Life and Times of Alice Fay Joy Young-Bennett-Eldridge

By Alice Eldridge

This book is about me! My life! Not my sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers, or any one elses just mine. This book is not to offend anyone, find fault with anyone, but to be of help to someone. Its the way I saw things and the things that happened to me.
This is a true account of my life as it unfolded day after day month after month and year after year. The things that happened to me as a child, I had no controll over, I was only five years old when I started recalling these things. This is not a pretty story, but never the less a true one. Some of the things I did are not very pleasing to read but I found that I should get them out into the opening for the healing of my life to take place. The words might be of help to someone else. If you ever find yourself in a situation like mine you will know that you are not the only one and that there are many, many people in this world, who carries the same kind tourture on their shoulders. I hope the book will help them get throught the pain, and suffering in their lives. I was embrassed and just plain ashamed for over twenty years myself.
In 1995-96 I facilitated a small drug prevention class called (Project Charlie) Chemical Abuse Resolutions Lies in Education. While instructing this class I learned much better how to enjoy my life as it is right now. I learned to be honest with myself. I realized that I had nothing to hide and I made up my mind to share with the world some of the things that had influenced me to do the things that I did. I was inspired to write this true story of my life one day as I was talking to the class about being ashamed and afraid.. Through some of these experiences I learned a valuable lesson, something I will never forget. I know now that no matter how hard life seems to be treating you, you can raise above all your doubts and fears and change your own destiny; and become happy in this life. I say to you if there has been anything in your life to bound you down, cripple you, and stop you from living a good and desent life get rid of it, get it off of your shoulder, dont let it get the best of you, chew it up and spit it out, so you can live a regret free life existence.
I was born Alice Fay Joy Young in Henderson (Rusk County) Texas, December 1st. 1944, to a Mr. and Mrs. Henry (Blue) and Corene Young. My mother called me (Titty). My siblings called me Fay. I never liked the name Fay. I dont know why but I never did. Mom said she called me Titty because she was so sick when I was born. She births me while going through metaphase. I was lucky to be born at that time of her life. I couldnt nurse her breast and I was allergic to cows milk, so she had to make me what she called a sugar tit. She had to make it with malted milk. I never did find out how she got that milk, I did wonder from time to time (when she was telling me about my life) how we could afford it; being as poor as we were. I was the last child of thirteen. Her last little curly haired baby girl. (Shed often stated so affectionally). I had a head full of sandy colored curly hair, very light skin, brown eyes and I had my thumb and pointer finger in my mouth when I came out. I know this to be true because, I sucked those two fingers until I was about fifteen years old. I sometimes now curl my thumb and pointer up and put them into my mouth just to see what I got out of them, but they just dont taste the way they did then.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483697086

Alice Eldridge

I grew up in a small West Texas town without a plate to eat from, no spoon to eat with, not even a glass to drink from. Sometimes having to go through alleys up town to find food to eat. I left home at fifteen with a three month old baby girl, a man seventeen years older than myself. I was uneducated, worked in the cotton fields, drove tractors, run irrigation lines, butcherd hogs inside the house, worked right along beside my husband. I birthed eleven children, miscarriaged a twin, suffered many forms of physical, mental, and sexual abuse, became an alcoholic and a drug abuser, lost all the children to the State of Texas, and endured many storms of depression. Never the less; through continued faith in Nichiren’s Buddhism, determination, and confidence in MYSELF, I am now clean and sobor, Got my GED, went to college, free of all addictions, and am completely happy and at peace with myself! I have no regrets. Ms. Alice Fay Joy Young, Eldridge A.J..E

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Copyright © 2013 by Alice Eldridge.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 09/13/2013

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Contents

1.   Introduction

2.   The Drive to Hillsboro

3.   From Morton to Alabama

4 Went To Wichita Falls With Six Children and Pregnant With Another One

5.   After Leaving With Six Children Living in Wichita Falls Billy Coming to Get Us

6.   After the Scalding

7.   True Happiness At Last

This book is dedicated to my children, grand children, and great grand children. whom I love and hold so dearly to my heart. You were the best children anyone could ask for and I love each and every one of you. You all are stars in the universe of life. I wish each of you Peace, Joy, and Happiness!

