Willie

I'm just 3-5 years old.  We are living in Carthage, TX in a rent house next door to the woman who owns it, Willie Thompkins.  Daddy was running a pool hall there.  He had been hurt on the job and that's how he provided for us.  I'm guessing Willie was probably about ten years older than Mama, as she had a grown up daughter that I believe was older than Edna or Sarah.  I have some vivid memories of Willie, that place and her house.  So, in no particular order, I share some with you here.

Willie's yard.  She had a glider that set under an arch that had vines growing up it.  I thought that glider was one of the most magical and special places!  It was near the property line and I could sit in it even if I didn't actually visit Willie.

In the back yard she had a picnic table.  I remember us celebrating what was probably the 4th of July with her there.  I remember there were hamburgers and the best french fries ever!  Hand sliced and fried.  That's where the secret of soaking them in cold water before frying came from...and just getting the edges golden.  We had watermelon and Daddy played leap frog with me.  A truly golden day for a little girl like me.

Willie's house.  Her house holds several memorable things for me.  One is how in a little alcove area between her living room and her bedroom, there was a little stand/table just for her telephone.  I adored it.  Was fascinated by it.

Another fascination was her garage.  Willie didn't drive.  She took cabs.  Her garage was shelves and shelves and shelves all filled with issues of the Readers Digest.  In date order!  I thought it wonderful and wished I could explore them all.  But I couldn't read yet.

Then there was Willie the person.  She must of been a very special soul.  She couldn't eat sugar, but she kept Oreo cookies for me.  Anytime I came over I had Oreos and milk at her kitchen table.

Also, the first time Rudolph the Rednose Reindeer came on TV, they must of been promoting it extensively.  I say that because Willie had Mama bring me over to her house to watch it.  I really don't remember if her TV was just bigger than ours, or if it was color instead of black and white.  I do remember how scary that abominable snowman was!  And how sad those misfit toys were.  That's where the tradition began for me and I've watched it every single year since. 

And then there is the dress.  The little silky red and white gingham dress with all the red petticoat made into it.  Lace and beads adorning it.  Velvet ribbon around the waist.  Still in the cedar chest. Willie made me that dress.  And I have a very vivid memory of wearing that dress to a football game and Daddy telling me to stop standing up in the stands and peering between the cracks at the people below.  He said that TV cameras would show my hinnie to the whole world.  I don't think there were any cameras.  I think he just said that to make me sit down.

Daddy got all well, work picked up and we moved back to Silsbee.  But Mama and Willie wrote to one another through the years.  And as soon as I could write anything, I began to write her, too.  At first just a note scribbled into Mama's letter.  Later letters of my own.  Me and Willie corresponded through the years and across the generations.  This continued on up until around my graduation from High School.  Finally I received a letter from her daughter, Sue I think, who told me her mom had passed on.

Suffice it to say, this is one person I hope I can look up and reconnect with in Heaven.

L is for Livingston, Tx

For those that don't know it, that's a mouthful.  Every so often as I grew up, we'd wind our way through the woods on two lane farm to market roads that had no shoulder towards the destination of Livingston, TX.  We'd pass through such colorful places as Dallardsville, Soda (where daddy swore I could get all the free soda water I wanted), Segno and Camp Ruby.  Camp Ruby is where the cemetery is.  Where my daddy's mama and daddy lay along with other family members.  I can remember going to family reunions held at the cemetery and the choir from the Alabama-Coushatta Indian tribe would sing for us.  Not sure why, just know it was good music in that little board church with the hardwood floors.

But I digress, as today is about Livingston and what made going there special.  Well my daddy's people cotton farmed right next to the Indian reservation in that area.  When I was growing up, we had a several of my aunts who lived there (Ray, Meryl, Elsie) cousins, and my grandmother as long as she was alive.

So, we'd drive through the woods, passed bunches of old pumping units (horse heads) and I'd imagine that the red light on the top of towers was Rudolph's nose.  Or get bored and ask for a hamburger.  Which made daddy terribly mad, as he couldn't understand why I couldn't see we were out in the middle of no where and a hamburger could not be found.

Then we'd usually go to Aunt Ray's and Uncle Doc's.  Everyone would congregate there because they had the roomiest house and a good large lawn.  Many times these gatherings were called because the two sisters that lived the farthest away, Elena and Mitzie, had flown in.  And the relatives would congregate.  There'd be forty-two tournaments running full time in Aunt R.A.'s dining room.  I remember how thrilled I was the one year they finally let me sit in on a game, thinking i was old enough to get it.

The kitchen would always have large pots simmering down something tasty and there would be a parade of pies brought in from a dinner down the street.  Most of my time at these events was spent playing croquet with my cousin Gary who was older than me.  Or when we got a little older he'd take me to town for malts or to the picture show to see free movies because he worked there sometimes.

I loved those gatherings at Livingston.  There was no alcohol.  No bedtimes.  If we were there on a Sunday, we'd often all go to church with R.A. and Doc.  Life seemed slow and good.  Felt like a movie from the fifties.  A time warp.  One I'd go back to if I could.

Post Script:  R.A. or Ray was married to Doc, and was Gary's mother.  Meryl had once been married to a gangster.  She had a son named Billy who became fast friends with my older sisters and at one time drove a race car.  Aunt Elsie was married to Curtis and they lived on place that was like a farm.  Had a barn.  Big pond.  Uncle Curtis was supposed to be a carpenter, yet they didn't get an indoor bathroom until I was in high school.  They had an outhouse.  I remember well having to go there  when we stayed over. Aunt Elsie always had big old country mattresses on her beds and lots of quilts.  Elena was married to a Jew, Uncle Dave, who owned Hofbrau Restaurants in Oakland and San Fransisco.  I found it funny later in life, that he, a Jew, owned a restaurant with a German name and German beer steins.  Then there was Mitzie.  She had been a twin.  Her actual name was Verlis and her twin brother had been Vernon.  But sometime before I came along, Vernon stopped his vehicle too close to a train crossing and a loose hook on a log car caught his bumper and pulled him under the train.  All together there were 14 children in my daddy's family that survived until adulthood.

Barbara