Life in Plevna, Kansas

 It must have been about 1955 when I went to live with my grandma'a in Plevna, Kansas.  It was also the year I started high school.   Now there were only about 40 kids in the whole high school.  High School was on the second floor and grade school on the first.  But all that is irrelevant.  

What matters is that it was in this place I began my high school education.  Now, as luck would have it, the lady who lived right next door to the grandma's was the daughter of the man who lived next door to my home in Nickerson!  They also had an old car that ran pretty good and traveled back home to Nickerson a couple of times a month.  Mother made arrangements for me to ride with them when they did go to see her and father.

Now it becomes a little fuzzy in my mind, but I think the lady was named Elsie and I think she was blind.  I do not think they had any children.  All that is irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. So once a month, I think, we would pile into the car and settle in for the 20-mile drive.  The man would fit the crank in the front of the car, wherever he fitted it, and give it a hard pull.  The engine would roar to life and he would jump into the car and as soon as the engine was running smoothly, he would retrieve the crank, close the hood, and prepare to drive the car.  It was when we traversed the road to highway 50 that the fun began!

He liked to sing!  I strongly suspect that he may have also liked to drink a bit!  Of that I am not sure!  But he did like to sing.  One of the songs went like this:

" Oh, I won't go hunting with you, Jake, but I'll go chasing women!

So put them hounds back in the pen and quit your silly grinning!

The moon is right and I'm half tight, life is just beginning!

I won't go fishing with you Jake, but I'll go chasing women."

His wife would try to hush him because there "was a child in the car," but he just sang all the louder.  He seemed to know lots of songs. but that is the one that sticks in my mind.

Sundays at our house were always special because we usually had meat of some sort.  Special was when we had a roast.  That did not happen very often, but there was always hope!

At 4:00 we would hear the car roar to life next door and momma would make sure my face was clean.  Then the horn would beep (ooga, ooga) and I would run out to the street.  The man would open the door, I would jump in, and he would close the door.  Then began the 20 mile one hour drive back to Plevna.  

I wish I could remember his name, but I don't.  Life was so simple back then!  Needs were few.  Pleasure could be found in walking barefoot in the hot sand road of Strong Street or running the back road to the sandpit.  Kick the can was the game of the night and the moon was the only light we had after the sun went down.

Go to sleep, all my childhood memories!  I sometimes long for the day when I can run out the door, jump in an old jalopy and go see my momma.

Peace!

Plevna, Kansas, class of 1959

I woke up at 2:30 this morning thinking about my classmates in Plevna, Kansas.  It was my Freshman year and I was living with Grandma Haas and Great Grandma Hatfield.  The high school was on one end of Main Street and Grandma's house was on the other end.  Main Street was 2 blocks long.  The High School, the bank and the filling station was on one side.  On  the other side was Hinshaw's Mercantile, the phone company and Grandma Hatfield's house.  The next house was Grandma Haas's house and then then church.  Great Grandma Hatfield's house was empty since she had moved next door to take care of Grandma Haas.

Great Grandma was a legend in her time.  She was born Helen Gagnebein.  She had married Frank Miller and had 3 children, Lou, Mable, and Grandma Josie.  When he passed she married a man named Hatfield who had a son named Steven.  I always liked Uncle Steven because he had a very round face and always seemed to be happy. Rumor had it that she was headed to the alter with #3 when he suddenly died.  She declared that she had buried 2 husband and the love of her life and was now done.   So she moved across the street to take care of her daughter, my grandmother.  All this has absolutely nothing to do with my Freshman year!

The point is that Grandma had suffered a stroke and could no longer live alone and take care of herself.  Great Grandma needed help and I was the chosen one.  Thus when I left Nickerson Grade School, I was thrown into High School at Plevna, Kansas.  As I recall there were 30 kids in the whole high school.  The Freshman class had like 8 or 9 kids.  When I was laying in bed before I started this missive I could remember 6 of them and clearly see their faces, but as soon as my fingers hit the keys, my brain went south.  I remember Norma Daily, Janet Pastier, the twins Dean and Dale Hinshaw and that is all.  Seems like there were 8 or 9.  I do remember the principal was named Mr. Miller.

