"Doris has something she wants to show you," Sarah told Arthur as they were eating supper one evening after the chores were done.
With all eyes on her, Doris' cheeks flushed knowing her mother was talking about the guitar.
"Are you ready to play your song?" she asked.
"Well," she drew the word out hesitant to answer shyly. "Maybe, if no body laughs at me".
"Why would we laugh? You sound pretty good to me". Everyone at the table heard their exchange, yet no one added any comment.
Sarah had told Arthur about how their Doris had practiced and sang every chance she had then added, "She is getting pretty good".
That would have to wait for her father's judgment before she could accept how well she had come to play. However, she did accept the time had arrived to come out of the bedroom for her debut.
The dishes washed and put away, the girls joined the others in the small living room where the radio was playing country music from WSM Nashville. Doris went for the guitar and pulled her up a chair. Sarah reached to turn the radio off and waited.
Forming the key of G with the fingers of her left hand, she began "On a Hill far away stood an old rugged cross, the emblem of suffering and shame. And I love that old cross where the dearest and best for a world of lost sinners was slain."
Whew! she made it through that part, she thought as she started the refrain.
"So I'll cherish the Old Rugged Cross, where my trophies at last I'll lay down,
I will Cling to the Old Rugged Cross, and exchange it someday for a crown."
Arthur had to admit she did great. His words of praise gave her heart extra warmth. She had found something she could do well that made him proud. He took the guitar and started strumming and humming before a song familiar to them all came out and the older girls joined in. He had heard them harmonize quite by accident while they worked together in peanut harvest a few days before.
Arthur raised peanuts for their own use. There was nothing more favored by the Tanner family than parched peanuts, popcorn and coke on a fall or winter night.
While pulling the peanut vines from the ground, shaking the dirt off the growth of peanuts, Donna, Nina and Doris started to sing. Harmony came easy for whatever song they sang. Arthur was amazed and pleased at the same time. He encouraged them to sing again.
"I didn't know you-all could sing like that!" he stopped long enough to exclaim with excitement. "Sing another one", he added with encouragement. Picking up the base harmony, he joined in. Soon the quietness of the mid day allowed the melody of four synchronized voices to go heavenward.
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The day's work done, supper dishes put away, the family sat outside to enjoy the quiet of the country evening. A gnat cloth smoldered in a bucket on the ground in front of them, the rising smoke chasing the annoying gnats away. There were few mosquitos’ to speak of, and then again, the gnat cloth may have served another purpose.
In the bushes near by, a Whippoorwill sang welcoming the dusk of the day. Occasionally, he would move further out in the field, then again he went to a nearby tree; each time stopping to sing his song of "Whippoorwill, Whippoorwill!"
Doris carried through her life the sound of the small bird of the night. During trying times, his singing gave her courage. It was always a reminder of the simpler days on the farm, where life was black and white with very little variation; a reminder of the day when the world was quiet as far as she was concerned.
Entering into the 1950's, she had no reference to the changes the world as she knew it, was going through. From the quiet days of reflection after the depression, world war two had ended, Hitler was brought to Justice and the Jews were free, to a time of rebellion and change.
Shrouded in a blanket of security, she tried to read her father's face for signs of worry. However the quiet man that he was kept his worries to himself. When times were lean, and food scarce, he came to the table and declared, "I'm not very hungry tonight", while his children ate to a state of contentedness.
That was a minor side of the man she called Daddy. He was a man of few words all right, but often the words he did speak came out harsh to the ears of tenderhearted girls, who needed something more than words from him. Maybe one day she would hear something from him that would reinforce his love. Could she in her lifetime evoke a conversation with him that would assure her he was “glad she was another daughter,” instead of the son he had prayed for? Would he ever be able to say, “I am proud of you”?
Several years would pass before she could sort out the thinking that sometimes tumbled and even jumbled around in her head.
However, on a night like the one they were experiencing, as children will, Doris and her sisters chased fireflies. Seeing who could catch the most, they giggled at everything and nothing, feeling the dew on their bare feet, as it settled on the yard where they played.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Chapter Four - One Woman's Journey!
To tell her story, which intertwines in and around her sisters becoming part of the fabric of her life, would be impossible without making them a part. For indeed they were a component of her journey and there would be no life without them, each one contributing to her existence in a different way. They each were raised in the same house, on the same rich land their father had purchased in the middle 1930's. Each of the girls knew their place and chores. Each one had their own secrets and desires. Today they share memories of those years.
