Reflections On Being Born In the First Half of the Last Century...the Was, the Is, and the May Be

Having recently read a marvelous Hub called “Back Porches: A Lost Legacy” by Marcy Goodfleisch brought back some dear-to-the-heart memories of my own childhood – as it probably did for any of us born in the last century. Wow, that sounds like a long time ago when put in that context, huh? The statement is not so much about the sands of time but how differently we live our lives in comparison to “the good old days!” Right there’s a statement that will bring on a plethora of different attitudes.

As a consumer I take full advantage of everything available to make life easier and wouldn’t trade one of them. Being one of the long-of-tooth-set I’m also aware of the things that were sacrificed along the way – like the cohesiveness and generosity of neighbors. Long ago everyone knew everyone in their immediate neighborhood and if you lived in a small town you knew every soul that called that town home. That’s rare today – many don’t even know their next door neighbor.

My Granny had been born and raised in the little Texas town where we lived as had her mother and daddy and their parents before them so we had a bit of history right out front. The hub of social activities was either the school or the church and one kept up on what was going on by visiting on one’s morning trip to the small post office. Postage stamps were three cents back then so there’s no doubt about the time frame in question.

Life was pretty hard-scrabble in those days and we were all as “poor as Jobe’s turkey” as Granny used to say but had no doubt we were among the blessed. Eating was high on everyone’s list and sharing was the only guarantee one had of being well fed. Our wealthier relatives used to butcher hogs every winter and it was quite an occasion. Granny always went to help in return for our winter pork supply and the kids considered it a holiday. The hog bladders were scraped and cleaned and given to us as “balloons” and we took full advantage of that. The adults spent all day making sure no part of the pigs was wasted and made sausage, hung hams in the smoke house, etc.

Looking back it was hard, hard work and took all day long but to kids it was an all day fun fest. When summer came Granny’s front porch was “canning central.” We snapped beans, shelled peas, peeled peaches – nothing was wasted. For some of us it left a bad taste in our mouths regarding some of that process. To this very day if I had to shell peas to taste another one; peas would be off my diet.

We also gathered grapes along the fence line of our dirt roads. That was rather tricky as in Texas that’s a good, shady, resting place for snakes and the adults were ever on the alert; us kids didn’t pay much attention because adults were on guard. The grapes grew wild and were very, very tart. Every child on the scene was admonished not to taste the “mustang grapes” as they’d make one’s mouth “pucker.” I never knew a kid that didn’t defy that rule and suffer the consequences. The grapes, however, were the most delightful taste on earth once made into jelly or preserves and eaten on a homemade hot biscuit with lots of butter.

The other great delicacy in our part of Texas was dewberries. Dewberries grew wild along the river, etc. and like strawberries (which weren’t grown in our part of Texas) were delightful to eat right off the vine. They always grew among stickers of every kind and Texas has everything on earth that sticks, scratches or bites. The biting part of that was a huge part of picking dewberries. Copperhead snakes were drawn like bees to honey to areas where dewberries grew and the standing rule was a child didn’t change areas to pick unless an adult had perused the area and deemed it safe. Dewberry pies and cobblers abounded at that time of the year and were served as part of every meal in town until the season passed.

No matter what was being readied for canning; the local women got together on one front porch or another and it was high social season in our little town. Back then if a mama went somewhere she took her children with her so it was also great play days for the kids. We did have baby dolls back then and some clothes for them but when we played outside we had to get creative. I’ve walked 1,000 miles on “stilts.” We were little kids so our stilts were two old tin cans with wires through each can to hold on to and we’d practice diligently to invent new games and challenges while walking on the cans.

We also were serious mud pie makers – complete with China berries from the tree in Granny’s back yard and jumped rope until our legs should have worn down to stubs. When we got a little older we’d sit on the porch and play jacks – one hasn’t lived until one steps on a lost jack while barefooted!

We literally had an “ice box” which means you put a block of ice in the top part of the box and it kept everything in the bottom cool enough not to spoil. Granny bought real cow’s milk and real butter from the lady across the street. I say “bought” but they really traded. Granny was known for her baking so she traded pies, cakes and cookies for dairy products.

If a neighbor suffered loss of any kind, be it monetary, illness, death, etc. all the neighbors shared the grief or happiness and contributed all they could to make the situation easier or better. That even extended to the various denominations of churches. We had a Methodist, Baptist and Church of Christ (which has always been referred to in my family as “The Big Three”) and all members of every congregation were just expected to attend the summer revivals of their fellow churches. Every revival had a guest preacher that had to be paid and it took the whole community attending to put whatever they could afford in the “love offering” plate to make it happen. My Granny was, however, the only one that made her own change from the collection plate.

There was no law whatsoever in our little town at that time – at least any that we saw often. The tiny town pretty much kept their own little piece of Texas on the straight and narrow. I once heard Granny discussing a wife beater with a neighbor while they were peeling peaches on the porch. Seems there was a group of men in town, the city fathers so-to-speak, who would pay late night visits to undesirables and make the suggestion that they might be happier living somewhere else and those types were usually gone by morning. The battered wives and children were always taken care of by the townsfolk thereafter – which also applied to widow women (of which my Granny was one).

Would I want to go back to those times? There’s definite reasons to say “no” because it would mean going through WWII and the hardships and tragedies that ensued. It would mean being the tail end of the Great Depression which was still very evident when I was a small child. It would mean – again – going through the sorrow of never seeing the “big kid” next door that went off to war and never came home.

There’s also lots of reason to say “yes” as it was a time for kids to feel loved, wanted and part of a society that cherished them and helped raise them as a community. It was a time of unselfishness and camaraderie that’s seen no equal since to my knowledge. It was a time Americans, no matter their circumstances, were proud to be Americans, proud of their heritage and willing to fight to keep it. It was a gentler time and an easier time to live in these United States. It was a time of freedom.

Were times better or worse than what we have today? When I look back it seems, although slower and gentler, everything was pretty much a crap shoot or a coin toss but there was a glaring difference. We waited as a cohesive group for the coin to hit the ground and see which side was up – with great confidence as we were Americans and lived in the greatest nation in the world. Freedom would always prevail.

Today – well, that’s all somewhat different. Seems America’s coin has been tossed so high in the air it’s out of sight and the Americans waiting for it to fall are divided. Is it still in the air or has it encountered trouble out there in a political ozone that could erase the side we’ve always recognized and depended on – the side that provides for mamas to peel peaches on the front porch, kids to catch fireflies at dark and papas to support their families?

When that coin falls in November, 2012 the right side must be up – the side that recognizes and abides by the Constitution of the United States – the side that refuses to accept socialism – the side that guarantees freedom and justice for all…the side that guarantees I don’t have to shell no more damned peas if I don’t want to. Think about it darlin’.

This trip down memory lane inadvertently became a call for all Americans to have their voice heard by voting Novembeer, 2012 -- our future depends on it!

AngelaBlair©2012 All Rights Reserved.