Since I was the youngest of the eleven children in my family I followed Mom around the house. She always said that I tried doing everything that she was doing. I am sure she had to do some things that I could not do, but sure I must have tried. I had to wear a little night gown made out of flour sacks. This did not bother me because I did not know what other kids were wearing and at two, what child really cares. To be honest, I did not know any other kids other than my brothers and sisters.
One of my first memories took place when I was around three years old. In the summer we would get some ice delivered to our house. After the ice men would leave Mom would get an empty quart lard metal bucket, placed milk, sugar, and some other fixings in it, put the lid on, and lowered it down in an old broken stone crock pot. She would put ice around it, added some course salt, and then by spinning it back and forth, made ice cream. Boy was it good!
The same year, Christmas came around, it was the first one that I really remembered. That year I got a little red wagon, some stick candy, six nuts, one orange, one banana, and one apple. Back then we would make that much stuff last until around the middle of January. Unfortunately my little wagon did not last that long. I took it outside to a little hill in front of our house and got in it and rode it down the hill one time. It was a lot of fun! Before I could go back up the hill, one of my big brothers Paul grabbed it away from me, pulled it back up the hill, and sat down in it for his ride down the hill. When he did, the four wheels just collapsed and that was the end of the wagon! Like most kids my age I pitched a fit and cried. That event on December 25, 1931 was the end of the first Christmas that I remembered. Listen as I tell this story.
1 comment:
I like your story, would have like to tried some of that ice cream.
Post a Comment