Not really sure how to begin, as I have never done this before....but I guess you have to start somewhere. I live in Utah, altho I am not from there. I was born in a little town in East Texas in the Piney Woods. Very pretty and a little hilley...humid, hot in the summer; can be cold in winter, with an occassional ice storm every few years, and no one has a clue how to drive in it, so they just close all the schools and businesses and stay home, much to the delight of all the school children! I grew up feeling that life was quite on the simple side. My grandmother Bailey (my mother's mother) lived about 20 miles to the east in a much smaller town...pop of about 1000, I guess, and we would visit her quite often. I loved Sunday dinner at her house. She would cook everything in the place. It wasn't just a beef roast. She also made fried chicken...(no one could fry a chicken like my grandmother), BBQ chicken, a ham, then there would be every kind of bean or pea you could think of ....purple hull, butter bean, new england cream peas, and that's just to name a few.... yellow rice, white rice, hot water corn bread, regurlar corn bread, bisquits....now...I know...I am not thinking of all that was on that table. And she would still say to us...."I hope I made enough". My grandmother never sat at the table to eat. She always stood at the counter, as she said, she didn't think after "all these years of standing" she could "eat sitting down". I loved my grandmother. I still do. I miss her. I miss seeing her sitting on her front porch in her rocking chair, and I miss sleeping with her in her huge bed, and hearing the fan in her window that kept us cool in the summer. She was never cross with me. She would tease me and tell me that I kicked her in the night. I can still smell her lined-dried sheets and hear the train go by on the tracks that were just two or three blocks away. I loved the sound, and when I hear it now, I still can feel my grandmother beside me and smell her sheets just beneath my chin.
I am the oldest of five kids. My pretty mother was the bombshell mom on the street we lived on. I've often wondered if the other moms might have been jealous. They had to have been. Our mom was a knockout! I'm not sure that our mother knew how cute she was, but I do think others did notice. I do know that in school, when we had our open house in class every year, MY mother was the prettiest! NO ifs, ands or buts.....and it wasn't because I was partial....!
She really was! I will still challenge anyone to this!
Cathy was born about 22 months after me and then Philip, 13 mos after Cathy....I know. Poor mother. We were cute little kids tho. Mom said we would all sit in the same chair to watch cartoons. One day we all cried out at the same time because we were upset at something a mouse did to a cat in one of those cartoons. We are still all major cat lovers.