Memories Of March

March can come in like a lion and go out like a lamb or vise versa. We never know what it's gonna bring. Sunny and warm one week, a blizzard the next, and it's the beginning of tornado season in my neck of the woods, but I love March and it's windy days. I guess because it usually brings so many early spring time signs. I look out and see daffodils, forsythia's, crocuses, tulips, and other early flowers in bloom and it warms my heart even on a chilly day. The wind usually blows every day of the month and sometimes late February and certainly April borrows from March. There's nothing like hanging clothes on the line in March and April. Shoot, I always start hanging them out in February when it start's borrowing from March. Nothing like fresh, laundry hung on the line in a good, stiff wind all day.

I remember back when I was a young'un mama would start as soon as the March wind came in, dragging out the quilts and all the bed linens and whatever else she could drag out. You talk about many an all day job that surely was, and every line was filled to the brim and those quilts and sheets would flap all day on those lines. The next pretty day she'd start taking down curtains, dragging out all the winter coats and anything else she found laying around. Whewww, after all of that we thought she would be done but oh no. She'd tell daddy to pull off those long handles , they were going in the wash. I can hear him now, “I ain't pullin em off to catch my death of cold till the first of May and ye ought to know that by now.” Of course he had several pairs but he acted like it was the only pair he had to save his life. Let's just say mama always won the debate.

Oh, I can't forget how she'd get us all together and we'd have to drag the mattresses outside to sun all day and the pillows were hung on the line to air out as well. But we always did this several times a year in the warmer months.

Spring cleaning came early with mama and March was her month. She always said, “waitin's what broke the wagon down and I've gotta get in that garden soon.” But what she really was hankering for was not just the vegetable gardens but the flower beds. While daddy was out looking for certain types of tater seed (and he wouldn't stop till he found them if it took a week or two) mama was buying up more flower bulbs. He'd always tell her, “I hope ye know, ye can't eat them flowers.” Oh boy, what came next wasn't to purty. Mama loved her gardens and worked hard in them just like all of us but she loved her flowers more. I do believe daddy finally figured that one out cause he kinda kept his mouth shut in later years. But in all honesty she did have a green thumb and everything she put in the ground came up. Mama did take pride in her gardens too. I know why she started her spring cleaning so early. She knew when that garden stuff came in she'd be busy in that hot kitchen canning all summer with the sweat dripping off of her brow. 

The only thing I don't like about March is those stinky skunks. They always start passing through mostly in the early mornings and it's hard to stick ye head out the door. We sure did dread walking out the door to go catch the school bus when that stink was lingering. It made us feel like it was on our clothes and just knew someone would get a whiff and turn their nose up at us but if they ever did they never let on. And that's the one thing that has delayed a lot of laundry hanging for me. There's been times I would leave the laundry basket sitting full till the March wind got up enough in late morning to blow the scent out. You talk about pitching a fit when one had passed through when mama started to hang her laundry out. She called them pole cats and she always said, “ if it wasn't fer getting stunk up so bad a body ought to tie a paper poke to their tail and set it on fire.” I still laugh today when I think of her saying that and it comes to mind every time one passes through. But one good thing about the March wind, the scent doesn't last long be it March or April.

I'll never forget one March day our dog Ole Mack tangled with a skunk. He was a full blooded collie and with that long hair it was the dickens getting him cleaned up. We couldn't stand it when he came near us, poor ole feller. I never in my life seen as much water carried from the spring and boiled in an old iron pot in the back yard for his bath or I should say several baths. That was the one time I saw mama part with some of her canned tomatoes. She opened those cans and poured several of them in that old wash tub. Shoot, we never did buy anything like tomato juice from the stores. It took us a while to get him clean enough not to smell it and it worked. Ole Mack was the most gentle dog we'd ever seen and I think he quite liked it cause the scent just about got him too. After we got him cleaned up we had to start over and all of us had to take a bath as well and after that we prayed really hard we'd never have to do that again. Of course, skunks come and go and leave their mark just for show and I do believe they laugh as they spray and go.

March can surely bring in anything including those stinky skunks and if I look close enough I might see wild ducks swimming down the creek at the back of my house. And I love hearing the frogs start their croaking late in the evenings but the sweetest sound is the spring birds and their serenading.

