Company's Coming

Daddy and his sister Myrtle Lambert Webb

When I was a little girl growing up, I would get so excited when I found out one of my great aunts and uncles were coming for a visit.  Even though I was an only child, I had plenty of people around me.  My grandparents ran a country store which was always buzzing with activity.  I knew every farmer for miles around, his wife and children's names, what he liked on his bologna sandwich and whether he was a democrat of republican, but my family was small.  My father was the youngest of a family of 11 children, but unfortunately, most of them had died at an early age and my mom was an only child. I never knew any of my true aunts, but was close to my great aunts.  My Aunt Hazel and Aunt Mildred were my grandfather's sisters.  They had married brothers and lived just a half mile from me. Aunt Hazel was a petite woman who took great pride in her cooking and her outward appearance.  I loved her shoes. She had really small feet so her shoes fit me.  She let my cousins and me play with all her shoes, sometimes even her brand new ones. She lived in a two story farm house and just like the characters on the television show, The Waltons, she and her husband, Uncle Albert,  lived with their son and his family in the big house. She raised turkeys and chickens.  If a chicken pecked her when she gathered eggs, it would only peck her once because she could wring it's neck faster than you can say oops. My Aunt Mildred was Grandpa's youngest sister.  She loved life and was always smiling. Her husband, Uncle Jack and her daughter, Kaye were her life. She had a good time where ever she went.  On a visit to the peditrician in Somerset, Aunt Mildred declared that her girdle was killing her so she proceeded to pull it off in the car.  This proved to be a tougher job than she had anticipated.  Now that I have worn those constricting garments from time to time, I do not see how she ever accomplished that task, but she did, much to the amusement of my cousins and me. When I think back on my childhood, I realize those two great aunts played a huge roll in making me what I am today.  They each taught me so much.  The good thing was that  I could visit them anytime I wanted unlike those aunts and uncles that lived in Dayton, Ohio. I guess that was the reason it was so special to me to learn that my family from Ohio would be visiting.

Helen (seated) Anita, Connie and Cathie

When those special aunts, uncles and cousins would visit, momma had to keep it a secret that they were coming because I would drive everybody crazy asking what time they were coming, how long were they going to stay and other questions that are very important to six year old excitable little girls.  When they visited it wasn't for an occasion it was just to be with each other and enjoy each others company.  As they say, "a good time was had by all."  Granny or Momma or both would cook all day and we would all eat together.  I can remember the sound of every one's laughter and I can still see the smiles on their faces and the twinkle in their eyes.  They didn't bring me gifts nor did I expect anything.  I just wanted to sit beside them or in their laps..  I felt so loved and so special just to be allowed to sit in the same room with everyone even though most of the time I had no idea who or what they were talking about.  When my grandmother's youngest sister Audrey Jean, Aunt Jeannie to me, and her husband, Uncle Ed visited, we sat up half the night talking.  When Uncle Lon and Aunt Molly were visiting, we went fishing or boat riding.  When Aunt Lois and Uncle Herbert came I sat and listened to Uncle Herbert's stories until I fell asleep.  Aunt Lois was only eighteen months older than my grandmother and looked like her twin.  Customers would come in granny's little country store and give Aunt Lois their order. They didn't know they were talking to the wrong person until Aunt Lois laughed then they would look a little closer because she didn't sound like my granny when she laughed.  Poor Granny ran her legs off running from the store and her trailer, which was behind the store, to my house when we had company.  She would try to spend time with her sisters and keep the store open all at the same time.  Momma helped her as much as she could.  All this was just too much excitement for me.
Sometimes Momma's cousin, Helen and her husband Ray Adkins, would visit.  They had three daughters about my age.  I would be so excited then that I'm sure I made Momma a nervous wreck.  I played with Anita, Cathie and Connie although they probably would say I followed them around more than played.  I idolized my older cousins my whole life.  Looking back it seems like one day we were little girls not yet teenagers and the next we were grandmothers.
It was during one of Aunt Lois's visits that I did probably the worst thing in my life.  Before she left, Aunt Lois would always say to me, "Don't you want to go home with me?" and would start telling me all the neat things we would do.  I was only about eight years old and would have been crying for momma before we got to Berea, but I was determined to go home with her.  Of course Momma and Daddy said no and tried to explain to me that I would have to stay away from them for a month because it would be that long before aunt Lois was coming back, but I had no understanding of time. Momma had a kitchen table with a green Formica top and green padded chairs and for some reason, I decided that if I cut those chairs then they would let me go home with Aunt Lois. I must have figured they wouldn't love me anymore and would just give up and give me to aunt Lois.  Well, it didn't work, but it did get momma a new table and chairs.  I should have been punished to the highest extent of the law, but I was only given a good talking to.  If my parents thought that living with the shame of defacing my momma's property would be punishment enough for what I had done, they were right.  To this day, I don't like to even think about being that mean and destructive.