They did have a girls basketball team, but I was not allowed to do that because it entailed wearing pants and neither of the grandma's approved of that!  So while the basketball season was on I played ping pong in a room above the stage in the auditorium.  I was not very good at that either.  Everyone brought their lunch except me and I had to run home and check to see if the grandma's needed anything.  Great Grandma would have an orange peeled for me.  When I left the school I could hear Great Grandma's old stand up radio blaring the noon market report.  While we had not farmed for years there were relation who did and the market report kept Great Grandma apprised of the price of wheat, cattle, corn and pork bellies.  I never really gave a shit, but it was important to them!  I would then dash back to school before the bell rang.

Now the most thriving business was the Hinshaw Mercantile.  Dean and Dale would some day fall heir to that!  They were twins, but you would never have guessed it.  Dale was the one who must have gotten to the table first because he was a pudgy, red hair and freckles, pale skinned, mean spirited creature (for want of a better description) fellow.  He never had a nice thing to say to anyone and I sincerely hope he grew out of that!  Dean was a skinny, tanned, dark haired little fellow with a very beautiful smile.  They were as different as night and day.  Needless to say, I thought often about how maybe someday, Dean might hold my hand.  (It never happened.)

The grandma's were united in their way of raising me. The only reading material allowed in the house was the Holy Bible.  No newspaper, no magazine except for the Workbasket which was a crochet magazine that was treasured beyond all else.  I was taught to crochet and that was my past time.  My Grandma Haas and her sister Mabel married brothers.  Aunt Mable would come for a visit from Coldwater, Kansas with her husband  Uncle Goll.  Once she brought her textile paints with the intent of teaching me how to do something besides crochet.  We went to the Hinshaw store and she bought me a white bath towel to paint a design on.  Sadly it was shop worn and the brown outline of where it had lain never faded, but I did paint a water lily on it and she made me feel like I was 10 feet tall.  Damn!  How I miss those days!  I gave the towel to my mother and you would have thought I had handed her the moon!  Things like that used to matter.

If I live to be 200 years old, I will always cherish the memories that were made in that little house there on the end of main street in Plevna, Kansas.  I will always remember the round oak table with the crocheted table cloth and the two grandma's I lived with for a time.  I learned to crochet by the light of a kerosene lamp because, though they had electricity, they did not use it very often because they did not want to wear it out!

I can still see the 2 little white heads bent over their needlework and how occasionally one would look up and smile at me.  They both had the most beautiful blue eyes in the world.  I have often wondered if I really was any help to them or if they were helping me.  I do know, if I were able to go back in time that I would not change one minute of my time spent in that house.  Well, maybe I would.  I would listen next time.  And when we read the Bible (which we did every night)  I would read an extra chapter.  Living with those two women was the best part of my whole entire life.  I just pray that they know what an impact they made on my life all those years ago.

Thank you God for the gift of Grandmothers.

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Holy shit! An attack mouse at grandma's house!

The grandma's both worried about me and mostly it was needless.  Life was pretty mundane there in Plevna.  Get up and eat breakfast.  Now you need to know it was pretty well ready the night before.  The egg poacher held 3 eggs.  The water was put in the poacher and the poacher was placed over the pilot light.  The eggs were in a bowl on the table.  The coffee pot was a drip o later and it was filled with water and the coffee grounds put in the basket.  Our plates were on the table with 1/2 of an orange on each one. The jelly was in the middle of the table.  The table was covered with a cloth.  While we slept the waters were staying warm over the pilot lights.  The next morning the poacher and the coffee pot were both pulled forward and the burners turned on.  The eggs were broken and placed in the 3 places for them to poach.

