The Old Ice House
is probably gone; torn down or abandoned by now; not much use for those today. Most folks have means of making their own ice in their own homes. As a kid growing up in NW Arkansas, my folks used to make weekend trips to Ozark to buy groceries and ice for our Ice Box. Refrigerators were expensive in those days, but without electricity we wouldn’t get one for a few more years yet.
The Ice Box was an insulated wooden cabinet with two or three compartments; upper, where the lid opened the top to allow a block of ice to be stored in the metal lined compartment, and a lower, also lined with metal where food needing refrigeration was placed. This device was the predecessor to modern day refrigerators that use Freon to make the cooling work.
The old Ice Box worked by a process of “cold air falling”. With the upper compartment filled with ice, the closed door chilled the air and trapped in the cold, which fell from the top to the bottom compartment through slots, cooling milk, eggs, cheese and other foodstuff.
The chunk of ice in the top section never lasted long and would be completely melted in a few days.
I loved seeing the ice men at work cutting out blocks of ice! They would bring out a large, square chunk from the freezer; about 3 feet cubed, hung from an elevated rail with giant tongs and drop it near the dock. It would go skidding along the old wood slab flooring. They would then take an ice pick and start jabbing holes in the ice block in a straight line. This would break off a chunk of ice about 12 inches thick by 3 feet long. Depending upon how much Dad wanted they would cut it again.
I loved watching the ice chips flake off in the sunlight as the ice pick fell. I never thought much about where the ice came from; I just assumed it came from a room somewhere.
Also, ice tongs were very cool!
Friday, May 29, 2009
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
MILKING COWS
Growing up on a farm provided us with many opportunities. Even the State slogan said it, “Arkansas, Land of Opportunity”!
Although we didn’t have much, we always had enough. The way I see it, the difference between “poor” and “dirt poor” is simply ‘the dirt’! If you were dirt poor….. YOU DIDN’T HAVE ANY! Well, we had 360 acres of Arkansas dirt under our feet…. More than we needed! We seldom had two nickels to rub together, but we had land!
We also had plenty of MILK! We milked Cows until we were blue in the face! Didn’t we, Pat?? Fresh milk EVERY day! We drank milk like nobody’s business! When we couldn’t drink any more, Dad started paying us 2 cents a glass to drink it! We thought we were in BIG MONEY! Ha! We still didn’t have two nickels to rub together…..but we had lots of pennies!
Growing up on a farm provided us with many opportunities. Even the State slogan said it, “Arkansas, Land of Opportunity”!
Although we didn’t have much, we always had enough. The way I see it, the difference between “poor” and “dirt poor” is simply ‘the dirt’! If you were dirt poor….. YOU DIDN’T HAVE ANY! Well, we had 360 acres of Arkansas dirt under our feet…. More than we needed! We seldom had two nickels to rub together, but we had land!
We also had plenty of MILK! We milked Cows until we were blue in the face! Didn’t we, Pat?? Fresh milk EVERY day! We drank milk like nobody’s business! When we couldn’t drink any more, Dad started paying us 2 cents a glass to drink it! We thought we were in BIG MONEY! Ha! We still didn’t have two nickels to rub together…..but we had lots of pennies!
Friday, April 10, 2009
NOW I KNOW.......So my letter from the United States Department of the Interior simply said, “We could not get your reservation request to work using any of the alternate start dates and/or alternate camps”. It was signed by “Dan” of the National Park Service, Mount Rainier National Park, Tahoma Woods, Star Route, Ashford, Washington 98304.
This is my second year in a row to try for group camping rights on a particular section of the Wonderland Trail. The first time I ever tried to do this, we were approved! It was a Slam-Dunk! Two failures kind of put the “summertime overcrowding” into perspective.
Fortunately my uncanny organizational skills have already created two contingency plans to take the teens backpacking. Plan “B” is to do a stretch of trail from White Pass Washington, Southbound along the PCT and jumping off to take Lily Basin Trail to the end. Plan “C” is to do a stretch of the Timberline Trail, about half way around Mt Hood, Oregon.
The hard part will be getting in shape!! Wait! Isn’t “ROUND” a shape??
This is my second year in a row to try for group camping rights on a particular section of the Wonderland Trail. The first time I ever tried to do this, we were approved! It was a Slam-Dunk! Two failures kind of put the “summertime overcrowding” into perspective.