Linda was born in July 1944, shortly after the return from Detroit. Whether Arthur had accepted he was destined to have daughters and no sons in his future, no one actually knew for he kept his thinking to himself.
Linda was considered premature, weighing in at around six pounds, she weighed less that the three girls before her. She was healthy but small. At her birth, Donna, Nina and Doris were ushered to Granny O'Guins house to play. When returning home, they found a new sister that wasn't there before. They examined the baby, and eventually their lives for the most part was back to normal.
Martha was born in August 1947 when Linda was three years old. This time the girls were told to play outside all day. A hub of activity was going on inside the house, where Granny O'Guinn's two daughters had come to assist in the birth. One of the daughters was Aunt Nora who was married to Arthur's brother. She brought her children so the seven of them run amuck with no supervision to speak of. Donald and Orman, Aunt Nora's two sons were like brothers to Doris and her sisters and whatever they said was just wonderful, fun and funny.
Donald was one who appeared self assured at the age of 10, said. "Every time a Doctor comes to this house with that black bag he leaves a baby!"
Wow the girls had never thought of such a thing. On second thought it was true. It had happened at his house when Evonne was born in 1942, and now that the Doctor was expected to arrive any moment, Donald surmised, "I think I'll trip him this time before he goes up the porch steps. If he has a baby in that black bag and its a girl, we'll tell him to take it back."
That sounded like a plan. Shortly, the sound of crushing gravel was heard, and then the putt putt of the motor of a black car came around the curve at the edge of the field, stopping in front of the house. Dr. Atkins emerged hurriedly from the parked car, made his way up the steps and into the house without being tripped, while carrying his black bag.
Awhile later, Aunt Nora came to the porch to announce there was another baby girl inside the house. The women who served as mid-wives were always jubilant when a healthy baby arrived, however Doris and the others acknowledged the news, but went back to their play.
Then there was Lois. Lois was born in 1954. Dr. Atkins had a clinic by then where he delivered the babies for families all over Houston County. For the first time in all of her child bearing years, Sarah received a new bassinet with a complete layette.
Being fourteen, Doris felt privileged to know about this birth. She was slightly aware of her mother's swelling body and the slowness of her steps, as she grew bigger. She watched her parents get into the car and drive away. Martha knew they were going to town, though she had no idea why. She asked for bubble gum, and was upset when they came back home the next day with a baby sister instead.
Lois was their baby. Each of the older girls appreciated having a little one around to dress, bathe and comb her hair. It took a great responsibility off Sarah, as her housework and farm life didn't slack up because she had another baby in the house.
Six girls, who were not aware of how rich their lives were; how every occurrence on the farm would take them through trials and test of life in years to come, and give them a bond of love that would be difficult to break. A bond that far surpassed blood line and went into friendships, the kind that lasts through lean uncertain times.
Six girls who would go their separate ways after school as siblings will, but would in time, return in one common purpose
As far as they were concerned,as the circle of family they were becoming, would grow, live, thrive, survive and die on the land of their birth. Little did they know that one day the picture would be much different than the scene that played out before them in that day 1954.
Linda was born in July 1944, shortly after the return from Detroit. Whether Arthur had accepted he was destined to have daughters and no sons in his future, no one actually knew for he kept his thinking to himself.
Linda was considered premature, weighing in at around six pounds, she weighed less that the three girls before her. She was healthy but small. At her birth, Donna, Nina and Doris were ushered to Granny O'Guins house to play. When returning home, they found a new sister that wasn't there before. They examined the baby, and eventually their lives for the most part was back to normal.
Martha was born in August 1947 when Linda was three years old. This time the girls were told to play outside all day. A hub of activity was going on inside the house, where Granny O'Guinn's two daughters had come to assist in the birth. One of the daughters was Aunt Nora who was married to Arthur's brother. She brought her children so the seven of them run amuck with no supervision to speak of. Donald and Orman, Aunt Nora's two sons were like brothers to Doris and her sisters and whatever they said was just wonderful, fun and funny.
Donald was one who appeared self assured at the age of 10, said. "Every time a Doctor comes to this house with that black bag he leaves a baby!"