Now I can not remember just how that damn coffee pot worked, but it seems like the water somehow was vaccumed up into the upper chamber and then the burner was turned off and it slowly dripped through the grounds.  Bear in mind that all happened 60 years ago, so I am not real sure that my memory is completely accurate on this little detail.  I do know the toaster was set on the burner and the burner was real low and toasted the bread just right as long as you did not try to dash out to the outhouse while it was toasting.  The whole breakfast was on the table in short order.  We always prayed over our food.  Always!  Both grandmothers told me in no uncertain words that if I did not pray I would most likely choke to death!  I was not going to test that theory since I had what I hoped was a brilliant future ahead of me.  And here I am!

After breakfast was finished I was allowed to put all the dirty dishes in a pan under the sink to wash later.  They did not want me to be late for school because the principal would administer punishment in the form or a whipping with a rubber hose.  I never tested that theory either.  You may not believe this, but I was pretty much a model child and it was all because I did not want to be beat.  I was secure in the knowledge that when I dashed home for lunch great grandmother would have a sandwich ready for me.  That plate also went under the sink.  Now for the evening meal, I do not recall at all what we had.  I am sure we ate something, but I do not know what it was.  So after supper, I pulled the pan out and started washing the dishes.  Then I dried them and put them away and after I laid out the breakfast for the next morning I was free to do whatever I wanted to do.  Bear in mind there was no such thing as television.  The radio was for the market futures and I was not allowed to read anything but the Bible.  I could crochet, but I was still learning the basic chain stitch.

Now one chore I had which I did on Saturday morning was trash.  We did not generate much trash back in those days.  There was a trash thingy over by the door going into the front room.  That was emptied by grandmother into a wooden crate like barrel right outside the kitchen door on the enclosed back porch.  This particular Saturday, I picked it up and headed for the burning barrel which was located a safe distance from the outhouse.  I spotted the outhouse and decided I needed to use that facility at that moment.  So I set the barrel down, availed myself of the comforts and then started to pick up the container and finish my job.  I recoiled in terror because there was a mouse that had crawled up through the trash and was perched on top!  In my world a spider is the scariest creature on earth, but a mouse is a very close second.

What to do?!  My mind was in a quandary.  If I picked up the barrel the mouse might jump on me.  If I screamed, grandma would no doubt jump on me.  She was very old and I surely did not want to get her too excited.  I knew if I could just get the barrel to the burning barrel and tip it over the mouse would fall into the barrel and I would light the trash and my problems would be solved.  So I got a stick and threatened the mouse.  He was defiant! I whacked the side of the barrel and he fell into the trash out of sight.  I grabbed the barrel and made it a few feet closer to the burning barrel, but the mouse reared his head out of the trash.  I immediately dropped the barrel and it fell over.  Horror of all horrors, the damn mouse was now free to eat me or whatever he had planned.  I screamed in terror and grandma appeared on the porch.  That woman surveyed the scene, saw the mouse, stepped forward and whacked it with her cane.  My savior.  She turned and went back into the house leaving me to gather everything up and put it in the burning barrel.  The incident was never mentioned again.  That is how the pioneer women did it.  I like to think I am just a fraction of the woman my great grandmother Helen Gagnbein Miller Hatfield was.

I am still afraid of mice and I have a cat that brings them in and turns them loose.  I hate that damn cat, but she is the only friend I have now days.  I would like to say that since the dogs are no longer here that she has taken mercy on me and has not brought a mouse in for quite some time, but as sure as I say that she will know and go get me one.

I lay in bed at night and think about my grandma's.  If I could go back in time I would do things differently.  I would listen.  I would listen and I would remember.  And I would teach my kids about the stock we come from.  The chickens, the molasses great great grandpa made and the way my great great grandmother Gagnebein nursed the sick, delivered the babies and then came home and whipped out a lemon chiffon cake without even reading a recipe.

I would if I only could.

A place for every plant and every plant in its place.