Fortunately my uncanny organizational skills have already created two contingency plans to take the teens backpacking. Plan “B” is to do a stretch of trail from White Pass Washington, Southbound along the PCT and jumping off to take Lily Basin Trail to the end. Plan “C” is to do a stretch of the Timberline Trail, about half way around Mt Hood, Oregon.
The hard part will be getting in shape!! Wait! Isn’t “ROUND” a shape??
Saturday, April 04, 2009
MULBERRY, ARKANSAS
As a kid growing up in the 1950’s, Arkansas had a lot to offer. The drive from our country farm to the “big city” was about 25 miles down a dirt road and a narrow bridge across the Mulberry River. The hot summer months dried everything; thick dust fogged the road as cars passed by. Roadside bushes and trees would sit covered in fine Arkansas powder until the next hard rain fell.
Dad drove an old pickup with a cattle rack on the back. He would let us kids ride in the back when we went into town. I doubt Mom liked it much but we loved it! We often stepped up on the first rail; hanging on tightly to the top rail, chest and head above the cab of the truck, wind in our faces; hanging on for dear life! Mom didn’t like it when we hit the blacktop highway, where Dad could get up more speed. We didn’t stay up there long at those speeds, either. We couldn’t get our breath! Not only that, but to get hit in the face by a June Bug or a Bee at those speeds wasn’t much fun!
Can you imagine that kind of event happening TODAY?? WOW! Cell phones would be dialing 9-1-1 and reporting irresponsible parents to the Cops in a heartbeat!! CSD would show up and haul off the kids; parents would be cited and put on probation and all kinds of newspapers would write about it!
Sometimes Dad would stop by the old Millsap place on the highway and buy us a Watermelon to take home. We enjoyed stopping there and exploring around while the grownups talked. Mrs. Millsap was a First Grade Teacher at Pleasant View School where we attended. She was very nice. I will never forget her. She was a short, round lady with yellow hair, and most always had a smile on her face. Her and Mrs. Addy were my favorite teachers growing up. Mrs. Addy taught second grade.
I wish I had a picture of 1950’s Mulberry to show you, but I only have one taken in the 1940's, although the only thing that changed were the CARS. The whole town wasn’t 2 blocks long. Towards the end of town there was something in the middle of the street….. I can’t remember exactly what it was. Perhaps a large marker, or a statue…. Whatever it was, it was a natural place to make a U-TURN and head back the other direction to park on the other side of the street. The old stores looked like something out of Western days; General Stores, where you could find most anything you need…..nothing like today, of course! There was a Dime Store that sold stuff for as little as a Penny. Us kids were dirt poor and seldom HAD a Penny! But we liked going in there and looking at stuff. Mom once said that she didn’t mind taking us 4 boys into stores with her because we wouldn’t touch anything…..we just looked. (Have you seen kids in stores doing THAT today??)
Mulberry is where Dad would take us sometimes to get our hair cut by a real barber! We grew up with Burr haircuts so it wasn’t hard for him to give them to us at home. But once in a while he took us into “Gene and Shorty’s Barber Shop” to get us trimmed up proper, I suppose. One day he had Gene and Shorty give us Mohawks! Mom wasn’t too impressed but we kept them all summer long. It made it harder for us boys to play “Cowboys and Indians” because Cowboys don’t HAVE Mohawks! I don’t recall, but I suppose we just played “Indians” that summer!
But one of the coolest things to see in Mulberry…..and we usually ALWAYS saw him ….was the Cowboy! I wish I could recall his name, but I can’t. He was a grown man but with a mind of a 9-year old kid, so they say. He was all dressed up in a cowboy outfit; jeans, shirt, boots, hat and scarf. He looked a lot like the old cowboy pictures of Roy Rogers! Maybe that’s who he was trying to look like! He also wore two big guns in a holster on his hips. The holster was all blinged up with sequins, leather strings and baubles that shined in the sunlight! It was quite impressive to us cowboy-type boys! The two big shiny guns were only Cap Guns, but they looked very cool to us! Jimmie (I’ll call him Jimmie because I don’t remember his real name, and besides, this is my story), would always go around town, in and out of each business to say hello to everybody. Everyone knew him by name and greeted him when he entered and said goodbye when he left. He was like an icon, a fixture in a little one horse town with nothing else going on. Every day, so they say, he would make his rounds, greeting people.
