.

From our perch, we could see the course hairs on their backs and heads. As their snouts rooted in the dirt, their breaths sent puffs of the dirt around their heads. They were a scary sight!

When finally they were gone, we started to climb down. Sissy went first and stood below me with her arms reaching toward me. She was ready to catch me if I fell, however I couldn’t move. It was one of the few occasions that I could not come down from a tree. After much coaxing to no avail, Sissy climbed back up into the tree and helped me down.

The woods gave us other causes for alarm also. We often had to go out in the woods and open fields and gather berries to sell. Sissy and I would pick the huckleberries first. They grew on low bushes in the woods.

There are a lot of copperhead snakes and timber-rattlers that we had to constantly watch out for. I’m surprised we never got bitten. I guess the good Lord watched over us.

When Sissy and I went to the woods to hide away, it was wonderful; however, when we went for the berries we went in fear. We didn’t dare go to the house until we had picked a bucket full apiece. The buckets held two and a half gallons. Daddy would take the huckleberries to the store and sell them. We got five cents, a whole nickel a gallon for them. With money in hand, daddy would go to town and buy sugar or coffee.

After the huckleberry season was over it was time to pick the blackberries. It was a lot harder picking the black sweetness which grew wild in briar patches. We usually wore our sleeves down around our wrists as the briars scratched and cut us, many times bringing blood.

There were a lot of black-snakes, coach-whips, blue-racers and green snakes in the briars also. They wouldn’t bite you, but scared me so bad I had to be careful not to wet on myself.

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Continued ....

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Continued ....: Sissy and I attended school at Mountain View. There were kids from age seven to eighteen. We didn’t go to school like most folks. Instead ...

Continued ....

Sissy and I attended school at Mountain View. There were kids from age seven to eighteen. We didn’t go to school like most folks. Instead of starting in September and going for eight months, we would attend for only a month or so at a time. When there was planting, or harvesting to be done on the farm, we were taken out of school. As soon as the farming was done, we’d return to school for a few more months, until it was time again to do something else on the farm. It was really hard getting an education in those days, especially being poor farm people.

When we did attend school; we all played games, even the teacher. She was usually just eighteen or so, and with only an eighth-grade education. Being a teacher was a good job and many a young girl left her education early to teach others.

Our school supplies were simple. One nickel tablet and a penny pencil. We carried our dinner in a syrup bucket which most of the time consisted of brown beans, soy beans or cold fried potatoes.

Sissy and I usually had the least for dinner, so we would go off by ourselves to eat. Being poor didn’t mean we lacked pride. We had plenty of that!

I remember how casually we would walk away from the school house carrying our dinner pails as if they were heavy with good food. Once we reached a grove of tall weeds, we spent the entire noon hour pretending we were eating. Sometimes other kids would throw away big pieces of cake and when no one was looking we would pick them up, brush off the dirt and ants and then eat to our hearts content.

Our drinking water came from a spring about half a mile from the school house, we took turns filling the water container. Usually two kids would go to the spring.

Sometimes the spring that was the closest would go dry and we’d have to walk almost a mile further for water.

I liked it when it was our turn for two reasons. One was a bush called Spicewood, which grew in abundance along the path. We would break off a small limb and chew on the end as we made our way to the spring. The more we chewed, the softer it became. When it was soft enough, we’d brush our teeth with it. Maybe, that’s why I have such good teeth today.

The second reason, we had to pass an old apple orchard and we’d always stop and get apples to eat.  Many times Sissy and I would hide an apple in our pocket. Knowing we’d just have more beans or fried potatoes for supper, we’d save our treat until we were in bed. Then, we’d eat it as quietly and as slowly as we could. We even ate the core.

I remember one day several of the boys, teenagers, decided to dig out a yellow jackets nest that had been built in the ground. As I stood hidden behind a tree, watching, the sun danced on something in the grass. I ran from my hiding spot and picked up the shiny object. It was a gold wedding band. It was so pretty. I had never seen one before, let alone held one in my hand. All the way home that day, I shined the ring with spit and my shirt tail.