Living with Grandma Haas and Great Grandma Hatfield was definitely challenging.  They had a place for everything and everything was in it's place, especially in the summer.  All year long the little house plants set in there place in the house where ever it was they belonged.  The Oleandars lived in the basement and were not watered from fall until they were brought out in the spring.  Always surprised me that they survived.  One was white and one was pink.  They had the sweetest aroma rather like vanilla only sweeter.  Maybe with a tinge of almond.  What ever.  It was hard to believe that they were deadly poison.  But I digress.

When Spring arrived which was usually late April in Kansas, the basement door was opened and the Oleandars were drug up the steps by what ever hapless  cousin was around.  It was usually cousin Carl.  He was the farmer boy and lived just outside of Plevna so he was handy.  And Aunt Lola usually came and picked up the laundry to take it home and wash and return.  We did not go through the clothes back then like we do now.  Now I wear something a day and throw it in the hamper.  Back then the same outfit was good for a week.  Back to the house plants.

The Oleandars were placed on either side of the steps in the front of the house.  We never used that door.  It was the front door and that was its job.  We used the side door which opened into the dining room for most of our comings and goings.  The only exception was when one of us needed to make a trip to the "outhouse" or the trash needed carried to the burning barrel.  Then we used the back door.  The trash was kept in a wooden hamper by the back door and there was a damn good chance that there was a mouse in it when I dumped it so I would carry it very carefully, slowly to the barrel.  I would gently place the edge on top of the barrel and then quickly push it over and wait for the mouse and the trash to empty and then grab it and run for the house.

After the Oleandars were in place the other house plants were carried out one by one and the first was placed by the front sidewalk and then each next one got a little closer to the house until all of them were setting outside and then I could begin watering.  And I watered them every day because the Kansas sun is very hot and dry.  This ritual continued until Grandma Hatfield saw signs  of  an  early frost.  Then the whole process was reversed.  I often wondered what happened to the Oleandars when Grandma Haas passed and Great Grandma moved to Coldwater.  Sadly there is no one to ask.

I have a few houseplants but they are all big.  I do move them out to the patio in the Spring, but sometimes I have to carry them all back in, because Colorado weather can not be trusted.  Oh, and spiders build homes in the stems so that sucks.  But mostly I got to have green stuff around me for one reason or another.  I have a pink Oleandar if anyone wants to come by for tea.

cooking and cleaning can wait for the morrow, for babies grow up, we learn to our sorrow

And that is what I woke up with, stuck in my head, this morning!  I did the online search and nothing turned up.  Does anyone else remember this poem?  Oh, crap!  I am the oldest one here and this is all I remember, so what are the odds that you can tell me the name of this?  Probably two; slim and none.  I can remember cross stitching this, but that is about as far as the memory goes.  I think I probably did it when Debbie was a wee one, but it could have been last week.  No, not last weeks since the fingers no longer curl around those teensy, tinesy needles which would make no difference since I can't see to thread the damn needle anyway!

Life certainly does throw us a hardball towards the end of the whole mess, doesn't it?  When we finally get our crap together and know what we want out of life and have a pretty good idea of how to get it, we are too late and the need to do the "bucket list" thing takes over.  While my mind is remembering winning dance contests at the sock hops back in high school, my reality is searching for something to loosen my joints up enough so I can tie my shoes!  While my mind is grooving to Gene Vincent, Fats Domino and Elvis Presley, my reality is singing "Shall we gather at the river?"

I am becoming better at checking expiration dates because I do so want to outlive the gallon of milk in the refrigerator.  Back in the mind, we called them "ice boxes" because that is what they were.  They did not get plugged into a socket some where.  We had a card that had 25 on the top and 10 on the bottom.  It was designed so that if we wanted 25 pounds of ice Mother placed it in the window which reflected the 25 right side up and the 10 would be upside down.  The ice man pulled up on the chosen day, looked at the sign, got his ice picker upper (which I have of course forgotten the correct name for [TONGS!!!!! I remembered when I reread this!]) and picked up the block of ice and brought it into the house, through the door which was never locked, and put it in the ice box, picked up his money from the top of the ice box, and went back out the door which did not lock behind him, and left.

