Mountains, Valleys & Watermelon

By Lillian M Crosby

Ten short stories about growing up in the Great Depression years.  The stories are fact-based and tell of life as it used to be before the advent of electronics.  They tell of games children played under the watchful eyes of their parents, and of the haves and the have-nots during a difficult time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lillian M. Crosby
• Release date: Jun 30, 2017
• ISBN: 9781532339738

Book preview

MOUNTAINS, VALLEYS, AND

WATERMELON

Copyright 2017 by Lillian M. Crosby. All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part without the written permission of the author.

ISBN: 9781532339738 (e-book)

CONTENTS

GREEN APPLES

JED

THE SLED

THE PAST

THE WAIT

HOMER

SON OF RIN TIN TIN

THE TREK

DAYDREAM

THE UNCOMMON MAN AND WOMAN

PREFACE

There was a time before homes had telephones, electricity, TV, electronic games, computers, or even indoor plumbing. Outhouses, probably built and whitewashed by County employees, sat out back. This was done for many families. We country children were left to our own imaginations as to what to play or do after our chores were done. Without a worry or care, we played marbles, hide and seek, red rover, softball, and other made-up games. We climbed hills and mountains just for the fun of it, romped in green meadows, and picked bouquets of johnny jump ups or daisies for our moms. We waded in clear, cool, streams looking for crawdads, minnows, snakes, and water turtles, and learned to swim in knee-deep water. There were trees to climb, caves and wide-open spaces to explore. Far horizons beckoned.

It was also a time of hunger, need, and no jobs. Homeless men - hobos - wandered around the country asking for food. A stick across their shoulders supported a small sling bag that held all they owned, but yet they seemed content. I owe no one, except a thank you for your kindness, I remember one saying.

It was a time of hardships, a time of haves and have-nots, a time of not having the money to buy needed clothes, or more than one pair of shoes a year, a time of sacrifice, a time of families gathering to care for each generation, as their members passed through and from life, and a time of innocence and humility that we likely will not see again.

These stories, forged in the mountains of West Virginia, have factual backgrounds, except for The Wait. I trust as you read these stories, you remember something long forgotten, and smile.

GREEN APPLES

After being cooped up during a long winter, I was always anxious to go sledding with my siblings, our cousin, Ray, and neighborhood kids. As winter dragged on, I kept a keen and anxious eye on an old apple tree that I couldn’t avoid seeing every time I looked out our kitchen window. It had brought me both unbridled joy and abject misery through the years. Ours was a love-hate relationship.

Lush red fruit pulled the tree’s branches low from summer to early fall and provided us with unlimited pies, applesauce and dumplings. In fall, its leaves turned to vibrant shades of reds, oranges, and yellows, and its branches became barren. Groundhogs and deer fed on any apples still clinging to low-lying branches. Leaves fluttered down to lie next to the dried up, shriveled apples that had already fallen to the ground to feed countless yellow jackets, wasps, hornets and countless birds. Only a few brownish, rotten cores, and seeds remained for late arrivals. If anyone walked too