MAKING GRAVEL
In the 1950's, growing up on a mountain on 360 acres of land full of wild fruits, nuts and berries, natural springs and where hunting and farming was plentiful; where one could, and we did, raise, harvest or kill most anything we needed to sustain us. An occasional trip into town would provide us with the “staples” like flour, sugar, coffee, etc.
We had all the farm animals we needed. We planted a huge garden full of everything we wanted. In the wild, we could find Blackberries, Muskedines, Plums, Mulberries, Black Halls, Hickory Nuts, and Black Walnuts. We hunted and ate Squirrel, Rabbit, and birds. We would have the occasional winter Deer hanging in the breezeway for several meals.
So to say we were poor folks was not entirely true, even though we seldom had two nickels to rub together (Buffalo Nickels in those days). Being ‘po folks had its merits. We found ourselves being frugal with what we did have; “waste not, want not” would be the kinds of words coming from our Granny’s mouth. But being poor also meant we couldn’t always go and buy everything we wanted.
Making gravel comes to mind as I reminisce in my rocking chair today. There’s no doubt that the old farm grew Sandstone Rock in abundance! Why, we could hardly plow a new field without carrying and stacking enough rocks to make a fence around it! Also, what does a Dad do with 4 boys full of energy? “Hey!! Let’s make GRAVEL!!” Being a pipeline welder and having all the tools one needed for that trade, Dad would bring out the Ball-Pein (or Ball-Peen) Hammers, set us down in the middle of our Lane, in a low spot that needed gravel and bring us a pile of rocks! The Sandstone was easy enough to break up as we smashed and bashed our way through the pile, venting emotions and working up appetites! With no TV, Game Boys, videos or other electronic games to detract us, we managed to produce something that only a Dad could appreciate! Looking at the opening scenes of "O Brother, Where art thou?", takes me back to the good old days of child labor in the Lane. The only thing different, besides our age, was the cool, striped clothing and the chains. I suppose we were too poor to afford chains!
Mike Thomas
Survivor of
The Good Old Days
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Whatever happened to “The Fuller Brush Man”?
As a kid growing up on the old farm in Arkansas, the Fuller Brush man was as local as most anyone! In those days, (and I’m trying not to mention that this was the 50’s) everyone had to make a living doing something. Dad was a pipeline welder and traveled a lot; gone most every week and occasionally coming home on weekends just in time to give us the swat we deserved. Grandpa did some farming, although, Mom says he was a very lazy man and would go out of his way to NOT do something, even for himself!
Mom worked hard around that old farm; nothing was easy and she had to contend with all of it! It was seldom that we had company. Most of our neighbors were busy trying to put beans on the table and there wasn't much time for visiting! It was usually during the most inopportune times that the Fuller Brush Man would come around; the traveling salesman selling goods of all kinds, door to door, country farmhouse to country farmhouse.
Although this man had (or could get) most anything you would want, the one thing we actually lacked was the money to BUY anything! I suppose Mom hated to confront these high powered salesmen, like most of us today, too!
Our old house set off the main road (should I say the “main DIRT road”. Our driveway was called a “lane”, as it was fairly long, but visible from the road. Somehow Mom knew when the Fuller Brush Man was coming! He would probably stop and open our gate, then drive his old klunker down our lane to get to our house. Mom somehow always knew when he was approaching! Perhaps it was the barking hound dogs! Anyway, she would grab us kids and have us be quiet as we hid somewhere. The old house only had a screen door on it; no locks or anything. One could see all the way to “outside” if you looked.
So as the Fuller Brush Man drove down our lane, Mom would gather us kids like chickens and head us off into a closet somewhere, while the man knocked and knocked on our door. Mom made us be very quiet and still so as not to let on that we was home or anything! Eventually he got tired of knocking and left; then we came out and peered down the Lane just to make sure he was gone!
Then Mom would smile; satisfied that she fooled the Fuller Brush Man once again.
Mike Thomas
Old Guy
As a kid growing up on the old farm in Arkansas, the Fuller Brush man was as local as most anyone! In those days, (and I’m trying not to mention that this was the 50’s) everyone had to make a living doing something. Dad was a pipeline welder and traveled a lot; gone most every week and occasionally coming home on weekends just in time to give us the swat we deserved. Grandpa did some farming, although, Mom says he was a very lazy man and would go out of his way to NOT do something, even for himself!
Mom worked hard around that old farm; nothing was easy and she had to contend with all of it! It was seldom that we had company. Most of our neighbors were busy trying to put beans on the table and there wasn't much time for visiting! It was usually during the most inopportune times that the Fuller Brush Man would come around; the traveling salesman selling goods of all kinds, door to door, country farmhouse to country farmhouse.
Although this man had (or could get) most anything you would want, the one thing we actually lacked was the money to BUY anything! I suppose Mom hated to confront these high powered salesmen, like most of us today, too!