The reason the door was not locked was because if some poor soul was in need of a drink of water, or shelter from the rain, or cold out of the heat, or was very tired and needed to rest they could  get in  the house.  If they could find something to eat, they were welcome to it.  See, back in those days, people trusted each other and crime was almost non-existent.  Horses were protected more that personal property.  And guess what happened if you stole a horse?  The towns folk would catch you and hang you, or so I heard.  Never really saw it happen.  Horse thieves were the most horrible kind of despot!  Wonder what my grandma would think about what goes on today?

The fact that the pump was out on the porch gave them access to a drink of water.  There was also a pump at the stock tank, so they really did not need to go in the house for water, but it was being hospitable, and that is what we did back then.

Bet you are wondering why I never said "use the facilities"  aren't you?  Well there were none in the house.  They were "out back."  Stands to reason that if we had no running water, we had no use for a toilet that flushed.  The school and the people in town had them and they were really nice.
 
Try to remember that we were the poor people outside of town, growing up.  I preferred to think of us as just like every one else, dirt poor.   I learned later that I was "white trash", but no one ever called me that.  It was after all, just a term they used.  I often wondered at the term and I am sure it was racist.  That was another thing;  Nickerson, Kansas, to my recollection, never had anyone except very white people.  Oh, there was the family that lived in the boxcar up on the curve, but they were Indians.  I loved to go to thier house.  The mother was very clean and even swept the dirt in front of the door.  Since we had a step and 2 feet of sidewalk, we were considered rich.

But I have once more digressed from my purpose.  If you remember this poem share this post on facebook and I will see it.  Or contact me over there on the left.  I will probably not remember what I asked, but that, friends, is how it goes in my world!

People who forget the past tend to repeat it.  ;)

If you wonder where I went...

First was the Church Bazaar at First Congregational United Church of Christ.  That tied in nicely with the Handwoven Holiday at the Vail Hotel, and now I am out in Pueblo West for 4 days at the Jingle Bell Boutique.  And while all that is going on, I am selling like crazy on eBay.  Christmas season is upon us you know.  Sunday will wind up the craft sales and I will be left with just the eBay stuff, but I am making good use of my time.  House taxes and insurance along with the car insurance will pretty well wipe out my meager savings.  That and the fact that my list that I buy for went out the window when it reached 45 recipients explains my poverty.
I decided many years back to just give the kids soap and lotion and maybe a little something personal.  So usually when Santa pulls out of town, my cupboards are bare.  Had a granddaughter call the other day and say she wanted to come for a visit.  Sorry, dear girl, but I am tied up and can not get loose.  I do hate to do that, but I can only be in one place at a time.  Next week is Thanksgiving and then the Weavers Guild meeting and in the meantime I need to get ready for World AIDS Day.  And all the time eBay marches onward.
I do enjoy doing the Jingle Bell Boutique.  I see people I missed at the Vail and others, I just never get the chance to see.  I did not realize that the Jingle Bell has been going on for 37 years right there in Pueblo West.  It has been held in various locations over the years, but it is unique in that each person has thier own specialty.  Like I do the Soap and Lotion.  Helen does the crochet and knit.  Sue does canned fruits, jellies and such.  Mary Jo does breads, toffee and peanut brittle.  Booths, Beech's and Mary Petersen are wood workers.  Marjorie used to do the baskets, but she retired.  Rikki does quilling.  And we have a couple new ones this year, but I forget thier names.  I get to sell my books cause they never had an author before.  Last night they all went to the Hen House for supper, but I could not go cause I have the geese waiting at home, you know.  And the dogs and the neurotic cat.
So just be patient and I will be back into my routine here very soonly.  And I  will have a full report on World AIDS Day happenings here pretty soon.  And, yes Amy, I will get you cookies sent before Christmas.