Aunt Jeannie and Uncle Ed Coffey

As in every one's life, changes came with every passing year.  My daddy, grandparents, aunts and uncles have all passed away.  Helen's husband Ray as well as Anita's husband, Walter have also passed away.  I married Mike, had my own children and now grandchildren. The store closed in 1990, I gained a new father and met my best friend for life in that same year.   I've worked several jobs, cooked lots of meals and cleaned miles of floors to get where I am today and where I am today is addicted to social media.  I remember sending and receiving my first emails, talking on my first cell phone, sending my first text message and especially remember when I joined Facebook.  MySpace was more popular, but I had read that Facebook was geared more to the "baby boomers" so I joined Facebook because according to the talking heads, that is what I am, a "baby boomer."  Through email, I reconnected with my grandmother's brother, Uncle Bentley Parkerson.  Uncle Bentley made a career out of the Navy so I didn't see him much when I was growing up.  By the time computers and email came to be, Uncle Bentley had retired and settled in Jacksonville, FL. He gave me his email address and that started years worth of daily correspondence.  I even emailed some of mom's friends and some distant family members that I had never met just to get back in touch with those  Momma had lost contact with.  Last spring, Momma received an invitation to attend her first cousin Helen's 85th birthday celebration in Dayton.  Sadly, after the passing of Granny and her sisters, momma and myself hadn't kept up the visiting tradition.  We had been too busy working and mothering to travel.  We ran our own businesses, momma the grocery store and me a hair salon.  When you have your own business, you don't get any time off.  Helen had moved to FL for awhile and her three daughters, Anita, Cathie and Connie had married, had children and careers of their own, so we had lost touch.  I viewed the invitation to Helen's celebration with excitement because at the bottom of the card was the email address for Cathie.  Mom also turned 85 last year, she's two months older than Helen, and has arthritis which leaves her in almost constant pain.  There was no way she could make the trip to Ohio.  I emailed Cathie to tell her that we couldn't come up there and also to re-connect with her.  I was hoping that through Cathie I could also find out about Anita and Connie.  In my email I asked Cathie if she was on Facebook.  She sent me mail back saying yes, they were all on Facebook.  She gave me all their married names and asked that we start a Facebook "relationship."   Patience is a virtue that I don't have so I was determined to get in touch with those three cousins plus three younger cousins that are my aunt Jeannie's granddaughters.  My determination paid off  because I've become good friends again with Anita, Cathie and Connie.  Mike and I visited them and Helen last August. This past April they invited me to go to Las Vegas for Connie's birthday and last weekend Connie visited us. Momma and Helen are pleased that this generation has taken back up the visiting tradition and that we are making new memories together.  Momma says, "I don't know why we grew apart anyhow." We talk about how special our grandparents were and how close our mothers are.  We hope they will be able to get together soon.  It's sad that they aren't able to share the laughs with us.  Their minds are sharp, but their bodies are tired.  We are amazed at the similarities in our lives.  I know that twins separated at birth and later reunited find it amazing that they have chosen similar spouses, named their children the same names and other interesting tidbits, but I didn't know that cousins would do that too.  Connie and I are especially similar.  We like the same music, like to do the same things, i.e, zip lining over Fremont Street in Las Vegas, and some other crazy stuff that I better not mention. Every time we talk we notice something new that we've both experienced.  So far we've discovered one thing we don't agree on, I say a mouse is sooo cute and will not hurt you, Connie, on the other hand, swears it's a huge, hairy beast that will eat all women and children alive. Screaming is necessary also, according to Connie.
I still have cousins that I want to visit after having chatted with them on Facebook. Some are my cousins on momma's side of the family that I remember from when I was a child and others are from daddy's side of the family that I have never met.  They are the grandchildren and great grandchildren of daddy's sister, Lula Thomas.   Aunt Lulie died before I was born, but I know all about her through the stories momma has told me. After talking with her family, I realize that we all get our feisty streak from her.  I enjoy reading Facebook posts from her family, because they are so much like me.  As much as I treasure my family, it's sad that I have so many second cousins that I've never met.  I am thankful that God has allowed me to seek them out and enjoy learning all about them. I am going to be busy in the months and years to come planning a meet and greet with all those cousins that share so many family traits with me.  My generation dropped the ball when it came to visiting family, but we are making up for that misfortune by being friends on Facebook.  I think this will work out fine because the bottom line is to enjoy your family.

Uncle Lon and Aunt Molly with Momma and Daddy

Uncle Bentley Parkerson

I Know Why They Call It The Blues

This story is not easy for me to write if you read on you'll know why.  I guess my battle with depression and sadness began when I was barely six years old.  That was the year that I began school.  I don't remember very much from that year except my teacher being told that President John F. Kennedy had been assassinated  and that I cried everyday.  I wanted to be happy and have fun like the rest of my class, but I could not stop crying.  I don't think I cried the whole school year, but when my second grade year began, so did another year of crying.  I didn't like riding the school bus.  I was the last one to board the bus and all the seats were taken. I can remember having to stand up the 3 miles to Brodhead Elementary and that sometimes I fell down when the bus turned a corner or stopped too quick.  All the big kids made fun of me and no one offered to help.  Momma tried driving me to school herself, but when I watched her drive off, I started crying again.  Finally Momma and Daddy worked it out so I could ride to school with my grandmothers uncle and his wife, who was a school teacher.  She didn't drive so her husband took her.  He drove a red Chevrolet pick up like you see in the Old Navy store.  By third grade, I started to enjoy school and did until I graduated in 1975. 

In 1988 I was working as a hairdresser.  I had my own shop in Mt. Vernon and had 2 ladies working with me.  I had grown up in a country store that my grandparents owned, so working with the public came easy for me.  I was married and had two sons in school.  I thanked God everyday that they liked school and neither had cried like I had when I started school.  I don't remember exactly when I started getting the "forever" blues, I guess that's another blessing from God. I think he takes away some of our bad memories because there is no use dwelling on them.  My father had suffered from depression.  He passed away from a heart attack when he was only 53.  I was 13.  My memory of him was that he was a very sad man that went to the Dr.s a lot.  He actually had Electroconvulsive Therapy, shock treatments, that were the Cadillac of treatment for depression. After a treatment he didn't know who we were or where he was for days.  Years later when a psychiatrist recommended ECT as a treatment for my depression, my mother was adamant that I not be given them and I choose not to have them.  She said she could not go through with them again and I didn't want her to have to.  I suppose that I inherited my incline for depression from him. 

When I realized that my sadness was hanging around too long, I made an appointment to see my doctor, who was the same family doctor that had taken care of my dad.  He didn't waste any time sending me to a doctor in Lexington.  He said, "I watched your father battle depression and couldn't help him, but I won't do that with you."  The psychiatrist I saw was supposed to be the best in Lexington.  He diagnosed me with Clinical Depression, a broad term for different kinds of depression and prescribed a new anti-depressant drug called Prozac.  I remember the first time I visited him how nervous I was.  I also felt very vulnerable sitting in the waiting room with other troubled souls.  When I was called back, I was amused that he actually had a couch in his office, but he didn't ask me to lie back on it.  Within 2 weeks I could tell the medicine was working.  The Dr. had me come to his office once a week for therapy.  I found out through this therapy that I was also suffering from anxiety.  I know that my whole life I had worried about something everyday, every minute actually.  I was prescribed something for anxiety, thus started my long road on the medication treadmill.  I've taken them all, but never really gotten anywhere, just like walking on a treadmill.  

