BACK
Continuation of the manuscript intro… My mom didn’t give much thought to the fact that she had a part in the reason my Mah-mah and Pah-pah had that farm in Oklahoma anyhow. They moved back there to be close to us, her and her kids, to begin with. They ended up in northeast Oklahoma to be closer to us when we lived in Arkansas, but not too close so as to smother my mom and her family.
I don’t think my mom gave her mom and dad more than a passing thought when she saw the chance to get the hell out of Arkansas, a place she referred to as the place that God had forsaken. Sure wasn’t my idea to leave… and I was more than just a tad bit excited to go back there, or close to it, and leave the world of troubles that hounded me daily in the small town of Banning, California.
My dad was all for it, me going back to the farm to do a man’s work. I overheard him tell my mom that it was the sorta thing that separates the men from the boys. He was all for my grandpa helping make a man out of me. He knew what was in store. He’d done his time on the farm. He didn’t talk too much about his days as a kid on the farm and in the fields. Most of the stories of how they lived as dead broke cotton-picking-sharecroppers came from my uncles and a couple of aunts. My dad landed in the middle of eight other siblings and was forced to quit school after the sixth grade to help feed and clothe the other kids.
image courtesy of keithdotson.com
The only times my dad spoke much at all about his miserable childhood came when he was trying to teach a lesson. He’d say a few choice words about my shortcomings and shortsightedness, but he let his thin leather belt do most of the talkin’… and stingin’.
There was one time though, probably more than just that one, but the one time I remember the best, he hauled me into his bedroom – where all the whippin’s were done. He turned and sat down on the bed beside me. My dad talked to me, but he didn’t look at me, not at first. He was looking somewhere else. I figured out since then that he was looking back, back in time, to his childhood that he, for the most part, had tucked away into the cellar of his mind and had snuffed out the lights… or tried to.
Sunday, July 8, 2018 @ 10:16 pm
Each time you share a snippet of your book here, it makes me wish more for a publisher to come your way. I want to read the whole book. Your stories are so relatable and your way of writing makes one feel that they are right there experiencing your life firsthand—the real proof of good writing. Thank you for sharing here. God bless you, brother. Praying for you.
Monday, July 9, 2018 @ 2:57 am
There has got to be more to this story! You can’t leave us hanging dude! 🙂
Monday, July 9, 2018 @ 3:38 am
My parents both came through that same time period, Floyd, so I have heard similar stories. Yours are always so well written that you make us feel like we are right there in the situation ourselves!
Monday, July 9, 2018 @ 8:18 am
The suspense is killing me! 🙂 So love your writing, Floyd.
Blessings, my brother!
Monday, July 9, 2018 @ 9:38 am
Many left school because their responsibility was to help feed the family. I am thankful for education, but often we learn by the school of hard knocks. Often a good side by side talk can get more done that a whipping. Thank you Floyd for another look at times gone past.
Wednesday, July 11, 2018 @ 8:05 am
As I said before, I’m glad this is coming at us, Floyd!
Wednesday, July 11, 2018 @ 10:52 am
Floyd,
Thank you for sharing this piece of your history and your dad’s…it is good to remember as it is also part of our healing and integration as people…can’t wait to hear what he told you.
Thursday, July 12, 2018 @ 9:07 am
A good read is one that leaves you hungering for more of the insight that comes from a good read. Our kids and grand children love to hear stories from our past. We try to never use it as a tool to show how bad their generation compared to ours is or vice versa, ,but to show them nothing is new under the sun. In each generation the culture of our home life, family members, jobs, etc will shape our personality. How we use it all is up to us. To wish to live in another time closes down our ability to see God in all of time. Reading stories of tough times in the past helps me see how resilience God can help us be. People back then handled tough times the same way it’s handled now, some drank to escape, some jump right back up and look it square in the face and make do, some take their own life, some grab what life if before them. The old saying, if life hands you lemons, make lemonade. Well, I have let those lemons rot before but I have also made some pretty good lemonade too. it’s encouraging to read about your lemons handing down from your family, I am trusting some publisher will want to make lemonade from your lemons. Good read, looking forward to more.
Friday, July 13, 2018 @ 8:17 pm
Looking back..it’s interesting how we try to overcome the parts of our pasts that make us uncomfortable. I like the way you describe your dad’s expression in the bedroom and guessed he was remembering. Some people talk in detail about childhood days remembering vividly. I’m more the type that would rather leave it there and dream of the days to come. (I just hate it when Tom tells me I’m like my mother; stuff to work on–you know?) Hope your well and surviving the Monsoons. We got hit hard this week. Lots to clean up but minimum monetary damage, mostly sweat labor. Have a good weekend!