 

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So I was watching television tonight and I flashed on this....

I rarely watch television, but tonight after Jeopardy! was over I found myself watching one of those mindless sitcoms.  I do not remember what it was and I am sure it had nothing to do with my mind wandering back to Plevna, Kansas.  I went to live with my grandma Haas and Great Grandma Hatfield when I was 15 years old.  Grandma Haas had suffered a stroke at some point in time and was not able to get around very well.  She was only 72 at the time (as I recall).  Great Grandma was 99 and taking care of her.  It was getting to be a strain on her and I was young so I could be of some use to them.  It was a learning experience for the three of us. 

First thing I learned was that Great Grandma had been married 3 times or almost 3 times.  The first husband was Frank Miller.  He was father to her three children; Louis, Mabel and Josie.  Josie was my Grandma.  After he passed she married a man whose last name was Hatfield.  He had a son named Steven who had a wife named Bertie and a stepson and step daughter.  When he died Steven remained devoted to Great Grandma who he called mother.  When Great Grandma was 75 years old she became engaged to another man whose name I do not recall.  Sadly , he croaked before they could get the knot tied and Great Grandma just gave it up.  Said she had buried enough men and would not bury another one.  She then sold her house on the Main Street of Plevna, Kansas and moved in with Grandma.  Grandma had been widowed several years before.

In typical fashion they became quite adept at surviving alone.  By the time I arrived on the scene they were very ensconced in routine.  The table was set at night before bed.  We each had a plate, fork, knife, coffee cup, and half an orange.  This was covered with a cloth.  The coffee pot was a drip-a-lator which was filled with water ,  coffee grounds placed in the middle part, and the unit set on a pilot light on the stove.  The egg poacher was filled with water and set on the other pilot light.  The toaster was set on a back burner.  I should note here that toasters in that time period were used over a burner, not like today when they pop right up.  Had to be careful or you could char the bread very easily.  The next morning the coffee pot was pulled forward and the burner lit.  Same with the egg poacher.  Bread was put in the toaster and that burner lit.  In less than 7 minutes, during which time we ate our half an orange, breakfast was ready.  One slice of toast, one poached egg, and a cup of coffee with heavy cream.  Course there was home made jelly or jam and bread and butter pickles.  And don't forget the freshly churned butter.

After breakfast I was allowed to pile the dishes in the dish pan and cover them with a tea towel because I had to hurry off to school.  The way the dishes were done was this; When I got home from school, I would put the tea kettle on and heat water which I poured in the dish pan.  Then I refilled the tea kettle to heat the water to rinse them.  No hot water heater in this house.  Oh, and yes, we had an "out house" for our personal use.  Uncle Ray had installed a "commode" for Grandma's use, but we did not want to take the chance of wearing it out so we did our business outside.  Kind of nice one with a concrete floor and all.  When I came home at noon for lunch Great Grandma always had a sandwich waiting for me.  She also had the market report on the radio.  Not that we farmed, but old habits die hard.  Those dishes went in the pan with the breakfast dishes.

After dishes were done it was time to water plants and such.  We did not listen to the radio at night.  One of us would read from the Bible while the other 2 crocheted.  I learned the fine art of handiwork from my Great Grandmother.  She was one of the most beautiful women I have ever known.  I mean inside.  She was a very regal woman and she seemed very tall to me, but course I was only 5 feet so every body seemed tall.  Grandma and Aunt Mabel had married brothers.  Josie married Frank Haas and he was my Grandpa.  Aunt Mabel married his brother Gottlieb Haas.  Uncle Louis had cast eyes on the sister, Lena Haas, but Great Grandma put her foot down on that one.  So Uncle Lou married Aunt Eva  and Aunt Lena was a spinster her whole life.  But she was a fun old gal.  She was the one that kept a horse tank full of water for us to play in on hot days and took us to the stock pond seining for minnows with our skirts.  She died when she was 100 years old.  Haas  and Gagnebein blood is strong genes.  My Grandma was 73 when she died and that was so sad because she was so young.  Great Grandma Hatfield was 104.  Uncle Goll was 98.  Uncle Ray was 96. I am not sure, but there may be some of them still alive.  They just seem to live forever.

