We rolled in a wheelchair together; we drove tractors, and lawn mowers, cars and trucks together. We campaigned for office together; sold girl scout cookies to everyone in the courthouse together and delivered heads of cabbage together. We built vegetable gardens and flower gardens together. We walked down the aisle of my wedding together.
We cried over Lassie movies, and bad boyfriends. We laughed at Elvis movies and changing spark plugs in trucks.
He was intelligent, determined, temperamental, ornery, stubborn, loving and caring; never afraid to stand up for what he believed in; for what he knew was right. He was the first and only honest politician I'd ever known.
He had a heart of gold and cared about everyone; not only for his family but for his co-workers, colleagues, foes, friends, relatives and neighbors.
My daddy passed away on July 21, 2002. I was so busy I didn't have time for me to mourn. My mom was 72. Decisions had to be made. Calls had to be made. Mail had to be answered. People went on living. He was so handsome laying there. So real, I thought he should have just climbed on out of that casket. But that wasn't the case. Why did I care anyway. He was the one that had caused all my problems in life; or so I thought. The man had been abusing me and my brothers since we were 7 years old. Why did I care if he was dead! But I did. He was actually, in the public eye, a very caring man. He gave monetarily to others. He grew a huge garden, and gave away his huge "head of cabbage" every year to all the office staff in the courthouse, as well as all the attorneys in town. You see, he was the Montgomery Co. Registrar for 28 years. I was the winner every year for 5 years, as the top lead in girl scout cookie sales. He would call all the offices in the courthouse, and the lawyers offices, and told them his daughter was coming over for cookie orders. The courthouse was my second home. He never met a stranger, and taught me to do the same. I loved talking to people, and I was always bold about questions I had for them. We went to church every time the doors were open. My daddy was a deacon. My momma was his public shadow; behind me of course.
But what about the man behind the closed doors. He was top dog. He had all the power. He always loved to watch "things" grow; nature and garden-wise that is. My mama told me, after his death, he was the most loving person; outgoing, personable, energetic, spoiler to his kids. And another time she told me how mean he was to his sister, Grace, and to others his age. He used to play basketball and would shove other guys out of the way. After he and mama got married, my daddy was a happy person to everyone around him. He used to spoil his kids terribly. If anyone was ever mean to my daddy, I tried to get back at them. My mama told me, when I was two years old, we were all standing in a store my mama's daddy owned. I saw a mean man in the store, and for some reason, I saw something in him that others didn't see. So, I went to a room behind the store and came back with a gun; a real gun. My mama said I told that man "I was gonna shoot him". But my daddy snuck around to the back of the store, coming in behind me and grabbed the gun away from me. I was two years old at the time. My daddy told me years later, that again, when I was two years old, he took me to church with him. During one of the prayers at church, daddy heard this awful banging noise. He looked my way just as I was about to throw the dice I snuck in my little purse, again onto the church pew. Daddy told me later he was absolutely embarrassed and grabbed the dice away from me before I could do it again.
When I was 35 months old, life changed dramatically for me. My mama, daddy, and my 8 year old twin brothers had gone on vacation, leaving me with a family friend. I found out later, from my mama, that "mom", as I called the lady keeping me at the time, had prayed something would happen to my family, because she wanted me so very badly. You see, she couldn't have children of her own. Well, something did happen. In May 1957, my family was involved in a near-fatal car accident, in their brand new 1957 Chevy Belaire; red and white with silver trim. The interior had white leather seats with red stripes. The steering wheel was red. The carpet was black. But I was never told what kind of car they were in, until years later. My mama was the one driving the car. She said daddy had fallen asleep. When he started waking up, he only saw a big truck coming towards them, and still not fully awake, he grabbed the steering wheel, thinking mama was on the wrong side of the road. They hit head on. The car was thrown down a huge embankment, on mama's side of car,and almost landing on it's side, the car caught fire. Mama said her head hit the steering wheel, and she was thrown about the car roughly. She got out of the car and opened the back door behind her so my brothers could get out of the car. When daddy tried to get out, because the car was slanting up the hill on his side, the door slammed back on his leg, nearly severing it. My daddy's head had hit the windshield, and threw him about the car before he tried to get out. Someone had seen the wreck and ran to the nearest phone to call for an ambulance. The family was taken to the hospital in Birmingham, Alabama. My daddy was in the hospital for many, many months. My mama was in the hospital for a few days and released. My twin brothers went to stay with an aunt and uncle for awhile. At the time, I had no idea what had happened. My mama stayed at the hospital with my daddy, night and day. He lost one leg, and had a steal plate put in his other leg to hold it together. He had a steal plate in his head to hold his cerebral cortex together. He had a hole, bigger than a silver dollar, all the way to the hip plate in this left hip. He was not conscious, my mama later told me, for a whole month. But he lived. Before he came home, his doctor had some very serious instructions for my mama. She said he told her, my daddy would never be the same. He would need years of therapy since he now only had one leg. The steal plate in his head, would severely affect his temperament. And it did.