MOM

Introduction

T his book is about me! My life! Not my sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers, or any one else’s just mine. This book is not to offend anyone, find fault with anyone, but to be of help to someone. It’s the way I saw things and the things that happened to me.

This is a true account of my life as it unfolded day after day month after month and year after year. The things that happened to me as a child, I had no controll over, I was only five years old when I started recalling these things. This is not a pretty story, but never the less a true one. Some of the things I did are not very pleasing to read but I found that I should get them out into the opening for the healing of my life to take place. The words might be of help to someone else. If you ever find yourself in a situation like mine you will know that you are not the only one and that there are many, many people in this world, who carries the same kind tourture on their shoulders. I hope the book will help them get throught the pain, and suffering in their lives. I was embrassed and just plain ashamed for over twenty years myself.

In 1995-96 I facilitated a small drug prevention class called (Project Charlie) Chemical Abuse Resolutions Lies in Education. While instructing this class I learned much better how to enjoy my life as it is right now. I learned to be honest with myself. I realized that I had nothing to hide and I made up my mind to share with the world some of the things that had influenced me to do the things that I did. I was inspired to write this true story of my life one day as I was talking to the class about being ashamed and afraid. Through some of these experiences I learned a valuable lesson, something I will never forget. I know now that no matter how hard life seems to be treating you, you can raise above all your doubts and fears and change your own destiny; and become happy in this life. I say to you if there has been anything in your life to bound you down, cripple you, and stop you from living a good and desent life get rid of it, get it off of your shoulder, don’t let it get the best of you, chew it up and spit it out, so you can live a regret free life existence.

I was born Alice Fay Joy Young in Henderson (Rusk County) Texas, December 1st. 1944, to a Mr. and Mrs. Henry (Blue) and Corene Young. My mother called me (Titty). My siblings called me Fay. I never liked the name Fay. I don’t know why but I never did. Mom said she called me Titty because she was so sick when I was born. She births me while going through metaphase. I was lucky to be born at that time of her life. I couldn’t nurse her breast and I was allergic to cow’s milk, so she had to make me what she called a sugar tit. She had to make it with malted milk. I never did find out how she got that milk, I did wonder from time to time (when she was telling me about my life) how we could afford it; being as poor as we were. I was the last child of thirteen. Her last little curly haired baby girl. (She’d often stated so affectionally). I had a head full of sandy colored curly hair, very light skin, brown eyes and I had my thumb and pointer finger in my mouth when I came out. I know this to be true because, I sucked those two fingers until I was about fifteen years old. I sometimes now curl my thumb and pointer up and put them into my mouth just to see what I got out of them, but they just don’t taste the way they did then.

Mother said when I was about two she found out that the left eye never caught up with the right one. I have what the doctors call a lazy eye. The left eye is so slow that the right eye will have already saw something, and gone to see something else, before the left eye catches up with what the right eye has already seen. When the left eye finally sees what the right one has already saw, it hurries back to the left side and stays there. It stays over in that direction for a minute before it decides to move again to catch up with something else. It is so tired from all that traveling. Having that kind of eye is to my advantage however; because, I can always catch thing as they are coming to me on my left side before it gets into my right seeing zone. And on top of all that I have to hold my head to one side in order to see anything with eighter eye. When the school nurse sent me to get my eyes checked the doctor ask me to look straight ahead at the chart. I told him that I was looking straight ahead at the chart. Well he didn’t believe me so, he came to me and turned my head, in the direction he though it should be. He went back to the front of the line and said to me, Now look at the chart. When he saw that my head was naturally tilted and that I was looking in a completely different direction he found out that I was not paying games with him. He apologized to me. He prescribed glasses which I never got. We couldn’t afford them.

It never seems that I am looking straight ahead. When I went to get my drivers licenses (I was over twenty-one then) the sergeant that was observing my driving said to me when we got back to the station, Miss Bennett you have to pay more attention to the road straight ahead of you when you are driving I turned and looked straight at him and said, Sir I was looking straight at the road ahead of me and yes, sir I do pay close attention to the road when I am driving Then he noticed that my head was slightly turned to the side and the left eye was not looking at him at all. It was looking off to the left. He looked around just to see if anyone else was there for me to be talking too. Then he understood why it seemed to him that I was not looking straight ahead. He apologized and said, Mam go inside the student at the front desk will tell you from which office to pick up your drivers permit. You’ve passed the test.