I recall one day that stands out in my mind more so than others. Dad had some banking business to do so we were standing in the Bank when “Jimmie” came through the door; sunlight shining through the big glass door behind him in. He walked in like he owned the place, waving and smiling and greeting everybody he knew; bowlegged and cowboy suit and all. His Spurs jingled as he walked and his cowboy hat was tipped back on his head in a relaxed sort of way. He made his rounds and then headed out the door.
Can you imagine that kind of event happening TODAY?? WOW! Cell phones would be dialing 9-1-1, Swat Cops would be screaming up with guns drawn….and bank employees would be face on the floor praying to live through it all!
Well…..those days could only happen in THOSE days.
As a kid growing up in the 1950’s, Arkansas had a lot to offer. The drive from our country farm to the “big city” was about 25 miles down a dirt road and a narrow bridge across the Mulberry River. The hot summer months dried everything; thick dust fogged the road as cars passed by. Roadside bushes and trees would sit covered in fine Arkansas powder until the next hard rain fell.
Dad drove an old pickup with a cattle rack on the back. He would let us kids ride in the back when we went into town. I doubt Mom liked it much but we loved it! We often stepped up on the first rail; hanging on tightly to the top rail, chest and head above the cab of the truck, wind in our faces; hanging on for dear life! Mom didn’t like it when we hit the blacktop highway, where Dad could get up more speed. We didn’t stay up there long at those speeds, either. We couldn’t get our breath! Not only that, but to get hit in the face by a June Bug or a Bee at those speeds wasn’t much fun!
Can you imagine that kind of event happening TODAY?? WOW! Cell phones would be dialing 9-1-1 and reporting irresponsible parents to the Cops in a heartbeat!! CSD would show up and haul off the kids; parents would be cited and put on probation and all kinds of newspapers would write about it!
Sometimes Dad would stop by the old Millsap place on the highway and buy us a Watermelon to take home. We enjoyed stopping there and exploring around while the grownups talked. Mrs. Millsap was a First Grade Teacher at Pleasant View School where we attended. She was very nice. I will never forget her. She was a short, round lady with yellow hair, and most always had a smile on her face. Her and Mrs. Addy were my favorite teachers growing up. Mrs. Addy taught second grade.
I wish I had a picture of 1950’s Mulberry to show you, but I only have one taken in the 1940's, although the only thing that changed were the CARS. The whole town wasn’t 2 blocks long. Towards the end of town there was something in the middle of the street….. I can’t remember exactly what it was. Perhaps a large marker, or a statue…. Whatever it was, it was a natural place to make a U-TURN and head back the other direction to park on the other side of the street. The old stores looked like something out of Western days; General Stores, where you could find most anything you need…..nothing like today, of course! There was a Dime Store that sold stuff for as little as a Penny. Us kids were dirt poor and seldom HAD a Penny! But we liked going in there and looking at stuff. Mom once said that she didn’t mind taking us 4 boys into stores with her because we wouldn’t touch anything…..we just looked. (Have you seen kids in stores doing THAT today??)
Mulberry is where Dad would take us sometimes to get our hair cut by a real barber! We grew up with Burr haircuts so it wasn’t hard for him to give them to us at home. But once in a while he took us into “Gene and Shorty’s Barber Shop” to get us trimmed up proper, I suppose. One day he had Gene and Shorty give us Mohawks! Mom wasn’t too impressed but we kept them all summer long. It made it harder for us boys to play “Cowboys and Indians” because Cowboys don’t HAVE Mohawks! I don’t recall, but I suppose we just played “Indians” that summer!
But one of the coolest things to see in Mulberry…..and we usually ALWAYS saw him ….was the Cowboy! I wish I could recall his name, but I can’t. He was a grown man but with a mind of a 9-year old kid, so they say. He was all dressed up in a cowboy outfit; jeans, shirt, boots, hat and scarf. He looked a lot like the old cowboy pictures of Roy Rogers! Maybe that’s who he was trying to look like! He also wore two big guns in a holster on his hips. The holster was all blinged up with sequins, leather strings and baubles that shined in the sunlight! It was quite impressive to us cowboy-type boys! The two big shiny guns were only Cap Guns, but they looked very cool to us! Jimmie (I’ll call him Jimmie because I don’t remember his real name, and besides, this is my story), would always go around town, in and out of each business to say hello to everybody. Everyone knew him by name and greeted him when he entered and said goodbye when he left. He was like an icon, a fixture in a little one horse town with nothing else going on. Every day, so they say, he would make his rounds, greeting people.