The next day, I brought it back to school. During recess as I held it in the palm of my hand the sun again caught the golden ring in it’s light.

“Whatcha got there Edith?” A boy named Billy Stafford had snuck up behind me and seen my  treasure.

“It’s a wedding ring, a real gold wedding ring,” I proudly replied.

“Whatcha need with a wedding band?” He asked.  Before I could answer he dug deep in his pants pocket and pulled out two little bottles. One was red, one green, both filled with water.

“Edith, I’ll trade you these fine bottles of ink for your ring.” He smiled as he held the two bottles before me. The sun seemed also to dance on them. I looked at the fine good wedding band in my palm then to the two pretty bottles in his hand.

“Gotta think on it,” I said as I turned and ran toward the wood shed behind the school house.

“Last chance Edith,” Billy called out to me. Before I reached the shed, I had made up my mind. I quickly raced back to Billy standing just where I had left him and held out my hand.

“Here.” I said. His eyes twinkled as he placed the two tiny bottles in my outstretched palm; replacing the gold wedding band. Later as I walked home I carefully examined the bottles. They weren’t much bigger around than a lead pencil and about two inches tall. The more I looked at that colored water, the prettier it became.

When I got home, I told Gooby about my trade. She flew into a rage, swinging her arms around and pelting me with her filthy hands. I’m sure Billy didn’t get into any trouble when he arrived at his home with the gold wedding band.

                                *

I managed to enjoy school, even with all the hardships involved with attending. In the winter when it was cold, Sissy and I suffered just going to and from. We didn’t have any shoes to wear and walking through the snow and sleet was miserable.

I can still feel the sting of the sleet; tiny needles, hitting my face, which seemed to take bites out of my skin.

Sometimes our feet felt like blocks of ice. They would get so cold that as we walked along the frozen ground, sharp pains in our toes often made us cry.

Sissy had an old sock cap and when our feet got so cold we couldn’t stand it any longer, she’d take the cap and out our feet into it. I remember so many times, she’d put my feet; which had turned blue-white from the cold, between her hands and rub and rub.

“It’s alright,” she’d say. When I think back, I can see there were many times her own feet were freezing, yet she always warmed my feet first.

As soon as our feet had warmed up a bit, we would race off through the cold as fast as we could go. Sissy and I had to stop so often though that usually we were late for school and had to stay inside at recess with our nose in a circle drawn on the chalkboard. I really didn’t mind the circle; I just hated standing there with my back side to the other kids.

It’s strange now when I recall, how walking through the snow to school was a terrible trauma, yet playing in the white drifts were a delight. Sissy and I would take a old rocking chair up a steep hill when the snow was real deep, get into it and then slide all the way to the bottom. Such fun!

Catching rabbits in the snow was fun also; we could easily see their little tracks and carefully followed them. Though we never once caught one, we spent many an enjoyable hour trying.

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Chapter Three

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Chapter Three:                           Chapter Three When my daddy and Myrtle Kirk married it was such a sad day for me. Myrtle was just fifteen-...

Chapter Three

                          Chapter Three

When my daddy and Myrtle Kirk married it was such a sad day for me. Myrtle was just fifteen-years old.  It was going to be hard, having a step-mother who had gone to school with my sister.

They took their vows in a one room house which wasn’t far from where John and Eula lived. The room was long and narrow. At one end stood the traveling preacher, daddy and Myrtle; the few, curious neighbors who attended gathered at the other end.  

Earl and Nellie Roberts, who owned the house, stood with their chests sticking out like two tom turkeys on Thanksgiving eve. I sat on a trunk next to daddy and Myrtle.

