A Lesson in Pride
The people in the old farmhouse next to my grandparents’ farm had a son and daughter around my age. They had other kids too, but these were the only ones I ever played with. Mostly they would come over to our house to play but I remember going to their house twice.
The first time I was there, we were outside playing and got hungry for a snack. We went in through the old screen door in back and there seemed to be a small child peeping out from behind each and every chair and doorway. There was a baby lying in a bassinet and as I leaned to look inside, I noticed the flies on its face. A picture of Mama Owens’ house came into my mind…and the ever-present flyswatter. Lord help the creature that made it beyond her back door.
I remember Mrs. Blake as looking very tired and being thin, almost frail, with her hair pulled back tightly from her face. She was very quiet but seemed nice and smiled as she handed me a large homemade dill pickle and soda crackers. We went out back and sat on the steps, swatting at flies as we ate.
The other time I was there was on a hot and humid summer afternoon when we stopped by on our way to the swimming’ hole.
My aunt and uncle had dropped my cousin Jimmy off to spend a few days with me on the farm. The times I got to spend with Jimmy were special beyond words. We were the same age and I loved it when we got to be together. He was a farm boy and knew everything about tractors, barns, animals and all the things I thought were so neat about country life.
Jimmy and I were used to the hot Alabama summers but this particular day the heat and humidity combined with no hint of a breeze had rendered us both immobile. We were slouched together in the old swing under the apple tree in the back yard when Daddy Owens came in early from the field. He came into the backyard and walked over to the well where he drew a fresh pail of water.
After a long cool drink he looked over at us and said
“My old truck sure needs a cleanin’. It’s caked with red clay and we need to go into town for feed tomorrow. Think you two are up to helping me out?”
Jimmy and I didn’t bother to answer as we jumped out of the swing and ran toward the house to change into our bathing suits. We were going swimming!
There was a big creek near the farm and at one place it crossed the road by way of a shallow ditch. Daddy Owens would drive down into the ditch and park the truck, grab some rags and set to work. Our reward for helping was always the same, he’d drive the newly washed truck on through the ditch, take a sharp right turn, drive about fifty yards or so and there was the swimming hole, complete with rope swing and diving rock.
As we ran out of the house and jumped in back of the truck I said
“Let’s stop down at the Blakes and see if they can go swimming with us”.
Daddy Owens turned down their drive and a big cloud of red dust followed us as we drove up to the house. The Blake kids ran up to the truck as we pulled to a stop.
“Come on – hurry up and get on your bathing suits – Daddy Owens is taking us swimming!”
They were disappearing through the back door before the words were out of my mouth. It wasn’t long before they both reappeared saying they wouldn’t be able to go because their mother couldn’t find their bathing suits.
“Well, go help her look – we’ll wait out here for you – and hurry!”
The second time they returned to say their mother said she just couldn’t find the suits and maybe they could go some other time. As Daddy Owens silently turned the truck around and headed back to the road, we saw the Blake kids looking after us as they grew smaller through the cloud of red dust.
Later, stretched across the diving rock while Jimmy took his turn jumping off the rope, I told Daddy Owens I sure wished the Blake kids could have found their swim suits so they could have come with us and cooled off.
“Let’s come back tomorrow Daddy Owens…I know they’ll find them by then”.
Daddy Owens reached over and patted me on the back.
“Hon, those kids don’t have no swim suits.”
There’s poor and there’s dirt poor. I feel badly for the Blake kids and I never even met ’em. Thats the power with which you write. I also feel badly for CrazyAmazon. She never seems to get here first.:)
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Sounds like an idyllic time for you — and an eye opener about poverty. We used to swim in our clothes when bathing suits weren’t handy. On a hot day like that clothes dry fast. But I guess they were too embarrassed to admit they didn’t have bathing suits.
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(((Patalija))) Such treasured memories. And bitter sweet, as was the lesson learned. You write so beautifully. I could almost feel myself swinging on the rope and dropping into the cool water with you. Be well, Sweet Lady. Love,
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You’ve probably been told this before, but your writing reminds me of Harper Lee. Poignant growing up tale.
