|
Grandma's Apron
Good
Memories |
|
Does
this sound like your grandmother or mother?
The principle use of Grandma's apron was to protect the
dress underneath, but along with that, it served as a holder
for removing hot pans from the oven. It was wonderful for
drying children's tears, and on occasion was even used for
cleaning out dirty ears.
From the chicken-coop the apron was used for carrying eggs,
fussy chicks, and sometimes half-hatched eggs to be finished
in the warming oven.
When company came those aprons were ideal hiding places for
shy kids. And when the weather was cold, grandma wrapped it
around her arms. Those big old aprons wiped many a
perspiring brow, bent over the hot wood stove. Chips and
kindling wood were brought into the kitchen in that apron.
From the garden, it carried all sorts of vegetables. After
the peas had been shelled it carried out the hulls. In the
fall the apron was used to bring in apples that had fallen
from the trees.
When unexpected company drove up the road, it was surprising
how much furniture that old apron could dust in a matter of
seconds.
When dinner was ready, Grandma walked out onto the porch,
waved her apron, and the men knew it was time to come in
from the fields to dinner.
It will be a long time before someone invents something that
will replace the "old apron" that served so many purposes.
|
|
|
Family Reflections
|
| |
|
Mamaw Speer with one of the
kids. |
"Grandma's
Apron" above put me in mind of my grandparents on both sides
of the family. And not only them but other family members
during
a time of innocence. I have great and wonderful
memories of both of my Grandma's and Grandpa's. These were
the Grandma's of the like we will never see again as this
world passes on. I regret so very much that kids of this day
and of days to come will never experience the love and
devotion held in the bosom of these women of times past.
I remember holding onto the aprons of both of my Grandmas as
a young boy. Those aprons were a place of refuge draped
around aging bodies filled with wisdom... and they were
indeed, rock solid because the rock they stood on was Jesus.
Love, wisdom and understanding were the definition of
Mamaw's and Papaws. |
|
|
|
|
| |
| What a time I had at Mamaw Speer's,
walking down to Stone's Store on Sevierville Pike to get soda's out
of the cold water of the cooler and a few pieces of candy and some
peanuts. Mrs. Stone was even a treat for me, a genuine hello and
kindness always stayed with me longer than the soda and a moon pie.
I guess that Mr. and Mrs. Stone helped see many people through some
hard times by allowing them to get the necessities of life and pay
for them at a later date. |
 |
|
 |
I try to
visualize the things inside the store which in themselves
were works of art in their own right. I loved the counters
and the glass cases displaying the items for sale, the signs
outside and inside and the huge round glass jars that held
Tom's peanuts. I remember being fascinated by the mechanics
of the Coca Cola soda cooler and the way you slid your drink
along a path of rails to the point of exit after having put
your change in the slot. I'll never forget that little store on the
corner, it holds fond memories. |
|
And then we would walk back to the house to sit on the front porch
swing and stuff our stomachs with all of that delicious junk. That
was a treat for the soul. And what a time during the evenings on a
cold wintry day, sitting around the oil stove with a
big bowl of popcorn, playing games like Authors and Old Maids.
I have thought about Stone's Store many times in my life. It was a
store or necessities and frills were not to be found, frills were
not needed. You can take all of the Foothill's Malls in the world
and stack them on top of each other and they will never reach the
height of integrity and love that the little corner store on
Sevierville Pike contained. Frugality is a word of the past and is a
cup that everyone should drink of. I miss that store, I miss seeing
Mrs. Stone, she was one of those Grandma's of principal also... I
miss the Grandma's that I knew... they were grand in every way. |
|
|
|
| |
I
stood amazed watching Papaw Speer chewing
tobacco and being totally fascinated by the accuracy of the
chewed tobacco being spit straight into the mouth of the
spittoon... that left me flabbergasted. Time after time, after time,
and after time again. Never a miss... well maybe one or two
a week, but I was sure impressed. You've heard of the
proverbial "kid tries chewing tobacco and vomits his guts
out" story. Yea, I did it too and once was enough.
Being like most Mamaw's in the world, chewing tobacco was
disgusting and her feelings about this vice were voiced ever
so often... quite often... no, it was every day all day
long. I guess that ever since man spat on the face of this
earth, spittle has been disgusting. |
|
Papaw Speer |
|
|
|
|
| |
| |
What a time I had during the days of
harvest. There would be four, five or six Grandma's on the huge
screened in porch on the side and backside of the house. They would
be busy peeling, shucking, chopping, dicing and slicing fruits and
vegetables to can in pressure cookers. Apples were laid out to dry
and cabbage was chopped for kraut and I loved eating the stalks of
the cabbage. As a matter of fact I loved snacking on most of the
gleanings. It was worth every bit of a stomach ache and constipation
for the next couple of days.