I recall one day that stands out in my mind more so than others. Dad had some banking business to do so we were standing in the Bank when “Jimmie” came through the door; sunlight shining through the big glass door behind him in. He walked in like he owned the place, waving and smiling and greeting everybody he knew; bowlegged and cowboy suit and all. His Spurs jingled as he walked and his cowboy hat was tipped back on his head in a relaxed sort of way. He made his rounds and then headed out the door.
Can you imagine that kind of event happening TODAY?? WOW! Cell phones would be dialing 9-1-1, Swat Cops would be screaming up with guns drawn….and bank employees would be face on the floor praying to live through it all!
Well…..those days could only happen in THOSE days.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
LOST IN THE 50’S
Being a Codger Boomer, I must confess that, in my opinion there’s no music like 50’s music! To pin it down even closer, I’m drawn to the late 50’s music, from 55 and forward. Ahhhh, those were the days, my friend! (Oops …… 1960’s sneaking in).
Everything musical from Doo Wap to Bop Sha-bop meant a lot to me I suppose. I was almost 10 when it started for me. Music can make quite an impact upon a young mind. Even though I went to bed early in those days, I still heard Bill Hailey and The Comets “Rockin’ around the Clock Tonight”. Being nearly Hillbilly, I loved “The Ballad of Davy Crockett” and “The Yellow Rose of Texas”. Those were good’uns to sing along with! I remember my friend and I singing along (in our deepest 8 or 9 year old voices we could muster) “16 Tons”, as we rode the school bus to Ozark to get our (I think Polio) vaccinations. Ahhhh, those were the days, my friend! (Oops …… 1960’s sneaking in again!)
How could we EVER forget those songs that taught us more than 3rd Period English Class EVER COULD?? Songs that said, “Be Bop A Lula”, “Ooooooh Wah, Oooooh Wah Why Do Fools Fall in Love?”, “Dip Da Dip Da Dit Dit” and “Boogady Boogady Shoop”, just made the English language come ALIVE!
There are so many more…..too many to count. Great songs of the 1950’s! Great music of our times! I don’t hear it much on the radio anymore. There was a station here in Portland that used to be dedicated to 50’s music. Unfortunately, they succumbed to the next generation and moved on to more modern music, like the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s. It’s okay…..but nothing like the REAL music!
So what is your favorite kind of music? What’s your era??
Being a Codger Boomer, I must confess that, in my opinion there’s no music like 50’s music! To pin it down even closer, I’m drawn to the late 50’s music, from 55 and forward. Ahhhh, those were the days, my friend! (Oops …… 1960’s sneaking in).
Everything musical from Doo Wap to Bop Sha-bop meant a lot to me I suppose. I was almost 10 when it started for me. Music can make quite an impact upon a young mind. Even though I went to bed early in those days, I still heard Bill Hailey and The Comets “Rockin’ around the Clock Tonight”. Being nearly Hillbilly, I loved “The Ballad of Davy Crockett” and “The Yellow Rose of Texas”. Those were good’uns to sing along with! I remember my friend and I singing along (in our deepest 8 or 9 year old voices we could muster) “16 Tons”, as we rode the school bus to Ozark to get our (I think Polio) vaccinations. Ahhhh, those were the days, my friend! (Oops …… 1960’s sneaking in again!)
How could we EVER forget those songs that taught us more than 3rd Period English Class EVER COULD?? Songs that said, “Be Bop A Lula”, “Ooooooh Wah, Oooooh Wah Why Do Fools Fall in Love?”, “Dip Da Dip Da Dit Dit” and “Boogady Boogady Shoop”, just made the English language come ALIVE!
There are so many more…..too many to count. Great songs of the 1950’s! Great music of our times! I don’t hear it much on the radio anymore. There was a station here in Portland that used to be dedicated to 50’s music. Unfortunately, they succumbed to the next generation and moved on to more modern music, like the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s. It’s okay…..but nothing like the REAL music!
So what is your favorite kind of music? What’s your era??
