Thinking back to the "good old days" is mostly just a matter of perception. Today I am remembering Irene who lived next door. She is the one that slipped on the trailer tire....oh wait. I may not have told you that little story. See, back in that time dad had horses and they were used to pull trailers, hay racks, corn wagons and mainly eat everything in sight that was green. So this one trailer (and I can not for the life of me remember what it was called.) that was just a box and dad could put side boards on it so it held more, or leave one of the side boards off and we would pick dry ears of corn and toss them in the trailer. The board on the one side was so when we tossed it, the ear of corn would bounce back into the trailer.
So one day the trailer was just setting there and 4 of us girls decided we wanted to "drive the trailer" to town. The way we accomplished this was one girl got on each tire, hung on to the side, and walked on the tire causing it to roll. Looking back, I am pretty sure it would have been a lot easier to just walk into town and leave the trailer set, but they do not call them the "good old days" for nothing. It was indeed a time of innocence! Oh, and did I mention that the tail gate and the front tail gate (please do not ask me to explain why the front gate was called a front tail gate. I am just here to relay the story!) were held in place by a steel rod which came to end with a very sharp point? It had to be sharp to go through the hole in the bed that held the tail gate and the front tail gate in place. There, the scene is set.
So I got on one wheel, Irene on another, Delores (Irene's sister) on one, and I forget who was on the fourth. Usually it was steered by whoever was driving the horses. Pull on the left rein and the trailer went left. Pull on the right and it went right. Pull back on both reins and the horses stopped and this stopped the wagon. We had none of those finery's! We had only our feet. We knew if we wanted to go left it would be necessary for the two people on the left side of the wagon to walk backwards so the left wheels would not turn. We were so busy testing our theory and celebrating our genius that we forgot what we were doing and Irene's foot slipped off the wheel.. The only thing that stopped her from falling off was the steel rod buried in her thigh. I remember very little of the particulars of that afternoon. I know there was a lot of screaming. A lot of cussing and a hurried trip into Hutch in some body's old car. I do remember seeing her leg and the wound from that rod. What is uppermost in my mind is the amount of yellow fat that was exposed. Man that was gross!
We all stood around looking at the offending trailer and you should know we got in more trouble over that then about anything we had done before. We were lectured for hours about the hazards of playing on the trailer. But we were determined that there must be a better way to get around than to walk. Next came a metal 55 gallon barrel (I think that is right). Hop up on that and start walking and the barrel, of course rolled.
Close your eyes and picture that! The faster you walked the faster the barrel rolled. Best part was, there was no stopping that damn thing. The only way to escape the rolling barrel was to jump off of it! If you could do that and land in the soft dirt of a field or ditch you were very lucky. Believe me when I say, I was never very lucky. After you leapt off the barrel it continued it's journey without you and usually there was someone in it's path that was going to get bowled over.
Another favorite past time was pig pen jumping. I know that does not sound intriguing to you, but listen! Mr. Reinke raised pigs. He had pens in back for each pig. They all were joined in a row; the pens, not the pigs.. Each pig had it's own house which was kind of an upside down "v" roof and about 8 feet long. What we liked to do was start at one end of the lot on the first roof and leap to the second roof without falling in the pig pen. Now I know this does not sound like fun to you, but remember, we did not have television, the only radio was WSM Nashville Grand Ole" Opry on Saturday night, and the chances of getting a new brother or sister was a lot better than the chances of getting a board game to play! And we had rules. Someone was always designated as the one to run for help if somebody slipped and the hog attacked them. Luckily no one actually fell into the pen, but the old sow was there grunting and hoping!
After dark we played "kick the can, if we had a can. If we had a can it usually meant we had eaten that day. To say that we grew up on the wrong side of the tracks would have been an understatement and to say the people on Strong Street were "strange" would have really been stretching reality. Strong street and the people who lived there were what made me who I turned in to today. I never tire of remembering my childhood home. The last time I went back to Nickerson and Strong Street, it had all changed. My house was gone and in it's place was a double wide trailer. Reinke's, Smith's and Hank Windiate's houses were deserted as was Goodrick's and Ayres. I am sure by now they are either gone or replaced. But that does not concern me. They are still in my mind. They will always be in my mind.