I was scared to death of the pressure cooker. Or, maybe I had been
told all of these horror stories about them blowing up, glass
shooting in every direction, people being impaled by
 |
flying peas,
and women being scalded to death. And reasoning that a
shooting pea, zinging at you with the velocity of a bullet
could kill you was enough for me, I walked around them with
great respect. When the steam built up so high and the
shrill of the venting steam got louder and louder, that was
signal enough for me to leave the area. But to watch those
Grandma's handle that cooker was enough to inspire the
bravest bomb squad member. |
|
|
|
The Poor Chicken & Dinner |
|
|
| |
And what a time I had
watching my Mamaw Stephens wring the neck of the unfortunate
chicken that fate had chosen for the dinner table that
evening. Not that I was comfortable with seeing the chicken
killed per say, but watching a headless chicken scrambling
about the yard is a funny thing. One always had the feeling
that it was chasing you and you alone. Mike, my brother and
our cousin Toll would dare the headless chicken to get us
and there were times that you would get tagged by it. The
blood on your clothes would be the proof.
Sunday dinner was something one looked forward to during the
week. It didn't matter much which Grandmas house it was to
be, you just knew it was going to be good vittles. Fried
chicken, a pork chop or a roast smothered in vegetables,
what else was there? No chef in the world has ever surpassed
them in preparing a home cooked meal. |
Mamaw Stephens |
|
|
|
|
| |
| Seems to me that most Grandmas I
knew had a knack for spotting a good switch on any tree in the yard.
And I don't believe that they ever stopped to identify the tree as a
hickory or not. God forbid should they get within striking distance.
There was a window of time you had because they needed time to cut
the switch. This gave you a head start and being young and full of
piss, you knew you could outrun them and you did most of the time.
And you laughed and snickered because you had cheated the grim
reaper for a moment. But the disheartening part was knowing that you
eventually had to return to the house to face the music or spend the
night outside in the dark. Switches had a way of getting your
attention real fast. That laughter and snickering could turn to
tears in a split second and you learned, not one, but two valuable
lessons. One lesson learned was not to commit the offence your were
going to be switched for again and secondly that running away, all
the while laughing and snickering had a way of lending more power
behind the swing of the branch as it landed on your butt. |
|
|
|
| |
|
Sherry & Kathy
two of our girl cousins
You can tell by looking at them, they
never did anything wrong. |
Did you ever notice, you
never saw your girl cousins getting switched or spanked, or
if they did it was not in front of everyone like us boys.
They were always too sweet and cute... "Miss Goody Two
Shoes". Boys could get spanked anywhere anytime. In the
dime store, outside of the church, in the bleachers at a
ball game... anywhere. I always wondered how the girls could
sometimes be just as mean but when the ax came down there
would be a boy on the receiving end.
All Mamaw's must have subscribed to the poem "Sugar and
spice and everything nice", which had to have been be
written by a woman who as a little girl, thought the world
of herself and found boys to be appalling. But all is fair
in love and war and I still love um'. |
|
|
|
|
| |
| Papaw
Speer had ulcers so he raised goats in the field
below the house and garage for the milk. I was as
terrified by them as I was the pressure cooker. But
I did like them as long as they were on the other
side of the fence. |
| |
|
Mamaw Speer, Cousin
Frankie, Me & Brother Mike |
|
One thing you
learned was to never turn your back on them or the next
thing you knew they would be chewing holes in your hip
pockets and might be nibbling on your butt.
And going inside the fence with food in your hand was like
laying out manure and thinking no flies would dare come.
Goats know how to intimidate a little guy with food and I
always gave up my food, it bought me enough time to get out
of the penned area.
| |
|
 |
|
Goat, Papaw Speer & I |
| If you
look at the photograph above you can see how happy I
was to have been invited to have my picture taken
with the two of them. |
|
|
| |
| Mamaw and Papaw Speer
sold goat's milk to a few folk who had children who could not
tolerate cows milk or either liked it themselves. It was always hard
for me to get past the smell of goats and the milk they produced. I
remember that milking them was a challenge for me and I could squirt
it every where but in the bucket. |
|
|
|
| |
| Toll, my
cousin had a mean streak in him and liked to frighten you by
jumping out of corners, from behind doors, from behind
bushes, anywhere he could. We lived on Forest Avenue on
Everett Hill for awhile, and out of a few hundred trips to
the house where he and his mom lived on Woodland Avenue (also
on Everett Hill) I don't remember many times in which he
failed to get me. I always approached their house knowing he
would jump out at me from somewhere. The anticipation raised
your heart rate a bit and he was relentless in his pursuit
to frighten or startle you. Although we've grown up a bit
Toll never overcame his mean streak and you still have to be
a little cautious of him.
Although in the
photograph on the right he looks innocent enough you could
almost bet his little pea brain was cookin' something up...
even looks like he is doesn't it? |
Cousin Toll shown here wedged
between Cousin Cathy & Mamaw Stephens |
|
| |
|
|
My Aunt Juanita & my Uncle
Toll |
I don't recall
ever seeing my Uncle Toll (Toll's dad), and Toll never knew
his dad because he died on April 26, 1945 as a result of
wounds received during WWII. See
Tollton E. Coulter in the Blount County Military
section of theBlountWeb. |
|
|
|
I'm digging through pictures
and will add more later... I hope to embarrass many more family
members... continued at a later date! |