Wow the girls had never thought of such a thing. On second thought it was true. It had happened at his house when Evonne was born in 1942, and now that the Doctor was expected to arrive any moment, Donald surmised, "I think I'll trip him this time before he goes up the porch steps. If he has a baby in that black bag and its a girl, we'll tell him to take it back."
That sounded like a plan. Shortly, the sound of crushing gravel was heard, and then the putt putt of the motor of a black car came around the curve at the edge of the field, stopping in front of the house. Dr. Atkins emerged hurriedly from the parked car, made his way up the steps and into the house without being tripped, while carrying his black bag.
Awhile later, Aunt Nora came to the porch to announce there was another baby girl inside the house. The women who served as mid-wives were always jubilant when a healthy baby arrived, however Doris and the others acknowledged the news, but went back to their play.
Then there was Lois. Lois was born in 1954. Dr. Atkins had a clinic by then where he delivered the babies for families all over Houston County. For the first time in all of her child bearing years, Sarah received a new bassinet with a complete layette.
Being fourteen, Doris felt privileged to know about this birth. She was slightly aware of her mother's swelling body and the slowness of her steps, as she grew bigger. She watched her parents get into the car and drive away. Martha knew they were going to town, though she had no idea why. She asked for bubble gum, and was upset when they came back home the next day with a baby sister instead.
Lois was their baby. Each of the older girls appreciated having a little one around to dress, bathe and comb her hair. It took a great responsibility off Sarah, as her housework and farm life didn't slack up because she had another baby in the house.
Six girls, who were not aware of how rich their lives were; how every occurrence on the farm would take them through trials and test of life in years to come, and give them a bond of love that would be difficult to break. A bond that far surpassed blood line and went into friendships, the kind that lasts through lean uncertain times.
Six girls who would go their separate ways after school as siblings will, but would in time, return in one common purpose
As far as they were concerned,as the circle of family they were becoming, would grow, live, thrive, survive and die on the land of their birth. Little did they know that one day the picture would be much different than the scene that played out before them in that day 1954.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Chapter Three - One Woman's Journey!
Doris was born in 1940 the third daughter of her parents, Arthur and Sarah Tanner. Donna was their first daughter born in Whippoorwill Hollow in July of 1936. Two years later and a few months, Nina was born in a little house on Lewis Branch. So with Doris' birth, her father was looking and even hoping for a son did not receive having three girls in four years very well. He came in from the field, where the mid wives who had come to attend Sarah during labor and delivery of each baby worked feverishly consoling her as they readied things for the Doctor who would be arriving at any moment for the actual delivery.
Soon after the Doctor arrived, the sound of a crying new born filled the atmosphere.
"Another healthy baby girl, Arthur", Dr. Atkins announced, as he stepped into the next room where Arthur stood twirling his old brown brimmed hat soiled from dirt and sweat. Dressed in his overalls with nothing but a sleevless t-shirt underneath, he managed to look at the Doctor and nodd his head, indicating he had heard. The neighborhood women knew what was next. With unity of purpose they began their job of cleaning up the birthing bed, gently dressing Sarah and urging her to rest.
"Is Sarah all right?" Arthur managed to speak after moments of silence. To which the Doctor answered, "She needs rest, Arthur. Having babies so close together is not giving her body time to rest up for the next labor and delivery. She is strong, but she will need to stay in bed and let someone else take care of things for awhile."
As an afterthought, the country Doctor looked at him and asked, "Are you alright Arthur?"
Arthur was never one for words, so all he uttered for an answer was "yea", as he turned on his heels and left the house. Heading toward the barn, his mixed emotions tumbled out in whispers as a prayer. "Lord, I want to be happy for the new baby, but I sure need a son. I was hoping for a son this time to help me with the farm."
Doris had heard the story, and had taken it to heart much more than she realized. It may have been a story she had no business ever knowing, however she did, so now she had to digest it into a life she was trying to figure out anyway.
Could that be the reason she loved the out doors? Walking in a new plowed field, taking the dog Jack to the pasture beyond the woods that bordered the farm to bring the cows in for milking at the close of day, driving the tractor, or watching from the fence as her father pitched hay to the cattle?