I continued to work and drive up to Lexington. I thought I was doing some better.  One Saturday in November 1988, I was at work at the shop.  I had been in a bad place for a few weeks, but that particular day I got worse.  I didn't have a customer at the time so I was just sitting in my chair worrying.  I started crying and shaking uncontrollably. My work mates called Mike, he and momma came to the shop to check on me.  By then, I was in a total meltdown.  I don't remember much after that.  Someone called my doctors office and his answering service instructed someone to bring me to St. Joseph ER.  I spent one night in a regular room and was beginning to feel a little better.  The next day I was moved to the Behavioral Unit on the 6th floor.  Ordinary people who are not suffering with any mental illness usually find this floor very disturbing, but to someone who is barely hanging on, it seemed like heaven.  I was filled with the expectation that when I left this place all my worries and sadness would have gone away just like a case of the flu, I would be cured.  The door locked behind me.  Momma and Mike were briefed on what was going to happen next such as therapy, meds, visitations etc.  I was told to empty my purse.  When I did, the nurse took away my dental floss, compact, because of the mirror, tweezers, shoe strings and anything else I or anyone else could use as a weapon or a tool to harm myself.  All that stuff was given to Mike to bring home.  I was to wear my own clothes and shoes because it was a rule that I get dressed everyday.  I could call home at times, but I had to get special permission.  If I progressed enough I would be allowed to leave the floor, but not the hospital grounds.  I was to stand in line with the other patients and be given my medication, which now included the drug Lithium and higher doses of Prozac and an anxiety drug.  I had to attend group and individual therapy as well and was required to participate in all activities and meals.  Everything was very structured.  At first, I was the only one in my room, but during my stay roommates came and went.  We could only take a shower and the shower stall didn't have a shower curtain. This was to ensure no one used the curtain rod to try to hang themselves.  They also took my shoestrings to keep me and we weren't allowed razors.  The men could shave under supervision, but the ladies had to give up the luxury of having smooth legs.  I ended up staying 21 days there.  I did earn the privilege of being able to go to other floors, so once a day I went to the nursery to look at the new babies and then down to the snack bar for a candy bar.  Thanksgiving was during my stay and I was allowed a day pass to come home.  I remember that I was ready to go back to the hospital early because I felt safe there and being home made me feel very anxious.  After I was released in December, I had to do all my Christmas shopping.  This worried me to death.  No amount of therapy has ever helped my anxiety.  I learned a lot in group therapy, but I am just not able to apply what I've learned to help myself.  I've been to so many therapy classes in my adult life that I feel like I could teach a class. 

I had missed out on several events in my son's lives while I was gone.  Things like basketball games and school programs.  Mom filled in for me and Mike did the housework.  I had lost a lot of weight while I was gone because I couldn't eat in the dining room with the other patients.  Almost all of them were a lot worse off than me.  Some could barely feed themselves.  One lady cried the whole time I was there.  Some slept all the time only waking up to take more medication.  We had a big room called the "day room" where we were allowed to watch TV.  Sometimes there would be a battle over what station to watch.  We were also allowed to smoke in this room.  We weren't allowed a lighter so somebody had to keep a cigarette lit at all times.  That was our only way of assuring we could light our cigarettes.  I started chain smoking while I was there.  Thank goodness I quit smoking cold turkey in 1990.  The combative patients were isolated from the main floor, but we could hear their screams sometimes.  Even with this nightmare going on around me, I still felt I belonged there.  In my life thus far, I have spent a total of 37 days in 3 different hospitals for depression. The second time, both Momma and Mike were gone when I decided to exit this world by taking a large number of pills.  After I took them, I laid down on my bed and waited.  I fell asleep and dreamed of my boys.  I dreamed they were crying for me.  I woke up and came to the realization that I didn't want to die after all.  I had to call my cousins Glen and Anna Lee Rigsby to take me to the hospital.  I hadn't taken enough pills to do any permanent damage.  I know God was with me that day.  

Walking away and leaving me in a Behavior Unit has been very hard on my family, especially Momma.  She cried every time she came and again when she left.  The patients scared her and she was worried about me being there with them.  They were almost all a lot worse than me. I saw the movie, "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" when it first came out in 1975 at the drive-in and again last year on TV.  I can relate to a lot of that movie.  Sadly, it is a pretty good portrayal of a mental facility.  

Me and Kyle right after my first hospitalization

 

Today. after close to a hundred different medication changes and some therapy, I am getting by.  I can't say I am well though.  My life with depression is a chain reaction. My medication has side effects for which I have to take another medication.  I now have Fibromyalgia, arthritis, asthma, high cholesterol, stomach and thyroid problems, muscle spasms, hearing loss, sleep apnea, obesity, memory loss to name a few.  I deal with all these issues plus Obsessive Compulsive Disorder,  anxiety and depression.  I've been diagnosed with Clinical Depression, Major Depression, and Bi-Polar disorder, just according to what doctor I was seeing at the time.  I really don't know which one I have, I looked them up and I could have them all three I guess that's why I'm so hard to treat.  

In 1990, I had to sell my beauty shop.  I think because that was the place I was when I had my first breakdown and I couldn't deal with that memory.  I stopped working as a hairdresser in April 1990 and started work as an Instructional Assistant at RCHS in August 1990.  I was doing much better then.  I was finally on the right medication regimen.  I didn't and still don't attend any therapy sessions because they just make me worse.  I do better if I just bury my depression somewhere deep within myself and pretend it's not there.  I could win an academy award for acting, because if you didn't know me, you'd never guess just how sad and troubled I am.  I have had my feelings hurt so many times by well meaning people who say, "You don't have a reason to be depressed." or "You're not close enough to God.  He will heal you if you will let him."  I have been treated different by employers, co-workers and family members due to the stigma of mental illness.  Unless you suffer with depression, you have no idea what it's like.  No two people's depression is the same. It is a lifetime of hell for most.  The TV ads say try this, you will get better, but I have found that to not be untrue.  Some meds. do help the symptoms, but I know I will never be cured.  Since it seems to be an heredity issue in my family, I worry about my children and grandchildren.  I look for signs in them all the time.