I was having fun staying with my "mom and pop". "Mom" told me later, I was always a very curious child, constantly opening doors,and drawers to see what was in them. I broke her jewelry box one time, because it had a latch on it, and I jerked it open too hard. My mama bought her a new one. My mama would come visit and she had to leave again. I don't remember seeing my brothers very much. Three months after the accident, my daddy came home. I still have the news article, showing many people standing around him while he lay on a stretcher. Someone was holding me, but it wasn't a family member. My mama, was standing at his feet,while a brother stood on each side of him.
Then we all went home to a different house. It was a three-room house; red clap barn wood. It had a front and back porch the width of the house. It sat on a very large lot with a huge front yard and beautiful woods in the back. It had one bedroom, a living room and a kitchen. In the kitchen were stairs leading to an upstairs where, I found out later, my brothers called their bedroom. I can remember how I loved that little red house. But, it wasn't always happy times. Looking back, I seemed to create happy times in my head at that little red house. I used to talk to the cows in the field next to our little red house. My memories mostly come from my mama giving me information throughout the years. We were in that little red house because my daddy couldn't go back to work at his job at the A&P grocery store. I remember months later, after turning three, that it was just me and daddy in that little red house in the daytime. My mama had taken a job at Bootster,then later at Acme Boot in Clarksville. My brothers were in school. Our little red house was on highway 12, in the Fredonia community. Something was different for me, but I wasn't quite sure what it was, except now, I got to stay home with my daddy everyday instead of my mama, like I used to.
We do things in life sometimes, even as a child, that we have no idea why, until many years later when our parents tell us the real story. Many people came to see my mama and daddy at the little red house. My daddy rode around in a wheelchair, and he only had one leg. He used to ride me around the house in his wheelchair, while I sat on his lap. My mama would come home, start our supper, while still taking care of me, my brothers, and now my daddy's body. I used to hear my daddy scream, as my mama would pack that deep, deep, wound in his hip. Then she would make sure I had my bath, and got my brothers ready for bed, in the little red house. I took care of my daddy in the daytime. I was a big girl. I had just turned three years old. One night, while visitors were sitting on our long couch in our living room, my mama set in another chair, and daddy was in his wheelchair. I ran to the bedroom that I shared with my daddy and mama. I came out with this odd shaped plastic bottle running towards my daddy. My mama told me years later, I gave it to my daddy asking, do you need to pee daddy? My mama told me she was mortified at the time, and my daddy couldn't stop laughing. I was my daddy's helper.
I've had a recurring dream, that stopped a few years ago. In my dream, I was standing in the doorway, of a brick house we later moved to, screaming and crying, with no clothes on, as I was watching my mama drive down the driveway, and around the curve on the road in front of our house. Years later, I told my mama about the dream. She didn't understand the dream. But she told me about the time a neighbor called her at work telling her I was standing on the front porch of our little red house, screaming and crying, with no clothes on as my diaper had fallen off, and my daddy was rolling his wheelchair across the highway to a neighbor's house. My daddy had put me down for a nap, and was going to go see Mr. Brown, who lived across the highway. I never had the dream again. A few days after this happened, my daddy came into our room, hearing my loud screams. For some reason, at the bright age of three, I wanted something on the top of the chest-of-drawers, but I didn't realize I was too short. So what does a three year old do, when they want something and can't reach it. They climb. And I did. But the chest-of-drawers, didn't cooperate. I remember still seeing it in my mind today, holding on for dear life as that chest-of-drawers came tilting over, right on top of me. My daddy came as quick as he could, rolling in his wheelchair, and with all the might and strength in his arms, pulled that chest-of-drawers off of me. He wasn't happy at all, but I got another ride on his wheelchair.
