Stories from the hills of Kentucky

Be good for goodness sake

Like my grandma in Missouri, my mother-in-law often went to take care of sick neighbors. While she was gone, my father-in-law and I would slyly use some of her eggs and bake him some sugar cookies. He would eat them before they cooled. Every trace of our mischief had to be gone before her return. She wanted every egg so she could buy thread and chewing tobacco.

Christmas Day

“Gal,” (That was what my father-in-law lovingly always called me) ”would you make me some eggnog if I tell you how?” For him it just wasn’t Christmas without that once-a-year treat.

I beat until smooth, three eggs and added ¼ cup sugar and two cups creamy milk. I continued beating while slowly adding ½ cup whiskey while cooking the eggs. After the eggnog had heated through I sprinkled with nutmeg.

I dislike whisky and drunkards, but I like eggnog.

New Year’s Day

My mother-in-law always made me laugh on New Year’s Day morning. She truly believed the old saying that the first visitor determined what luck she would have with chickens. If a male were the first visitor, most of the eggs hatched would be little roosters. If a female were the first visitor, she would have a lot of hens. A man meant most of the little roosters would either be fried or sold.

The first year on the mountain I had forgotten who the visitor was but I sold $3.85 worth of fryers and that was the only cash we had that whole year. All our share of the tobacco money had gone to pay what we owned at the store.

NOTE: For those of you who raise chickens, you had better watch for your first visitor on New Year’s Day. 

The note below may still be true. I have never tested the test. I just look at the expiration date labeled on the carton of eggs I purchase at the grocery store.

Good times at family reunions

1955 at Lottie Baggett home

Family reunions have always been the highlight of the summer. We always looked forward to them and couldn’t wait until our relatives arrived and cried when they had to go back to their homes. It is still that way in our family. Brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles and especially grandparents make you feel loved and highly respected, no matter your age or circumstances. That’s just the way it is. I don’t recall any major squabbles or division of “them versus us”.

After listening to families who can’t say that about their reunions, it makes you wonder why ours is always such a joyous occasion.

Possible reasons that come to mind include:

l   We were taught that if you can’t say something good, then just listen!

l   Hard times brought our family together much like war buddies. We looked out for one another.

l   But maybe the most important reason with Polly’s kids was “Gayle’s coming! Gayle’s coming home!”

Like Polly, Gayle left home early and moved so far away. Everyone marked the dates she would be here, even brother C. A. who lives in Illinois. We all did our best to get home to see Gayle.

Now that times are better for all of us, it’s still hard on our pocketbooks and aging bones but when it does happen, we celebrate and treasure every moment we’re together.

Thank you to those who drove so far to come to this year’s reunion. Thank you to those who opened their doors and hosted the reunion in Kentucky.

Paul’s granddaughter Syra poses in front of Sid’s deer camp at the farm. Sidney shows off his modern amenities inside his camp. His camp is located so deep in the woods that it can’t be seen on Google map via satellite. We joked that we felt like we were in the rain forest.

We gathered at the camp every afternoon to start cooking that day’s supper that included wild game, fresh produce from the garden and a wild assortment of homemade items from canned okra pickles to pickled garlic. Fresh pears and apples were used to make some yummy desserts.

Family reunions always involve lots of remembering and stories told by some of the country’s best storytellers. (More stories for Ozark Malarkey perhaps.) After supper everyone moved to Jo Nell’s resort to sit by the campfire and try to top the last story with even a funnier one. Did you know a giant rabbit lives at her place?

Admiring the beautiful Moon Glory blossoms made us remember how much Polly loved them. Everyday she would go out and wait for the big event - the final unfurling that released the petals in a burst of perfect beauty. But it was more than that. It held special significance to Polly and her sister Ruth.

It was Ruth who first read Jetta Carleton’s book “The Moonflower Vine” and introduced it to Polly. I can still remember hearing Ruth say “This story was written about us I think! It sounds just like our family reunions.”

(Description from Amazon) On a farm in western Missouri during the first half of the twentieth century, Matthew and Callie Soames create a life for themselves and raise four headstrong daughters. Jessica will break their hearts. Leonie will fall in love with the wrong man. Mary Jo will escape to New York. And wild child Mathy's fate will be the family's greatest tragedy. Over the decades they will love, deceive, comfort, forgive—and, ultimately, they will come to cherish all the more fiercely the bonds of love that hold the family together.

http://www.amazon.com/Moonflower-Vine-Novel-P-S/dp/0061673234

Don't crack the eggs!

Waiting in the labor and delivery room to welcome a new life gives one time to reflect on  their own life. Families of all shapes and sizes and ages wait in eager anticipation. It doesn’t take long before one feels a common bond with all those other families, waiting.