She loved being with him, but he could never seem to respond to her need to hear him address her by name. Somehow, it was comforting to hear her name called by him for any reason. When she did elicit a response, in the form of a question, she tried to follow his lead and answer with intelligence. That is what he wanted from her she felt sure.
“That will make him proud I am a girl”, her cheeks flushed at the very thought of such a thing.
Others her age referred to their father as Father. That did not go over very well with Arthur. He was adamant that his name was not Father.
Just the memory of the day was an indelible mark on her soul. She was in the back seat of the car with Linda and Martha, her two younger sisters. The three of them was getting to ride with Mama and Daddy to check on the corn crop at the Busby place. Along with farming his own 100 acres, he rented land from neighboring farms.
Mother had had him stop at Mrs. Reynolds house so she could return something she had borrowed a few days earlier. No one spoke for a while, which made Doris want to fill in the gap with conversation. From one subject to another she asked questions. Some he answered, others he ignored.
“Father, what do you think about…..?”
Without hesitation, his voice stern and unforgiving, he said, “My name is not Father, young lady. There is only one Father and that is God. Don’t ever call me Father again.”
The silence in the car hung heavy until Sarah opened the door and got in. Between her parents, they continued with small talk conversation that was their usual exchange.
Her will to talk did not come easily the rest of the trip. The lump in her throat was difficult to hold down as it was, and if she opened her mouth much she might cry, and cry was not an emotion she wanted to show him.
Only once, while the car followed the road that ran beside white oak creek as it followed the creek bed around the bluffs , did she say anything. And then it was not meant for anyone to hear.
“That would be a good place to take my life,” she said with a heavy heart.
“What did you say?” her Mother barked from the front seat.
Reluctantly Doris repeated what she had said, wishing she could take it back. “I just said that would be a good place to kill yourself.”
“You must never talk like that! You get thoughts like that out of your head right now!” With the matter settled as far as Sarah was concerned, she turned around to watch the road ahead.
Secretly – Doris was relieved that someone cared. Caring was an understanding in their home. By what one did for you, more than, for what was said. If she ever heard the words “I love you”, she could not remember how it sounded. She learned to read between the lines of what was said, versus what was done.
She had a bed she shared with Donna. Donna would soon be seventeen, the oldest of the five girls and would graduate the next spring. She had food to eat. She had a few dresses and clothes. If that did not prove one was loved, it was just too bad if one required more. She was getting an education. Her Dad had only gone to the third grade, so it was his determination that each of his girls gets a high school education. That should count for something.
She had never had any desire to run away from home. Facing the unknown among strangers was not an idea she entertained. She had learned she had a place; a place where people got along with each other, a place where one could find a place to be alone when the need arose, a place to play, a place to sing, or on occasion a place to cry.
Soon after the Doctor arrived, the sound of a crying new born filled the atmosphere.
"Another healthy baby girl, Arthur", Dr. Atkins announced, as he stepped into the next room where Arthur stood twirling his old brown brimmed hat soiled from dirt and sweat. Dressed in his overalls with nothing but a sleevless t-shirt underneath, he managed to look at the Doctor and nodd his head, indicating he had heard. The neighborhood women knew what was next. With unity of purpose they began their job of cleaning up the birthing bed, gently dressing Sarah and urging her to rest.
"Is Sarah all right?" Arthur managed to speak after moments of silence. To which the Doctor answered, "She needs rest, Arthur. Having babies so close together is not giving her body time to rest up for the next labor and delivery. She is strong, but she will need to stay in bed and let someone else take care of things for awhile."
As an afterthought, the country Doctor looked at him and asked, "Are you alright Arthur?"
Arthur was never one for words, so all he uttered for an answer was "yea", as he turned on his heels and left the house. Heading toward the barn, his mixed emotions tumbled out in whispers as a prayer. "Lord, I want to be happy for the new baby, but I sure need a son. I was hoping for a son this time to help me with the farm."
Doris had heard the story, and had taken it to heart much more than she realized. It may have been a story she had no business ever knowing, however she did, so now she had to digest it into a life she was trying to figure out anyway.
Could that be the reason she loved the out doors? Walking in a new plowed field, taking the dog Jack to the pasture beyond the woods that bordered the farm to bring the cows in for milking at the close of day, driving the tractor, or watching from the fence as her father pitched hay to the cattle?
