THE GOOD OLD DAYS!

Necessity is much more than the mother of invention. You can bet your boots on that!

After the fall harvest in 1936 my Father went over somewhere in the state of Virginia. He had heard that he might be able to get work on a project of some sort that the government was involved in. My Mother and five of us children were left to take care of things around home. My brother Rolly was just three months old at the time and my sister Adalee was two. She was retarded and an invalid. The rest of us were spaced in three year intervals. My sister Alta was the oldest, then my brother Tob and myself. I was six and would turn seven in January.

These were the hardest of times!

Mother was breast feeding my little brother Rolly at that time. My Father had not been gone but a couple of days when Rolly got real sick and wouldn’t nurse or eat anything. After several anxious days, my Mother sent for my Grandmother. Grandma arrived with her old satchel bag. She took one look at Rolly and turned to my brother Tob. "Son, you hightail it over to Hannie Carpenters and tell him I said to come over here, right now. Tell him that your little brother has got the thrash!"

Tob took off like a reindeer!

In the meantime, my Mother was hurting real bad. She was sitting in the rocker and tears were rolling off her cheeks. She was producing milk and her breasts were all swollen and her body was wracked with pain.

Grandma hollered at me, "Boy, come in here, your Mama is hurting real bad and you know what you have to do!"

I looked at Grandma and wished to God she had sent me to get Hannie! I said, "I know Grandma."

She went into the kitchen and came back with a wash pan. Handing it to me she said, "Use this to spit in."

I took the pan and said, "You won’t tell anyone, will you? If this gets out I will never live it down!"

After awhile my Mother felt a lot better!

Tob and Hannie came in about this time. Hannie wrapped Rolly in a blanket and took him out to the barn. After awhile he came back to the house and told my Mother and Grandma that he would be much better by tomorrow.

I don’t know what Hannie did to my baby brother, not really. The thrash is some sort of a constriction in the throat of babies and they can’t swallow anything. Legend has it that certain people, ones that have never seen their father, have the touch and can cure this illness by blowing down the baby’s throat.

Anyway, it was a sure fire cure in that place and at that time. Hannie had the touch! By the next afternoon Rolly was slurping breast milk again just like a little pig.

Grandma and my Mother didn’t tell. Alta and Tob did!

Beauty flits around on wings
And briefly touches many things.
Beauty always seems to flow
From what we see,
To what we know.
And when we comprehend the need
True beauty then,
Is in the deed!