When I am already on the bus and someone else get on I speak to them they will look around them to see who I am speaking to. Yes, I’ll say, I am speaking to you. Then the person will speak. I am so different. When I get on the bus and someone speaks I will speak. I don’t have to know to whom I am speaking too or who is speaking to me. You can never tell who or what I am looking at. You know it is funny though even to me, sometime I stare into the mirror to see who I am looking at, and of course my left eye is looking off to the left side of me. Here is the funny part my children can tell if I am really angry by watching my eyes. They say the eye straightens right up when I get angry. They know then to move quickly out of my way. One time the children and I was sitting outside drinking and smoking. (They were grown) One of the neighbors came up and our conversation exploded into a very heated argument. One of the children said to me all excitedly, "Mommy your eye is straight! You should see it! Go look in the mirror mommy! That’s so funny how your eye straightens up like that when you get mad mommy! I went and looked at myself in the mirror and sure enough my eyes was staring right back at me, both of them! So I didn’t stay angry long because I was laughing to hard to stay angry. I had never seen me staring at myself before like that. Both of the eyes were looking straight ahead. It was a scary sight. I started to laugh at it; because I had never saw that side of me before; but my children had. I though to myself boy; if that doctor could be here now!

Having to be called Fay was not a problem to me until I reached about fourteen; although I never said anything about it I really hated the name. I wanted to change it and it helped to be called Titty. When I was called Titty I felt like I was really someone else. I was not that dreadful Fay that everyone else called me. About that age too I started to think about how I walked, talked, and my appearance. I was already having sex at that age. (Fourteen) I wanted an education I wanted to teach school, I wanted to be like my schoolteacher Mrs. B. I didn’t want to live like I was living, where I was living and how I was living. We were the poorest people in Seymour. When everyone else had converted to indoor plumbing we were still using the outside toilet.

Mom like most women in that area had three sets of children. I was the last child in the third set. I had two sisters the older one named June the other Beth, and two brothers Jack the oldest and Jim the youngest. Jim was next to me. Mother had another after him but he was still born. Both brothers were fire bugs, but Jim was more destructive than Jack. Jim destroyed what little food and furniture she had. He’d dig a hole in the ground and put all the meal, flour, salt, soda, sugar, baking power, and what ever else he could find in the kitchen, into it and mix it up in the ground. He’d cut the leather off the Cain bottom chairs and set the house on fire. One of the brothers set the house on fire around Beth one time by lighting the wall paper and then snatching it off. It got out of hand and he ran out of the house and left the baby Beth inside of the burning house. Jim put a fire on the cat’s tail once and the cat ran through the land-lord’s corn field and burned the entire corn field down. No corn crop that year. He also played with himself all the time. We had an old bus that one landlord had given to us. June stayed in it when she came to town to visit. I recall once when the class mates were over playing hide and seek a class mate and I ran into the bus to hide. What did we see? Jim sitting there playing with his rod. Did he stop when we came in? No. He just kept pulling on it.

I had an older half brother Joe who still lived in Henderson. We had the same mother but different fathers. He’d come to Seymour and visit us each year; for a day or two. He’d try to get mother to come and live with him and his family. Mother never had anything to do with that idea. She was staying right where she was no matter how Blue treated her. She was his wife. God had given her to him and she was staying right there. You know it’s so funny that you can have a sister or brother and don’t know them until they are grown with children of their own. I must have been about six when I first saw my older half brother to remember him. He had a wife and children of his own. I didn’t even know how to act around him. Do I call him Mr. Brother or just brother? It took me every bit of two years to learn his real name. I knew his nickname but what was his real name? When he came to visit us he brought pretty scarves and boxes of snuff for mother. One time he even brought mother a pretty sugar bowl. That was the prettiest piece of glass stuff that I had ever seen. From that time on I always tried to find something like that sugar bowl to make me look pretty, but I never did find it.

My brother came each year sometime he brought his wife with him, but he came by himself more. Finally he stopped coming altogether. I was eight years old. I know my father had something to do with him not coming back; but I didn’t know what it was.