She loved being with him, but he could never seem to respond to her need to hear him address her by name. Somehow, it was comforting to hear her name called by him for any reason. When she did elicit a response, in the form of a question, she tried to follow his lead and answer with intelligence. That is what he wanted from her she felt sure.
“That will make him proud I am a girl”, her cheeks flushed at the very thought of such a thing.
Others her age referred to their father as Father. That did not go over very well with Arthur. He was adamant that his name was not Father.
Just the memory of the day was an indelible mark on her soul. She was in the back seat of the car with Linda and Martha, her two younger sisters. The three of them was getting to ride with Mama and Daddy to check on the corn crop at the Busby place. Along with farming his own 100 acres, he rented land from neighboring farms.
Mother had had him stop at Mrs. Reynolds house so she could return something she had borrowed a few days earlier. No one spoke for a while, which made Doris want to fill in the gap with conversation. From one subject to another she asked questions. Some he answered, others he ignored.
“Father, what do you think about…..?”
Without hesitation, his voice stern and unforgiving, he said, “My name is not Father, young lady. There is only one Father and that is God. Don’t ever call me Father again.”
The silence in the car hung heavy until Sarah opened the door and got in. Between her parents, they continued with small talk conversation that was their usual exchange.
Her will to talk did not come easily the rest of the trip. The lump in her throat was difficult to hold down as it was, and if she opened her mouth much she might cry, and cry was not an emotion she wanted to show him.
Only once, while the car followed the road that ran beside white oak creek as it followed the creek bed around the bluffs , did she say anything. And then it was not meant for anyone to hear.
“That would be a good place to take my life,” she said with a heavy heart.
“What did you say?” her Mother barked from the front seat.
Reluctantly Doris repeated what she had said, wishing she could take it back. “I just said that would be a good place to kill yourself.”
“You must never talk like that! You get thoughts like that out of your head right now!” With the matter settled as far as Sarah was concerned, she turned around to watch the road ahead.
Secretly – Doris was relieved that someone cared. Caring was an understanding in their home. By what one did for you, more than, for what was said. If she ever heard the words “I love you”, she could not remember how it sounded. She learned to read between the lines of what was said, versus what was done.
She had a bed she shared with Donna. Donna would soon be seventeen, the oldest of the five girls and would graduate the next spring. She had food to eat. She had a few dresses and clothes. If that did not prove one was loved, it was just too bad if one required more. She was getting an education. Her Dad had only gone to the third grade, so it was his determination that each of his girls gets a high school education. That should count for something.
She had never had any desire to run away from home. Facing the unknown among strangers was not an idea she entertained. She had learned she had a place; a place where people got along with each other, a place where one could find a place to be alone when the need arose, a place to play, a place to sing, or on occasion a place to cry.
Chapter Two - One Woman's Journey!
Inside the house, she poured the pail of water into the bigger container of drinking water. She loved being the first to get a drink of the fresh water, so taking the dipper she filled it with enough to get a good soothing drink of the coldest freshest water she had ever tasted, and then replaced the dipper into the bucket.
No one thought of how unsanitary it was to drink from the same dipper. Everyone did it. She had learned to stand away from the bucket to drink, so as not to let any droplets that fell from her chin back into the bucket.
"Get from over the bucket!" Mother had warned on many occasions, and each time she seemed to misunderstand. She heard, "Doris, get over the bucket!" When she did as she heard, her Mother would yell again, "Get from over the bucket!"
Eventually she understood what her Mother was trying to say and from then on, she got "away" from the bucket whereas the water dripped onto the floor instead.
It was 1953 when there was no such thing as the lazy days of summer, at least not at the Tanner household. Maybe when the summer chores were done, there might be a time for reading or singing, but not until Mama finally said the word. Today was one of those days. Doris went into the small bedroom just off the living room, and picked up the guitar. The guitar was one of her Daddy's prized possessions, but he had been glad to show her how to cord the keys of G, C, F and D. Even with sore fingers from days of trying, she had a passion for learning to play the guitar. Not like anyone in particular, just to be able to play and sing would be good enough."On a Hill far away," she softly sang stopping to change keys before starting again. "Stood an old rugged cross," she paused once more to place her fingers on the right strings before continuing.