Just as she said, “I do,” I kicked her in the behind.  Her head jerked, and then she turned toward me. The room filled with silence as everyone held their breath, I watched Myrtle’s eyes widen as her anger flashed. Her mouth was in a firm line below nostrils which flared from her hot breaths. Then her eyes became tiny slits. She stared at me until the ole preacher began noisily to clear his throat. Forcing a smile, she turned, facing the man in black and said again, “I do.”

I knew if it wasn’t her wedding day, I’d really get it!  I sat there holding my legs close to my chest, feeling very safe and laughed.

Later as I rode in the wagon between John and Eula on the way back to our house, John told me that kicking Myrtle was a very un-lady-like gesture. I knew I had upset John and Eula and felt ashamed. However, in the still closet of my mind the image of my foot against Myrtle’s behind gave me a secret chuckle.

A few days after the wedding, I sat between John and Eula on the front porch swing and heard the despairing news … Daddy was coming to get me. I had to live with him and Myrtle.

The news broke my heart, Eula began to weep softly as I told John, “I’ll get on the train and sing our song to the conductor and he’ll let me ride and I’ll come back.”

“Now that your pa has taken a wife, your place is with him, but you’ll always be in our hearts,” John quietly said. Lifting me up onto his lap, I wrapped my arms around his burley neck. He held me close, softly humming our song, until I fell fast asleep.

When I went to live with daddy, my life went from happiness to pain, sorrow and unhappiness. It was almost more than a four year old should have to bear.

The only good thing about living with Daddy and Myrtle was now I could see Sissy all the time. For once I was in a true family, if you could call it that.

                                    *

We lived in a house with Granny and Grandpa Kirk.  Everyone called Granny “Gooby.” She was the meanest person I had ever met. Mean and evil! I thought for sure she was the devil, the traveling preacher-man talked about when he came to town.

She was a little, dried up woman with thin straggly hair drawn up in a knot on the top of her head. If she wasn’t barefoot, she had on a pair of men’s work shoes. She was dirty, her finger-nails and toe-nails crusty, most of all - she smelled terrible.

She dipped snuff and was oblivious to the brown dribble which ran down the corners of her mouth. Her teeth were stained a deep tobacco brown. Her  mouth was usually in a hard tight line. When she spoke it was always in a mean hateful tone, and if she cussed … well, let me tell you, she could out cuss any man in Arkansas!

Grandpa Kirk was just the opposite. He was sweet and gentle. He was a large man, with huge ears and nose. He was also blind in one eye. I remember asking him why he had only one eye, and he said, “Was skinning a squirrel one day and the dern knife slipped out of my hand and poked me in the eye.”

Having one eye didn’t bother him though, not at all. He could do anything a man could with two eyes.

I would sit quietly for hours and watch him make chairs from hickory. He didn’t have modern tools, just an old whittling knife. He would cut the pieces for the chairs from green wood, carefully shaping them into whatever kind of chair he was making.

He’d then cut the bark into thin strips and weave the bottom of the chairs into a basket-like design. He never used nails to hold the chair parts together, instead took strips of bark and wrapped them around the joints. Once they dried, they were tight and held the chair securely.

                                 *

Our house had just two rooms with a front porch. There was a loft over the kitchen where Sissy and I slept most of the time. Our bed was two toe-sacks filled with leaves or corn-shucks on the hard floor. We didn’t have any sheets or blankets, just home-made quilts Gooby and Myrtle had stitched.

One room had three beds in it.  In the middle of the room was a stove made from a 55-gallon drum that we used to heat the house. The walls were so thin; I don’t see how we kept warm at all. Many times, we’d have to stand or sit as close to the ‘stove’ as we could to escape the chill that came in from outside.

The walls were papered with newspaper that had long ago turned yellow with age. Sissy and I would often make a game out of seeing who could find the most words alike on the frayed newspaper.

Our toys were few and home-made. I still had my prized peanut doll from Kansa City and a doll Eula had made for me from a dried apple and a scrap of pretty blue material. A dried-apple doll is truly unique. If there are ten of them in a row, no two will be alike.