But in spite of all the things that can happen in March I focus on the good things and good memories. All of life's pleasures and treasures awaken from their long winter nap. It awakens my heart and soul to new birth and a refreshing feeling comes over me of what's to come. And sometimes it can start as early as February when it takes a notion to borrow from March.

                                              © Susie Swanson, 2018

                                               Happy March Everyone

Going To The Ten Cent Store

My grandma lived with us till she passed away. We all called her little ma cause she was skinny as a rail but could handle her own. She was a firecracker when it came to certain things but she was a humble, God fearing woman. She surely believed in the power of prayer and shouting the house down every time she entered the church. She and daddy had it by themselves till he married mama since his brother had already married and left home.

After mama moved in little ma turned all the cooking over to mama and she liked her three meals a day. But she always tried to put a little money each month in the pot to keep food on the table and her little boxes of snuff. She never did draw much of a pension but each month when she got her little dab of money she always made sure to keep a little to go to the ten cent store. That's what people called the 5 & 10 store back then. It was actually called Lay's 5 & 10 store.

She knew mama needed to make a trip to town for a few monthly necessities and she would grab that head rag (head scarf) and tie it on her head for fear she'd take her death of cold. She'd also grab that little purse that she carried on her arm and away we'd go.

When we'd get there mama would tell us to stay close to her for fear if we followed little ma we'd get lost in the store. She knew that little ma would stop and talk to everyone there and never pay any mind to her surroundings. I'll never forget those old wooden floors and how they squeaked when we all walked through there. Squeak, squeak all the way to the back of the store and the smell of that fresh pop corn hit us smack -ka -dab in the face when we entered the store and our mouths started watering. We prayed really hard for some popcorn or candy before we left there.

They had so many tables filled with do dads and what knots plus plenty of shirts and clothes of all types among other things all stacked so neat on those big tables. And those ladies were always so busy making sure those clothes and other items were laying so neat. Mama always told us we better not break anything or we'd be in a whole heap of trouble. For the life of me, I've never seen so many breakables in my life. Of course, little ma always came away with a few more breakables like flower vases, dishes, etc. every time and the best part was she didn't pay over 10 cents or 50 cents for either one. I reckon she just loved flower vases and anything breakable.

After we'd spend an hour or what felt like two in that store she'd put her head scarf back on her head and ask mama if she was ever gonna get done. Mama had been done ten minutes after we'd entered the store. She was waiting on little ma to get tired of running her mouth and get her breakables. When mama got to the checkout she'd pay for her stuff she'd tell them she wanted a couple bags of that popcorn and boy did our eyes light up. It was just what we'd waited on and the smell had already about killed us by then. Little ma would check out her stuff and it took the store clerk forever cause she'd wrap every little breakable with an old newspaper before she bagged them up.

I tell you the truth when I say we loved going to the 10 cent store. But for the life of me we didn't know why little ma bought so many flower vases. We knew she always loved her roses and flowers and that was most likely the reason. We've still got some of them today in our families that she left behind. Daddy and mama just couldn't bring themselves to pack them away after we lost her that cold, snowy, winter day.

And just like little ma the 10 cent store is now gone as well but my memories are still fresh as the morning dew especially since the 20^th of this month is the 58^th anniversary of her death. And even though it's been that many years it seems like yesterday when she'd tie her head back up with that head rag and say, “I'll be rotten take if ye all don't beat all. I've been ready to go since I entered the store and here ye all are lolly gagging around just like always.”

She sure was a corker but oh how I miss those words today and going to the 10 cent store.

© Susie Swanson, 2018

In Memory of my grandma

02-20-1960----02-20-2018

The Old Rolling Store

Years ago people didn't get to go town much for the things they needed like staples, chicken and hog feed etc. That's why the old Rolling Store came in so handy. It ran all over the county mostly in rural areas. It came through once a week in our area on Tuesdays and we looked forward to walking out the little dirt road that led to the main road where it made its stop. Me or my older brother went with mama the most to help her carry back her merchandise or feed. Sometimes we both went when she needed a sack of flour, hog and chicken feed.

As young'uns it tickled us to death to walk upon that big, old store truck (as we called it) and look up at those big, high shelves filled with just about anything we needed.