This brings me to the present.  I have been on the same meds for over 10 years and unfortunately they are either not working or the side effects are worse than the depression.  My doctor is in the process of making some medicine changes, but I've tried everything out there and she says I don't have anywhere else to go.  I am hoping for a new anti-depressant that has less side effects.  I have no self confidence therefore I beat myself up all day long.  In my eyes I never do anything right.  I have cried for hours over something someone said that I took the wrong way. I dread everything even something as simple as going to the bank.  I have to make myself attend family functions or go shopping.  Mike does the grocery shopping and takes care of other things that I just can't bring myself to do.  Very few things make me happy.  The last thing I did that made me happy was years ago when me and several family members went canoing down the Rockcastle Co. River. Of course I have been excited when all four of my precious grandchildren came into this world, but activites that people do daily, I can't do. I always look forward to our yearly vacation at the beach, but when I actually get there, I keep waiting to start enjoying myself.  I'm always glad to get back home.  

Sadly after all these years, Mike and now the boys, have never really understood me or my depression.  I think Momma does because I make the third family member she has had to help with depression.  She had to quit school in the eighth grade to take care of the family because her mother was so depressed that she didn't get out of bed for over a year.  Then she watched my dad suffer and now me.  She says all of us have suffered differently. My grandmother did get well and with no medication.  It's hard for me to realize that the granny I knew was ever the way Momma describes her.  Daddy never got any better, even with the shock therapy.  He had to quit work and draw disability only then to die at a young age. I do have one rock to hold onto in this stormy life, my friend Janice.  When I started working at RCHS, she was the teacher I was hired to assist.  We've been best friends since 1990.  Having her is another gift from God.  I'm convinced that in his goodness he doesn't want me to suffer so he sent Janice to me.  It's ironic that I got out of the hospital in April 1990 and met Janice in August 1990.  She knows and understands me so well.  She's my own private therapist.  She knows exactly what to say and how to talk me through the bad times.  I don't always agree with what she tells me, but I always end up taking her advice. 

This story is different from the other stories I have written.  They were almost all happy and made us laugh.  But along with the sunshine we have a little rain.  To all things there is a season.  My season is sometimes a dark, sad place.  I try not to visit that place very much.  I'd rather enjoy the sunshine. 

Happy Mother's Day

My mother was born Ila Wade Frith on March 2, 1927.  She was born at home in a small farm house located back in the woods near where Lake Linville is today.  There was a huge snow storm the night she was born and when my grandfather rode the horse to Brodhead to get the doctor, the snow had drifted up to the horse's belly in some spots.  All the pictures I've seen of Momma she is a chubby, white haired, smiling little baby.  I've heard that her feet were so fat that she couldn't wear any shoes.  She was raised in the same house with her maternal grandmother who had two small children also.  One was 2 years older than momma and the other was 2 years younger.  Momma was an only child, but had plenty aunts and uncles to play with.  

Momma went to school just up the hill from her house.  It was a one room school, Oak Hill School, and she claims she never liked school the whole time she went. She talks about the games they played  says the best part of school  was the walks to and from. She said when you had to go to the outside toilet, you put a book in the doorway and then picked it up when you got back.  Just like the television show, "Little House on the Prairie," she took a lunch bucket with a biscuit and jam for her lunch.  She remembers that the whole class drank out of the same dipper at the well when they went out for recess.  

Momma stands out in pictures because she had white, not blond, but white hair.  It was cute short with bangs.  She said the other students always made fun of her hair.  When my youngest child, Neil, was born with a head full of snow white hair, she was so proud because he had inherited her genes.  Now at age 86 when she should have white hair, she doesn't.  Her hair is the same light brown it's been ever since I can remember.  She has very little gray in her hair.  

Momma, like myself, is a story teller.  She has so many stories.  Almost all of them are humorous.  The only serious things she's ever talked about was World War II and when her cousin was killed by a train when he was only 24 years old.  As many times as I've heard them, I still have to ask her details, my memory is nothing like hers.  I love to hear her tell about getting her first permanent.  The rods were attached to a huge standing apparatus that looked like a coat rack with arms.  She said the permanent solution and the heat fried her hair.  She had so many blisters on her scalp that they burst for days and she walked around with wet hair just from the blisters.  I also like to hear her tell about how she met my Daddy.  By then she and my grandparents lived in Conway, Ky.  Daddy was from just down the road in Snyder.  He drove a fancy car that had "Just Blew In" wrote on the back.  Momma was working in a grocery story and she said she fell for him the first time she saw him.  He was nine years older than her, but after a short courtship they married and lived happily for 23 years until he passed away in 1971.  

Doctors had told momma once that she probably would never have any children.  Momma thought that would be a problem with Daddy because he was from a big family and he loved children. But, he loved her so much he married her anyway.  But, 9 years into their marriage, a miracle occurred-Me.  I was born on Derby Day.  The Dr. who was scheduled to deliver me went to the Derby and left someone to take over for him.  Trouble was that the substitute Dr. was an Orthopedic Surgeon.  He delivered me without complications.  Momma didn't fare as well as me.  Her blood pressure dropped and to this day, she doesn't remember much about my birth.  When she came home, she would faint every time she stood up.  Poor Daddy was such a worrier, he said,"This is the only child we will have. I will not put you through this ever again."  When I was six weeks old, we moved to Gadsen, AL.  Daddy was a construction worker and was always moving.  Momma says they rented a room from an older black lady named Pearl who helped Mom out a lot.  She took care of me so mom could do laundry and other things she needed to do.  Also, there were times momma didn't know what to do with me, like when I had the colic and cried for days.  Pearl helped her to get through this trying time for a new mother a long way from home. It was really hot there momma said. That August, Hurricane Audrey hit South Carolina and her aftermath brought storms and flooding to Alabama.  After Daddy finished working in Al., he and momma were more than glad to come home to Kentucky. 

Before Momma married Daddy, she had worked in a bakery in Ohio.  She says she can hardly eat baked goods even today because of all the things she saw at the bakery.  After she married Daddy and had me, she didn't work outside the home.  We lived beside my grandparents who owned their own little country store.  Sometimes she helped out there.  She always had a good supper on the table when I came home from school.  Me and Daddy loved to eat.  Daddy also loved to hunt so I grew to love rabbit, squirrel, grouse, and fish.  Daddy was a good shot and would go to shooting matches on Thanksgiving.  We had to wait until he came home with the turkey before we could have our turkey dinner.  Momma was afraid when I ate fish that I would eat a bone, so she sat me on the kitchen table and fed the fish to me.  I can remember getting off the school bus in the winter and noticing that the doors and windows were steamed up.  That usually meant we were having pinto beans for supper.  How great it was to put my books down, turn on "Gilligan's Island" or "The Rifleman" and just wait for Momma to tell us supper was ready. 