Sissy and I didn’t need fancy things to have a good time, just being together was fun. There were times; I have to admit when I let my mind wander and my heart longed for a better life. Gooby always managed however, to shake me back to reality with her loud screeching.

to be continued ....

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Chapter Two

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Chapter Two:                           Chapter Two John and Eula lived in an L-shaped house with one room upstairs. The living room had a big, ri...

Chapter Two

                          Chapter Two

John and Eula lived in an L-shaped house with one room upstairs. The living room had a big, river-rock fireplace. When it was cold outside, I would stand in front of it, pull my dress up in the back and warm my buns. Then, I would turn and face the fireplace, pulling my dress up in front as high as was respectable.

In the middle of the kitchen floor was a door which opened to a room below called the root cellar. It was terribly dark and damp, but the only place we had to store our perishable supplies. Bushels of cabbage, carrots, onions, potatoes, and pie plant; or more commonly known, rhubarb filled the ebony tomb.

I have so many memories of living with John and Eula. One of my favorites was when Eula made sauerkraut in a huge wooden barrel. Inside the barrel went the entire head of many cabbages and seasoning. The smell was pungent, and if I hadn’t loved sauerkraut so much would have pinched my nose. Instead, I stood as close as I could and took deep breaths.

When Eula removed the sauerkraut out of the barrel, if she found a core, it became mine. What a treat!

So many memories …

Beside our front yard gate stood an Alberta peach tree and hidden deep in the branches was a cat bird which made ‘cat noises’, to protect her new babies.

The spring-fed creek below our house, had water-cress so thick it looked like a lush green carpet.  Camouflaged in the leaves of the water-cress were many spring-peepers. I loved to lie quietly along the bank and watch and listen.

They were just little frogs, but their loud voices made them seem so big to me. I just couldn’t believe so much noise could come out of something as small as my thumb nail.

Every shallow pool along the creek was filled with interesting things. I watched curiously, as polliwogs shed their little tails. Soon feet and legs replaced the tails, turning the polliwogs into noisy frogs.

The sky was alive with many birds, different colors, different songs; Bluebirds, Sparrows, Robins, and Jenny Wrens were all beautiful to me. The Bluebirds and Jenny Wrens made homes in hollow fence posts.

A Jenny Wren would and could make a nest in anything she could get her tiny body into. One time, Eula left a pair of John’s overalls out on the clothes line all night. Before she got them in the house the next day, the wrens had staked out their claim and build a nest.

Because John knew how much I loved all the birds, he often teased me about them. One day he told me to sprinkle salt on the tail of a red bird. He assured me, if I got any salt on the tail, I could catch it and the bird would forever be mine. I chased the poor little red bird all over the yard with a salt shaker in my hand, trying to sprinkle even one drop on its’ tail. Needless to say, I never caught the bird.

On our front porch was a swing John had made out of hickory and rawhide. In the evenings while the fire flies came out to play, we would sit and swing back and forth together.  John taught me a song as we sat there in the swing we sang the song over and over.

                                 ***

       The eastbound train was crowded, one cold December day.  The conductor shouted, “Tickets!” in his old time fashioned way.

A little girl sat in sadness, her hair was bright as gold … she said, “I have no ticket; and then her story she told.

“My Mother’s daily sewing, trying to earn our bread. And, our poor dear old blind father’s in prison- almost dead.  My brother and sister would both be very glad, if, I could only bring back my poor, dear old blind dad.”

The conductor could not answer; he could not make a reply.  His shaking rough hands wiping the tear drops from his eyes. He said, “God bless you little one, just stay right where you are. You’ll never need a ticket while I am on this car.”

                                   *

It was while I lived with John and Eula that my daddy began to come visit me. He would ride over on a horse named “Ribbon.” She was a bay saddle mare, dark brown with black mane and tail. She was filled with spirit, as she pranced up the lane to our home. Daddy was indeed lucky to have such a fine mare, as most of the hill people had only work horses, mules or the use of farm wagons to get around with.