Today I sat waiting for a young friend of mine to give birth to her second child when an older heavy-set woman put her walker aside and sat down beside me. The person with her declined the offer to sit on the couch with us, opting instead to sit on the floor with his back against the wall.

I remarked how I love to sit on the floor and take every opportunity I can to do so. “Oh, but it’s the getting up that’s hard!” they said in unison.  From there the conversation moved to falling and trying to get up. (Did you know that falls are the leading cause of brain injury in older adults?)

On the way home after meeting my friend’s new baby, I thought of the time when my mother came to stay with us to wait for the arrival of her grandchild. Seven weeks of waiting gave us plenty of time to go places, see new sights and run numerous errands.

One cold October day she and I walked three blocks to the grocery store and the nearby hardware store. She thought because I was so ready to go into labor at any time that I should carry the small glass storm window that we had repaired at the hardware store and she would carry the heavy bag of groceries (we only needed eggs). Walking back to the house I asked her if the down coat I had given her was keeping her warm.

“Oh, yes it s---u----r-----eeeeeeee” she replying as she tripped on uneven pavement and began falling forward!  Trying to not fall and break the eggs, she tried to catch her balance by walking faster. I tried to help her by walking faster so that I could grab onto her coat. The coat slipped out of my attempt as she continued to fall. She walked faster again. I tried to grab her coat again. Over and over she would almost go down and I would almost catch her with my free hand while holding the window tightly with the other. After falling forward and traveling almost half a block in distance she finally righted herself without falling  – and I finally grabbed her coat.  Whew, close call.

Oh how we laughed and laughed. She saved the eggs from cracking and I saved the glass from breaking. My daughter was born the next day.

My mom loved birthdays. She always wanted to celebrate the day she was born, September 14, 1919 by swimming in Current River. It didn’t matter what the temperature might be she would come out of the water refreshed and happy, ready to start another year.

Happy Birthday!

Polly always celebrated her birthday by getting wet in Current River. 

All in one place

(Notes in blue written by Carol) 

Oh the treasures I found when I opened the old book. Lots of ozark malarkey!

My scrapbook is so old it falls to pieces as I try to add more memories. Just scraps of paper I’ve collected over the last few years. I’ve moved twice since I last got the old book out to add more pictures, newspaper clippings, letters, post cards and notes to myself. Some make me sad, others make me glad, but I just can’t part with them. I guess a scrapbook is the right place for them – all in one place.  

Polly Roark, January 27, 1990

One such scrap of paper was noted as “Mom (Lottie) talking…”

I remember our first telephone. It was wonderful! There was a family by the name of Stacy that used to play music and sing. Everyone would take down their receiver and listen to them play music and sing at least one night a week. These were the old type of telephones that hung on the wall.

I also remember the first moving picture I ever saw. It was a small moving picture machine and the music came from a little Victor phonograph. This was at our little Upper Ten-Mile School between Hunter and Elsinore (Missouri). It was about 1908.

That was too much for my little brother Bill. He danced a jig all over the place! I thought that was the best part of the show! Lottie Baggett

Another such scrap of paper was a letter from KFVS TELEVISION, Cape Girardeau, Missouri…

Dear Polly:

From the three of us to the one of you…. You are really something else. Would that we had more viewers like that throughout the Channel 12 coverage area, we could probably inflate our salaries and be in the 90% income bracket. In all seriousness, thank you very much for your kind letter in regard to your TV watching habits.

We have your letter pinned up on the wall in my office next to the one from the little old lady in Metropolis who hates all three of us. We figure that yours more than balances out hers and makes all this early morning nonsense worthwhile.

Again, thanks for the letter. If you are ever in Cape stop in and say “hello”. The coffee is on us.

Very truly yours, Pat Gordon, March 19, 1971

The last BIG fight!

Thank goodness that my seven children had few fights. The two oldest boys only had two fights. The other two fighters (Carol and Sidney) often had more than a dozen a day.

The last one happened when they were almost teenagers. 

I had brought baby Paul home from the babysitter after a bad day at the beauty shop. When he started crying, they grabbed the little fellow out of the crib, each one pulling a little leg. As usual, Carol hit the first lick. I grabbed the baby and told the others to stand back while I made them fight until they were both bloody. I was tired of their fighting.

Every time they were ready to stop I made them go at it again. Gayle begged me to let them stop. Again and again I would say they were not bloody yet. She thought I had lost my mind, I guess. She said that I would have to take them to the hospital.

Finally, Sidney bloodied Carol’s nose. She hooked him behind the knees with her foot and when he was floored flat on his back she grabbed his feet and stood over him. Her blood was dripping onto his face. They were both crying.

“O.K.,” I said. If they ever fought again after that, I never knew it.  -- Polly

Carol says "We never did. We knew the next time Sidney would be bigger and stronger so I gave in that day. He actually earned the heavyweight title during that fight!"