To me, in that little red house, life was good, and fun. Today, January 31, 2010, we have had seven inches of snow come down. That fall, after daddy's accident, I remember we had lots of snow. My brothers and I would get all bundled up and go out and play in the snow. That Christmas, I woke up to my brothers wearing their pajamas, sitting on new bicycles, wearing helmets, while I stood a few feet away, looking at this baby-doll, in a doll cradle, that showed up in my little red house somehow. We had a tree in the corner of the room, with pretty, colored balls all over it. I turned around, and there was a huge rocking horse sitting there. I remember rocking on that horse so hard, one would think it would take off by itself. I don't know where all this stuff came from, but it was pretty neat. My next memory of the little red house, was when my brothers came running to the house yelling. My mama and I ran outside, and daddy, sitting in his wheelchair, was holding, on a big stick, a dead snake that was longer than I was tall. The guys had been working outside in the garden, when daddy found the snake. Later that week, or so I thought it was that week, my Aunt Barbara and Uncle Billy came over with their dog. I thought he was so pretty, with his long black and white hair. I don't know where my puppy came from, but we got a puppy around that time. Although, we didn't get to keep it very long. Something had happened to the puppy. It wasn't moving anymore. My daddy was driving now, so one day my daddy and I got in a truck with that puppy that wasn't moving anymore, and my daddy drove for a long time, to a bridge, and threw that puppy over the bridge. I later found out the bridge was the old bridge, that used to be on "Boot-hill" up from Shoneys, in Clarksville. Now my puppy was gone.
I don't think my brother, Donnie, liked me very much. One night at the supper table, mama told me I was eating chicken, since I was a very picky eater. When Donnie told me I was eating pork-chops that came from a pig, I spit it out and totally refused to eat anymore. My mama tried her best to make me eat the rest, to no avail. My mama went to town one day. After she got back, my brother brought me this long thing, wrapped in aluminum foil, while I was sitting on our white bucket with the red color around the rim of the bucket that we used when we needed to go to the bathroom. Mama didn't like us going out to that skinny little house behind the red house to use the bathroom. My brother told me mama brought me back some chocolate candy. I was so excited that I tore the foil off, and took a big bite of that chocolate candy. When I realized it wasn't chocolate candy he handed to me, it all came back up. One day, mama was trying to get us all ready to go somewhere. She had just ironed a shirt, and the ironing board and iron was still sitting out. This same brother whispered to me, touch it. I said no way. But he assured me the iron had been turned off. It wasn't. Mama smeared lots of Vaseline on my hand that day to make the burn go away.
I woke up one night, hearing someone yelling and screaming, just before my fourth birthday. The next morning, my mama was in a car by herself. She was crying and my brothers were running to the car, screaming and crying. Years later, I found out my mama was leaving us and my daddy made my brothers go out to the car to stop her. She said daddy had gotten so mean, she couldn't take it anymore. A few days later, my mama and daddy had packed everything we owned on trucks of ours and my Aunt Barbara and Uncle Billy's, and we moved to a new house. I just remember running into that house with my brothers, so very thirsty, and hearing them coughing and sputtering. I later found out that the water we had to drink was something called sulfur water. And then "the" dream started.
My uncle Woodrow's house that we lived in, was built of red brick. It had a huge cedar tree just outside the front door. On the other side of the gravel driveway was this huge tree, with lots of big limbs spread out in all directions. Behind the house was a smaller house, made of brown shingles. It had lots of chickens in it. On the opposite of the house from where the tree stood, was a big steel looking box. That's where the stinky sulfur water came from. A gravel road ran in front of our house in both directions. Across the road, on the other side of the barbed wire fence was a big overgrown field with more cedar trees, a big gray barn and a big round pond. On the other side of the steel box, just down the gravel road was another big gray barn. Across from that barn was a huge white house. It had two very tall trees in the front yard. A porch ran all the way across the front of it. That's where my uncle Woodrow lived. For some reason, that house gave me the creeps. I never liked to go into that house. Just past the big white house, through a gate, the gravel road continued for a short distance. On further, through the big field, was a beautiful tree, that had flowers all around it. That tree, with its beautiful arms reaching in every direction up to the sky, for some reason, seemed to be the most beautiful tree I'd ever seen. Just past the big tree, there was a big pond. I never liked that pond. Behind our house where the chickens lived, was another big pond. I used to like to walk to that pond with my mama, to go fishing.
Life seemed to be okay at that house, or so I thought. We had a new tomcat named Tiger. Tiger was like me; very rambunctious. An older friend of my uncle Woodrow's, had a beautiful bird as a pet. She was going on a trip out of town, and she asked my mama to watch the bird, in his cage, at our house. Boy was that a mistake. My mama was always busy around the house. Too busy one day to notice that Tiger liked the bird a little more than he should have. My mama cried all the next day, trying to come up with something to tell Uncle Woodrow's friend about the bird. Not long after that, I became very ill. I guess it was because of the rat poison I found in my bedroom closet that mama had put there. Only, I didn't know it was rat poison at the time.