But what I was thinking of tonight was the piece of furniture that was behind the stove.  It was not a couch.  It was like a couch except it was oak and very dark brown leather.  It was not for comfort.  It was functional.  So was the library table.  And the Hoosier in the kitchen.  It held sugar, flour, had a top that pulled out and you could stand right there in one place and make a pie.  Now I have oak cupboards and shelves that slide out.  I have two freezers.  I have hot and cold running water.  I have all the conveniences that these two women did not even know existed.  It was a two story house.  The 2 Grandma's slept in the front bedroom.  I slept on the couch.  There were two bedrooms upstairs, but they were afraid to have me away from them.  Some times I resented that cause that was one lumpy damn couch.  But looking back, and believe me, hindsight is always clearer then fore sight, I was the most blessed 15 year old girl on the face of this earth, because those two women loved me.  They taught me needlework that has won me many ribbons at the State Fairs.  And they taught me that life goes on without a television, or radio, or trash novels.  The one book we do need is the Bible and I never touch my Bible without thinking of the two women in my life who instilled in me my love for the Book.  One was the Matriarch and the other the sweetest little lady I have ever known.  And in the picture there Great Grandma is holding Grandma up to have her picture taken.  that is something the women in my family have always done, been there to hold each other up.  I sure hope I do not disappoint my kids and sisters.  I am going to try not to.  

School starts at Plevna, Kansas and I am there!

Catty cornered from Grandma's house lived the Smith family.  I do not know how many girls there were in that family, I just know there were a lot of them.  I remember Mr. Smith had one brown eye and one blue eye.  I also remember they had a television set.  I could go over and visit them, but I could not set in the room where the television was and I could not look at it when I walked past.  I was very good and did as I was told.  I did not look at that television except once just to see what it was.

I wish I had pictures, but I do not.  If I did they would be black and white snap shots and they would be fuzzy.  But true to my word school did start the next week and I was there!  I started my Freshman year at Plevna High School  I was in heaven.  I do not know why.  The whole High School was 40 kids.  The first crack out of the box, I was picked to be in the Junior Play!

Now in tiny schools like this, things like that happen.  The Juniors had picked the play they wanted to do and there were not enough Juniors to fill the roles, so since I was a hick and used the word "ain't" a lot and this play was about hillbilly's, I got elected.  I was rather impressed that I was in the Junior Play, but I was scared to death.  See,this is how that worked.  I could read all I wanted as long as I was reading the Bible.  No books, no book reports, no reading play books, only the Bible.  So memorizing my lines was a real challenge.  Somehow I did get them learned and the play went off without a hitch so I was happy about that.  It even helped my English grade.


 The box lunch social was another small town tradition. We all had to bring a box with something to eat in it and then each one was auctioned off.  The buyer ate the lunch with whoever made the lunch.  We all lived in mortal terror that no one would buy ours.  Mine was bought by the coach of the basket ball team, so I was good to go.

But horror of all horrors for my first year of high school was Home Economics.  My teacher was (I forgot her name!) my mother's Nemesis from her high school days.  I flat out flunked cooking!  Not a bad grade, a fail grade.  A big fat "F".  All that woman had to do was glare at me and my knees turned to jelly. A quivering mass of jello, I tell you.  I would love to know the history of those two women, but it was enough to know that they did not like each other in the least.

Small towns are really an experience in and unto themselves.  The whole high school went carolling for Christmas.  One of the teachers made hot cocoa in the gymnasium.  Somebody brought us an apple.  Togetherness in a small town! 

Tomorrow I will tell you how my Freshman year ended, but I am too tired tonight to do it justice.  Just show up tomorrow and I will fill you in on that.