After Daddy died from a sudden heart attack, I was so worried about Momma that I could barely concentrate at school.  She was young and seemed to have lost all interest in me or any thing else.  I didn't want to go places with my friends because I didn't want to leave her alone.  We started sleeping together the night Daddy was buried and I slept with Momma right up until the night before I got married.  Momma allowed me to date when I was sixteen.  I was more comfortable having my boyfriend and other friends come to my house rather than go out.  It wasn't until I met Mike that I finally broke away and left Momma alone while I went out.  She was always scared to be alone, but when I married in 1975, she toughened up and learned to stay by herself.  

After Daddy's death, Momma took a job working at Fletcher's Grocery in Brodhead.  We drew Daddy's social security, but it wasn't enough to make all the payments.  My grandparents helped us a lot.  We got all of our groceries from their store.  I was eligible for a government program called CETA .  It's main purpose was to help children with a single parent work during the summer break from school.  My cousin, Kaye, had lost her father so both of us worked one summer at the BES library.  I was 15, Kaye was 16 and drove us to work.  I know momma could have used the money I made that summer, but she let me keep it to buy my school clothes.

I was a teenager before I ever wore anything that my momma hadn't made for me.  She could make anything.  She spent a lot of time at her sewing machine making me dresses for school.  She made both my prom dresses and they were beautiful.  When everybody started wearing blue jeans, that was something she couldn't make.  She tried to make them, but they looked so much different from what everybody else was wearing that I wasn't satisfied with them.  I bought my first pair of blue jeans at Cromer's Discount store in Brodhead.  They were $12.00.  I wore them almost everyday.  When they needed patched, Momma did that for me.  When the bottom became frayed, she fixed that with another piece of denim sewed around the bottom.  She still made all my blouses, which in the 1970's weren't very big.  I wore a lot of halter tops.  Back then I had the figure for it at 88 pounds.  Years later, when Momma was in her late 60's, she decided to quilt.  Her grandmother and mother both had quilted and their work was perfect.  Momma felt she had big shoes to fill and her work would pale in comparision to theirs.  I wasn't surprised when her quilts came out beautiful.  Her stitches were perfect, all the same size and the quilt designs were so pretty.  She quilted about 15 quilts in a very short time. 

My Grandpa passed away in 1975, just a month after Mike and I got married.  Momma said it was the saddest time of her life.  She and I had been in an automobile accident in June of that year.  We were hit from behind.  I wasn't hurt, but momma had a concussion and a crack in her neck.  She had to take time off from work that summer.  Granny was at the hospital with Grandpa and I was making plans to get married.  She said she was so lonesome.  Then when grandpa passed and I was living in Louisville, there was no one but her and Granny.  I worried about her during this time.  I didn't realize until years later how depressed she was. 

In 1976, Granny retired from the grocery store and turned it over to Momma.  In 1977, Mike and I moved back home from Louisville.  Granny gave us a piece of land to build a house on.  We moved in our new house in December 1977.  Momma was a big help to us.  She took care of Granny and helped me with all my anxieties.  In 1978, Kyle Michael Childress was born and Momma game to life.  She treasured her grandsons.  She babysat them while I worked and later when I went to Cosmetology School.  It was a hard job to work at the store and watch my wild sons at the same time.  When the boys got old enough to play baseball, Momma took one to Brodhead for a game while I took the other one to Roundstone.  She took such pleasure in watching them play baseball.  She was and still is an Atlanta Braves fan and of course a huge Ky. Wildcat fan.  During the time that the boys were playing baseball, she met Hershel Taylor.  His son was Kyle's coach so he was at practice with his grandsons at the same time Momma was.  A romance started between them and I was so happy.  Momma had been a widow for nineteen years.  I wanted her to have someone in her life.  I knew Hershel would be good to her and he has been for 23 years.   

I don't remember ever being away from Momma on Mother's Day.  One of the best ones, was a few years back.  I bought her an outside swing.  She came to my house for the day.  We hadn't spent the whole day together for years. 

Me and Mom on Mother's Day 

After Momma retired and closed the store in 1990, she had plenty time to do things with me.  She went to Lexington with me to every doctor's appt. I had and there were several..  I have to go by myself now and I miss her company so much.  We went on several vacations together.  She loved the ocean and the beach, but was afraid of the water.  I finally talked her into just walking a little bit in the waves.  She did fine until a huge one roared in, knocked her down, pulled her under and swept her hat and glasses off.  I first grabbed her, then her glasses.  After I got her standing up and re-assured that she hadn't drowned, I went for her hat. We didn't try that again. When the kids were little, Mike, Mom and Me would go on a day trip about once a month.  We went to several Ky. state parks.  We enjoyed those times so much.  Anytime Mike and I took a vacation, we always took Momma with us.  She loved going to Kings Island.  She rode the big roller coaster, "The Beast" with me several times.  She was afraid to scream because she thougJht her false teeth would fall out.  We took her to see the Reds play the Braves in Cincinnati once too.  And before daddy died, they went to Memorial Coliseum and watch Coach Rupp,  Dan Issel and that team play.  Momma said they sat so high up she was afraid to stand up because she felt like she would fall all the way to the floor. 

Momma doesn't have any bad habits.  She never drank and tried smoking once as a child which made her sick and she never tried again.  The one vice she does have is her love of frogs.  She has a huge collection of frogs.  Everything in her house is frogs.  She can remember who gave her each one and she probably has 300.  Jack once asked me why No-No had so many frogs in her house. I told him she liked to collect them to which he said he would collect something better than old frogs.  

Momma doesn't get out much these days.  She has trouble with her balance.  I bring her to my house on nice days to sit on the porch and talk while we watch Jack play.  I take her to Georgetown to see Neil and his boys when she feels like it.  She works jigsaw puzzles to keep her mind sharp.  She must have worked 1000 puzzles in the last few years.  She enjoys company, but fusses because no one comes to see her.  She misses all her friends and customers from the store.  She lives just for the days when I take Jack and her only great granddaughter, Layla Wade who is named after her, to see her.  