One good thing about the Rolling Store is they'd buy eggs from mama and other people as well. When mama's hens were laying good she'd gather up a couple dozen of eggs and sell them to have a little extra money. Sometimes she'd take that money and buy us some candy. I remember they had three pieces of gum for a penny and something called B B bats. Those little things were made out of caramel and hard as a rock but they sure were delicious. Since we didn't have much sweets back then and when we did get something like a sucker we'd make it last long as there was a lick left.

Then there was the rock candy and orange slices along chocolate drops and so many other kinds and it made our eyes pop out on a stem. They also had those big cookies sitting in a cookie jar and looked so tasty. In other words, plenty of sweets to make a young'un wild as a buck, as mama used to say. That's what they called it back then when young'uns climbed the walls from eating so much sweets.

After Mama got all of her necessities up and if she had any change left she'd always go towards that candy. We'd watch her really close cause we looked forward to it but the times she didn't have any change left for candy we knew not to complain cause she always told us not to be disappointed. Now days young'uns would probably cry their eyes out if they didn't get what they wanted but mama always said, “ ye wants won't hurt ye.” Sometimes it took every penny she had including the egg money to get what she needed.

Every two weeks mama bought the hog feed and they sold it in fifty pound bags. It was called Shorts. She'd get two fifty pound bags at a time. When it came time for the hog feed my oldest brother next to me (I'm the oldest) would push the little wooden wheelbarrow along . That was his job and he could only push one fifty pound bag at a time back home. He'd unload it and go back and get the other one. My grandpa built the little wheelbarrow and it was all wooden except for the steal wheel he'd put on it and it had a flat bed. My brother always knew he couldn't cross the foot log that we had to walk across to get to the other side of the creek . He'd push that wheelbarrow through the middle of that creek. The creek was shallow where he had to cross and it only came up to his ankles. He did the same thing with the chicken feed and sometimes the twenty five pound bags of flour that mama bought. She tried to space it all out so she could afford it all. She'd get the hog feed every two weeks and then the chicken feed the next time. The basics like flour, meal, sugar, lard, coffee, etc.

Those hogs surely did get fed good too. They not only eat the hog feed but they were fed corn and of course plenty of slop from the slop buckets. It's no wonders they were so fat come hog killin day. And those chickens sure did like that scratch feed and crushed corn also. Those young fryers tasted so good come Sunday Dinner.

And the preacher thought so as well.

We all eat good and no one went hungry a day in our lives. We grew our own gardens and mama canned everything she could get her hands on but like she always said, “ye gotta have a little bread and some grease to put in it along with a dab of snuff and a good cup of coffee to wake ye up and clear ye head in the mornings.”

I'm happy to say that old Rolling Store helped to provide all the necessities families needed and then some. And my mouth still waters when I think of that penny candy and how good it tasted.. As my daddy used to say when he was eating milk and bread, “it'll make ye tongue slap ye brains out.” I'm so glad I got to live through such good times and thankful for my childhood and the old Rolling Store.

                                        © Susie Swanson, 2018

                                         Photo courtesy of my good friend Joyce.

                                        

February

There’s something about the month of February

It warms my heart despite the ground hog day

He tries to ruin it thinking he’s a know it all

 He can’t predict the weather, there’s no way

Two presidents would roll over in their graves

It’s a very good thing they don’t have a clue

They’d pull out all the muzzle loaders and cannons

Knowing that groundhog was overshadowing them too

 If he thinks he’s going to take over Valentine’s Day

He’s got another thing coming that’s for sure

That’s the one day of the year set aside for love

And cupid’s arrow will not pierce him, I assure

I don’t even know why they want to give him a holiday

He thinks cause he saw his shadow it’ll be six weeks more

Spring will be here soon enough, we don’t need him around

He’s waiting for garden time so he can slip in the back door

I got news for that groundhog and he better listen close

February may be short and sweet but it can stand its ground

There’s no little bushy tail critter going to take it over

Get back in that hole before it becomes your burial mound

© Susie Swanson, 2018

Gone But Never Forgotten

I've wrote a lot about my grandpa from my daddy and even my mama's memories. I never had the opportunity to know him but those memories have been shared in poems and short stories. I've wrote about how much he was respected and how much he helped so many people in so many ways.  I've also mentioned how he and my daddy and uncle run a little gristmill for so many years and the gristmill was located on the exact, same spot where my house is today. I've also told how I can sometimes hear the echoes of that little gristmill and the many happenings that surrounded it. Many people came from far and near, some with wagon loads of corn and some with toe sacks on their back.  That little gristmill sure was a popular place since so many came to depend on it and my grandpa for their bread.

