The straw that broke the camels back.

I am a patient person.  Really!  Through my life I have tolerated things that went against my grain for the sake of  "peace in the marriage," "peace in the church,"  "peace in the job place, "peace on earth," and the whole nine yards.  I am generally a peace loving person, but when I get a belly full, I am done.  I tolerated my first husbands drinking and general bad behavior for 10 years and then I was done.  Kit and caboodle was out of there.  I lasted 6 years at my first job until the boss got under my skin one too many times, and out the door I went.  It took me 2 years to leave the church I attended for 15 years before I started attending First Church.  I was seeing a guy for the last 5 years, but then I reached the point where, "Nope!  not this time.  I deserve better than this."  So here I set reflecting on just what I am going to get sick and tired of next.

Mother taught me well, the lessons of life.  She always told me that "some day you will have a belly full of that and it will all change."  "Oh, but momma, I love him so." And when I came dragging in with my kids in tow, asking for a place to stay, she simply said, "So what was the straw that broke the camel's back?"  Reflecting back on that particular time in my life, I do not remember.  Like she said, I just got my belly full.  One indignity at a time, one day at a time, one word at a time and it all adds up to a load that I could no longer carry.

Same with the church.  I loved that church.  That church helped me over rough spots when I was first aware of the AIDS epidemic.  That church was there when we adopted our grandson.  And that church saw me through losing my husband.  But then one straw at a time, they changed direction and made choices that I thought were unfair.  I tried to right them, but the camel could not carry me through.  And so I left.

The jobs were always easy to walk away from, because I figure if I am working 8-9 hours a day in an environment where I am happy and feel appreciated, I can tolerate the customers and the demands, but I can not survive in an atmosphere of discontent.  Not happening.

As for the last boyfriend, he was just that.  Not going to try that again.  I can not blame him.  The personality that I perceived was not the personality that was his true inner self.  There are traits I must have in friends and I do not know if he changed or his true self came out, but either way, history has stepped in and that is water under the bridge.  It takes a helluvaman to walk through life with me.  And as the saying goes, "Many are called, but few are chosen."  (That one may have came from the Bible and not from Mother.)

So, now let's get back to looking for that camel I was talking about.  Right now, I am taking a hiatus from life as I know it.  I have been Don Quixote for too many years.  I have tilted my blade at Homophobics, AIDS, DACA, Homelessness, Poverty, the environment, politics, animal welfare, domestic violence, adoption, Black lives matter, all lives matter, Indigenous people, NFL kneeling,
and God only knows what else.  I have retired from Hospice, Posada, Save the Whales and am now setting at home and looking at the mess I have made of my life.

I have a house full of junk because I have ran through the gambit of ceramics, sewing, quilting, knitting, weaving, gardening, and any other hobby you can conceive.  I have every item ever needed to do any hobby you think could have been invented.  I am old.  I want a house I can live in that does not have 4 levels and a yard I can look at and not have to mow for 2 hours once a week.  My dogs are old.  My geese are old.  Cat: not so much.

I can close my eyes and see that little mother of mine looking down with her fingers over her mouth and the twinkle in her bright little hazel eyes and asking me,  "So what did you think was going to happen when you started all this?  And just which straw broke this camel's back?"

Thanks, mom!

I was born a truck driver.

Woke up this morning thinking of the first time I was ever behind the wheel of a vehicle and flashed back to when I was 14 years old and had been farmed out to a family where the mom and dad both worked and lived on a working farm.  They had 2 sons.  One was named Billy and the other may or may not have been named Donnie.  Little bit fuzzy on how old they were even.  I do know I was picked up on Sunday night and returned home on Saturday morning.  It was kind of nice though because the house had running water and I had my own little bed in a tiny room right under the attic eave.  May have been small, but it was a lot more than I had at home.  It did not have a door.  It had one at one time, but for some reason it did not have one anymore, but I did not care.  I was safe.  Hotter than hell, but safe.

