... pesky little sister that couldn't throw worth anything ...

Dinner scraps.  Empty bottles.  Empty vegetable cans. Torn clothes.  Newspaper and used school papers.  Lumber scraps.  Broken bits and pieces of everything become trash.  A family of 10 generated a lot of trash.

Dinner scraps were given to the animals.  Every time we did dishes, we scraped all the scraps onto one plate or into one pan.  The scraps were taken out to feed to the cats and dogs.  Of course, there weren't too many dinner scraps.  I don't remember leftovers until I was older and some of my older siblings had moved on to their own adult lives.  

Empty glass bottles were returned for a deposit if one was offered.  Coke bottles used to bring 2 cents, then 5 cents, then 10 cents.  

Clothes eventually became torn or too stained to continue using, even on a farm. Newspapers and school papers had to be disposed of somehow.   Bits of lumber that were just not usable for anything else became trash.  

The burnable household  trash and pieces of old wood were taken out behind the little shop and burned.  Included in the pile were sticks and moss from the yard.  What fun!  Fire fascinated me and throwing the trash on the fire created a bigger fire.  We would place the ends of sticks in the fire if it was near or just after dark.  After a while we'd pull them out again and swing them around in the air, writing our names and creating designs in the dark. The only problem I had with 'taking out the trash' was a certain brother named Donald.  He would hide behind a tree or other object and when I walked by, he'd jump out and yell.  I'd take off flying to the house, crying.  At least Donald had to sense to wait until I was on my way back so there wouldn't be a lot of trash to pick up again.  I'm sure Mother had a time with me because I was scared of so many things and most of the things I was scared of were imaginary.

But reusing and returning containers for reuse had its limits.  Ketchup, mustard, deodorant, vanilla, milk, bleach, cologne, shampoo, and other kitchen, personal, and household items came in glass jars that didn't have a deposit.  

There were many other things that were trash. Things like empty tin cans that were left at the end of preparing our meals; peas, corn, baked beans, and many other foods came in cans.  

These were the things that wouldn't burn.  They went to the sink hole that was sort of in the middle of the farm. 

In the photo above, you can see the irrigation pond, tractor shed, school buses, and the trees were the house sits.  The arrow points to the sink hole.  Surrounded by a few big trees, it was a depression in the ground. 

In Marion County, sink holes would open up every now and then.  Marion County is full of lime rock, caverns, and natural tunnels. Sometimes there would be an underground tunnel collapse, leaving a depression only a few feet deep to leaving a huge hole in the ground.  After I left home, a school was closed and removed when a sink hole opened on the property it was on.  The land was totally cleared for a while.  I'm not sure how deep our sink hole was, but to me it was huge.  Looking at the photo below, I can see why I thought it was huge!  It looks like several school buses could fit into it. You can see two school buses in the foreground.

For years, rocks that were in the field were thrown into the hole.  Non-burnable trash went into the sink hole.  This was the most fun!  Old empty glass and tin bottles and containers of every kind went into the hole. When we could get away with it, we'd throw the glass against the rocks to hear them shatter.  When Mother or Daddy were around, we were quickly told "NO".  We knew better than to break the bottles, but the fun was just too irresistible.  

It was always a contest.  We'd see who could throw the furtherest.  I say 'we' but truth is, THEY were in the contest.  I was the pesky little sister that couldn't throw worth anything and insisted on joining in when the competition began.  It was OK to have a contest with rocks, seeing who could throw the furtherest into the hole, but when we picked up glass to throw in the contest, it was only when Mother and Daddy weren't with us.  When I first began helping to empty the truck of rocks, I did good to clear the tail gate with my strongest throw.  

Later the hole was filled in and the trees removed.  If it were dug up today, there would be many old broken bottles and many old intact bottles.  Thinking of it makes me want to go out and start digging!

I couldn't wring out the mop ...

Daddy had his big workshop in the backyard.  If Daddy was home and the tractor was home, we'd normally find Daddy in 'the shop'.  Although the tractors could be driven into the shop, normally only the front half or back half of the tractor would be actually in the shop.  Rain or shine, 100 degrees or 28 degrees, hurricane or drought, Daddy would spend much of his time working on his farm equipment either in or in front of his shop. That is, unless he was in the field, out on the tractor, or preparing the crop to sell.