I've been told by many older folks how well he was loved and how much his hard work and dedication never went unnoticed. Many said that if they needed bread for their families they knew he would open the gristmill up even on the sabbath just to grind their corn so their families wouldn't go hungry. In one of my poems I wrote a verse that included this stanza, “ He worked hard to feed a generation's hungry heart.” And that he did, in so any memorable ways.

I can't express enough how much it means to have his obituary from an old local newspaper. We never did know much about him and his ancestors except what daddy told about his dad and mom.  Daddy told how they'd come to visit for a week or so. His daddy had about 3 or 4 brothers and a sister. Daddy talked about some of them, especially one uncle and how he used to spend the night with him and his wife. That was the one he told about his aunt piling the quilts on the bed and when he awoke the next morning there's be snow laying on top of the quilts that had blown through the cracks during the night.

My grandpa passed away on a cold, winter morning on January 21^st 1937 and his obituary was printed in the January 28^th 1937 edition of our local paper. It was found by my son Chris and we'll forever be grateful to him for finding it.  To some a simple little obituary might not mean much but when there's so much history attached to it of a man that was bigger than life it means the world to me and my family.

It says at the time of his death he had one grandson but he actually only had his oldest grandchild which was a granddaughter. Today he has 8 grandchildren, 13 great grandchildren and 16 great, great grandchildren. 

According to my daddy and mama he'd had problems with his legs for many years. Back then they didn't go to doctors and only used home remedies. He dragged his old legs around and never complained for years. It didn't matter how bad they hurt he always went about his business of planting big corn fields, gardens, snaking out wood for the winter's heat and running the little gristmill. My daddy and his brother helped him and he taught them so much about determination and hard work and that no matter how hard things get not to give up. My daddy told that the only schooling he and his brother got was a day here and there. They'd take off towards the little one room school house and stay a few hours and hurry home to help their daddy plow the fields or run the gristmill, etc. My daddy said, that my grandpa insisted they get all the schooling they could but it just wasn't possible back then.  My grandpa kept dragging his old legs and going till they set up blood poison and God called him home on that cold January day.

As I read this obituary which is very small, many memories came to mind of what my daddy told not only about my grandpa's life but also about his death. Back then folks kept their loved ones at home because there wasn't any funeral homes and if there had been they couldn't afford the expense.  And other family, friends and neighbors would come in and help them sit up with the body, especially at night.

My daddy told how he and his brother helped to build their daddy's coffin and helped to dig his grave. He also said that he and his mother laid him out in the coffin. She washed the body and cleaned him up nice and he placed coins on his eyes till they stayed shut. I can only imagine how hard that must have been. Since my daddy was born January 18th 1904 he was considered a young man at 33 years old and since my uncle was born in 1914 he was only 23 years old.

When it came time for the service they loaded the coffin on the old wagon that cold January day. My daddy said it was the very wagon that his daddy taught him how to drive and handle the mules and used for so many other purposes over the years. There was nary a road that old wagon didn't travel down.

When they got to the church they helped carry his body inside the church for the service and to the cemetery for burial.  My daddy told how hard it was to say good by to a man that stood so tall in his eyes and he admired so much. He said it was the hardest thing he ever had to do at that time in his life. His daddy was his hero and every day that my daddy lived he practiced what he was taught and lived by the standards he grew up with and set before him. He and his brother continued on running the little gristmill for many years and kept many families from going hungry. My dad always said, “if you have bread and water it's more than ye was promised.”

We go back quite often to visit his resting place. His beloved wife (my grandma) was put beside him in February 1960. I've always heard to give flowers to the living but in my heart I know the flowers we place are a token of the love that we will forever hold dear and I just know that they both are waiting for the day when we will all be together again.