"The emblem of suffering and shame" With each key change it became easier for her fingers to go to the right strings without thinking about what she was trying to accomplish. "And I love that old Cross where the dearest and best, for a world of lost sinners was slain!" She sat into late afternoon strumming and singing the same song, determined to get it right. She was not aware of an audience in the dining room. As far as she was concerned, she was alone with the much-loved guitar letting her voice come naturally to the melody she played. There would be time later when her confidence was peaked to show her father what she had learned from his few instructions. Surely, he would be proud of her efforts. She was still unsure of what to do with her right hand while the left held down the strings. That could come later when Daddy had time to stop and show her. As for now, she gently placed the guitar on the bed, where she placed the pick interwoven through the strings to be there when she returned. Daddy did not like it when the pick was gone.
On first meeting, one would be hard pressed to learn she was a loner. There were no signs of a loner when only family was around for she always found something to talk about. Not everyone wanted to hear the prating of a thirteen-year-old girl, but that did not keep her from speaking and adding a thought to the conversation. Often what she said brought a laugh, which made her feel good enough to interject something else in hopes to bring a laugh. Her Dad did not always see the humor in what she said, however his quiet disapproval slowed her down ver little.
Nina was quiet and reserved, but Doris found her easy to talk with. Nina was nineteen months older, and she hung on each word Nina said. It was she who told Doris about the times of a month that comes to show us “we are a woman”. It took Mama to help her prepare the rags for use during those “periods”. However, from her limited knowledge, Nina told her about the birds and bees.
“Don’t get too close to boys”, she said as they were walking down the road toward their Grandma’s house.
“Really?” Doris asked in surprise. She had never heard of such a thing. Other than cousins, she had no frame of reference to a boyfriend.
“Well it is OK to kiss a boy or hold hands, but nothing more than that until after you are married.” Nina stumbled as she tried to explain.
“I don’t fully understand, but I’ll keep that in mind”, Doris said softly as they turned and started back up the gravel road toward home. The uncomfortable subject changed to something more mutually understanding.
The rest of the story she would learn from her friends at school, like Gail or Norma, who had received the information from their sister, or maybe even their mother. Moreover, before too many months after school started, one was about as learned in the ways of the birds and bees as one could be in those days. Misinformation as well as opinionated information.
Nina had done her part so she could report back to Mama that the "talk" was done.
No one thought of how unsanitary it was to drink from the same dipper. Everyone did it. She had learned to stand away from the bucket to drink, so as not to let any droplets that fell from her chin back into the bucket.
"Get from over the bucket!" Mother had warned on many occasions, and each time she seemed to misunderstand. She heard, "Doris, get over the bucket!" When she did as she heard, her Mother would yell again, "Get from over the bucket!"
Eventually she understood what her Mother was trying to say and from then on, she got "away" from the bucket whereas the water dripped onto the floor instead.
It was 1953 when there was no such thing as the lazy days of summer, at least not at the Tanner household. Maybe when the summer chores were done, there might be a time for reading or singing, but not until Mama finally said the word. Today was one of those days. Doris went into the small bedroom just off the living room, and picked up the guitar. The guitar was one of her Daddy's prized possessions, but he had been glad to show her how to cord the keys of G, C, F and D. Even with sore fingers from days of trying, she had a passion for learning to play the guitar. Not like anyone in particular, just to be able to play and sing would be good enough."On a Hill far away," she softly sang stopping to change keys before starting again. "Stood an old rugged cross," she paused once more to place her fingers on the right strings before continuing.
"The emblem of suffering and shame" With each key change it became easier for her fingers to go to the right strings without thinking about what she was trying to accomplish. "And I love that old Cross where the dearest and best, for a world of lost sinners was slain!" She sat into late afternoon strumming and singing the same song, determined to get it right. She was not aware of an audience in the dining room. As far as she was concerned, she was alone with the much-loved guitar letting her voice come naturally to the melody she played. There would be time later when her confidence was peaked to show her father what she had learned from his few instructions. Surely, he would be proud of her efforts. She was still unsure of what to do with her right hand while the left held down the strings. That could come later when Daddy had time to stop and show her. As for now, she gently placed the guitar on the bed, where she placed the pick interwoven through the strings to be there when she returned. Daddy did not like it when the pick was gone.