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O what an appropriate entry for a waning summer day too!
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RYN: luckily it is not an expensive rug. Pelican suggested soaking it in hot vinegar, so I will try that next — and I guess I will end up de-scaling my kettle, too.
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sigh…sad/sweet story Patalija! :)xo
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Back in the olden days they would have just went swimming without the suit.
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I still remember my mother telling me quietly that the man next door couldn’t read or write. She told me this with a dire warning that I knew so that I would never embarass him inadvertently by asking him to help me with a word the way he helped me learn to tie my shoes. It’s a shame they didn’t just go along in their shorts or what-have-you. So much consciousness of “things” – the more we have…
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… the less we realize it. 🙂
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I feel for those kids. I am blessed and not dirt poor, but growing at differnt times I have gone swimming in short and a tee shirt, so have my kids. I have let them go in shorts and a shirt when they have been in too much of a hurry. I am sorry she didn’t do that for them. Blessings to those kids who have now grown. Thanks for the story.
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I woke up thinking about this entry after reading it yesterday, thinking that they could have come along in shorts and t-shirts. Funny thought – wanting to reach back in time and include them in your swim. A touching story. This word-image of your young adventures made me smile.
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Dear patalija, wonderful story, I am sure of one thing, those kids were poor but proud and it was beyond their Mama to admit that they didn’t have bathing suits….. I know my Alabama born Mama would be that way! RYN: Gosh, will you be anywhere near Sarasota? Sure would be a treat if we could connect! When we first decided to move to FL we thought we would move to Ocala, rolling hills…..
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…hinting season changes, or maybe Gainesville, college town, old style homes. But, then we ask ourselves why are we moving anyway….the water…. yes, we love the beach and the water and that is how we ended up here. It is beautiful interiorly but we havent seen a lot of the state inside either. I guess Wachula is beautiful also? Let me know send me an email with your dates if you want? Hug
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I always very much like your writing, especially the wonderful stories like this experience. I missed you and I am really glad you are back : ) Thanks for the very good point you made in your note about the untitled poem by Pessoa, true. How I am doing is a struggle physically and wonderful otherwise. Hope life treats ya well : ) Hugs
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It’s so good to have you writing here again! This is a terrific story-sweet and sad.
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RYN: tonight we are staying in and watching a video.
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Memories .. pressed between the pages of our minds. I can remember some sweet childhood “swimming hole” states of mind. One being at my aunts in the country for the summer and her letting us go swimming in the tank. It was a watering hole for their cattle. Had a natural spring in the bottom of it. So cold down in there in contrast to the hot summer day. We would have a blast. Absolutely a blast.
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Sweet! I have an excuse to revisit this entry. 1) If you were a tree which kind would you choose to be and what season is it? 2) When you think of Grace what comes to mind? 3) Do you carry any regrets? Share one? 4) What design of tattoo are you going to get when you get up the courage to get one, will it have a deeper meaning, elaborate? 5) What is your favorite kind of dancing a
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and why? ( the character count lied)
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ryn: I have When Things Fall Apart – it’s excellent!
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🙂
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*blinking back the tears in the truth of that* My class this year is full of kids with AC and fancy clothes that were not sweat soaked or even slightly damp from the Alabama summer hot day Wednesday evening as they trooped in for Orientation Play meet the teacher. Not one speck of Kali Oka road red dust. (my shoes have some on the side grooves, but I have AC now too.) This entry was powerful!
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I dropped by to look through your window (diary front page) at the lovely flowers. And to let you know I was thinking of you often today. Much love,
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Very nice *smiles*
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RYN I’m a double resident patalija 😉
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I think this is a wonderful piece of writing. You might want to consider submitting it to an inspirational-type publication. Maybe with a tag paragraph at the end (or not). You’ve told a good lesson here, and done it beautifully. Just a thought. xxoo,
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