Daddy and me.  The 'little shop' is visible over Daddy's shoulder.

Behind the shop was the 'little shop'.  The little shop was a lean to, attached to the back of the shop.  It had a concrete floor and a door in both sides of it.   Growing up, I never questioned the name 'little shop' or why it was built.  It was just there, part of the farm.  It had its share of kittens and puppies born in it.  Who knows how many litters of mice began their life there!

Behind the dog is the little shop, door wide open.

Later on, after I was grown, I learned that the little shop was built for George and Jimmy.  Jean was younger than George and Jimmy.  Jean would take it over as her play house, using a broom to chase George and Jimmy away when she was in it.  I vaguely remember stories of them riding their bikes in it, pestering Jean.  No wonder she chased them with her broom! (I hope all my brothers will add memories of the little shop to the blog.)  

Jean with her doll, Jimmy, and George in January 1953

By the time I came along, Harold and Donald were using the shop a little but I have no memory of what they did there.  George and Jimmy had a horse named Tony and I would pick the seed stalks of the St. Augustine grass that grew in the yard of the 'little house' (next door - another story). I'd use rubber bands to make huge bundles of the seed stems, convinced that I was saving up food for Tony.  I was so proud of myself.  I'd store the 'hay' in the little shop and would take out a bundle at a time to feed to Tony.  I don't remember Tony ever eating any, which is not surprising. But back then, I was sure that I was helping out by saving food for Tony.  I'm sure my huge bundles of 'hay' would have measured almost an inch around if you cheated and used a stretched out measuring tape.  But in my mind, they were huge.

George and me on a horse (maybe Tony)

I began using the little shop as my play house when Harold and Donald outgrew it.  I would normally play in the little shop with Sandra and Stanley. We'd use wooden crates to separate the room into more rooms, so our house would have every room needed.  A 3' x 3' room was a large living room to us!  A living room, kitchen, dining room, bedroom; it had it all.  A broom was essential of course. After all, it was our house and we wanted it clean.  We spent more time cleaning it and arranging it than we ever did playing in it after it was set up the way we wanted it.  When I could, after I swept it I'd get a bucket and mop to mop the concrete floor.  The sopping wet mop frustrated me. When Mother was busy with the farm, Allie Mae would often clean house for her.  I had watched Allie Mae's strong hands wring out mops so many times that I knew what the mop should look like when I set it down on the floor.  I didn't work for me.  I couldn't wring out the mop.  I tried and tried.  It stayed sopping wet.  One time as I was wrestling with the mop, trying to get the water out, I heard Allie Mae talking to someone in front of the big shop.  I carried my mop around and asked her to wring out my mop for me.  I remember wanting to be sure she didn't think I was 'using' her and carefully explained that I had watched her wring out mops and no one could wring out a mop like she could and that I couldn't and my floor had puddles of water from my mop and would she please wring out my mop for me so my floor ...  She smiled and wrung it out for me.  Each time I dipped it back into my bucket, I'd pull it back out and carry it around to the front of the shop to ask Allie Mae to wring it out again.  

When I was out there, it was OUR house and I was proud of it.  If I was being my mean older sister self and we weren't getting along, I considered it MY house. By then it was getting a little older and probably was leaning a bit.  You could see through the boards of the door.  But it was ours and I was proud of it.

My feet landed back down exactly where they left ...

We enjoyed fresh vegetables when we were growing up.  Problem was, we didn't have them as often as we'd have liked.  Daddy had nice gardens after he retired, but when I was young, he didn't have a garden every year and didn't have time to grow the plants like this.   The plants in the photo below are okra, one of the three main crops Daddy grew.

Okra and Daddy

Of much more importance than the family garden were the crops.  Daddy rotated the fields so all 160 acres weren't always planted with a crop.  But between custom farming and our own farm, Daddy had little free time.  There was a plot by the house that was normally a small garden.  Even Mono, our monkey ... well, that's another story I'll share soon.  