I don’t know anything about Henderson Texas. We move away when I was four and we never went back to live. I do remember however that we stayed in Rockwell, Texas before we went on to Seymour. I don’t remember much about that town nothing bad ever happened to me there. I do know that it had sticky black soil and there was an egg man that came by. One of my siblings asked him one day when I was standing in the yard. Mr. Red, How much is your eggs? He replied Fifteen cent a dozen Than one other day Mr. Red came by someone asks him, how was his hammer hanging? He didn’t give an answer to that question. I find out later why he didn’t answer that.

My two brothers stayed in trouble all the time. When they weren’t in trouble they were looking under my dress each chance they got. They were always getting locked away in the juvenile home or some other confining place. Mother was often telling my father that the boys were just like him; when it came to being in trouble. I can recall as far back as when we was living on the Johnson’s place when we first got to Seymour, out in the country. (I was five years old then) We rode the school bus to school this was my first year in school. I started to school at five and a half years old. We had to sit in the back of the bus. I didn’t understand then why we were sitting there, I though we were sitting there because we wanted to. When the school bus pulled up we got on and went straight to the back even when no one else was on the bus. My first schoolhouse was Mt. Zion Baptist Church it played two parts the school through the week and the church on Sundays. The house in the country was big and roomy. I can never recall where my mother was most of the time when we lived there. That is where the things started to happening to me. I know we had a storm cellar there because, that is where my two brothers would take me. It was like every other day as I recall it. They started by saying to me, Come here Fay and go with us,. This had happened so often, I knew what they wanted. I’d go with them into the storm cellar. They had been doing this so long I knew what to do. I lie down on the table and they’d remove my underwear [if I was wearing any] and start to rub my little body. Sometime they had a book with them and one looked at the book while the other one rub me down. Then they’d spread my legs apart so they could get a look at my little privacy. They took their long black rods out of their pants and started pulling on them. (I didn’t know what those things were) They’d pull and pull on it until ‘it’ became twice its size. Then they’d start rubbing my body again and making funny sounds in their throat; while they continue to pull at themselves. Then they’d go limp and make groaning sounds. White stuff came out of the end of that big rod that they held in front of them. They were finish with me. They’d tell me not to tell. I didn’t tell for a long time.

This has been with me all my life. I had to get this off my shoulders so I could learn to live. When I realized what my brothers (12 and 10 years old.) had done to me; I felt very guilty about the incident. Now, I want everyone to know that you got to watch your children; you don’t know what they’ve got on their mines. They are only human. That’s why there are so many children born handicapped, because of a family member having sex with them. My brothers never tried to penetrate my body with there rods; but just think if they had I would have let them, because I never though they was doing a bad thing. You trust your family to do right by you especially when you are a child; but you never know. No one ever told me about this kind of things. I didn’t know that letting my brothers do this to me was a form of sexually abuse. (How could I stop them anyway at five years old?) I didn’t know what they were doing to me. I can still remember this happening to me because it happened so many times. I didn’t know where my mother was when this was happening to me. I learned much later that my father had abounded us again and she was at work. I can also recall lots of other things that had happened to me at an early age. One night mom and dad went to Mr. F.’s and left me with Jim. Jim chased me all around the house (Tin house) trying to get me to lay down for him; I had learned better then. I told mom and dad when they returned home; daddy beat Jim almost to death that night. (Jim never did that again) Remembering the sick-o things is a lot easier than the normal things. That just goes to show what it ment by we all having animal in us. My brothers were like dogs as for as I was concerned. They used me as an animal for their own pleasure. My brothers knew what they were doing and they knew that I didn’t know any better, so they took advantage of me. When my father and brothers were home at the same time my brothers were always getting beat. But I was aware that mother got beat too as a matter of fact we all got beat when he was home. But he’d beat the boys even when he was sober. One day the brothers was gone I didn’t have to go into the cellar. I didn’t think anything good or bad about that. We move from that place I cannot recall how long we even stayed there. The only thing that I can associate with that house is the storm cellar.