Today as I write this I think about the many changes that's taken place since those long ago days. Now days if folks don't have their funerals prearranged they're in a whole heap of trouble and can not even imagine how high a shopping trip it can be. And the funeral homes want their money up front before they'll even embalm the body or announce their obituary, etc. In this very newspaper which happens to be our local paper where my grandpa's obituary was found it now costs 80 dollars to place an obituary in the paper.

I know the funeral homes are scared they won't get their money cause some may have not paid their bill but it sure makes it hard on poor folks that's from paycheck to paycheck to come up with it on the spot. When a person's life is over and God calls them home I think they should be treated with the respect and dignity that they deserve and their families should receive that same respect. Sadly, today it's about the all mighty dollar.

 My husband and I prearranged ours back in 2012 and it cost over 7 thousand dollars for each of us. I can only imagine what folks are having to come up with today, especially the ones that don't have it prearranged.  Most are having to take out loans. It costs more to die now days than to be born. I personally think if folks would go back to the old days when they kept their folks at home and all the men in the community came together and helped dig the grave and build the coffin it'd hit the funeral homes a happy natural. But with all the new laws now days that's not apt to happen. I know for a fact if my dad, his brother and my grandpa were still here they'd be willing to jump in and dig graves over the community and whatever it took to help their family, friends and neighbors out, laws or no laws. They'd even use dynamite if needed like daddy said they had to do back then when they hit those big rocks and I guarantee it not to cost a war pension like it does today.

Reading this little obituary has brought back to life a giant of a man that left a legacy behind so big 81 years later that will forever linger in the many hearts he touched. He's sure touched my heart and old memories have a way of bringing the past back to life and the forever love that's filled this granddaughter's heart even though I never had the chance to meet him.

In Memory of my Grandpa

Forever in our hearts

Gone but never forgotten

© Susie Swanson, 2018

Old Timey Home Remedies

 It's that time of year again when all the sneezing, snorting, blowing and coughing starts. Here's a little something I wrote a couple years ago that might be of interest. 

I remember back when I was little we hardly ever went to a doctor when we got sick. Mama would doctor us with home remedies and she really knew a lot of em. She used a lot of Save the Baby. She’d put a drop or two on sugar in a teaspoon, hold our nostrils together and blow in our face till we swallowed it. You talk about stopping a cough and curing the croup, it did. It sure did break it up and she always said a cough has got to be loosened up before it’ll stop.

I know everybody’s heard of Soltice. It came in a jar and was used to open up a chest or cough. It’d even open up ye head and make it run.  Daddy thought he needed some on his chest every night before bed. Mama said, it was just a habit.

She’d even cook up some onions and make us eat em. Supposedly, they were good for a cold and cough.

No worries when we got a chest cold or cough, we either got some good ole tasting Save the Baby, rubbed down with Solstice, or Vick’s Salve, or eat a lot of cooked onions. There were lots more remedies, to many to mention.

Daddy made up his own cough syrup every winter. He used a small amount of white liquor, honey and lemon. He’d shake it up good and hide it so none of us kids could find it. Mama always accused him of sipping on it to much.

For the sore throat it was vinegar diluted with a little water. We had to gargle it but mama gargled the vinegar full strength. She wouldn’t let us young’uns do that for fear it’d strangle us to death. 

For a nose bleed she’d take a small piece of a brown paper poke (bag) and fold it up real small and put it under the upper lip and it’d stop the blood. But most of the time she’d read the verse in the Bible, Ezekiel 16:6. It really works with faith. And camphor was used for the swimey head, also known as fainting and sick stomach. One whiff under ye nose and the sickness was gone.

For burns, scratches or cuts, Turpentine was the best remedy there was.

Mama would rub a little around our belly button to worm us. It had to many uses to name but we sure did get wormed quite often.

For bee and wasp stings she’d take a dab of snuff out of her mouth and rub on the sting to stop the hurting and draw the poison out. I don’t reckon we ever got snake bit. I’d hate to think what she would’ve done.  It was pure luck that we didn’t. I’ve heard of a lot of home remedies used for snake bite.