We all enjoyed the fruits of the garden.  I don't remember working in the garden very often but I do dream about going out and working in it.  I have spent more time dreaming that I was working in the garden than actually working in it.

Middle row, young okra

One year the garden was in the field to the south of the house.  We would walk down by the fence to the garden and work together.  I was too young to do much real work but I was walking along and doing what I had to.  I think that sometimes I spent more time trying to figure out how to get out of work than it would have taken me to do the job.  When I was young, I wanted to help. I was 'big enough, Mother'.  Then when I was truly 'big enough' it was no longer fun.  

As soon as we could tell the difference between a weed and a good plant, we were working. Before then, we could pick up rocks.  What fun it was!  Fun that is, until we realized it was work. Like all other jobs, when we were old enough to realize it was work, the fun left.

This may sound like we worked all the time. Not so!  We played a lot.  Swimming, biking, games ... there were so many things to do that it wasn't often that they heard "I'm bored" from any of us.

We'd see all kinds of critters while we were out in the fields.  I learned to identify several species of birds.  One species would make its nest of little rocks in the middle of the field.  When we came close, we'd see a bird dragging a wing, making a fuss and moving away from us as though scared.  Mother taught me how to scan the area and sometimes we'd find the nest with eggs or little birds.  We'd not touch them because we wanted mommy bird to come back but what fun it was!  

Of course where there were birds on the ground, there would sometimes be snakes.  We'd catch non-poisonous snakes and play with them.  Rattlesnakes were caught by Daddy and my brothers and they were sold to Ross Allen for his reptile show and the venom was milked for use as an anti-venom.  We learned to tell which snakes were poisonous and which were not at a very young age.

Non-poisonous snakes were like cats.  They caught mice that would eat Daddy's seed peanuts.  They were valuable to the farm.

One day Mother and Daddy were heading to the garden that was further away from the house. I was lingering behind everyone else, looking at all the neat things I could find.  I was trailing along, looking down at the ground for some reason, probably to avoid seeing Mother and Daddy motioning for me to hurry up or catch up. I was wearing flip flops, our normal summer foot wear except when moving irrigation pipes in hot sand.  Suddenly, between my feet, I saw a 'rattlesnake'.   I leapt straight up into the air, probably the highest I ever jumped in my life.  Because I didn't see the snake until it was between my feet, I didn't have time to do anything but react and I did, straight up. Yes, straight up.  My feet landed back down exactly where they left, one on either side of the snake.  They didn't stay there long. My squawk brought Mother, Daddy, and my siblings to my side.  Some with concern, some with pure curiosity.  Daddy quickly told me that it was not a rattler, it was a hog nosed snake.  I didn't work in the garden at all that day.  I was too busy playing with my snake. I  guess Mother and Daddy figured I had enough exercise for one day with the leap and squawk I made.  I carried it back home and put it into the circle 'cage' we had at the house.  It didn't have a top but a snake would normally not escape for a while.  After a couple of days, I let it go again.  It had work to do, catching mice!

"I AM letting go"

We had a big yard as a play ground when we were growing up.  When we were working in the field, if we were small enough, the field became a playground too.  If we were old enough, we were working.  In the background of this photo is our garage and a station wagon that held all 10 of us.  On the closer side of the garage were a few banana trees.  I'd take the leaves and strip them into dollar size pieces.  Then I'd play store.  Even Mother would play with me.  While Mother was cooking, I'd go into the kitchen and ask "Mrs. Lee" if she had any "butter" or whatever I was 'buying' that day.  "Mrs. Lee" (my home version of the corner grocery store) would take time to 'sell' me whatever I came to buy.  Of course the butter, or whatever, was all imaginary and I never carried anything out of the kitchen.

The south side of the back yard, garage in the background

There wasn't much room in the garage to play. Sometimes I'd be found in the back corner or behind it, playing with a new batch of puppies or kittens.  

The dirt in the driveway was a great place to play hopscotch, marbles, and other 'draw in the dirt' games.  Sometimes we'd have a good group of us and we'd play games like Red Light, Dum Dum Dum, and Red Rover.  

