After the house burned, and when we were living in a one-room tar paper shack, Papa had a part-time job with the city working on road construction; he ran an overhead crane and dug ditches for sewer pipes. It was a good job. But then he got an offer to transport house trailers between FloridaContinue reading “Eight Hens Roosting”
Category Archives: Childhood Memories
TEEN GIGGERS
TED AND I MOVED SILENTLY along a well-worn path close to the river’s edge. Moonlight lit this path and us as well, so we bent low to keep from being seen. The unceasing songs of crickets and jug-o-rum of bullfrogs filled the humid night air. But Ted and I could hear another sound, we couldContinue reading “TEEN GIGGERS”
Swamp Spruce
THE FIRST WEEK of December, Papa came home for several days before having to haul a house trailer to Florida, and while he was home, he proposed cutting some of the spruce trees that were growing in a swampy area north of the pasture. “I can haul them to Illinois and sell them for ChristmasContinue reading “Swamp Spruce”
Compassionate Service
Throughout my childhood and teen years, I remember my mother helping people who were poor. It wasn’t because she was wealthy, it was because she understood what it was to be poor. This photo reminds me of the old men she helped. They lived on what we called Bachelor Avenue, a country road that hadContinue reading “Compassionate Service”
A Little Hairy Thief
Following is a chapter from the recently published children’s book title Daffy: A Monkey’s Tale (available on Amazon). Pooping on the classroom piano wasn’t the only behavior that gave Daffy notoriety. He was a free-range monkey, going in and out of the house whenever he desired through a small window in Ted’s bedroom. He especiallyContinue reading “A Little Hairy Thief”
The Valentine Box
I love Valentine’s Day. I love red hearts and lace doilies, heart shaped boxes of chocolate candy, sentimental messages in beautiful cards and silly messages in funny cards – – “Roses are pink. Your feet really stink.” I love large February snowflakes that can be heard and felt when they thud on my parka. IContinue reading “The Valentine Box”
Coon Hunting
Besides being a trapper, my father was also a hunting guide, mainly guiding nighttime racoon hunts. This was a popular sport in Illinois during and after the Depression. Besides being a great way for men to get together at night to swap jokes, wade through bogs, and chase baying hounds, if a coon met itsContinue reading “Coon Hunting”
The Owl Catcher
Oil Painting of a Screech Owl Painted on A Wooden Panel by Author The child dragged a five-foot ladder as she walked the grassy path between a ripened cornfield and the bank of a slow-moving river. The child’s foraging bag hung from her shoulder and in the bag was a pair of her father’s workContinue reading “The Owl Catcher”
Playing with Dead Rats: Searching for Humanbeingness
During lunch break, a group of teachers, all women, had gathered in the lounge to savor cups of hot coffee, check out catalog bargains, and talk about home and school. In one of the conversations, a second-grade teacher shared that several little girls in her class regularly brought Barbie and Ken dolls to school. She remarkedContinue reading “Playing with Dead Rats: Searching for Humanbeingness”
As the Crow Flies 