We moved into the town of Seymour Texas. We lived in a big tent anchored in the back yard of the Jones’ house. The tent was made of canvas and it looked like a triangle. We had two beds, some covers; we dressed in lots of old clothing to keep warm. We also had a lot of old clothing to lye on and to cover ourselves up with. But I still stayed cold all the time. The tent had a pole running straight down the middle of it. There was a heater in the middle of the floor the heater pipe ran straight up along the pole through the top of the tent. The pipe was wrapped with more tin to keep the canvas from catching fire at the top. Behind the heater stood a wood box with all kind of wood to start the fire. It was my job to keep the chips for starting the fire when it go out and keeping the p bucket in the house; so we could use it through the night. The tent had no window but it did have the place to put potatoes and onions. (The Bin.) I went to school from that tent. The people up front were very nice people they had three sons and later they had a little girl. I went to school with the younger brother. Every girl had a crush on the boys of that family. I was no exception. I had a crush on the younger son. My older sister got pregnant by one of the sons. They were a group of handsome young men; and they knew it. They were church going people. Mrs. Jones’ was a missionary Mr. Jones’ was a deacon and they were good friends to us. My father didn’t like them. Mrs. Jones worked private home (Like my mother) and Mr. Jones worked for the Ford Motor Company. He got a new car every year. They had a little money but they were not rich, I though they were. They had a telephone, TV, radio, and a bathroom inside their house. When you walked into the house through the kitchen door there stood a big white refrigerate, a table with fancy chairs, kitchen sink, electric lights, and a big cooking stove. They had chairs in what they called the living room. Lamps stood on the tables at the end of the sofa we sat on to watch the TV. I noticed when we were there watching the TV Mr. and Mrs. Jones would leave us alone to watch all by ourselves, unless it was some kind of weather special on. Then they’d stay and watch with us. When I walked inside their house; it reminded me so much of the houses that my mother cleaned each week. The Jones’ made us welcome to their house to watch television. My father liked Gunsmoke, Dragnet, and Have Gun Will Travel and my mother liked Rawhide, Wagon Train and Johnny Dallas.

I don’t remember how long we stayed in the tent anchored down in the back yard of Mr. and Mrs. Jones’ house. I can however remember my school days better than any others times. My school days were the happiest times of my life. When I was in school I was in control of my life and the children knew it. I was smart and helpful. I helped all the children with their homework even some of the upper grade children.

Mother taught me how to open up my mouth and speak. Don’t be afraid, she’d tell me You can do it. Have confidence in yourself and you won’t go wrong Titty, she’d say. Study hard and apply yourself that’s what it takes to get good grades and mommy want you to make good grades; you understand me Titty? She’d go to school with me and recite some of her favorite recitations, have story time with my friends, and sing Amazing Grace. All the children were so glad to have ma, ma at school. All the children in the neighborhood called her ma, ma. She never had a fight with anyone as I knew of. Everyone loved her. She was a gentle and kind mother. She taught me the alphabet using a stick. She’d write them on the ground in the sand. She used a drug store calendar to teach me my numbers. Each day we’d go over the numbers and letters until I knew at least one; or until she’d have a sick spell and we had to quit. I had to know the letters not just be able to say them. I had to know the letter when I saw it.

When we go to the store she’d ask me, ‘What’s that letter or what’s that number Titty? And I had to know the letter or number and tell her what it was. She taught me the numbers and alphabet backward and forward before I was in school two years. At the age of seven I knew the numbers, alphabet, I knew all the nursery rhymes, (that she knew) I could read your basic words and could recite a six-versed recitation. I can still remember my first recitation from the first grade. An Apple for the Teacher An apple for the teacher is always what they say, but I prefer to give mine a sweet sinted bouquet. I held a bouquet of wild flowers behind my back and when I finished the little poem I gave the flowers to my teacher. Henry W. Longfellow and Robert Louis Stevenson wrote my mother’s favorite poems. I Want a Piece of Calico and My Two Little Worn out Shoes. I could recite those poems at the age of eight years old.