One rainy day summer barefoot day I was in the garage and wanted to make 'money'.  I noticed a partial roll of wallpaper tape in the garage, tucked behind the light switch wires.  I reached up to grab the tape and my whole life changed from that instant.  I had no idea what happened but I knew that I was stuck to the paper.  I was hurting all over, screaming, and dancing a jig.  Everyone around came running.  Daddy stopped outside the doorway, looking at me holding the paper that was wrapped around an electrical wire - obviously the wire was bare somewhere under the tape.  I was jumping and screaming and everyone knew there was a problem unless they were deaf.  Daddy and others kept saying, "Edith Ellen, let go"!  I'd yell back, hopping on my bare feet on wet concrete, "I AM letting go"!  Judy went behind me and knocked me loose.  I don't remember anything after that.  

'

Sandra on the sidewalk behind the house

Ever since my hand touched that tape, I have not been happy around bare electrical wire or any electricity that isn't behind a sealed wall.  I can hook up jumper cables and jump off a car if no one is around to do it.  Mentally, I know it's safe.  Emotionally, I turn into a wreck when I see an electrical spark. 

To this day, I will give a yelp if I see a spark from almost anything except a 4th of July sparkler.

... Mother came home with a school bus one day.

A school bus was a normal part of our everyday school life from first grade through near-graduation to graduation.  The first school bus driver I remember was Mrs. Lewis.  She was always patient with us kids.  

We were one of the first stops on the way home and one of the last stops going to school.  We were some of the first students off the bus and some of the last ones on the bus. This was handy when we didn't want to ride the bus a long time.  But when I 'forgot' to do my homework, it didn't give me much time to do it or to study on the way to school. School was just a few miles away, whether the elementary and middle school in Reddick or the high school in Sparr.  Most of my older siblings went to Reddick when the school went through the 12th grade. About Harold and Donald's time, North Marion High School was built near Sparr and the Reddick school went only to 8th grade after that.

On very cold mornings with heavy frost on the ground, we'd head out to the road to wait for the bus.  Wearing patent leather shoes with slick soles, it was fun to run and then slide across the frost,  It was almost as if it was a waxed floor.  We'd all take turns, in a competition to see who could slide the farthest on the frost. Of course, the young ones would never win but we each had fun taking our own turn.

On other cold mornings and on rainy mornings, we'd all wait inside.  One of us would stand inside the house by the window keeping watch.  Of course, no one wanted that job. Everyone else could be reading, playing, or whatever they wanted but the one by the window had to keep his/her eyes glued on the spot where the bus would first appear.  When the bus was first visible, 1/4 mile away, the one on watch one would yell "bus" and head out the door. We'd all hit the door just behind the watch kid, running out to the road and onto the bus.  Mrs. Lewis wanted us right there on the proper side of the road when she drove up.  She seemed to always understand rainy days and cold days.

Harold, Donald, Mother

Edith, Sandra, Stanley

It was quite a surprise when Mother came home with a school bus one day.  We scrubbed the seats, all of which had turned black with mold over the long hot humid summer.  Comet, bleach, rags, and scrub brushes were applied with a generous amount of elbow grease.  We cleaned and cleaned the bus, preparing for school.  It was exciting for the first half-hour or so. Then it was just plain old dirty work, accompanied with as much whining as we thought we could get away with.  For me, the first week of school was always exciting, no matter what grade. 

I'd normally ride all the way past our house and back to the house with Mother.  Later, Daddy had a school bus too.  Two buses were parked in our back yard for 8 or 9 months out of the year.  

On the way home, Mother would normally stop at 'George Woods'.  Mr. Woods owned a small grocery store in Lowell, a few miles away.  We always called it "George Woods".  We didn't go to the store, we went to "George Woods".  

If I had the trash picked up from the bus floor, the bus swept out, and I was ready to sweep the dirt out the back door, I could have a candy bar and cold drink.  When she turned off the motor at George Woods, I'd open the emergency back door and sweep out the dirt.  A candy bar and cold drink was good payment for the job.  I'd ride the whole trip just for the candy bar and cold drink.

Inside the store we'd go and I'd pick out my goodies.  