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Goat Rocks Dreaming
So Brian comes up to me this morning and said he was thinking. Being eager to tell him what I was thinking, I interrupted him and said I was thinking about an alternate trail to take the teens if Rainier didn’t work out. I said, “How about the back side of Goat Rocks starting at White Pass?” Brian said that’s exactly what he was thinking about! So there you are! We think alike even though he’s much smarter than me!
So “Plan B” is to start at White Pass, Washington and hike South on the Pa
cific Crest Trail, making our way over the top of Old Snowy Mountain and connecting with Lily Basin Trail, hiking to the trailhead on the North end. Campsites are plentiful and will give us an opportunity to camp, once again, below Hawkeye Point and see all the sights of 2 years ago plus some! Brian, you HAVE to be on this one!
So, if The Wonderland Trail application is rejected we will proceed to Plan B and do the PCT from White Pass!
It’s a WIN WIN !! I like it!
So Brian comes up to me this morning and said he was thinking. Being eager to tell him what I was thinking, I interrupted him and said I was thinking about an alternate trail to take the teens if Rainier didn’t work out. I said, “How about the back side of Goat Rocks starting at White Pass?” Brian said that’s exactly what he was thinking about! So there you are! We think alike even though he’s much smarter than me!
So “Plan B” is to start at White Pass, Washington and hike South on the Pa
cific Crest Trail, making our way over the top of Old Snowy Mountain and connecting with Lily Basin Trail, hiking to the trailhead on the North end. Campsites are plentiful and will give us an opportunity to camp, once again, below Hawkeye Point and see all the sights of 2 years ago plus some! Brian, you HAVE to be on this one!So, if The Wonderland Trail application is rejected we will proceed to Plan B and do the PCT from White Pass!
It’s a WIN WIN !! I like it!
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Wonderland Trail Dreaming
There’s no doubt that the Northwest has an abundance of great backpacking and hiking trails. The range of difficulty goes from “wheelchair accessible” trails to “Cardiac Hill – Call 911” trails. I love hiking. Getting out and about is a balm for the soul, for sure! Backpacking is tougher but more rewarding because you can stay out overnight or several overnights. Watching the sun set from a warm evening campfire is indescribable. To arise before the sun comes up and watch the light descend upon low valley clouds and fog, lighting up the protruding peaks, glowing snowfields in shades of yellow and orange as the darkness is chased away by morning, is a living painting! I am convinced that some of most awesome sunrises will never be repeated. I vow to never again let the kids sleep through those!
I made application to the US Forest Service a few days ago trying to secure our place on a very popular trail --- The Wonderland Trail on Mt. Rainier, Washington. Mine is only one of perhaps 700 applications submitted for their review. I wish to take 11 people with me for 4 days along 15 to 20 miles on the east side, skirting Little Tahoma, the hunchback on Mt Rainier. It is a beautiful trail with wonderful sights, group camping and an abundance of water and wildlife.
The way it works, every group submits an application to secure the group campsites
(which are the only places a group of 12 can legally camp) beginning March 15. Every entry between March 15 and April 1 will be looked over in random order by the US Forest Service personnel, who decide which group gets the “draw”. I faxed in my request on the 15th hoping for a best chance. My application last year was not one selected, so we went to the Wallowa Mountains in Eastern Oregon.
So today, I am in the waiting period, wondering if my group will be selected. I am taking 8 or 9 teenagers and 3 or 4 adults, as we are limited to parties of 12 in the Wilderness areas.
It’s exciting to wait and think about the possibilities of spending an August week in the Mt Rainier National Park. But it’s soooooo hard to wait and see!
There’s no doubt that the Northwest has an abundance of great backpacking and hiking trails. The range of difficulty goes from “wheelchair accessible” trails to “Cardiac Hill – Call 911” trails. I love hiking. Getting out and about is a balm for the soul, for sure! Backpacking is tougher but more rewarding because you can stay out overnight or several overnights. Watching the sun set from a warm evening campfire is indescribable. To arise before the sun comes up and watch the light descend upon low valley clouds and fog, lighting up the protruding peaks, glowing snowfields in shades of yellow and orange as the darkness is chased away by morning, is a living painting! I am convinced that some of most awesome sunrises will never be repeated. I vow to never again let the kids sleep through those!