On first meeting, one would be hard pressed to learn she was a loner. There were no signs of a loner when only family was around for she always found something to talk about. Not everyone wanted to hear the prating of a thirteen-year-old girl, but that did not keep her from speaking and adding a thought to the conversation. Often what she said brought a laugh, which made her feel good enough to interject something else in hopes to bring a laugh. Her Dad did not always see the humor in what she said, however his quiet disapproval slowed her down ver little.
Nina was quiet and reserved, but Doris found her easy to talk with. Nina was nineteen months older, and she hung on each word Nina said. It was she who told Doris about the times of a month that comes to show us “we are a woman”. It took Mama to help her prepare the rags for use during those “periods”. However, from her limited knowledge, Nina told her about the birds and bees.
“Don’t get too close to boys”, she said as they were walking down the road toward their Grandma’s house.
“Really?” Doris asked in surprise. She had never heard of such a thing. Other than cousins, she had no frame of reference to a boyfriend.
“Well it is OK to kiss a boy or hold hands, but nothing more than that until after you are married.” Nina stumbled as she tried to explain.
“I don’t fully understand, but I’ll keep that in mind”, Doris said softly as they turned and started back up the gravel road toward home. The uncomfortable subject changed to something more mutually understanding.
The rest of the story she would learn from her friends at school, like Gail or Norma, who had received the information from their sister, or maybe even their mother. Moreover, before too many months after school started, one was about as learned in the ways of the birds and bees as one could be in those days. Misinformation as well as opinionated information.
Nina had done her part so she could report back to Mama that the "talk" was done.
One Woman's Journey!
On the bluff high above the field below, the cattle grazed, the squirrels and rabbits ran freely, and the summer breeze gently blew the growth of weeds through out the bottom land. She sat with her skirt wrapped around her legs pulled against her body. Her chin resting on her knees, she quietly allowed her mind to wander the direction it had led her often lately. This was her place of solace, her place to dream. Dreaming came easy as she listened to the birds chirp their song of freedom. Their singing added to the peace she felt nowadays, especially since that night at the revival last month.
The birds that scurried overhead, stopping to sit on the branch of a nearby oak, seemed to have a knowing they were cared for. Their daily nutrition was always whenever or wherever they looked, so they had no need to worry. They had no need to think of tomorrow or dream of another time or another place, for they were content. She was content for the most part, except for the yearning for something more that enveloped her lately.
"Can one be at peace and still be restless? Can one be content and restless at the same time? Probably not. Ah,well," she decided to push those thoughts aside momentarily.
Just below the trek up to the bluff, was the spring of clear as crystal water, where she had gone numerous times during the day for fresh supply her mother needed for cooking or drinking. No one in the family was the wiser yet that her trips to fill her pail took longer than the others did. She had made a pact with herself to stop at the bluff for some quiet time when she was on a water errand.
Quiet times were difficult to come by in a house filled with girls ranging in age from six to seventeen years old. Quiet times of thoughtful- even deep thinking, (as much as a thirteen year old can do of course), that had come about by the desire to know who she was in light of creation. The animals had a purpose. The birds knew their place. The furry rabbits made a meal complete when there was no other meat for the family.
Before last month however, she had lived each day, following the order of the day which had been laid out. Go to school, come home, do chores, do home work around the dining table, and then to bed by eight o'clock. Before last month, she had been a girl content on playing make believe. In her imagination, she was a teacher. It was no problem to teach the wild flowers, the chickens, and oft times her constant companion, Jack who was her only student. Setting on his hind legs watching her hands do as much movement as words that came from her mouth. He was entertained by her gestures, speech or singing, keeping his hears perked upward while moving his head and eyes he kept watch as though waiting for a command to move on.
Being thirteen, it was difficult to visualize a future beyond the green acres, with rolling pastureland, fields of corn, and tobacco, not to mention the peanut patch and garden. Moving from Michigan in early 1944, a trip, she only remembered bits and pieces of, and then the memory was so faded she never recalled it for any closer examination. There was no need. At thirteen, no one lives in the past, or has any reason to reminisce on yesterday. At thirteen, there is enough going on in the present, that to take time away from the now would make no sense. She had no reason to think that one-day it would be nice to know the details of that move, or the house she called home for a few years. That was something for the another day, as for now however, the quiet times on the bluff were daily occurances where she sorted out the new thinking that was taking place in her heart and mind.