Oh the uses of Sassafras Tea. The root or bark was boiled into a tea and sweetened. It was used to cleanse the system of the winter blahs as they called it and whatever else was ailing ye. It was good for the kidneys, cleansing the bladder, arthritis and other aches and pains.

All the older folks spoke of it highly and were a firm believer in its healing and cleansing.

I sure can’t forget the famous Castor Oil that she loved to punish us with. Yep, that’s what I called it at the time but now that I look back on it, I can honestly say it worked. The older folks always said a good cleaning out would take care of what ailed ye, just the thoughts of the taste still makes me gag today.

We jumped for joy when Castoria came out. It actually had a better taste even though it was syrupy and we didn’t mind taking it. But when she’d come out with the Castor Oil we’d run and hide, still had to take our medicine though.

Take ye pick, Castor Oil, Castoria, Black Draught, or daddy’s all time favorite Epsom Salts. These are only a few, to many to mention. The older folks sure did believe in the cleaning out part.

My oldest brother had the earache a lot when he was little and mama would lay him over her legs and drop warm sweet oil in his ear from a teaspoon that she’d heated on the stove eye. Then she’d cover his ear with a warm rag and it’d ease his ear. And if that didn’t do the trick,  she’d take a puff off of one of daddy’s Camel or Lucky Strike cigarettes and blow in his ear. Cigarette smoke was the best medicine in the world for the earache mama proclaimed. I’ll never forget the first time we saw her do that. We all just stood there gawking. We’d never seen mama smoke in our lives and we told her of it. She said, that ain’t smoking it’s medicine.

I remember her growing a lot of catnip for the babies around. She’d boil it into a tea and add a smidgen of sugar just enough to sweeten it a little to get em to drink it in their bottle and it was good for the belly ache (Colic). She said it’d even make em sleep better. Daddy would even slip in a few sips every now and then, especially at bedtime, said it made him sleep better.

 And of course there was the Thrash (Thrush) remedy. She used some type of plant or tree leaf. She never told anyone what it was except daddy and one of my brothers. She did that so they could fetch it for her. Mama cured everyone around at one time or another over the years. Most were young’uns but quite a few grown- ups came to her with their mouth covered in blisters. She said there was three kinds of the Thrash, yellow, white and red. She could tell by looking at the blisters in their mouth what kind it was.

Word soon got around and even her doctor started sending his patients to her. She never charged a dime, said it wouldn’t have worked. No one ever knew what she did. The young'uns sure didn’t know and grown-ups were blindfolded but it did the trick and there’s a lot of folks walking around today that can attest to that, including me.

Yellow root was used for the sore mouth, among other things and ye had to chew on it. Daddy sure did chew a lot of it. He said it was using that old backer that made his mouth sore. It grew on the creek bank or the branch bank. He’d strip the leaves and bark off before he chewed it. Back then a lot of folks paid many visits to the creek bank getting Yellow Root for various reasons.

 It could also be made into a tea and drunk for stomach problems. It’s been said that it helped the kidneys, liver, digestion system, etc.

I remember us young’uns only going to a doctor a very few times. What was the use in going when we had our own medicines and own doctor. Mama even did surgery one time on my sister’s finger. She chopped it almost off with the axe. It was barely hanging on by a little skin when we all got to her. Mama took her inside and grabbed the alcohol and camphor and went to work putting that finger back together and bandaged it really good and kept a close watch on it.  The camphor was used to put under her nose to keep her from passing out during surgery.  She used enough alcohol to fill the ocean and my sister would squall out like a painter. She had to change the bandages at least twice a day but it grew back and she’s just got a small scar today.

We did have one old doctor that practiced out of his house and his wife was his nurse. We only went when we absolutely had to. The first time I ever went to him I was six years old. I’d been laid up for days with the Strep Throat. Mama first thought it was just the sore throat but as time went on my temperature went up so high she couldn’t get it down. She told daddy to load me up and take me. He gave me a shot of penicillin and it did the trick. I’m deathly allergic to penicillin today. 

I know people were a lot more healthy back in the days when all they had to use was home remedies. A lot of it can be attributed to their lifestyle, exercise and eating healthy.