I made application to the US Forest Service a few days ago trying to secure our place on a very popular trail --- The Wonderland Trail on Mt. Rainier, Washington. Mine is only one of perhaps 700 applications submitted for their review. I wish to take 11 people with me for 4 days along 15 to 20 miles on the east side, skirting Little Tahoma, the hunchback on Mt Rainier. It is a beautiful trail with wonderful sights, group camping and an abundance of water and wildlife.
The way it works, every group submits an application to secure the group campsites
(which are the only places a group of 12 can legally camp) beginning March 15. Every entry between March 15 and April 1 will be looked over in random order by the US Forest Service personnel, who decide which group gets the “draw”. I faxed in my request on the 15th hoping for a best chance. My application last year was not one selected, so we went to the Wallowa Mountains in Eastern Oregon.So today, I am in the waiting period, wondering if my group will be selected. I am taking 8 or 9 teenagers and 3 or 4 adults, as we are limited to parties of 12 in the Wilderness areas.
It’s exciting to wait and think about the possibilities of spending an August week in the Mt Rainier National Park. But it’s soooooo hard to wait and see!
Friday, March 20, 2009
Chiggers!!
My, how I HATED those creatures!
Growing up in the South has its good points. Warm summers (except for the HOT days) made going to the Lake or River to play in the water so much fun!
There were some little things, however, that weren’t much fun! And I do mean LITTLE! Who amongst us has ever REALLY seen a CHIGGER?? Maybe I should ask, “Who amongst us even KNOWS what a CHIGGER IS??? Well, I suspect a good Southern boy would raise his hand about now.
A “Chigger” (that’s its Southern name) is very tiny, who’s bite is worse than its bark! Anytime you venture into the grass, especially taller grass, or even lay down on the grass to enjoy the sunshine, you can always count on the mysterious “Chigger” feeding on you! Then for the next two or three days you sit around scratching like an old dog!
To look at one you need to look very hard. The best way to see one is through a magnification lens. The first thing you will notice is that they are “red” in color. I don’t know if that’s because they are blood-suckers or not, but they sure can bite!!
Chiggers are a lot like “No See-ums” in the Northwest, except for the No See’s can fly and they are black. Both of them are nasty little creatures; pretty much sharing the same value as a Seed Tick! Makes you wonder why God created such creatures!
Growing up in the South has its good points. Warm summers (except for the HOT days) made going to the Lake or River to play in the water so much fun!
There were some little things, however, that weren’t much fun! And I do mean LITTLE! Who amongst us has ever REALLY seen a CHIGGER?? Maybe I should ask, “Who amongst us even KNOWS what a CHIGGER IS??? Well, I suspect a good Southern boy would raise his hand about now.
A “Chigger” (that’s its Southern name) is very tiny, who’s bite is worse than its bark! Anytime you venture into the grass, especially taller grass, or even lay down on the grass to enjoy the sunshine, you can always count on the mysterious “Chigger” feeding on you! Then for the next two or three days you sit around scratching like an old dog!
To look at one you need to look very hard. The best way to see one is through a magnification lens. The first thing you will notice is that they are “red” in color. I don’t know if that’s because they are blood-suckers or not, but they sure can bite!!
Chiggers are a lot like “No See-ums” in the Northwest, except for the No See’s can fly and they are black. Both of them are nasty little creatures; pretty much sharing the same value as a Seed Tick! Makes you wonder why God created such creatures!
Saturday, March 14, 2009
The Big Rock
For poor folks, simple things are very meaningful and memorable. Long time memories of far away places are as sweet fragrances to smell for years! In my mind’s eye, I can see plainly the things I want to recall. Pleasant thoughts permeate my mind as I recollect my memories and put them together as a scrapbook of things worth keeping.
The Big Rock on the Mulberry River in Arkansas was one of those memorable places. I can still recall the screams, the laughter and the joys of little brown bodies jumping from a large flat rock into the green water of the Mulberry River. All of us splashing around and having the time of our lives! Hearing shouts of “Watch this!” or “Look at me!” as we showed off to Mom and Dad smiling from the Big Rock.
We didn’t mind the snakes much, but they were there. The Cotton Mouth’s and the Water Moccasin’s were plentiful, alright, but we didn’t seem to mind much…..unless we SAW one swimming amongst us!!! Then it was different!!
I remember sitting in the screened-in area in the Big Rock Cabin to escape bugs and weather while we ate our picnic lunch of Spam sandwiches and potato chips! Ahhhhh, those were the days, my friend!
