Feeding his chickens when he lived on his son's farm out on Stevens Lane. As a small child I remember his chickens, goats, cow, mule and rabbits that he raise. Also, the large gardens . My big sis and I used those rows of vegetables as a maze to run and play. I can still feel the loose dirt under my bare feet.
Pa smoked cigarettes that he rolled and also liked his chewing tobacco. There is a little dark spit running down his chin from the last habit. Grand Ma in the pink, hated both habits. Little did we realize that she had an obsessive cleaning disorder. Everything in her home was spic and span. The white glove test could be given at any moment and she would not fail.
Pa, Mother and Grand Ma taken during Christmas at our house. My sister has the floor basket in her home.
Pa in front of our Cedar Christmas tree. It was a true hunt when trying to find the perfect Christmas tree. No one in the country would be caught buying one and at this point in time I had not even heard of a artificial tree. Pa would always come up to our home and spend Christmas Eve. Christmas morning he would entertain us with stories of his yearly encounter with Santa. One year he told us that Santa got hung in the elbow of the stove pipe and he had to take it apart to get Santa out. He would always buy us a big bag of apples and oranges for Christmas and when I was small I thought that was the only time citrus fruit was in the stores.
Both of these photos were taken in the little house my Uncle provided for his parents on Stevens Lane. Yep that is me with the long hair. I was working in Nashville and had gotten my first car, so I would go at least once a month to have dinner with them and spend time with my Pa. Grand Ma would cook and clean(no one mess with her kitchen) and Pa and I would visit. I could listen to his stories forever. One I remember quite vividly is the one where he had gone squirrel hunting and was tired. He sat down at the bottom of this big oak and fell asleep as soon as his bottom hit the ground. He said he was dreaming about these beautiful bells playing when he awoke and looked into the eyes of a squirrel. The squirrel had crawled down the tree and was making a ringing noise on his gun barrel. Pa looked at me with those soft brown eyes and said he just did not have the heart to kill the squirrel so he came home empty handed.
Pa was the first one to get up in the morning and he would make a fire in the cook stove and brew him self a pot of coffee that was consumed before anyone feet hit the cold floors of the house.
This photo was taken when I was a teenager in high school. Pa always wore his overalls and a long sleeve shirt. One leg was shorter than the other so I could tell by his gait that it was him when he came into view. He walked almost everywhere he went in the country. He did have a mule but most often left him to other things and just walked to his destination. When I was about five or six, the cats were sitting waiting for a stream of milk from the cow Pa was milking. I was thirsty and that looked like a good way to have a drink so I asked if he would give me some. He said "Babe (that is what he called me) go get in line." I sat at the end of the row of three cats and waited my turn. I was anticipating the nice taste of cold milk. When it was my turn, I opened my mouth as wide as possible and the stream hit me in the face with the force of being shot from a cannon and not an udder. Worse still it was very warm and sticky and had gotten all over my face and top. I yelled" Ugh" and Pa almost fell off his milk stool laughing. The Kitty Justice is to not ask for something unless you know what you are getting, no matter how old you happen to be.