Memories of Yesteryear

So many years have passed me by and memories come to me as I revert to my childhood days when times were difficult but oh, so very simple.

We had come from the hills of West Virginia where my dad mined coal for a meager living, and we really did owe our souls to the “Company Store.”  Living on the side of a mountain where the front of our house was on stilts above our old outhouse, it was precarious just to find our way in the daytime, let alone the night.  I was afraid of the old outhouse at night, and I would beg my big sister, Nell to hold my hand and walk with me at night as she held the lighted oil lamp to guide our way.  As I sat there, I’d wrap my nose in my gown to try to keep from having to smell the odor that I should have gotten used to after all those years.  I would come out and run to Nell trying again to take her hand.  By this time, she was pretty angry with me for awakening her, but she never refused me.

My mother was up early in the morning to get Dad off to work.  She would have to stoke the embers in the old, pot-bellied stove in the living room first to warm up the house.  She would then start a fire in the kitchen cook stove, white ceramic it was, and it had two warming shelves over the stove and a large tank for water on the side.  The home-baked biscuits, yeast bread, rolls, cornbread and other baked goods that came out of its oven were some of the best I recall.  Mom would also have to draw water from the well outside to start the day with coffee in a small percolator.  A large saucepan held oatmeal and a cast iron skillet fried bacon or sausage and eggs for Dad’s breakfast.  We didn’t have much, but Daddy’s breakfast had to be a substantial one.  By the time we children, seven of us, were up and ready for school, the oatmeal and biscuits became our breakfast.  Oh, how I loved oatmeal, and I still do.

In the fall and winter months, we arose to a coal oil lamp and went to bed with it as well.  Daily the girls would have to clean the lamps, because the soot from the wick would blacken the glass.  Our entertainment was reading, sewing or embroidery.  The boys whittled wood or fought to keep from being bored.  We all worked hard; Mom washed clothes on a washboard and hung them on the line.  She chopped most of the wood when the boys were in school, but they took over when they were home.  We girls would keep water in the house, help cook, clean the dishes, floors and make beds.  As long as there was light, there was work to do.  Dad always said that hard work kept us out of trouble.  I still wonder why I had to fetch so many switches for myself. 

We also helped in the garden where Mom grew leaf lettuce, cabbage, okra, onions, corn and other vegetables.  We would have fresh tomatoes, green onions, cucumbers for salads, and we made up our own recipe for a wilted lettuce salad.  Leaf lettuce, green onions and heated bacon grease made for a yummy treat any time during the summer.  I can’t imagine eating it now, but those salads helped us to make it through the day when we had little to eat between breakfast and dinner.

Old quilts handmade by my grandmother and my mother graced all the beds.  My two sisters and I slept in one bed, the three oldest boys slept in another bed, and my little brother slept in Mom and Daddy’s room.  I nearly always slept in the middle of the full-sized bed, which is probably why I now fight my little dog for the outside and make him sleep in the middle.  I would gladly have slept by the wall just to not be in the middle with both Nell and Elizabeth squishing me.  Once I was too afraid to go outside by myself, and Nell refused to take me, so I scrunched over as close to her as I could when I couldn’t hold it in anymore.  I peed on her, and she was blamed for the mess.  I didn’t own up to it until many years later, but she always got up with me after that.

There was the old sow that had piglets that scared me so badly I’d nearly pee myself every time I had to feed her.  She weighed over six-hundred pounds, and I just knew she’d eat me one day!  There were chickens that ran everywhere, and it was fascinating to me to see them run around after their heads were chopped off.  One even let out a squawk while in a dead run as its head lay on the ground by the chopping block.  Yes, it’s gross now, but it was part of my life then, and I thought nothing of it.  We also had rabbits that became our pets, but Daddy sold some of them, and we eventually ate the rest of them when Daddy was out of work for awhile.  We had little for food, but I never remember going hungry.  Daddy had a .22 rifle that always made sure there was squirrel, rabbit or other wild game on the table.

When we finally got electricity, we were given a phonograph and some records, and Dad bought a radio.  Most people had televisions by that time, but we were always a little behind.  It didn’t matter, though.  I never knew what I was missing, and I still long for the peaceful life we had then.  There was no telephone to interrupt our dinner, no constant rambling of the television set corrupting the children with sex and violence, and there was never an electric or water bill.  Yes, we had an outhouse, and we worked hard every day, but it was quiet and private out on that lonely, country road.  I have a lovely large painting over our fireplace that reminds me of that old house, and I sometimes just sit there looking at that picture and longing to just jump right into it and live in it.  What a wonderful life and I didn’t even realize it then.