She raised her head to focus her eyes on the Long Branch creek as it wound its way through the farm making a great swimming-hole as well as giving the cattle water to drink. At the bend of the creek-bed was a waterfall, small but essentially a waterfall . The rushing water over the protruding rocks, added to the sights and sounds of the land she loved, but planned to leave one day hoping to return and find everything as she had left it.
No one had left the farm yet,except for stories of great uncles who one day had walked out of the fields and never returned. However,it made sense to her somehow there was a world outside their green acres. Just how vast, she was not sure. Somehow, however, it called to her as a yearning from deep within that she could not explain. It was a restlessness - for what, she was not sure.
Shortly, she picked up her pail filled with water and moved slowly and purposefully up the grade over the rolling rocks of the winding path toward the road. At the top of the hill, she waited for any sound of a car coming up or down the road before proceeding across to the last 50 yards or so to the house. With each step, she prayed. "Give me wisdom, knowledge and understanding", not realizing the words that formed in her heart was actually praying God's will for her life.
The birds that scurried overhead, stopping to sit on the branch of a nearby oak, seemed to have a knowing they were cared for. Their daily nutrition was always whenever or wherever they looked, so they had no need to worry. They had no need to think of tomorrow or dream of another time or another place, for they were content. She was content for the most part, except for the yearning for something more that enveloped her lately.
"Can one be at peace and still be restless? Can one be content and restless at the same time? Probably not. Ah,well," she decided to push those thoughts aside momentarily.
Just below the trek up to the bluff, was the spring of clear as crystal water, where she had gone numerous times during the day for fresh supply her mother needed for cooking or drinking. No one in the family was the wiser yet that her trips to fill her pail took longer than the others did. She had made a pact with herself to stop at the bluff for some quiet time when she was on a water errand.
Quiet times were difficult to come by in a house filled with girls ranging in age from six to seventeen years old. Quiet times of thoughtful- even deep thinking, (as much as a thirteen year old can do of course), that had come about by the desire to know who she was in light of creation. The animals had a purpose. The birds knew their place. The furry rabbits made a meal complete when there was no other meat for the family.
Before last month however, she had lived each day, following the order of the day which had been laid out. Go to school, come home, do chores, do home work around the dining table, and then to bed by eight o'clock. Before last month, she had been a girl content on playing make believe. In her imagination, she was a teacher. It was no problem to teach the wild flowers, the chickens, and oft times her constant companion, Jack who was her only student. Setting on his hind legs watching her hands do as much movement as words that came from her mouth. He was entertained by her gestures, speech or singing, keeping his hears perked upward while moving his head and eyes he kept watch as though waiting for a command to move on.
Being thirteen, it was difficult to visualize a future beyond the green acres, with rolling pastureland, fields of corn, and tobacco, not to mention the peanut patch and garden. Moving from Michigan in early 1944, a trip, she only remembered bits and pieces of, and then the memory was so faded she never recalled it for any closer examination. There was no need. At thirteen, no one lives in the past, or has any reason to reminisce on yesterday. At thirteen, there is enough going on in the present, that to take time away from the now would make no sense. She had no reason to think that one-day it would be nice to know the details of that move, or the house she called home for a few years. That was something for the another day, as for now however, the quiet times on the bluff were daily occurances where she sorted out the new thinking that was taking place in her heart and mind.
She raised her head to focus her eyes on the Long Branch creek as it wound its way through the farm making a great swimming-hole as well as giving the cattle water to drink. At the bend of the creek-bed was a waterfall, small but essentially a waterfall . The rushing water over the protruding rocks, added to the sights and sounds of the land she loved, but planned to leave one day hoping to return and find everything as she had left it.
No one had left the farm yet,except for stories of great uncles who one day had walked out of the fields and never returned. However,it made sense to her somehow there was a world outside their green acres. Just how vast, she was not sure. Somehow, however, it called to her as a yearning from deep within that she could not explain. It was a restlessness - for what, she was not sure.
Shortly, she picked up her pail filled with water and moved slowly and purposefully up the grade over the rolling rocks of the winding path toward the road. At the top of the hill, she waited for any sound of a car coming up or down the road before proceeding across to the last 50 yards or so to the house. With each step, she prayed. "Give me wisdom, knowledge and understanding", not realizing the words that formed in her heart was actually praying God's will for her life.
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