I seemed to be such a rebellious four year old. My mama cooked a big supper one night. My daddy had brought in some butter beans from his garden. We had potatoes and pork chops that night as well. Those green looking butter beans didn't taste good at all. My daddy told me I had to eat some, but I told him no. He crammed a spoonful of green butter beans in my mouth. But they didn't stay in there very long. I got sick at my stomach and those green butter beans went everywhere. I remember my daddy's face getting very red. He and mama started yelling. My daddy grabbed his crutches and stormed out the front door. Daddy walked down the gravel road, to that big beautiful tree I liked so much. After supper, mama was taking me to a Halloween party. We got in the car and drove down to the big tree, where mama tried to get daddy to come back home. I don't know what happened when mama talked to him, but he didn't come back to the house before we left. I never went to that tree again. Then "the" dream came that night.
My mama continued to work and my daddy continued to stay at home with me. Daddy used to pick up odd jobs to help bring in some money for the family. He went all over the countryside of the Dotsonville community, bush-hogging fields on the tractor we now had. One day, daddy needed help with his big red Massey-Ferguson tractor, but no one was around to help; so I got elected. At four years old, I had never been on such a big tractor. Daddy tried to tell me how to turn the steering wheel to guide the tractor. I felt so very high up sitting in the seat of that Massey-Ferguson tractor, while daddy was behind it, walking on his crutches, doing whatever he needed to do to the tractor. But as a four year old, it was hard to steer that big tractor. Unfortunately for me, daddy seemed to think I should know how to control the steering wheel. When I couldn't, the big rocks thrown at my head by my daddy always seem to hit their mark. I never wanted to go near that tractor again.
Someone gave us a new puppy and I loved that puppy so. Daddy loaded me up in the truck one day, pulling a long wagon with no side rails. My puppy wanted to go, so daddy loaded puppy onto the wagon. When daddy started up the big hill down the road, he had to shift gears, shaking the wagon being pulled by the truck. The puppy fell off as the truck was rolling backwards. The puppy didn't make it. Daddy stopped the truck, and with his crutches holding him up, he picked up the puppy and threw it onto the back of the wagon. We continued on, to my grandfather's farm across from the Dotsonville Church of Christ. When daddy pulled up through the gate, he told his daddy about the puppy. So my big-daddy grabbed the puppy and through it across the field into a ditch.I screamed and cried for that puppy so.
Until that day, I had stayed with no one else during the day but my daddy. He had other plans that day though. He took me to his mother's house, located on the hill behind Dotsonville Church of Christ. I had met my grandmother before, I'm sure several times. I remember when she came over to the brick house one time, she asked me something, and I must have smarted off to her, because I'll never forget the tongue-lashing I got that day. But when daddy took me to her house that day, he walked me into the house, talked to his mother and walked out. It was everything she could do, to keep me running out of the house after him. She later told my daddy, I was the most stubborn child she had every seen. Every time I moved towards the screen door again, she hit me with that flyswatter of hers. I heard her telling my daddy, "finally after a couple of hours she gave up."
My grandmother became the love of my heart. Have you ever eaten raw biscuit dough, while someone made homemade biscuits? It was delicious. I can still taste it today(yuck)! Or let you eat raw potatoes as she peeled the next one? But my grandmother made the best biscuits in the community. I became her little helper. She taught me how to churn butter,and how to sew as well as how to knit. I used to walk to the hen-house to get the eggs with her, as well as gather the apples off the tree. I became mammy's shadow. To everywhere except one dark scary place; the cellar at the bottom of the steps going out of her kitchen. After I turned four years old, I began to notice things and see things that other people did not. When mammy would go to the cellar, I refused to go down there. There was someone down there so horrible, I refused to go near that cellar. Then "the" dream started coming more often.
I spent a lot of time with mammy and big-daddy after that. I loved the outdoors. I was more of a tom-boy than a little girlie girl that mama wanted. Big-daddy used to take me to feed the cows. He had ole Bessie the cow for a long time. I loved that cow. When we would go feed Bessie, she used to come right up to us and grab the apple right out of our hands. Mamie and big-daddy owned a lot of land. While mamie would be cleaning the house, and doing her chores, I would go walking far behind their house, to the creek. Sometimes I would cross the creek and go to my friend's house. Her name was also, Diane. Diane Whitehead. She had lots of brothers and sisters. One night, when I was 5 years old,staying over at mamie's,in the middle of the night, some men came to the house to get big-daddy. There was a terrible lightning storm that night, and someone's house had caught on fire. I found out later that day that lightning had hit their house and took all the Whiteheads away. When I heard Diane's name, my whole body shook, and I had "the dream" that night.
I am so much like him. He and I would argue and we would make up. We were like two rams butting heads. He'd flash those big blue eyes at me, and I'd stick my tongue out at him. I stood in the corner of his bedroom more times than I care to remember.