Our old house set off the main road (should I say the “main DIRT road”. Our driveway was called a “lane”, as it was fairly long, but visible from the road. Somehow Mom knew when the Fuller Brush Man was coming! He would probably stop and open our gate, then drive his old klunker down our lane to get to our house. Mom somehow always knew when he was approaching! Perhaps it was the barking hound dogs! Anyway, she would grab us kids and have us be quiet as we hid somewhere. The old house only had a screen door on it; no locks or anything. One could see all the way to “outside” if you looked.
So as the Fuller Brush Man drove down our lane, Mom would gather us kids like chickens and head us off into a closet somewhere, while the man knocked and knocked on our door. Mom made us be very quiet and still so as not to let on that we was home or anything! Eventually he got tired of knocking and left; then we came out and peered down the Lane just to make sure he was gone!
Then Mom would smile; satisfied that she fooled the Fuller Brush Man once again.
Mike Thomas
Old Guy
Friday, February 06, 2009
MARBLES.......A thing of the past?
As I recall grade school was fun. I suppose many of the not-so-fun memories have been suppressed, but I’m okay with that! Everyone likes to remember only the best anyway; I’m no different. One of my fondest recollections was the days of “shootin’ doogies” (pronounced dew -gies). Now if you know what a “doogie” is, I’m certain the word congers up some old memories of your past. Perhaps you had a favorite doogie; I know I did!
Another way to say all this is to simply say, playing marbles. Yes, marbles. This was a favorite game of many of us as we grew up through grade school. Things are much different today and marbles are pretty much history. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen kids playing marbles……probably in grade school, more than 50 years ago! Where has the time gone??
But for the sake of reminiscing, let’s go back in time and play a game. A small group of five or six of us would head out to an obscure corner of the playground, away from the runners and scufflers, so we had some privacy, then clean off a small area of the ground; removing the twigs, rocks, grass, leaves and any other obstruction. One of us would then draw a perfect circle in the dirt. This was our circle of play.
The group would determine how many players would play at a time; perhaps three or 4, at the most. Each player would put three or four marbles into the circle. Each player would take turns shooting his marble; first, from the line, into the mass of marbles within the circle, trying to knock one out of the circle; much like shooting Pool. We all had our own method of shooting. My favorite method was to cradle the marble between the tip of my right index finger and the first knuckle of my thumb. The back of the hand had to lie on the dirt. For our first shot, the knuckle of the index finger was positioned directly on the line as the starting point. The tip of the thumb to the first knuckle was restrained by the second, or middle finger. Mustering my strength, I would use much effort to push my thumb against the middle finger; at the same time my middle finger would not allow my thumb to move!
With a burst of movement, I would quickly release my thumb, which shot the marble forward towards my target. It’s amazing how much force you can generate and really get that doogie moving! The doogie would rocket forward; hit the target squarely in the middle (assuming all went according to the plan). The target would then be propelled forward, hopefully leaving the circle! If it did, I kept the opponent’s marble, FOR KEEPS…..if we played for keeps. Sometimes we didn’t, but it was more fun if we did!
Another way I sometimes shot was to cradle the marble within the inside of my right index finger, curling it around the marble, with my thumb being restrained behind my middle finger, as in the first example. My knuckles would be down on the ground to steady the hand, I suppose. With a burst of energy, I would release my thumb, thus, propelling the marble forward.
Sometimes, we would allow the “over-sized” marbles to play. They were much larger marbles and difficult to hold, so they could also be rolled, as in bowling. However, the starting point was from the line and the knuckle could not cross the line without penalty! A penalty would generally mean “losing your marble”. Sound familiar??
The word “Marble” meant any type of round, glass or steel) ball, about one half inch in diameter. They could either be “solids” (a single solid color), a “Cat’s Eye” (which looked like a Cat’s EYEBALL, or even one with the textured swirl of real marble. “Steelies” were of similar physical size, but nothing more than a stainless steel ball bearing. They were more difficult to launch, but their weight could knock ‘em out! They were not always allowed in the game.
Assuming we knocked our target marble from within the circle, we would get a second shot, as a bonus. Wherever our doogie landed, that’s where we made our next shot. If we had landed outside the circle, we would then shoot from the line again. More times than not, the circle was large enough that capturing another’s doogie meant having a nice, hard packed dirt field, and some serious speed on takeoff! Ideally, hitting another’s marble dead center would tend to stop our own from traveling too far after impact, again, much like in shooting pool. Real planning could mean our second shot was within inches of another doogie, which greatly improved our chances of more wins. The game would continue as we kept shooting until we missed! Once we missed, we let our doogie remain where it stopped, hoping no one would pick it off for himself, and waited until everyone had a turn before it was ours again.