Going to the Big Rock after a hard days’ work of making gravel, or mowing our several acres of yard, or working in the garden trying to get it ready for growing our winter supply of food, was a treat! There was always a lot of hard work to do around the farm. I suppose Dad had the same problem getting us motivated to work as any other Dad today. The threat of discipline was our motivation, however. That seems to be the main difference with today’s kids as there isn’t much of that! But, there was, also, “treats and rewards” for a job well done. Looking back I believe my Dad enjoyed going to the Big Rock as much as we did! He always let Mom get everything together; clothes, shoes, everything, and food. If we were going to spend the night somewhere, she packed for that, too. I’m certain it was a lot of work for Mom, but we kids appreciated it so much!
The inner tubes we played in were a lot of fun. Going underwater to see who could hold his breath the longest was always challenged. One of us couldn’t wait to pick up a couple of river rocks while everyone was under water, so he could smash them together and make a loud clicking noise that hurt our ears! But we laughed about it and kept doing it, too!
We fished and swam and picnicked as often as we could. We were much too young to go there on our own; not to mention that it might be too dangerous. The Big Rock was a simple place at the end of a rough dirt road, a very large flat, Sandstone rock that could easily hold two dozen people or more. It became our playground! Good times. Good memories. Looking back, those days were more simple times than today; when one could find treasure in trash and invent games that had not yet been invented.
Mike Thomas,
Reminiscer
For poor folks, simple things are very meaningful and memorable. Long time memories of far away places are as sweet fragrances to smell for years! In my mind’s eye, I can see plainly the things I want to recall. Pleasant thoughts permeate my mind as I recollect my memories and put them together as a scrapbook of things worth keeping.
The Big Rock on the Mulberry River in Arkansas was one of those memorable places. I can still recall the screams, the laughter and the joys of little brown bodies jumping from a large flat rock into the green water of the Mulberry River. All of us splashing around and having the time of our lives! Hearing shouts of “Watch this!” or “Look at me!” as we showed off to Mom and Dad smiling from the Big Rock.
We didn’t mind the snakes much, but they were there. The Cotton Mouth’s and the Water Moccasin’s were plentiful, alright, but we didn’t seem to mind much…..unless we SAW one swimming amongst us!!! Then it was different!!
I remember sitting in the screened-in area in the Big Rock Cabin to escape bugs and weather while we ate our picnic lunch of Spam sandwiches and potato chips! Ahhhhh, those were the days, my friend!
Going to the Big Rock after a hard days’ work of making gravel, or mowing our several acres of yard, or working in the garden trying to get it ready for growing our winter supply of food, was a treat! There was always a lot of hard work to do around the farm. I suppose Dad had the same problem getting us motivated to work as any other Dad today. The threat of discipline was our motivation, however. That seems to be the main difference with today’s kids as there isn’t much of that! But, there was, also, “treats and rewards” for a job well done. Looking back I believe my Dad enjoyed going to the Big Rock as much as we did! He always let Mom get everything together; clothes, shoes, everything, and food. If we were going to spend the night somewhere, she packed for that, too. I’m certain it was a lot of work for Mom, but we kids appreciated it so much!
The inner tubes we played in were a lot of fun. Going underwater to see who could hold his breath the longest was always challenged. One of us couldn’t wait to pick up a couple of river rocks while everyone was under water, so he could smash them together and make a loud clicking noise that hurt our ears! But we laughed about it and kept doing it, too!
We fished and swam and picnicked as often as we could. We were much too young to go there on our own; not to mention that it might be too dangerous. The Big Rock was a simple place at the end of a rough dirt road, a very large flat, Sandstone rock that could easily hold two dozen people or more. It became our playground! Good times. Good memories. Looking back, those days were more simple times than today; when one could find treasure in trash and invent games that had not yet been invented.
Mike Thomas,
Reminiscer
Saturday, March 07, 2009
SPRING WATER
It was very dark as I crossed the short field and slipped through the barbed wire fence. The old worn out flashlight I carried was shining but the weak batteries were dimming the light. Ahead of me loomed the Pine forest, marking the way to the old spring. As I eased into the tall Pines, the thick canopy blotted out the stars in the night sky and seemed to make the night even darker. The hair on my head felt like it stood straight up as I eased into the ominous woods and headed down the old wagon trail to the spring.
