As we get older we seem to take more time to reflect on the past, remembering the good times as well as the bad. But nobody knows what the future holds and it is probably a good thing we don’t.
As a child growing up on River Road above Blackey, I remember Grandma Hampton playing with us awhile after Mother died to take care of us while Dad worked on the railroad. But two days shy of six months, we had a stepmother Things were never to be the same after that.
There were four of us kids, the oldest being 7. Grandma was good to us, but she was strict too. If one of us did something wrong she would ask who did it. We would all say, “Not me.”
Since there was no child by the name of “not me,” we all four got the switch.
We got our water from a spring up in the hollow not too far away. The first time Grandma went up the hollow to get water, she got her a switch.
About the time we were all getting ready to scatter like the leaves on the ground, she started up the hollow using the switch to swat the spiderwebs out of the path as she went.
We all gave a sigh of relief and went back to play, and waited for her return. From then on we didn’t dread it when she got a switch unless we had done something we shouldn’t have.
The old spring is still there, but I doubt it has had any water for years. It was cut out of rock in the hollow.
As I said, she was good to us and only used the switch if we deserved it. I used to watch her cut cloth into little pieces and sew the little pieces back together again. It made no sense at all to me until I saw how pretty those little pieces were as she sewed them together in a pattern of her notions.
I was only 4 years old and a lot of things probably didn’t make a lot of sense to me at the time, but over these many years I have learned to admire all the fine needlework.
And that’s all from the funny farm until next time.