I would mess up in my life, and he was there to fix it. I would get mad at him, and we wouldn't speak for days. After ward, HE would get a kiss on the cheek. He would get mad at me, and again we wouldn't speak for days. Afterward, HE would get a kiss on the cheek. That was OUR way of saying, "I'm sorry".
He kept my life anything but boring, and I was more than happy to return the favor.
He loved my girls and my god-son. My first shares his name; the second shares his smile, while my third shares his temper. He accepted my god-son as part of the family.
He never met a stranger, as he loved to talk. The lights of the church building would be going out before we finally left, every time we met.
He was a fighter; never giving up.
I feel honored and lucky in a way, to have Charles Oakley Harrison as one of my mentors. Not every daughter gets a chance to say that. I say that today, because, of all the bad things he did, he had a warm loving side too. So I chose to take that side, and I continue to grow today.
I miss my daddy, and probably always will. He died here with only half a body; both legs amputated. But now he walks on two new legs along golden streets. He suffers no more pain. Now I'm in peace. You see, he walks in the clouds with Jesus today.
Goodbye daddy, I love you,
Your daughter
(written on July 21, 2002-the day my daddy was laid to rest)
My daddy passed away on July 21, 2002. I was so busy I didn't have time for me to mourn. My mom was 72. Decisions had to be made. Calls had to be made. Mail had to be answered. People went on living. He was so handsome laying there. So real, I thought he should have just climbed on out of that casket. But that wasn't the case. Why did I care anyway. He was the one that had caused all my problems in life; or so I thought. The man had been abusing me and my brothers since we were 7 years old. Why did I care if he was dead! But I did. He was actually, in the public eye, a very caring man. He gave monetarily to others. He grew a huge garden, and gave away his huge "head of cabbage" every year to all the office staff in the courthouse, as well as all the attorneys in town. You see, he was the Montgomery Co. Registrar for 28 years. I was the winner every year for 5 years, as the top lead in girl scout cookie sales. He would call all the offices in the courthouse, and the lawyers offices, and told them his daughter was coming over for cookie orders. The courthouse was my second home. He never met a stranger, and taught me to do the same. I loved talking to people, and I was always bold about questions I had for them. We went to church every time the doors were open. My daddy was a deacon. My momma was his public shadow; behind me of course.
But what about the man behind the closed doors. He was top dog. He had all the power. He always loved to watch "things" grow; nature and garden-wise that is. My mama told me, after his death, he was the most loving person; outgoing, personable, energetic, spoiler to his kids. And another time she told me how mean he was to his sister, Grace, and to others his age. He used to play basketball and would shove other guys out of the way. After he and mama got married, my daddy was a happy person to everyone around him. He used to spoil his kids terribly. If anyone was ever mean to my daddy, I tried to get back at them. My mama told me, when I was two years old, we were all standing in a store my mama's daddy owned. I saw a mean man in the store, and for some reason, I saw something in him that others didn't see. So, I went to a room behind the store and came back with a gun; a real gun. My mama said I told that man "I was gonna shoot him". But my daddy snuck around to the back of the store, coming in behind me and grabbed the gun away from me. I was two years old at the time. My daddy told me years later, that again, when I was two years old, he took me to church with him. During one of the prayers at church, daddy heard this awful banging noise. He looked my way just as I was about to throw the dice I snuck in my little purse, again onto the church pew. Daddy told me later he was absolutely embarrassed and grabbed the dice away from me before I could do it again.
When I was 35 months old, life changed dramatically for me. My mama, daddy, and my 8 year old twin brothers had gone on vacation, leaving me with a family friend. I found out later, from my mama, that "mom", as I called the lady keeping me at the time, had prayed something would happen to my family, because she wanted me so very badly. You see, she couldn't have children of her own. Well, something did happen. In May 1957, my family was involved in a near-fatal car accident, in their brand new 1957 Chevy Belaire; red and white with silver trim. The interior had white leather seats with red stripes. The steering wheel was red. The carpet was black. But I was never told what kind of car they were in, until years later. My mama was the one driving the car. She said daddy had fallen asleep. When he started waking up, he only saw a big truck coming towards them, and still not fully awake, he grabbed the steering wheel, thinking mama was on the wrong side of the road. They hit head on. The car was thrown down a huge embankment, on mama's side of car,and almost landing on it's side, the car caught fire. Mama said her head hit the steering wheel, and she was thrown about the car roughly. She got out of the car and opened the back door behind her so my brothers could get out of the car. When daddy tried to get out, because the car was slanting up the hill on his side, the door slammed back on his leg, nearly severing it. My daddy's head had hit the windshield, and threw him about the car before he tried to get out. Someone had seen the wreck and ran to the nearest phone to call for an ambulance. The family was taken to the hospital in Birmingham, Alabama. My daddy was in the hospital for many, many months. My mama was in the hospital for a few days and released. My twin brothers went to stay with an aunt and uncle for awhile. At the time, I had no idea what had happened. My mama stayed at the hospital with my daddy, night and day. He lost one leg, and had a steal plate put in his other leg to hold it together. He had a steal plate in his head to hold his cerebral cortex together. He had a hole, bigger than a silver dollar, all the way to the hip plate in this left hip. He was not conscious, my mama later told me, for a whole month. But he lived. Before he came home, his doctor had some very serious instructions for my mama. She said he told her, my daddy would never be the same. He would need years of therapy since he now only had one leg. The steal plate in his head, would severely affect his temperament. And it did.