It was a quiet evening as we sat on the steps in back of our old home in Northwest Arkansas, watching a million stars shine in the night sky. It was one of those rare evenings when Dad was home. Thinking back, it must have been a Saturday evening as he was usually away during the week working in the mountains as a Pipeliner. I was probably 8 years old at the time; still a little afraid of the dark, yet always trying to tell myself I wasn’t. Dad and Mom were sitting together on the steps as I came outside. I can’t remember what was being talked about, but Dad made the comment that he would like to have a fresh cup of coffee. It must have been Mom who said she would make some, but I recall that Dad wanted it made from spring water.
I can’t remember if it was a challenge or not, but I do recall volunteering to go to the spring and bring back a bucket of water. It must have been for a “nickel”, a “dime” or a “quarter”; why else would I have volunteered? I do recall asking if I could take a light. I’m glad he said okay because I would not have been able to go in pitch blackness. There was no way I could save face and stay home, even if I had changed my mind! A real man would do the hard things! I was growing up! So grabbing the flashlight and bucket, I put on my brave face and set out into the night.
I think Mom was worried about my safety while I was gone. Actually, I was worried about my safety, too! The trip to the spring was about a quarter mile. It was covered over with leaves and twigs that fell from the Oak Trees. Somehow I managed to partially fill the bucket in spite of all my goose bumps, raised hair and glancing around in all directions with every noise I heard. I also managed to make it back home without running, tripping or spilling my prized possession.
Mom and Dad were still sitting on the back porch, right where I had left them. I handed Mom the bucket and told them about my adventure, except for the being scared part, of course! After sitting for a moment, I headed off to bed. I doubt if Mom actually made Dad any coffee from that dingy, leaf-filled bucket of fresh spring water. I’m certain the whole adventure was about seeing if I was too scared to go off by myself into the woods at night. I think Dad was impressed that I actually did it!
As my hair began to lie down and the goose bumps go away, I remember being glad to be home, in my own bed.
Mike Thomas
It was very dark as I crossed the short field and slipped through the barbed wire fence. The old worn out flashlight I carried was shining but the weak batteries were dimming the light. Ahead of me loomed the Pine forest, marking the way to the old spring. As I eased into the tall Pines, the thick canopy blotted out the stars in the night sky and seemed to make the night even darker. The hair on my head felt like it stood straight up as I eased into the ominous woods and headed down the old wagon trail to the spring.
It was a quiet evening as we sat on the steps in back of our old home in Northwest Arkansas, watching a million stars shine in the night sky. It was one of those rare evenings when Dad was home. Thinking back, it must have been a Saturday evening as he was usually away during the week working in the mountains as a Pipeliner. I was probably 8 years old at the time; still a little afraid of the dark, yet always trying to tell myself I wasn’t. Dad and Mom were sitting together on the steps as I came outside. I can’t remember what was being talked about, but Dad made the comment that he would like to have a fresh cup of coffee. It must have been Mom who said she would make some, but I recall that Dad wanted it made from spring water.
I can’t remember if it was a challenge or not, but I do recall volunteering to go to the spring and bring back a bucket of water. It must have been for a “nickel”, a “dime” or a “quarter”; why else would I have volunteered? I do recall asking if I could take a light. I’m glad he said okay because I would not have been able to go in pitch blackness. There was no way I could save face and stay home, even if I had changed my mind! A real man would do the hard things! I was growing up! So grabbing the flashlight and bucket, I put on my brave face and set out into the night.
I think Mom was worried about my safety while I was gone. Actually, I was worried about my safety, too! The trip to the spring was about a quarter mile. It was covered over with leaves and twigs that fell from the Oak Trees. Somehow I managed to partially fill the bucket in spite of all my goose bumps, raised hair and glancing around in all directions with every noise I heard. I also managed to make it back home without running, tripping or spilling my prized possession.
Mom and Dad were still sitting on the back porch, right where I had left them. I handed Mom the bucket and told them about my adventure, except for the being scared part, of course! After sitting for a moment, I headed off to bed. I doubt if Mom actually made Dad any coffee from that dingy, leaf-filled bucket of fresh spring water. I’m certain the whole adventure was about seeing if I was too scared to go off by myself into the woods at night. I think Dad was impressed that I actually did it!
As my hair began to lie down and the goose bumps go away, I remember being glad to be home, in my own bed.
Mike Thomas
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