Back then, we never said 'coke' or 'pop' or any other name for a carbonated beverage. Every carbonated beverage was a 'cold drink'.  Water with ice in it was 'iced water'.  Tea with ice in it was 'iced tea'.  Coca-cola, Pepsi-cola, RC, Dr. Pepper; all of these were 'cold drinks'.  Even if it wasn't in the refrigerator and it was the middle of the summer, if it was too hot to drink, it was still a 'cold drink'.  

Dog with 3 Names - by Lila Jane Lee

Edith Ellen, the dog Donald is playing with was Granddaddy and Grandmother Lee's dog and also Mr. Bob's dog. That poor dog had 3 names. Granddad called her Teddy, Grandmother called her Peggy and Mr. Bob call her Frisky. The dog knew all three names and would run to each person when they called. This picture was taken at the back door of their house.

Donald's Dog Stories

(From Donald, who remembers the farm animals much better than I do!)

Farm Dogs;

Growing up on working farm there was always a dog or two around. Daddy did not like cats but liked dogs.

Before my time Granddad (Waddie) had a dog named G-Man. G-Man was a bird dog and loved to quail hunt. Daddy was not the hunter or a crack shot like Granddad was but Daddy did take G-Man hunting a few times. When you shot G-Man would run and bring back the quail, if you missed he would come back sit down at your feet, look up at you as to say “can't you do any better than that?” If you missed a few times in a row don't bother looking for G-Man, he went home and would be at the dog pen waiting for you to feed and water him.

Daddy and Mother had a dog named Rover when George was born and he became George's buddy. One day when George was a couple of years old Mother could not find him. She quickly called Daddy and they looked all around the house, tractor shed and yard but no George. Daddy said he was going crazy when they found Rover and George over the hill south of the house playing in the sand.

Daddy and Mother had a step-side pickup and one of the dogs would jump up on the step side on the driver's side to ride. Every week Daddy or Mother (or both) would go to town (Ocala) and the dog would go with them. One day they got ready to come home and no dog. They looked all around the square but no dog. They told the guard at the bank about the dog and come on home. The next week when they got to town the dog came out from a bush carrying a puppy in her mouth. The dog had a litter of pups under a bush on the square. They loaded up the puppies and the new mom in the back of the truck and brought them home.

Donald and a dog

Mother and Harold and a dog

The dogs I remember most were Spot and Dot.  They were both girl Terrier's that seemed to always have puppies. Every time you went out the door the dogs would go with you to the shop or a long walk. They would follow the tractor around the fields till they got too tired. If they found a rabbit off they would go but most of the time the critters had longer legs than they did. If a snake was to be found, one would grab its tail and the other its head and good-bye snake. You could say "sick-em" and they would jump on anything there was around.  If there was nothing there, they would fight each other. A 5 gal bucket of water would always stop the fight and they would be the best of friends again. Daddy would fuss if I got the dogs fighting too much.

There was Brownie he loved to chase cars till he caught one, the car hurt his back and he could not walk for a month or so. But Brownie learned to brace his body over his front legs and could walk on two legs for a short ways. Then one day he got hit again and one of his canine teeth was hanging loose. Daddy got a pair of pliers and call the dog over, Brownie would put his head on Daddy's leg till he felt the cold metal. After a few try's Daddy got the tooth out. Later Brownie bit one of the neighbors (Phillip Hooker). Phillips' dad did not believe him about getting dog bit as there was only one puncture mark.

Don't remember what dog it was but one of them would always run to the back corner of the shop every time it rained and if it was lighting he would put his nose in the corner and howl. After the rain he always had a sheepish look on his face.

There was a Husky one time and I had a Bloodhound for a week or so till the Lowell Prison came and got him.

We had many dogs but never remember buying any dog food.  The dogs ate what we did.  They survived and did well on left over people food.

After Lilli and I were married we had a German Shepard that would jump up on top of our car and ride. Then we had two Bulldogs that were big puppies, but the male dog would not let us correct Denver. If we raised our voice or grabbed Denver the Bulldog would grab our leg and look up at us as if to say, "that is my boy".