The mother sold Stanley products so she was gone most of the day.  The father worked at a farm equipment store in Hutch as a salesman so he was also gone.  My job was to tend the boys, and the chickens, and watch the old sow which was due to drop her piggies soon.  And as luck would have it she decided to do that one day just before the mom and dad came home.  She also began to eat them!  Remember that I was 14 and probably weighed in at 50 pounds soaking wet.  I stood no chance against a 300-400 pound sow in the throes of birth, but I tried.  I grabbed a couple of the babies and put them in a box.  She was very mad and I could not get to any more.  The boys were terrified when dad came home.  He immediately got his gun and dispensed the sow to the promised land and by then a friend was there and the boys and I were sent inside.  There were a few piggies saved and I have blocked the rest of what happened from my mind and that is how I survived a lot of my life.  Sometimes not remembering is a good thing.

But that has nothing to do with my first driving experience, does it?

The time came that a harvest was upon the land.  This family owned land here and there so there was a need to move from field to field which worked well most of the time since the hired hands were there to do it.  I stayed at home with the boys and it was not until harvest was over and all the equipment needed to be brought home that I was pressed into service.  Everything was moved except the last piece which was a big grain hauling truck.  Not an 18 wheeler, (Thank God!) but way bigger than a pickup.  The wife explained to me how simple this would be to drive.  Needless to say, this was a stick shift.  I knew what a stick shift was and I knew what a clutch was and I knew what a brake was.

"You just push the clutch in, start the truck, let the clutch out slowly and it is in low gear so you just give it a little gas and coast the mile to the farm."  OK.  That sounded simple enough and after a couple times of killing it and restarting it, I was off.  And then I remembered the bridge and the left hand turn I had to take.  I sweated blood until I was across the bridge and headed down the straightaway.  The fact that I had made it across the bridge AND negotiated the left hand turn exhilarated me!  I just had to putt on down the road to the driveway and turn right, go a few yards and stop.  I prayed I would not miss the driveway because there was no way in hell I would ever get it in reverse.  I envisioned having to drive around a section (what land in the country is divided into) to get another chance, so I was ready when the drive came up and I whipped around the corner, steered to the center of the yard and turned the key to the off position.  Then and only then, did I let myself breathe a sigh of relief and pride welled up in my throat.  I had done it!  I had driven that big truck across a bridge and around 2 corners!  I began to dream of the day I could drive and have my own car.  And here I am.

Not to be boasting, as pride goeth before a fall and a haughty spirit before destruction,  but, here I am 60+ years later and I have a perfectly clean driving record.  No dings in my car from me.  The ones that are there were there when I got the car.  No tickets for anything.  I do have a lead foot at times, but don't we all?  I was pulled over one night long ago in Fowler, but I think the cop was thinking to put the moves on me since I was a woman presumably alone at 1:00 in the morning.  Sadly for him when he walked up to the door Bret and Shelly awoke and wanted to know what was going on now?  Did I mention, God is my co-pilot?

I did not own a car or a drivers license until I was 24 years old.  When I married Duane he just assumed I could drive, so I did.  I was stopped one night in Liberal, Kansas with a broken tail light and the officer told me I needed a license or next time I would get a ticket for not having one.  Getting a license back then was easy.  All I had to do was present myself and a vehicle at the drivers license place and show them I could drive.  That and $5.00 was all it took.  Luckily the car I was driving at the time had brakes and such.  I was not always so lucky.  We usually bought a vehicle at the sale for less than $50.00 and drove it till it gave up the ghost and was abandoned in someones yard.  I recall one time I had the 4 youngest and was going to see mother and the tail lights went out.  I knew it was a fuse and I knew we did not keep such things around, but luckily I smoked and cigarettes were in packs with tin foil!  I carefully fold up a piece of that and voila!  The tail lights came on.

(I learned lots of little tricks that would do me no good whatsoever later in life.  The way to seal a leak in your gas tank is with a bar of soap!  When the car vapor locks, just wait till it cools off and you can get another 10 or 20 miles down the road.  If you lock the keys in the trunk it is easier to use a pick axe to make a hole over the latch then it is to remove the back seat and put it back in.  And for God's sake do not forget your birth control pills when you are going with your husband to visit your mother in law!)  And that is my Words of Wisdom for today!

This should bring back memories for someone.

I love old pictures and this one definitely qualifies as old.  This must have been taken in about 1942 or early 1943.