Every time daddy came, he brought me something.  Sometimes it was a box of raisins, other times, Teaberry gum or a sack of hard candy.I loved my daddy, but deep in my heart I loved John more.

                                  *

When I was three, I became sick with Typhoid fever. I don’t know how long I had the fever, but it must have been a long time as my hair fell out and I was so weak, when I wasn’t in bed, John had to carry me around. Thinking back, I’m surprised I lived, I was so ill.

Eula, dear sweet Eula, tried to make me feel better by making me a new dress. It was hand-sewn out of Pongee, a material real soft and crinkly. I thought the dress was beautiful. When I was well, I proudly put on my new garment. I was very careful when I wore it, not playing around in the dirt, or rolling across the grass, and always lifted the hem when I went down to the spring.  I guess I loved that dress almost as much as I loved John and Eula.

One day after the fever was gone; my daddy arrived and brought me a beautiful doll with a China head and arms. I sat on the front porch swing admiring my new doll while Daddy talked with John.

I knew from the stern look on John’s face this was serious man’s talk. After a spell, John looked at me, lowered his head and walked toward the spring. My daddy sat down beside me on the swing and broke the news. He was getting married. I cried and cried.

I sat there holding my pretty new doll, alone on the swing and watched Daddy as he rode away on ole Ribbon. Once he looked back at me and waved, but I didn’t wave at him, I just sat there wooden.

As soon as he was out of sight, I jumped down from the swing. I pulled my new doll by her feet through the dirt as I hurried behind the house. Her China head was cracked from hitting the ground, but I didn’t care. I hated my new doll! I grabbed her by the legs and raised her up high over my head. Then, with one swift motion, brought her crashing to the ground.

“Take that! Take that!” I cried out as her China head broke into tiny pieces, I dug a hole in the dirt beside the house and buried her. Even though I hated her, I felt she should have a proper burial.  After a few mumbled words, I picked up a hand-full of dirt and threw it on top of the grave. Then, I returned to the swing.

Adults sometime forget how easily souls of children are bruised, the pain as a heart weeps.

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: ...

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS:                               



                ...:                                                    WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS                                        As told ...

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Chapter One

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Chapter One:                                             Chapter One The first sixteen months of my life were spent in that log cabin.  I slept bet...

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Continued ...

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Continued ...: Down the road a piece lived Mr. Eaton, who ran a goat dairy.  Every day the goats were driven to pasture past our home.  One brown and tan...

Continued ...

Down the road a piece lived Mr. Eaton, who ran a goat dairy.  Every day the goats were driven to pasture past our home.  One brown and tan goat named Topsy, was special to me.  I would wait patiently beside the road, a little bucket in my hand.  Seeing me waiting so, always brought a smile to Mr. Eaton’s weathered face.  Without my asking, he would sit down on a large rock and quickly draw the milk from Topsy’s udder, filling my little bucket.

I was two, maybe two and a half then.  I didn’t mind Topsy’s milk being warm; I loved the rich bubbly nectar.  Mr. Eaton would tease me about having a milk lip, as with my tongue, I made sure I removed the smallest drop letting none go to waste.

                                               *

Behind our home and down a steep hill was a spring.  This was where we got our water for cooking, drinking and even taking our weekly bath.  The spring was fenced, not to keep livestock in, as we had free range, but to keep the livestock out.

One day, after a big rain, I went to the spring. The path was soft with mud and I slipped and slid most of the way down the hill on my behind.  I didn’t mind the mud, not-at-all.  When I got to the spring, I couldn’t believe my eyes.  In the clear water were two of the biggest fish I had ever seen. I raced back to the house as quickly as my legs would carry me.