I was having fun staying with my "mom and pop". "Mom" told me later, I was always a very curious child, constantly opening doors,and drawers to see what was in them. I broke her jewelry box one time, because it had a latch on it, and I jerked it open too hard. My mama bought her a new one. My mama would come visit and she had to leave again. I don't remember seeing my brothers very much. Three months after the accident, my daddy came home. I still have the news article, showing many people standing around him while he lay on a stretcher. Someone was holding me, but it wasn't a family member. My mama, was standing at his feet,while a brother stood on each side of him.
Then we all went home to a different house. It was a three-room house; red clap barn wood. It had a front and back porch the width of the house. It sat on a very large lot with a huge front yard and beautiful woods in the back. It had one bedroom, a living room and a kitchen. In the kitchen were stairs leading to an upstairs where, I found out later, my brothers called their bedroom. I can remember how I loved that little red house. But, it wasn't always happy times. Looking back, I seemed to create happy times in my head at that little red house. I used to talk to the cows in the field next to our little red house. My memories mostly come from my mama giving me information throughout the years. We were in that little red house because my daddy couldn't go back to work at his job at the A&P grocery store. I remember months later, after turning three, that it was just me and daddy in that little red house in the daytime. My mama had taken a job at Bootster,then later at Acme Boot in Clarksville. My brothers were in school. Our little red house was on highway 12, in the Fredonia community. Something was different for me, but I wasn't quite sure what it was, except now, I got to stay home with my daddy everyday instead of my mama, like I used to.
We do things in life sometimes, even as a child, that we have no idea why, until many years later when our parents tell us the real story. Many people came to see my mama and daddy at the little red house. My daddy rode around in a wheelchair, and he only had one leg. He used to ride me around the house in his wheelchair, while I sat on his lap. My mama would come home, start our supper, while still taking care of me, my brothers, and now my daddy's body. I used to hear my daddy scream, as my mama would pack that deep, deep, wound in his hip. Then she would make sure I had my bath, and got my brothers ready for bed, in the little red house. I took care of my daddy in the daytime. I was a big girl. I had just turned three years old. One night, while visitors were sitting on our long couch in our living room, my mama set in another chair, and daddy was in his wheelchair. I ran to the bedroom that I shared with my daddy and mama. I came out with this odd shaped plastic bottle running towards my daddy. My mama told me years later, I gave it to my daddy asking, do you need to pee daddy? My mama told me she was mortified at the time, and my daddy couldn't stop laughing. I was my daddy's helper.
I've had a recurring dream, that stopped a few years ago. In my dream, I was standing in the doorway, of a brick house we later moved to, screaming and crying, with no clothes on, as I was watching my mama drive down the driveway, and around the curve on the road in front of our house. Years later, I told my mama about the dream. She didn't understand the dream. But she told me about the time a neighbor called her at work telling her I was standing on the front porch of our little red house, screaming and crying, with no clothes on as my diaper had fallen off, and my daddy was rolling his wheelchair across the highway to a neighbor's house. My daddy had put me down for a nap, and was going to go see Mr. Brown, who lived across the highway. I never had the dream again. A few days after this happened, my daddy came into our room, hearing my loud screams. For some reason, at the bright age of three, I wanted something on the top of the chest-of-drawers, but I didn't realize I was too short. So what does a three year old do, when they want something and can't reach it. They climb. And I did. But the chest-of-drawers, didn't cooperate. I remember still seeing it in my mind today, holding on for dear life as that chest-of-drawers came tilting over, right on top of me. My daddy came as quick as he could, rolling in his wheelchair, and with all the might and strength in his arms, pulled that chest-of-drawers off of me. He wasn't happy at all, but I got another ride on his wheelchair.