The boy on the left is Delbert Leroy Bartholomew, better known as "Jake".  He should be about 4 or 5 years old.  The girl on the right is Josephine Anne Walden Bartholomew.  And the sweet little toddler who is probably 2 years old give or take a few months, is none other than yours truly.  Isn't that cute how they have hold of me like they actually like me?  Either that or they were going to drag me off and torture me.  This picture was probably taken while we lived on the Ailmore place, wherever that was.  That would have been back when Mother went to "Club" whatever that was.  Seems as though back in those days when the women got together it was for "Club" and it entailed a lot of recipes, and helpful household hints to keep your man happy. 

And when women went to "Club" they always dressed in their finery.  See back in those days there was no wearing of the jeans, or slacks or anything except your house dress or your good dress or your church clothes.  Hats were common and women did not go to church without a hat.  They also wore gloves.  They attended the whole service with hat on head and gloved hands folded in their lap.  Men wore hats, but they were required to remove them when they entered.  It was a sign of respect.  Women showed respect by keeping them on and covering their hair which was their "crowning glory."  Do not ask me to explain the difference because I can not and I am just here to report what was what.

When Mother took us to club, we were expected to set quietly through the whole time.  No fidgeting and no wondering when we were going home and God help us if we had to pee.  Our bladders were empty when we left and full when we got home.  Club was held at a different ladies house every month.  One woman took notes so they could remember what they did last month.  I remember how excited mom was one time since a lady was going to come to our house and give all of us a haircut.  Well, let me tell you, that was my introduction to the "bowl haircut" which was exactly what the name implied.  She sorted through mother's bowl until she found just the right one.  It was then placed upside down over each head and the hair that stuck out under the bowl was cut off with her scissors which were in bad need of a sharpening.  That was a sad day and the next day we were ridiculed and laughed at during recess.  Mother never called upon her for assistance again and I for one was damn glad of it.

On the note of the scissors needing sharpened, you should know that back in those days the "sharpener man"  came around periodically to sharpen scissors, knives, axes and anything that needed a new edge.  That was what he did and he was very good at it.  And another regular visitor to the houses was the "tinker man".  Mother saved all her pans that had "sprung a leak" due to a tiny hole for the tinker man.  He had a wagon with a box on the back.  It was pulled by an old sad looking horse and I am not sure, but it seemed like the horse had an old straw hat on his head.  The sharpener man and the tinker man both had regular rounds, because they came about every 6 months and were always pretty close to the same time every 6 months.

The Watkins man and the Fuller Brush man also made regular visits to sell wares out the back of their wagons, and momma always had her list and her money in her hand.  Sometimes the dry goods man came and he had fabric and needles and stuff like that.  He was put out of business by  Mrs. Warrington, who opened the dry goods store up on main.  She also carried shoes and underwear and just about anything one could want.  I recall Mr. Warrington was very quiet and she conducted all the business, but I might be getting them mixed up with the people who had the dry goods store on Little House on the Prairie.  My mind tends to muddle a bit at my age.

Of course there were also men that made visits and set up on the corner in town and hawked their wares.  Usually these guys were selling some sort of miracle cure for one thing or another.  Those were known as "snake oil"  salesman.  One bottle of their product would cure almost any ailment you had and they guaranteed it.  Only problem was that as soon as they sold the last bottle, they were gone and would never be seen again.

You know, I can remember way back when I found a book I wanted to buy and I wrote a letter to the company explaining what I wanted and then printed my name and address and put the money in the envelope (As I recall it was 15 cents.)and mailed it off to the address in another state.  It took about 6 weeks, but finally here it came. I treasured that book, but more than that, I had faith in people I would never meet to send me what I wanted. Try that now!  They do not want money only a debit card or credit card.  I can order something today and have it tomorrow.  If I took a leaky pan to get it fixed and I found someone that I thought would do it, they would laugh me out of the place.  It is cheaper to buy new, then repair what we have.  I used to stop at the shoe shop on my way home to get my sole put back on or the tongue stitched back in my shoe.  Now I buy a new pair and the old ones are not even falling apart yet.

Well, I just wanted to prattle on a while tonight.  If my stories sometimes seem a bit discombobulated just take them with a grain of salt and remember that truth is sometimes stranger than fiction.

And with that I am off to dreamland.