“Selma, Selma come quick! We got whales in the spring.”  I yelled.  Selma was standing in the doorway when breathlessly I reached the porch.

She stood wiping her hands on her apron, a grin on her face as she calmly stated, “Ain’t no whales in Arkansas, just minnows and catfish.”

“But, but …” I started.

“No whales, that’s crazy talk,” she said as she returned to the kitchen.

I raced back to the spring.  The rest of the afternoon, I tried to catch one of the fish, but couldn’t.  With a sad heart I finally went home.  The next day however, my enthusiasm renewed, I hurried to the spring.  Much to my dismay … the fish were gone.

                                                  *

During the time I lived with the Lawson’s, I took my first train ride. We had to move out of our house for a few months and journeyed to Kansas City, Missouri.  It was a long, but exciting ride.  We rode in the caboose.  Glen sat rigid on a hard bench-like seat facing Selma and me.  As the train lumbered along, the whine of metal-against-metal seemed to be coming from under our feet.

Pressing my face against the window, I strained to watch the passing trees and fields.  Several times, I had to use the bottom of my skirt to wipe the pane, as it would get foggy and mist over.

I couldn’t understand why the glass stayed clean when I sat perfectly still in my seat, yet messed up when I tried to look outside.  I would sit quietly, staring straight ahead, and then turn quickly pressing my face against the window.  A fleeting look and then, I’d have to wipe again.

Naturally, I became upset and began to pout.  Selma asked me what was wrong and I explained to her about the ‘mean ole window.’  She threw back her head and laughed and laughed.

“Hold your breath when you look out, Edith,” she said.  I tried, and sure enough it worked.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t hold my breath for very long and the window would again frost over.

I soon tired of trying to watch the scenery and hearing my tummy make little noises, settled back against the seat.  My mouth watered when I saw the goodies Selma had packed for our trip.  We had home-made bread and butter sandwiches, hard boiled eggs, and cold pieces of fried rabbit.

When we arrived in Kansas City, we moved temporarily into a second-floor apartment.  I didn’t like the new living arrangements.

I missed the cool water of our spring on my bare feet, the shade of the gnarled oak and spreading elm trees.  I missed Arkansas.

Every day I watched out the window; which overlooked the street below, careful not to get too close.  It was from this vantage point I saw my first fire engine.  There must have been a lot of fires in Kansas City, because fire engines would go up and down the street many times every day.

People would come out of the stores and other apartments and run along behind, shouting and waving their arms in the air.  It seemed terribly strange to me, people running to a fire, instead of from one.

I also saw fine ladies in the prettiest dresses I’d ever seen.  My favorites were the ones that had fringe trim which moved back and forth, and up and down as the ladies walked.  I sometimes tried to make my dress move like that, but it wouldn’t.

The ladies’ hair was cut short in the back and worn straight with maybe a single curl pressed flat against their forehead. Prettier than any catalog picture, I thought.

I told Selma I wanted a hair cut like the ladies.  She promised the very next time she trimmed my hair, she would cut it in that fashion, and she did.

I remember standing on a kitchen chair looking into a mirror at myself.  I would take a small piece of my bangs, wet it with spit, twist and make a curl.  I’m sure it wasn’t as grand as the ladies on the street, but I felt so grown-up, so pretty.

Once during our stay in Kansas City, we went to a movie house.  As we started inside, the man who took our money gave me a little celluloid doll.  It was so tiny it fit into a box the size and shape of a peanut shell.  I didn’t watch the movie; I was too busy playing with my new doll. When we moved back to our old home in Arkansas, I carried my peanut doll in the pocket of my pinafore.

Upon our return to the land of dreams, Glen and Selma received the sad news my adoption didn’t go through.

I was taken to Best, Arkansas, and moved in with John and Eula Lawson. They had the same last name, but weren’t related to Glen and Selma.  As much as I hated leaving the Lawson’s, it didn’t take me long before I loved John and Eula more than anything.  They were so very good to me.