She misses doing all the stuff she used to be able to do.  Working in the garden, canning her vegetables, visiting her friends, going to Kings Island, and driving back and forth to and from my house to help me with something. The neck she cracked in 1975 is giving her troubles all these years later.  She is in constant pain.  One thing I am thankful for is that she's satisfied at this time in her life.  She's happier now than she's been in a long time.  I remember for awhile our Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners would only be, Momma, Granny, Grandpa and myself.  Now there is twelve of us to try to gather around a table.  She thought she would never have children and now she's got more than she's ever had.  

I wish Momma a very special Mother's Day.  Our plans are to spend it with her family which includes her husband, one child, one son in law, two grandsons, two grandson's wives, and four great-grandchildren.  I know how blessed we are to have my sweet, little Momma still around and enjoying life at age 86. I plan on getting her a new bird feeder.  She will fuss at me because she says she doesn't want anything, but she's getting something anyhow. I look forward to writing about my Momma again next year on Mother's Day. 

With a Little Help From My Friends

I'm happy to say that I'm lucky enough to have a lot of friends.  I can't remember when I didn't have a friend.  I guess since I'm an only child I felt the need to seek out someone who would be there for me and that I could tell all my thoughts and troubles to.  I hated school when I started in 1963.  I cried a lot which must have been a sign of things to come. Anyhow, sometime during that year, I found out that I really liked everyone in my class, even the boys.  Even though I cried, I was really worried about another little girl who cried too.  I guess I was drawn to certain people because I remember that I made a couple special friends that year that I'm still friends with today.
Of course friends really became special in the seventh grade.  That's when you need someone to hang out with.  Back then we had a theater in Mt. Vernon.  Momma allowed me to go almost every Saturday.  I usually took a friend and my cousins along.  Mom dropped us off and came back for us.  I don't think Mom's are comfortable doing that today, but this was the early 70's.  Whatever happened at the movies, my girl friends and I talked about all week.  Also, that's when having a phone was a must even if it was a party line.  My dad was still around then and he monitored my phone time.  He didn't want the neighbors hearing me on the phone all the time because they would actually listen in and then tell my grannie and grandpa about what I said when they came to their grocery store.  I started high school at Brodhead High with the same friends I'd been around everyday since first grade.  I didn't realize until my sophomore year, when the schools were consolidated, what a bond I had formed with my Brodhead class.  Going to Rockcastle Co. High School was fun for me.  The little girl who cried at school became the older girl who loved school.  I had one special friend all through high school.  I still talk to her from time to time.  I met a lot of new people and formed another bond. I have a lot of those friends on Facebook.  It seems anytime I mention being sad, sick or worried, I get a post from those old friends telling me to hang in there or that they are praying for me.  I do the same for them.  High school graduation was a sad time.  You sit there beside your friends, realizing you may never see some of them ever again.  I graduated in May 1975 and July of that same year, we lost a classmate in an automobile accident.  In 1979, I lost one of my friends from the first grade to the twelfth in yet another car wreck.  I think about her to this day. 
After graduation from high school, most of my friends went on to college.  That was my intentions also, but a boy from Mt. Vernon stole my heart and I got married instead.  His family was huge.  I went from being an only child with a single parent to being part of a family of eleven, not counting the nieces and nephews.  I loved being a part of this big family, they became my friends. We were together every Friday through Sunday.  I loved my mother in law and a part of me died when she passed in 1997.  She was the glue that held us together.  She wanted more than anything to have children remain close to each other.  If there was a spat among us, and there were several, she talked to us and made sure we settled things.  Her children were all close and still are.  She didn't approve of any drama among them either.  When the preacher was talking about her at her funeral, he mentioned how much she loved her family and how she wouldn't allow any discord among us.  I've been in this family for almost 38 years.  I've had a bunch of sister in laws come and go. I miss the old ones, but welcomed the new ones.  The family members changed, but the love and respect remained.  Only two sister in laws have been in the family longer than myself.  There were nine children in the family, seven boys and two girls.  We recently lost two of the boys and we grieve for them everyday.   I worked several different jobs during this time and attended Cosmotology school.  I made new friends once again.  I met a special friend in school.  She lived in Corbin and we have kept up with each other on Facebook. I also had and still have a friend that has been beside me since we meet in 1986.  I owned my own hair salon for awhile.  It was called Headquarters for Hair Design and it's still located in Mt. Vernon.  While I worked there, I had the pleasure of meeting Koula Carloftis Collinsworth and her daughter Koula Verda.  Koula V. was a year older than my son, Kyle.  They usually came to the shop with us on Saturdays.  Koula and I had such a good times together.  She told great stories about her interesting family. Sometimes if the day was slow, she would say, "Let's just lock up and go to Lexington." There wasn't anything she couldn't do.  One day we decided we would take the kids to Lake Cumberland swimming.  She had access to a pontoon.  I remember saying, "Are you sure you can drive and back-up that big thing?"  She said, "I don't know, but I'm going to try."  She did an awesome job and looked like a model while she did it.  She always looked great.  She could wear a Wal-Mart bag and look great.  She decided to go to college and become a teacher.  I missed her a lot.  A few years later, after she had moved to Laurel Co., I heard that she had breast cancer.  I didn't see her again.  She was tough just as I expected.  I am friends with her daughter Koula Verda who looks and acts so much like her mamma.  She's a mother herself.  Koula would be so proud of her granddaughter. When Koula left, I worked with two more ladies.  One I already knew from church.  The other was a younger version of myself.  She was from Berea and full of life.  Mike and I hit it off with her and her husband.  We did something every weekend with them.  Nancy loved to fish more than any one I knew.  She still does my hair.  She's been a good friend since the late 1980's.  She's special to me.  She's an excellent hairdresser and loves to have fun.  She's loves to camp, fish, travel, shop, ride motorcycles. You name it, she's up for it. She just told me last week that good friends are hard to find these days.  We talked about how lucky we were to still enjoy each other's company and still exchange Christmas gifts every year. 
 Mike had two wonderful ladies that he worked with in Laurel Co.  They were sisters and part of a big family also. I fell in love with those two immediately.  We would have cookouts, parties, and get-togethers all the time.  I feel like I'm part of that family too.  Some of my happiest times were spent with Pansy and Jewell.  They had a way of making you feel loved and they still do.  There is a lot of laughter when they are around.  We don't see them as much as we would like to, but we know how to reach each other when need be.  