To me, in that little red house, life was good, and fun. Today, January 31, 2010, we have had seven inches of snow come down. That fall, after daddy's accident, I remember we had lots of snow. My brothers and I would get all bundled up and go out and play in the snow. That Christmas, I woke up to my brothers wearing their pajamas, sitting on new bicycles, wearing helmets, while I stood a few feet away, looking at this baby-doll, in a doll cradle, that showed up in my little red house somehow. We had a tree in the corner of the room, with pretty, colored balls all over it. I turned around, and there was a huge rocking horse sitting there. I remember rocking on that horse so hard, one would think it would take off by itself. I don't know where all this stuff came from, but it was pretty neat. My next memory of the little red house, was when my brothers came running to the house yelling. My mama and I ran outside, and daddy, sitting in his wheelchair, was holding, on a big stick, a dead snake that was longer than I was tall. The guys had been working outside in the garden, when daddy found the snake. Later that week, or so I thought it was that week, my Aunt Barbara and Uncle Billy came over with their dog. I thought he was so pretty, with his long black and white hair. I don't know where my puppy came from, but we got a puppy around that time. Although, we didn't get to keep it very long. Something had happened to the puppy. It wasn't moving anymore. My daddy was driving now, so one day my daddy and I got in a truck with that puppy that wasn't moving anymore, and my daddy drove for a long time, to a bridge, and threw that puppy over the bridge. I later found out the bridge was the old bridge, that used to be on "Boot-hill" up from Shoneys, in Clarksville. Now my puppy was gone.
I don't think my brother, Donnie, liked me very much. One night at the supper table, mama told me I was eating chicken, since I was a very picky eater. When Donnie told me I was eating pork-chops that came from a pig, I spit it out and totally refused to eat anymore. My mama tried her best to make me eat the rest, to no avail. My mama went to town one day. After she got back, my brother brought me this long thing, wrapped in aluminum foil, while I was sitting on our white bucket with the red color around the rim of the bucket that we used when we needed to go to the bathroom. Mama didn't like us going out to that skinny little house behind the red house to use the bathroom. My brother told me mama brought me back some chocolate candy. I was so excited that I tore the foil off, and took a big bite of that chocolate candy. When I realized it wasn't chocolate candy he handed to me, it all came back up. One day, mama was trying to get us all ready to go somewhere. She had just ironed a shirt, and the ironing board and iron was still sitting out. This same brother whispered to me, touch it. I said no way. But he assured me the iron had been turned off. It wasn't. Mama smeared lots of Vaseline on my hand that day to make the burn go away.
I woke up one night, hearing someone yelling and screaming, just before my fourth birthday. The next morning, my mama was in a car by herself. She was crying and my brothers were running to the car, screaming and crying. Years later, I found out my mama was leaving us and my daddy made my brothers go out to the car to stop her. She said daddy had gotten so mean, she couldn't take it anymore. A few days later, my mama and daddy had packed everything we owned on trucks of ours and my Aunt Barbara and Uncle Billy's, and we moved to a new house. I just remember running into that house with my brothers, so very thirsty, and hearing them coughing and sputtering. I later found out that the water we had to drink was something called sulfur water. And then "the" dream started.
My uncle Woodrow's house that we lived in, was built of red brick. It had a huge cedar tree just outside the front door. On the other side of the gravel driveway was this huge tree, with lots of big limbs spread out in all directions. Behind the house was a smaller house, made of brown shingles. It had lots of chickens in it. On the opposite of the house from where the tree stood, was a big steel looking box. That's where the stinky sulfur water came from. A gravel road ran in front of our house in both directions. Across the road, on the other side of the barbed wire fence was a big overgrown field with more cedar trees, a big gray barn and a big round pond. On the other side of the steel box, just down the gravel road was another big gray barn. Across from that barn was a huge white house. It had two very tall trees in the front yard. A porch ran all the way across the front of it. That's where my uncle Woodrow lived. For some reason, that house gave me the creeps. I never liked to go into that house. Just past the big white house, through a gate, the gravel road continued for a short distance. On further, through the big field, was a beautiful tree, that had flowers all around it. That tree, with its beautiful arms reaching in every direction up to the sky, for some reason, seemed to be the most beautiful tree I'd ever seen. Just past the big tree, there was a big pond. I never liked that pond. Behind our house where the chickens lived, was another big pond. I used to like to walk to that pond with my mama, to go fishing.
Life seemed to be okay at that house, or so I thought. We had a new tomcat named Tiger. Tiger was like me; very rambunctious. An older friend of my uncle Woodrow's, had a beautiful bird as a pet. She was going on a trip out of town, and she asked my mama to watch the bird, in his cage, at our house. Boy was that a mistake. My mama was always busy around the house. Too busy one day to notice that Tiger liked the bird a little more than he should have. My mama cried all the next day, trying to come up with something to tell Uncle Woodrow's friend about the bird. Not long after that, I became very ill. I guess it was because of the rat poison I found in my bedroom closet that mama had put there. Only, I didn't know it was rat poison at the time.