Some things they used like Save The Baby can’t even be bought in a store anymore. They took it off the shelves, said it didn’t work along with lots of other stuff, go figure. They said that a lot of the old time ways were old wives tales. Well I’m here to say I’m living proof that it did work or I probably wouldn’t be still kicking. My mama knew what she was doing and she wasn’t no fool. She raised to many young’uns not to know what to do for em when they got sick. My mama was our doctor and she had plenty of common sense to go along with it. She once said, if ye depend on a doctor to do anything for ye now days you’ll die. In my book, she hit the nail on the head. If she was still here today I wonder what she’d come up with to take care of what ails me. She’d find something, I’m sure.

Personally, I’m thinking about trying the Castor Oil again, if I can get up the nerve. It’ll either cure me or kill me. Maybe we all need to go back to the old timey ways. Probably get better results and a good cleaning out never killed anybody.

I smile to think of what they used

To help us kids survive

But I am now going on 69

And very much alive

My sore throats were eased

I’m still holding onto my anchor

To think of sucking sugar lumps

With a drop or two of camphor

And camphor mixed with lard for

A winter chest congestion

Baking soda cleansed my teeth

And helped my indigestion

Because of mama’s tender heart

I hereby sing oh Gloria

For the few times she switched

Castor oil with syrupy castoria

Turpentine for tics and mosquito bites

And Turpentine on the scratches

The sickroom was fumigated with

Our sulphur kitchen matches

Somehow there’s quite a bunch of us

That’s never had a shot

But here we are still a kicking

And enjoying life a lot.

© Susie Swanson, 2018

Happy New Year

Since this is my first Post for 2018 I'd like to wish you all a Happy New Year.

I found this pic on Pinterest and lots of stories and poems ran through my mind of a family that lived their lives in this little house. I can hear the laughter and all the joy inside and out. I can see all the children running around the house and playing and I could write so much about it.

But... even though it looks like it's Fall in the pic there's another story that comes to mind of what my daddy told many years ago and the hard winters they had to endure. I can hear him talking about a little house such as this in my mind and how cold it could be during those cold winters. He said he used to go and visit his uncle and aunt quite often and would stay a few days with them when he was a young man. He talked about it being so cold that his aunt had piled so many quilts on the bed  he couldn't move till morning and when he woke up the next morning there'd be snow laying on top of the many quilts. It had blown through the cracks during the night. I asked him when he was telling about it if he woke up with snow on his whiskers and he said, "No I slept with my head buried under the covers as well."  He said, even though they kept a roaring fire going in the fireplace and the wood cook stove it was still a very cold, little house .

He also said that it wasn't much different at his own house. His mama (my grandma) would pile those quilts and blankets on the bed to keep them warm and that floor was cold as ice when his feet hit it the next morning. After he and his daddy and mama ate their breakfast he and his daddy would take off towards the barn to feed and milk the old cow and head towards the woods to snake out more wood to keep the fires going. This was after they'd burned up all the wood they'd worked so hard to snake out during the summer months. Daddy's job was to cut the kindling to start the fires in the heater and stove. He always cut it form pine trees and he kept a kindling box at the back of the wood heater and he'd cut enough to fill that box back up. Folks had it rough back then but they always managed to get by with what little they had.

I remember when I was growing up we didn't see any snow laying on the many quilts that mama had made and piled on the beds but it was still very cold when our feet hit the floor in the mornings. Daddy and mama kept a fire going in the wood heater and the wood cook stove also but there were lots of mornings mama had to break ice in the buckets of spring water we'd carried in the night before. It seemed the fire in the cook stove had died down and  it was cold as ice in that little kitchen. But by the time she got breakfast cooked and on the table it was warm again. Daddy and the older boys stayed busy splitting the night's wood and carrying it in. My job was carrying in the many buckets of water. I thought for years my name was "go fetch." We sure did use that water up in a hurry. But it was still daddy's job to cut the kindling and fill the box up behind the stove.

Yep, we had our chores to do and knew when to do them but I wouldn't trade my childhood for nothing. We sure made a lot of memories back then, enough to last a lifetime.

I know it's a cold time right now and down right brutal in some places but I'll have to say, we've got it good compared to what it was back then. I'm so grateful for a warm bed and a roof over my head more each day. God surely does pour out his Blessings!

                                               © Susie Swanson, 2018