Sue Rowe

Kaye Rigsby, MaryAnn Childress, Me, and Becky Saylor

In 1990, I got a job as an Instructional Assistant at Rockcastle County High School.  I would be working in the classroom with an English teacher, her name was Janice Miller.  I went to school before classes started to be introduced to Miss Miller and have her explain what I would be doing.  The school had funds from a government program called JTPA, Job Training Partnership Act.  Miss Miller taught only Seniors that were struggling to graduate.  It was a great program and I remember those students so well.  The classes were small, only ten or so, and the classroom was small.  The day I first met Miss Miller was to be a day I will forever be grateful for.  I was shown to her classroom by the Principal.  He knocked on her door and she opened it with a big smile.  I remember that she was barefoot.  We were introduced and began one of the greatest friendships in my life. 
I loved working at RCHS and with Miss Miller.  I had so many friends there and still talk with some of them often.  I started a lasting friendship with the girls in the office, Becky and Sondra.  They remain my close friends.  Becky and I have been on several vacations together.  I've watched her children grow up to become successful adults.  I also inserted myself into her family who live in Monticello.  I've grieved with her when she's lost several family members and I've laughed way too much with her.  When we're together it usually means trouble.  

Me and Janice Providence, RI

I was in the classroom with Janice from 1990 until 1994 thereabouts. We moved into the new high school building, Janice became the Guidance Counselor, and I started working in the office.  We still saw each other everyday.  Our boys, we each have two, have grown up, gone to college, married and became parents while Janice and I have been friends.  It's hard to believe time has passed so quickly.  I left the high school for a job at the Central Office in 1996 where I once again made a lot of good friends.  My office mate, Sue Rowe was one friend I will never forget.  I was with Sue more than my own family.  We got along 
so well.  We were in a pretty small space, the work was hard and stressful, but we still managed to find humor in it.  We invented our own way of talking to each other.  We quoted people and each other and no one else had a clue what we were talking about.  Sue was a fine, christian woman.  She was tested several times while I knew her.  Her husband died unexpectedly, her mother passed away, she suffered a heart attack and then was hit with Cancer and all that treatment entails. Those things were all horrible, but the worst, in my opinion, was the loss of her son.  He was a manager at a pizza place in Laurel Co.  A late order came in and he was kind hearted like his mother and offered to deliver the pizza himself.  When he knocked on the door, a woman answered and a man appeared out of  the darkness and beat him to death with a iron pipe.  I often  compared Sue to Job in the bible.  She, just like Job, was given so much to bear, but their faith never dwindled.  The last time I saw Sue alive, she was in the hospital.  She smiled and spoke my name.  After that she wasn't lucid.  I do believe she knew I was there.  She passed away less than a week after my visit.  I find myself thinking, I believe I will go visit Sue, but then I remember she's not at home anymore so I go visit her at the cemetery. 

After I left the high school and went to the Central Office, I still talked to Janice several times a week.  It was hard for her to get away because her children were small, but we did manage to go to the movies and out to eat often.  I took my first plane ride sitting beside Janice.  She was scared to death and I was fascinated. 
God gave me Janice.  I am certain of that.  We never would have even met if He hadn't had a hand in it.  We are alike but yet different.  She is very, very intelligent and schooled.  I am dingy and just have a little college under my belt.  I feel smarter when I'm with her though.  She has the gift of knowing what to say when I'm upset or mad.  She's even gone with me to the Dr. where she actually told the Dr. things he needed to know about me.  She's dropped everything and came to rescue me when I was at my lowest times. I think she's the sister I never had.  I know people think we are an odd couple, but hey, it works.  I have embarrassed her to death on more than one occasion.  Especially when we first met.  We have never had a disagreement because I agree with whatever she says.  She has been in my life everyday for almost 23 years.  I think God for sending her to me.  I would have never made it through my dark life without her.  She says I'm good for her also.  If she gets grouchy, yes, she does get grouchy, her family tells her that she needs to spend some time with me.  Her sister has told her she wishes she had a "Myrna" in her life too. 
This past week has been particularly hard for me.  I am outspoken and you would think most people know that by now.  Sometimes, since my mother in law is not here to keep the peace, I say the wrong things.  For the life of me I can't keep my mouth shut.  All my nieces and nephews, and there are too many to count, are like my own children to me.  I am always concerned about them. I worry about them and I'm always glad to see them and spend time with them.  The last couple years, there has been an evil monster moving among the family.  We have had more disagreements and hurt each other than all the years combined.  I've been told all this trouble we've been having is my fault.  I tend to think they are right.  It's my fault for caring.  I'm like Ted Kennedy said about his brother Bobby at his funeral, "I see wrong and try to right it."  That's impossible to do.  I can't fix everything. I usually don't get angry.  I get my feelings hurt, or I get annoyed at someone, but to get "fighting mad," I've only got that mad 3 times in my life. So mad that my mind moves faster than my mouth, I scream, my heart races and I don't even recognize my own voice. I was once told that anger was a good thing.  It was the opposite of depression.  I'll admit when I'm that angry, I sure am not depressed.   I have to distance myself from negative things in my life.  I may have lost the love and respect of some family members, but thank God I still have Janice. 
Also this week, I had to have a breast biopsy.  That was not on my schedule.  It was benign, thank God.  But the experience just added to my horrible week.  
I consider myself blessed beyond what I deserve.  My sweet little Momma is still alive and there for me.  I have a great and caring husband, two wonderful sons, two beautiful daughter in laws, and four amazing grandchildren.  I have my blood family and my married into family.  Plus, I have a lot of friends.  Just when I was convinced I was the bad one and that I only thought about myself, everyone came together to tell me they loved me.  Even those friends from the first grade and especially those from the class of 1975.  My plan is to take things one day at a time.  A lot of changes lie ahead, but I can manage.  Change is good.  I am taking a trip to Las Vegas this week with three cousins from Ohio.  Our mothers are first cousins and grew up together.  We had lost touch for 30 years at least.  We recently re-connected via Facebook and e-mail.  I am looking so forward to spending time with these three.  I keep repeating this over and over in my head, "If your lucky enough to have one true friend, then your lucky enough."