I seemed to be such a rebellious four year old. My mama cooked a big supper one night. My daddy had brought in some butter beans from his garden. We had potatoes and pork chops that night as well. Those green looking butter beans didn't taste good at all. My daddy told me I had to eat some, but I told him no. He crammed a spoonful of green butter beans in my mouth. But they didn't stay in there very long. I got sick at my stomach and those green butter beans went everywhere. I remember my daddy's face getting very red. He and mama started yelling. My daddy grabbed his crutches and stormed out the front door. Daddy walked down the gravel road, to that big beautiful tree I liked so much. After supper, mama was taking me to a Halloween party. We got in the car and drove down to the big tree, where mama tried to get daddy to come back home. I don't know what happened when mama talked to him, but he didn't come back to the house before we left. I never went to that tree again. Then "the" dream came that night.
My mama continued to work and my daddy continued to stay at home with me. Daddy used to pick up odd jobs to help bring in some money for the family. He went all over the countryside of the Dotsonville community, bush-hogging fields on the tractor we now had. One day, daddy needed help with his big red Massey-Ferguson tractor, but no one was around to help; so I got elected. At four years old, I had never been on such a big tractor. Daddy tried to tell me how to turn the steering wheel to guide the tractor. I felt so very high up sitting in the seat of that Massey-Ferguson tractor, while daddy was behind it, walking on his crutches, doing whatever he needed to do to the tractor. But as a four year old, it was hard to steer that big tractor. Unfortunately for me, daddy seemed to think I should know how to control the steering wheel. When I couldn't, the big rocks thrown at my head by my daddy always seem to hit their mark. I never wanted to go near that tractor again.
Someone gave us a new puppy and I loved that puppy so. Daddy loaded me up in the truck one day, pulling a long wagon with no side rails. My puppy wanted to go, so daddy loaded puppy onto the wagon. When daddy started up the big hill down the road, he had to shift gears, shaking the wagon being pulled by the truck. The puppy fell off as the truck was rolling backwards. The puppy didn't make it. Daddy stopped the truck, and with his crutches holding him up, he picked up the puppy and threw it onto the back of the wagon. We continued on, to my grandfather's farm across from the Dotsonville Church of Christ. When daddy pulled up through the gate, he told his daddy about the puppy. So my big-daddy grabbed the puppy and through it across the field into a ditch.I screamed and cried for that puppy so.
Until that day, I had stayed with no one else during the day but my daddy. He had other plans that day though. He took me to his mother's house, located on the hill behind Dotsonville Church of Christ. I had met my grandmother before, I'm sure several times. I remember when she came over to the brick house one time, she asked me something, and I must have smarted off to her, because I'll never forget the tongue-lashing I got that day. But when daddy took me to her house that day, he walked me into the house, talked to his mother and walked out. It was everything she could do, to keep me running out of the house after him. She later told my daddy, I was the most stubborn child she had every seen. Every time I moved towards the screen door again, she hit me with that flyswatter of hers. I heard her telling my daddy, "finally after a couple of hours she gave up."
My grandmother became the love of my heart. Have you ever eaten raw biscuit dough, while someone made homemade biscuits? It was delicious. I can still taste it today(yuck)! Or let you eat raw potatoes as she peeled the next one? But my grandmother made the best biscuits in the community. I became her little helper. She taught me how to churn butter,and how to sew as well as how to knit. I used to walk to the hen-house to get the eggs with her, as well as gather the apples off the tree. I became mammy's shadow. To everywhere except one dark scary place; the cellar at the bottom of the steps going out of her kitchen. After I turned four years old, I began to notice things and see things that other people did not. When mammy would go to the cellar, I refused to go down there. There was someone down there so horrible, I refused to go near that cellar. Then "the" dream started coming more often.
I spent a lot of time with mammy and big-daddy after that. I loved the outdoors. I was more of a tom-boy than a little girlie girl that mama wanted. Big-daddy used to take me to feed the cows. He had ole Bessie the cow for a long time. I loved that cow. When we would go feed Bessie, she used to come right up to us and grab the apple right out of our hands. Mamie and big-daddy owned a lot of land. While mamie would be cleaning the house, and doing her chores, I would go walking far behind their house, to the creek. Sometimes I would cross the creek and go to my friend's house. Her name was also, Diane. Diane Whitehead. She had lots of brothers and sisters. One night, when I was 5 years old,staying over at mamie's,in the middle of the night, some men came to the house to get big-daddy. There was a terrible lightning storm that night, and someone's house had caught on fire. I found out later that day that lightning had hit their house and took all the Whiteheads away. When I heard Diane's name, my whole body shook, and I had "the dream" that night.