I remember keeping my marbles in an old tobacco sack. In those days, loose tobacco came in a small sack, or pouch with a pull string top that closed. The tobacco would be opened by the smoker, who rolled his own. One of his hands would hold the thin cigarette paper, forming a trough, into which he poured a small amount of tobacco from his sack.. Once he had the right amount poured into the paper trough, he would hold one string in his other hand and lift the sack to his mouth, biting down on the other string. As he pulled the string, the sack would close. Tobacco sacks made great marble sacks! Some kids had a small leather pouch to keep their marbles in. Those were very cool! We never carried all of our marbles around with us, just about enough to fill a tea cup, or so; and just enough to show the kids we COULD win once in a while!
When the game ended, our hope was that we walked away with more marbles than we brought with us! Trading marbles was also good. If my sack was running low, I could always pull out my favorite marble; that especially unusual marble and start the trading! If not…….well, tomorrow was another day; another chance to win!
Another way to say all this is to simply say, playing marbles. Yes, marbles. This was a favorite game of many of us as we grew up through grade school. Things are much different today and marbles are pretty much history. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen kids playing marbles……probably in grade school, more than 50 years ago! Where has the time gone??
But for the sake of reminiscing, let’s go back in time and play a game. A small group of five or six of us would head out to an obscure corner of the playground, away from the runners and scufflers, so we had some privacy, then clean off a small area of the ground; removing the twigs, rocks, grass, leaves and any other obstruction. One of us would then draw a perfect circle in the dirt. This was our circle of play.
The group would determine how many players would play at a time; perhaps three or 4, at the most. Each player would put three or four marbles into the circle. Each player would take turns shooting his marble; first, from the line, into the mass of marbles within the circle, trying to knock one out of the circle; much like shooting Pool. We all had our own method of shooting. My favorite method was to cradle the marble between the tip of my right index finger and the first knuckle of my thumb. The back of the hand had to lie on the dirt. For our first shot, the knuckle of the index finger was positioned directly on the line as the starting point. The tip of the thumb to the first knuckle was restrained by the second, or middle finger. Mustering my strength, I would use much effort to push my thumb against the middle finger; at the same time my middle finger would not allow my thumb to move!With a burst of movement, I would quickly release my thumb, which shot the marble forward towards my target. It’s amazing how much force you can generate and really get that doogie moving! The doogie would rocket forward; hit the target squarely in the middle (assuming all went according to the plan). The target would then be propelled forward, hopefully leaving the circle! If it did, I kept the opponent’s marble, FOR KEEPS…..if we played for keeps. Sometimes we didn’t, but it was more fun if we did!
Another way I sometimes shot was to cradle the marble within the inside of my right index finger, curling it around the marble, with my thumb being restrained behind my middle finger, as in the first example. My knuckles would be down on the ground to steady the hand, I suppose. With a burst of energy, I would release my thumb, thus, propelling the marble forward.
Sometimes, we would allow the “over-sized” marbles to play. They were much larger marbles and difficult to hold, so they could also be rolled, as in bowling. However, the starting point was from the line and the knuckle could not cross the line without penalty! A penalty would generally mean “losing your marble”. Sound familiar??
The word “Marble” meant any type of round, glass or steel) ball, about one half inch in diameter. They could either be “solids” (a single solid color), a “Cat’s Eye” (which looked like a Cat’s EYEBALL, or even one with the textured swirl of real marble. “Steelies” were of similar physical size, but nothing more than a stainless steel ball bearing. They were more difficult to launch, but their weight could knock ‘em out! They were not always allowed in the game.
Assuming we knocked our target marble from within the circle, we would get a second shot, as a bonus. Wherever our doogie landed, that’s where we made our next shot. If we had landed outside the circle, we would then shoot from the line again. More times than not, the circle was large enough that capturing another’s doogie meant having a nice, hard packed dirt field, and some serious speed on takeoff! Ideally, hitting another’s marble dead center would tend to stop our own from traveling too far after impact, again, much like in shooting pool. Real planning could mean our second shot was within inches of another doogie, which greatly improved our chances of more wins. The game would continue as we kept shooting until we missed! Once we missed, we let our doogie remain where it stopped, hoping no one would pick it off for himself, and waited until everyone had a turn before it was ours again.
I remember keeping my marbles in an old tobacco sack. In those days, loose tobacco came in a small sack, or pouch with a pull string top that closed. The tobacco would be opened by the smoker, who rolled his own. One of his hands would hold the thin cigarette paper, forming a trough, into which he poured a small amount of tobacco from his sack.. Once he had the right amount poured into the paper trough, he would hold one string in his other hand and lift the sack to his mouth, biting down on the other string. As he pulled the string, the sack would close. Tobacco sacks made great marble sacks! Some kids had a small leather pouch to keep their marbles in. Those were very cool! We never carried all of our marbles around with us, just about enough to fill a tea cup, or so; and just enough to show the kids we COULD win once in a while!
When the game ended, our hope was that we walked away with more marbles than we brought with us! Trading marbles was also good. If my sack was running low, I could always pull out my favorite marble; that especially unusual marble and start the trading! If not…….well, tomorrow was another day; another chance to win!
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