Jewell Buckles, Mike, and Pansy Harris

Get a Round Tuit

There is a television commercial that says, "We repair what your husband fixed."  I can relate to this statement because I am married to the original Mr. Fix-It.   When Mike and I first got married in 1975, he had me convinced that he was like my grandpa, my dad and my cousin Glen, and could fix anything.  I was used to their abilities to repair anything.  We never called a repair man when I was growing up.  The only professional I can remember being at my house was the two gentlemen who installed our furnace and a man who sprayed my grandparent's store for termites.  My dad was always working on something.  I remember one winter it got too cold working in his shed, so he brought a car motor in the house and worked on it on the kitchen table.  Daddy was always working on car, boat, or lawn mower motors.  He was born with no fingers on his left hand, but there wasn't anything he couldn't do. My grandpa, Tom Frith, was a handyman too.  He wasn't quiet as good as daddy, but he was good enough.  His speciality was in carpentry.  He thought a man couldn't get too many little out buildings.  Our go to person was my cousin, Glen Rigsby.  Glen could fix anything and he wouldn't quit until he did it right.  He was grandpa's nephew and daddy's best friend.  He had been working on his family farm with his father and uncle since he was a child.  He could drive when his feet didn't touch the gas pedal.  I imagine it was his idea to put a heavy board on the gas pedal and brake so he could get the job done.  He was a farmer who worked daylight until dark and still managed to find time to come and help us out.  I grew up with these three know-it-alls and a whole farming community of men just like them who ate their lunch everyday at my grandparent's little grocery store and talked about the tractor they had to fix before they could plow. 
 
Mike, actually, was a really good Mr. Fix- It until he decided that he didn't want to fix anything anymore.  At first he took a lot of time with his projects, seeming to care that they were done just right and that he finish what he started.  Then he started sliding into the "just make do" way of thinking.  That involved a lot of used parts, duct tape and unfinished work.  Once, when our clothes dryer quit, Mike said he'd find us one.  I rolled my eyes because I knew it meant I was going to be without a dryer for awhile .  He came home that Saturday afternoon with a used dryer.  So used that it still had a load of clothes inside.  Then there was the time that the washing machine bit the dust.  It was the only new appliance we had when we got married.  My grandmother bought it for us and it lasted longer that it should have. I really wanted a new washer, but Mike said he could fix it.  After a month went by and I was still going to my mom's, my friend's or the laundry mat and he hadn't fixed the dryer,  I was getting short tempered.  He had moved the washer onto the back porch where it looked real good.  I guess he got tired of hearing me so he found a pump that had been part of a car engine and installed it inside my auburn (I know you remember the colors auburn and avacado) washer and believe it or not it worked.  Five years ago, I got tired of always having someone else's stuff, so I bought a new washer and dryer all by myself.  I didn't tell Mike I was going shopping nor did I tell him I had bought them.  I just had them delivered and sat back and watched the expression on his face when he first saw them.  I also paid for them with my own money.  That, my friends, is the way to do it.

I will never forget the summer when our septic lines clogged.  What a disaster!  Four of us living together in a house with the plumbing getting worse by the day.  Mike was actually trying to fix our latest  life threatening situation.  He dug and augered every night after work.  He rented a high tech auger from Cox's Hardware in Mt. Vernon.  This one ran on electric and looked really impressive.  Mike had already opened up the septic tank lid in the back yard.  This night was so hot and we didn't have air conditioning.  You know that if you get hot it only makes your problems worse?  That's what I've noticed anyhow.  So, Mike had our son, Neil and me stationed in the yard guarding the septic tank while he was in the bathroom with the auger.  He yelled out the bathroom window telling us to get down on our hands and knees, stick our heads as far into the septic tank hole as we could, and let him know when we saw the auger coming out of the pipe.  There we were, Neil and I, patiently waiting for the "snake" to make it's appearance because that would mean the clog was gone, but we waited and waited and the auger never showed.  All this time we were aware of a whirling sound.  I thought it was the auger's motor, but Neil didn't think so.  We both looked toward the house at the same time, just in time, to see that auger whirling on the roof of our house like the blades on a helicopter.  Every so often, the auger would bang into the gutters and make a rather disturbing noise.  The look on Neil's face was priceless.  He was probably about fifteen years old and in all that time I had never seen him laugh so hard and haven't seen him laugh that hard to this day.  Of course I too thought this was the funniest thing I had ever saw.  We stood there laughing forgetting we were supposed to be helping.  I had to run over to the bathroom window to get Mike's attention over all the noise.  I yelled, "Mike, wrong hole."  His response, "Huh?"  This conversation went on several times before Mike finally pulled the plug.  I explained to him that the auger was coming out a pipe on the roof instead of going through the plumbing pipes.  Mike didn't think it was too funny, but to this day Neil and I still laugh about the whirling bird on the roof.  Mike ended up taking out the commode, digging up more lines, and after he finally found the correct place for the auger, he got things flowing again. 

My friends at work were amazed at Mike's remedy for fixing the starter in my car.  We would take turns driving to lunch.  One day I had four co-workers crammed into my little GEO Prism all talking at the same time.  Suddenly when I started the car, everyone stopped talking and all wore looks of surprise.  At first I thought, "what's up with everybody?" then I realized they had never witnessed anyone start a car like I just had.  See, Mike "hot-wired" the car so I had to start it by touching two wires together.  I had grown accustomed to starting my car like that for months so it was no big deal for me.  It was almost a year before Mike fixed that car.  He only fixed it then so we could trade it in. 
At this writing,  part of my bathroom floor is gone.  We've had a leak around the shower for years and I've been nagging him about it for years.  It got so bad, mushrooms were growing.  Something finally hit him a couple weeks ago and he decided he needed to fix the floor.  So he took all the tiles up and that was it.  I thought maybe he was on strike, so I asked when was he going to finish the bathroom floor.  He says he's just letting it dry out.  I'm thinking it's never going to dry out because he hasn't found the leak yet.  I sure wish he would finally get that "round tuit" he's been talking about.

There's more stories just like the ones I've shared, but no one has time for all that.  In Mike's defense, back when he wanted to, he was a really good handy man.  One good thing that has came out of 37 years of repairs like these, is that our sons have dedicated themselves to not being the kind of fix-it man that their dad is.