Sometimes I think I may have selective memory. Maybe we weren't poor, but I am thinking that 7 of us living in a 2 bedroom house could have been a clue. But we all grew up and did not starve. When we left Nickerson, Mother left the 3 legged kettle we heated wash water in for so many years. She vowed that our new home would have a hot and cold running water and one of those indoor bathrooms. Know what? She was right!
So one day the trailer was just setting there and 4 of us girls decided we wanted to "drive the trailer" to town. The way we accomplished this was one girl got on each tire, hung on to the side, and walked on the tire causing it to roll. Looking back, I am pretty sure it would have been a lot easier to just walk into town and leave the trailer set, but they do not call them the "good old days" for nothing. It was indeed a time of innocence! Oh, and did I mention that the tail gate and the front tail gate (please do not ask me to explain why the front gate was called a front tail gate. I am just here to relay the story!) were held in place by a steel rod which came to end with a very sharp point? It had to be sharp to go through the hole in the bed that held the tail gate and the front tail gate in place. There, the scene is set.
So I got on one wheel, Irene on another, Delores (Irene's sister) on one, and I forget who was on the fourth. Usually it was steered by whoever was driving the horses. Pull on the left rein and the trailer went left. Pull on the right and it went right. Pull back on both reins and the horses stopped and this stopped the wagon. We had none of those finery's! We had only our feet. We knew if we wanted to go left it would be necessary for the two people on the left side of the wagon to walk backwards so the left wheels would not turn. We were so busy testing our theory and celebrating our genius that we forgot what we were doing and Irene's foot slipped off the wheel.. The only thing that stopped her from falling off was the steel rod buried in her thigh. I remember very little of the particulars of that afternoon. I know there was a lot of screaming. A lot of cussing and a hurried trip into Hutch in some body's old car. I do remember seeing her leg and the wound from that rod. What is uppermost in my mind is the amount of yellow fat that was exposed. Man that was gross!
We all stood around looking at the offending trailer and you should know we got in more trouble over that then about anything we had done before. We were lectured for hours about the hazards of playing on the trailer. But we were determined that there must be a better way to get around than to walk. Next came a metal 55 gallon barrel (I think that is right). Hop up on that and start walking and the barrel, of course rolled.
Close your eyes and picture that! The faster you walked the faster the barrel rolled. Best part was, there was no stopping that damn thing. The only way to escape the rolling barrel was to jump off of it! If you could do that and land in the soft dirt of a field or ditch you were very lucky. Believe me when I say, I was never very lucky. After you leapt off the barrel it continued it's journey without you and usually there was someone in it's path that was going to get bowled over.
Another favorite past time was pig pen jumping. I know that does not sound intriguing to you, but listen! Mr. Reinke raised pigs. He had pens in back for each pig. They all were joined in a row; the pens, not the pigs.. Each pig had it's own house which was kind of an upside down "v" roof and about 8 feet long. What we liked to do was start at one end of the lot on the first roof and leap to the second roof without falling in the pig pen. Now I know this does not sound like fun to you, but remember, we did not have television, the only radio was WSM Nashville Grand Ole" Opry on Saturday night, and the chances of getting a new brother or sister was a lot better than the chances of getting a board game to play! And we had rules. Someone was always designated as the one to run for help if somebody slipped and the hog attacked them. Luckily no one actually fell into the pen, but the old sow was there grunting and hoping!
After dark we played "kick the can, if we had a can. If we had a can it usually meant we had eaten that day. To say that we grew up on the wrong side of the tracks would have been an understatement and to say the people on Strong Street were "strange" would have really been stretching reality. Strong street and the people who lived there were what made me who I turned in to today. I never tire of remembering my childhood home. The last time I went back to Nickerson and Strong Street, it had all changed. My house was gone and in it's place was a double wide trailer. Reinke's, Smith's and Hank Windiate's houses were deserted as was Goodrick's and Ayres. I am sure by now they are either gone or replaced. But that does not concern me. They are still in my mind. They will always be in my mind.
Sometimes I think I may have selective memory. Maybe we weren't poor, but I am thinking that 7 of us living in a 2 bedroom house could have been a clue. But we all grew up and did not starve. When we left Nickerson, Mother left the 3 legged kettle we heated wash water in for so many years. She vowed that our new home would have a hot and cold running water and one of those indoor bathrooms. Know what? She was right!
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