Editor’s Pick
DECEMBER 30, 2008 4:39PM

T-Bucket's Memories of a Happy Poor Boy... pt. 1

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I spent the first six years of life happily in the woods of Madison County, Arkansas.

  We had no running water. When we bathed, usually on Saturday, we had to heat water from the well in a giant witches-type cauldron with a fire under it. Then we'd tote the hot water in a bucket to fill the basin on the back porch. We did rock, paper, scissors to see who went first, and we all used the same water. 4 of us. We all had to pitch in to do a new tub for Momma. We 'peed' off the back porch at night, so we didn't have to go way out back in the dark. One of our chores was to empty the ’pee-pots’ stored under the beds. It was the 1960's.

  In the summers, we got locked outside of the house after breakfast and couldn't come back in 'til Momma or Granny called us for lunch. They'd put a giant jug of Kool-aid on the front porch, and we had 3 Wishbone Dressing jars for glasses with our names written on them with nail polish. "T","Doodoo", and "Chaunce".We’d wander through the piney woods all morning , pretending we were Daniel Boone and Davey Crockett, armed with the rubber band guns Unc‘ Billy had made us as our Christmas present. My sister got to stay inside.

  We had Salmon croquettes and ketchup with french fries every Friday. Oh,heaven. Granny played Tennessee Ernie Ford's "Book of Favorite Hymns " album every Sunday morning while Momma and she made a scratch breakfast for us all before they went to church. Dry oatmeal and sugar in a dixie cup was dessert most of the time, but once in a while we had ’nana pudding.

 Granpa, Cash Wesley, was 5'10', and weighed ,maybe, 350. He always wore overalls, and would roll'em up to put rubbing alcohol on his purple legs. It had something to do with being gassed in World War One, and it was horrifying to us kids. He hated the French due to the war, “They’d hollah, ’The Boche is comin!’, then they’d run so far back they were bumpin’ into generals”, he wheezed a weak laugh.

 Granny, Willie Effie, was 4'11' and weighed 68 lb.s , I swear to God. She wore kid's clothes and a bonnet. Unc’Billy built her a little ledge to stand on in front of the stove, so she could reach. Granny’s favorite song was Oklahoma Hills. She always belted it out at full church choir volume, "Way down yonder in the Indian nation, I rode my pony on the reservation, in those Oklahoma hills where I was born". There is apparently a 1000 lines to it, and she knew every one. It made our car trip to Oklahoma after Granpa died a living hell.

 Things improved in Oklahoma,we had running water, a two bedroom house, Momma was getting disability checks. We were far from well off, but we didn’t know any better, we just followed Momma’s rules.

 Sunday in the winter was 'turn the heat on' day...rest of the week it was off.

 One day our tv's sound went out, so we figured out how to get the sound for channel 36 on the radio by tuning way down to one end. We only watched channel 36 for a year, till granny died, and we ran over and took her tv from the nursing home while Momma was at her funeral. Momma didn't make us take it back, "Effie, woulda wanted us tuh have it", she said. I thought Granny's name was "Granny" up until right then. Thinking back, it might have been the nursing home’s tv.

  I got my first toothbrush when I was eight from the school district’s traveling nurse, and I'd never even heard of dental floss till I was 11. I remember being in a dentist’s for the first time, sitting in the waiting room, because Momma had a bad tooth. They had a display on the wall of all the dental hygiene stuff, and I said loudly, "Momma, what's dental floss?" She popped me in the back of the head, "Don't be igerant, boy!"

  The summer before fifth grade, Momma made us capes and masks out of a sheet to be "Batman & Robin". Chaunce was Batman because he was taller, and I was Robin. On the back of my cape, it said, "Holy Hole in a Donut!" in magic marker. My other brother, Doodoo (yes, it was a nickname) was Green Lantern. He got an old ring, mask from sheet, and a green t-shirt. Right before school started, the church gave us all brand new "P.F. Flyers" tennis shoes, and I had Momma make me a Flash costume. I'd run around making "shhhhhhhhhh" sounds.

 My Unc' Herbie, who had lived here for years, put on a plow thing one day, and plowed up our back yard, and we grew taters, turnips, tomatoes, and collards. It was like a big harness and he was the 350 lb. horse. All my uncles were like Granpa in size, except Bennie, who might of weighed 150 lb.s, at most.

 That same summer, a family of American Indians moved in near us .They were affectionately known as "the Kiowas". We'd all go look in their front window when their grandpa, all dressed up in feathers,would do some kind of war dance in their living room. Robin Little Bluff ,the biggest "Kiowa", broke my collar bone when he fell on me while we were playing football with no pads. Not 'touch football', but real football with no pads. A neighbor reset my arm, and I wore a sling. To this day, I can't make a muscle with my left arm.

