Snippets of Memory

graduated from college, her wedding day, grandchildren, and great-grands. We are a five-generation family, and they are all a joy to me. As time went on, they all went away to far cities. They do all come back sometimes and there is loud laughter, talk of ball games, and beaches, all of which I don’t understand much about. Still, I sit and smile and try to look wise.

WORDs and images courtesy Dorothy Johnson TRANSCRIPTION Kara Billingsley

II got up late this morning in a beautiful room in my daughter’s house. My daughter brings me a light breakfast. Eating breakfast is a habit I formed long ago in a Kentucky farmhouse kitchen. We needed a hearty breakfast then, for the men went to work in the tobacco fields and farmers' wives always had work to do. After breakfast, I make my bed and dress myself. It takes me longer than usual, but I manage to get it done. There is a pen and pad on my desk and books on my shelves, but I can no longer see to read and write which was my favorite pastime. I walk with the aid of a walker, for which I am thankful. This morning, I sit down to remember.

At ninety-four years old, I have many memories of days gone by. Some stand out above the rest. The day I walked down the aisle in the country church and dedicated my life to the Lord. Then, a few months later, I walked down that same aisle and took my wedding vows. These vows I have kept. I still wear my wedding rings though my husband has been gone many years now. I read that when you are ready to start dating you should take your rings off. I was never ready. Then, there was the morning the nurse laid our baby girl in my arms. There was the day she There are people who pass through your life for a short season, and you never forget them. When I was five years old, my brother came home from his job in the city. He brought with him a pretty young woman named Agnes and introduced her as his wife. I don’t think she knew much about country life because she never offered to help my mother and sister with their work. Instead, she played with me, and boy was I delighted. She made me a doll house with all the trimmings from the Sears and Roebuck catalog. She cut out paper dolls from the same catalog and made clothes for them. She also made cars out of match boxes to pull with a string. She cut the weeds down in the field to pull the dolls in their cars. She smoked cigarettes. No women in the country smoked cigarettes back then, other than a few old women who smoked a pipe. She sort of hid from the family to smoke; I sort of hid and watched her. It was fascinating to watch her blow smoke rings. They left in a few weeks to go back to the city. My brother came back later to go on a vacation, he did not bring Agnes, so we assumed they broke up. I never saw Agnes again.

Have you ever driven to town in a farm wagon pulled by two mules over a rough gravel road? We did not mind the jolting ride. When we were going to town we laughed and sang along the way. Back then, town was made up of two grocery stores, a drug store, a post office, and a small restaurant known as The Eat Shop. Young people went to The Eat Shop and listened to loud country music. The farmers did not go, perhaps they had no money, or the music was too loud. If we stayed for lunch, we had bologna sandwiches from the meat case at the grocery. The drug store served cold drinks and my first soft drink was an orange Crush. Later, when I was a young teen, if I had a quarter, I bought an orange Crush and a True Confessions magazine.

When I was fourteen, I once walked to town in my first pair of high-heel shoes. Oh boy, did I have blisters on my feet the next day! I even remember when we got our first battery-operated radio. Our neighbors did not have radios, so they gathered at our house on Saturday night to listen to the Grand Ole Opry. Never was the music more appreciated, not even the music at Carnegie

Hall in New York City! I always wanted to go see the place where the music came from, but I never got to go.

I had four nieces. One of them was around my age. We had a lot of fun together. We are pictured together in this photo. I loved my sisters. My oldest sister was married and gone before I had many memories, but my youngest sister stayed home and was not married until she was an old maid. She became a fine seamstress! When I was a young teenager, I would pick out a dress from the catalog and she would make it with no pattern. She also loved flowers. Our yard was always filled with beautiful flowers as long as she was home. I was not a flower person, but my husband was. He grew the prettiest roses there ever was! My daughter loves flowers. I guess she inherited it from her dad. My mother was just a plain seamstress, she made the prettiest patches I ever saw for the men folk in our family.

Do you remember when fellas got excited when they saw a girl’s knees? Once my girlfriend saw a picture of her and me and somehow my skirt came up and showed my knees! She sent that picture to a fella she was writing in the army. After that, half the fellas in the army wanted to write to me. On a rare date three of us girls were asked by three fellas if they could take us home after a church supper. They had a one-seated car. The driver saw my leg and tried to get a date with me for the next six months! I wonder what those fellas would think if they were around today.

There was a small town up the highway. During the war there was an army base called Fort Camel. In those days, all the men in uniform could be trusted. I don’t know about today. We girls liked to catch their eyes. When I was eighteen, I met a young soldier on a Greyhound bus. We sat together on the bus, talked, and got acquainted. We began to write each other. On our first date, we met in the little town. He came in on the bus and I rode in with my brother. There were no benches to sit on and I don’t think he had any money to go to The Eat Shop, so we walked until we got tired. We saw a big grassy lot in front of the school building, and we laid down in the grass and talked. All we did was talk that night, not even a kiss. I told this story to a youth group, and they hooted and hollered saying “Tell us the truth!” On our second date, he took a cab out to our house. We sat on the couch in our parlor, and we kissed!

After we were married, we moved eleven times in eleven years. Somehow, though it is strange, I like to move. Though it wasn’t much, I also got excited when we bought our first house, it was a mansion to me. Even now, at ninety-four years old I get excited at the thought of moving to a new home.

As I close this book of memories, I want to offer a tribute to my mother. I was only twenty-two years old when she died. She was a lady, and to say someone is a lady is the highest compliment you can pay a woman. If you had seen my mother out somewhere, you would not have thought of the term “lady.” She was a little woman weighing less than one-hundred pounds. She had dark hair that she wore in a bun on the back of her head. Her hands were rough, and she bit her nails. Her face was lined from years of hard work and long illness. She never snapped or spoke harshly to her seven children, although I have done both. To me, that was a lady. Also, I want to give praise to God who helped me remember, I know many my age cannot. A loving thanks to you who remember these stories with me.

~With Love, Dorothy