 Doodoo and I found a little black mutt, and took her home as pet. Momma was pissed 'til she held it, "It's uh outside dog, clear?" I named her "Lassie", because 'RinTinTin' was too long. I had her for 12 years. She was the family's dog, but she was really mine. I was never without her, no matter where I went.

 Our football team at Dunbar Elementary didn't have 'game' uniforms, so we wore the white practice uniforms to our games. They had no numbers on the jersey, so we used electrical tape to make numbers. If the other team (white school) started locking in on one guy to stop him, we'd send him to the sideline and change his number to confuse them. We all put "STP" stickers on our plain white helmets for our logo. We felt like it made us run faster.

 When Momma heard Pop got killed, she didn't even cry that we saw. That same day, I remember she took a branch from a neighbor's weeping willow tree and stuck it in the ground in the front yard, eventually that tree was taller than the house, by far. We didn't cry either, he was just a rumor, to us. We got whippings with whippy branches from that tree.

 I always remember a quote from my momma ,when I was feeling down and realized we were  dirt poor,
" Baby, look outside.Them bird's is still singin', and they got no coat, no job, no roof over they head, no guarantee uh'duh next meal. They's jus' happy they's breathin'."

(might as well check out parts 2 and 3 while you're here)

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Sounds like a great childhood. You may not have had much by way of material wealth, but it sounds like you had a strong mother who took care of you and raised you to be strong independent adults.
Amazing, needed, appreciated.
T- Bucket, I'm glad I found you. Love your honest writing.

I can identify with your rubberband guns. We had toys like that too, and loved them. Thought that was the way it was. I wrote a piece a couple of weeks ago called "Toy Soldiers". It seems no one read it, although it got rated "Editor's Pick".
Fond memories, recalled joys. The past as a present to the future.

Well done.
I want a rubberband gun!
Until the summer after 3rd grade, I lived on Wichita Street, a few blocks from the Masonic Home -- not far at all from where you lived if you went to Dunbar.
You ought to hear my story 'bout getiin' bussed to Cleveland
Ah, t-bucket. i am so glad I found you. You had the same upbringing as me and my family. I never knew I was poor for many years till a schoolkid told me He had always had running water.
This post brings back memories. Thank you for this. I look forward to reading many more.
Awesome post T Bucket. I found myself slowing down my reading speed to absorb every word. Feel free to share your memories anytime...I'll stay tuned.

FYI: We just printed this post for all our children to read. It provides a wonderful perspective. Thank you!
This ties in perfectly to my "Wacky Ways to Survive in a Recession" List
My Grandma used to say that she and her 11 brothers and sisters never knew there was a Great Depression because life on the farm didn't have any luxuries to begin with. I would have enjoyed listening to the two of you swap stories.

Well told.
Mr. Bucket, you brought many memories flooding back for me with your story. I won't go into much detail but beans and corn bread were regulars, go out side to play meant stay outside and play. A toy boat was a piece of 2x4 you pushed in the ditch with a stick. Chicken on Sunday, sometimes. The willow tree was both great to swing on, but bad when you had to go get the switch you'd get whipped with. Two room school house. We had water but half the neighbors didn't. Had a neighborhood garden. All the ladies would can every fall. I wouldn't trade all that for anything.
Thanks again for your story. A HNY to you.
I once got a marshmallow gun for a present and it was great.
Love the bit about the STP stickers.
In fact, loved the whole story - it is a story, isn't it?
I love your posts and you write so well about what is a vanished time. I remember taking bath on Saturdays in a washtub at my great-grandma's house. We had to so we did not go to bed with chiggers ;0)
Your stories are golden.
Salmon Croquettes and ketchup with frozen french fries. Oh , heaven.

Ok, I put mustard on mine, but we had to make our own french fries out of white potatoes. ( You all had some money if you could afford frozen fries.) What was left of the potatoes, we used the next morning for 'hash browns' (you know when you boil the potatoes, peel them, put some season salt on them and put a little onions in them and fried them in that black skillet).

Enjoyed your post. BTW: I don't eat salmon croquettes any more. I just can't stand them.
love those wonderfully gummy frozen fries baked on cookie sheets. and this post.
Keep 'em coming. Please.
every paragraph could be an essay :). Keep writing.
It says a lot that you said "happy poor boy", not "poor boy who managed to be happy" or some such. My grandma used to make pancakes (from scratch, of course) for supper sometimes, and we all thought it was a treat - we didn't know it was because there was no other food in the house. Keep writing; you definitely have a great gift. Hugs
this is one of the best posts i've seen in os yet (and that's against a lot of stiff competition). i don't really know what else to say, except "rated."
Holy hole in a donut, this is great.
simply wonderful writing. quite evocative.
"evocative", what every writer hopes to be. that is the finest compliment of all. Thank you.
Your mother sounds like a strong woman.

Loved the story about being locked out after breakfast. One of my aunts used to do the same thing in the summer.

Loved your Lassie story.

Great writing.
Wonderful post. We didn't have the french fries... ours was bread pudding for dinner. Not desert, dinner. No frills like raisins. Just like diane42997 pancakes- we thought it was a real treat. Indeed, in my first months of marriage, I made the bread pudding dinner for my (now, happily, ex-) husband (the rich doctor's son) who was scandalized. "Where's dinner???" I hadn't yet realized that bread pudding was an emblem of poverty.

Now it is good comfort food.

Heart you, T-Bucket, and your strong mom.
T-Bucket, I love you and your posts, this one in particular, but damned if I can't get that Indian Nation song out of my head. It's been in there two days now.

BTW, did you make some black-eyed peas today? I posted a recipe but I'm sure you know how to make them delicious.
This is so beautiful...I'm dazzled. I could read you all day. I will any damn thing you write.
Took hamhocks and made lentil soup,and cooked me up some batter bread
I don't want black-eyed peas! Bring me the winner!
T's posts are worth stopping all other activity to enjoy. This man somehow embraces and has remembered all the warmth of growing up poor, country and an outsider (no matter what ethnicity) and none of the accompanying worries. He has become my hero and a mentor for survival in these new hard times. Make do...don't complain, share, laugh and fuck more!
UrbanMS said it just right. Thanks for coming along and sharing, T-Bucket.
The paragraph about the willow is perfect.
T-Bucket

Your posts are another reason to hope and pray that OS will always be here.
You're grandmom reminds me of mine, with all the songs.
She'd sing Ol' Man Mose kicked the bucket, or the one about the bee on the wall.
There was a bee i e i e up on a wall i all i all - the funniest Bee i e i e i e I ever saw i aw i aw... I still remember the whole song from when I was little and have no idea what it's called
Loved your post!
Your post indeed reveals the memories of a wealthy person...rich in all the things that are truly important. I love your reminder to us all that these are fond memories. Looking forward to Part II so on I am to that. Thank you.
I could see you telling these tales in a one man show. They are mesmerizing. You write with such honesty and humility. Rated.
I could read a full post about each one of your paragraphs. Hope to hear more. Loved it!
rated
I am addicted to your writing.

You may have grown up dirt poor, but you were rich in experiences that many more wealthy people never had. Everything you describe is in such vivid detail, you can almost visualise it while reading.

Ever thought of writing a book about your life? I think it would make a great television series or movie.
My mom is amused that my favorite meals from childhood were the ones when dad was laid off: Hamhock n beans; shite on a shingle; lots of fruit pies (crunch when there wasn't enough to make crust).

These stories/remembrances are wonderful. Thanks!
" If the other team (white school) started locking in on one guy to stop him, we'd send him to the sideline and change his number to confuse them."

You make me laugh!!!
Salmon croquettes...haven't had them in years. Did y'all use the kind of Salmon from the can? It's so fishy that the house smells for days. And if you don't eat them warm, your mouth will pucker from the salt..

Thanks for those memories, T!
I love your mama! Smart, strong, uplifting, encouraging, persevering, kind, comforting and absolutely full of hope.
T,
I could so easily see how this, your story, would make a fantastic movie. The kind I can't wait to be released on DVD, I buy it and watch it over and over again.
I am going to spread out the enjoyment and read the next two parts in the next couple of days. Thanks for these memories - it brings up some great ones of my own. We actually had 3 tv stations, though - so I had you beat, and I hated those "pee buckets" that had to use at my best friend - aweful!!! I refused to help dump them.
You had me on the P.F. Flyers T. the last paragraph is pure art....in the greatest sense........
I'm finally getting around your prior posts, T. I would like nothing better than to sit with you on a Saturday, on the back porch, and listen to you tell me about your childhood. It sounds like your family was darn good at making do - something folks today seem to have lost sight of. While my childhood in New York was markedly different from yours (we weren't poor but we weren't too far from it), I shared some of the same experiences: I remember playing football with no pads too (though most of the time we didn't get hurt), getting sent outside for the whole day, grandma's cooking, homemade halloween costumes. Your imagery here makes my own memories that much sharper. Thanks.

Thumbed.
"Thinking back, it might have been the nursing home’s tv. "

That line made me laugh for some reason. Good stuff.

When you're living it, you don't think of it as 'Growing up poor' or 'being poor' you're just growing up and just being. Rated.