My mother had a limited education. She could read and write but she sometime called words what she thought they should be; instead of what they were. She couldn’t see very well; in fact, she was legally blind. She used two and three pairs of glasses to read. She often said that she could see better in the night then she could in the daytime. She was an Albania. She was of Indian desent. She also had a great imigation. She had friends that we talked too but we couldn’t see them. She could change her voice from a woman to a man just like that. She could keep you on the edge of your seat when she told a story or recited a poem. I was an A student because of my mother. The teacher gave us reading assignment. We had to come back tomorrow stand up in front of the class and tell the story. I’d make an A every-time because we did a lot of that at home. I was not afraid. We stood up in front of my mother’s class and told a story or sing a song most every day. We’d even act out plays something. My mother was a great teacher and storyteller.

Some days at school I would be rebellious and when Mrs. B. gave me an assignment to do on the black board I would just stand there and stare at it. I could do it but; I just didn’t want to do it that day. Well I knew that my older sister June, was in the next room; if she heard me crying or Mrs. B. talking loudly to me, trying to get me to do something that I didn’t want to do, I knew that my sister would come running out of that room; grab the baseball bat and charge Mrs. B. with it. One of the big boys would grab her and try to hold her to keep her from hitting Mrs. B. It took more than one boy to hold her though she was as strong as a bull when she got mad. She said things like, You better leave my baby alone, if she don’t want to do that dam stuff; she don’t have too! I will kill you about my baby. She’d try to do just that too. Finally she’d let the boys get a hold on her, and someone ran to the Jones house and called the police. (No Phone at school)That would close school for the rest of the day.

June said that mother had given me to her when I was first born and she was going to prove it to the world. Whenever anyone said anything to me to hurt my feelings she would charge him or her with everything she had. She said that she had to warm my malted milk and make me gravy over the lamp light. She’d even rake leaves so she could keep me full. She loved me very much and she tried to protect me from any harm. The last time June charged the teacher with the bat she was expelled from school. She never returned. She was pregnant with her first child. I didn’t know anything about pregnacy then.

I can remember another house we lived in that stood up off the ground about three or four feet. I’d get under it. It was cool under there and I’d dig holes for my feet. I couldn’t stand under it; but when I stooped over real good I had no problems having fun under there. I even went to sleep under there. It was located at a dead end street. On the corner was a big white café owned by a large black woman. We lived next to a lady that had about six children and a grand child that she hated. She was a very large black lady and she sure could sing too. She’d come to church each Sunday and led the song called Guide Me Oh Thy Great Jehovah. She’d open her mouth and those words just rolled out. But she was an evil lady when it came to that grand child. She’d put the child in the alley; she clamed to be potty training the child. (She had no indoors plumbing.) But she would forget the child. The little girl cried and cried silvering with cold in the alley with snow on the ground. The police was called on the lady several times but it did no good. She didn’t care about the police; she’d curse the police out, and the people who called them too. She was a very cruel lady. She had a little girl the same age as her grand child but she wouldn’t put her in the alley. She would feed her child from a plate but the grandchild had a tin top to eat from. Sometimes we would hear the grandmother hit the little girl and knock her across the room. But there was nothing that we could do; because the same thing was happening to us to. The state I was told later took the little girl away and gave her to her mother. She lived with her mother, but not for to long though, before she got burned up. She was standing by the fire trying to warm her self. Her dress caught fire, she ran and some say she swallowed the flames and died. I went to her funeral and you couldn’t tell she was burned. She lived to be eight years old It was destiny for that child to die at an early age. My mother said to me when I asked her why the girl died so young.

My older sister had her baby a little girl; but she didn’t live long. I went to see June in the hospital and she looked really weak and drawn out. I had never seen her look that way before. She was always healthy and strong. Now, here she was laying here in pain and discomfort looking like she had been beaten up. She told me that she had a little baby girl. And her stomach hurt very bad. Having a baby hurt you so bad baby. She said to me. She had a bowl of oatmeal setting on her bedside table that she had for her breakfast. Do you want that oatmeal baby? She asked me. I am not going to eat it. I can’t stand this hospital food. I reach over and got the bowl from the tray, put the milk and the little package of sugar into the oatmeal. And I ate it. I couldn’t see why she didn’t want it; it tasted very good to me. After the baby I didn’t see June for a long time. She had vanished again.

Beth was a stay around person she could always be found when mother needed her. She was doing private homework before I even knew what private homework was. Sometime she would go to school. I remember she and my older brother, Jack was in a play in school called Grand Mamma’s Lie Soap. Jack was the preacher and Beth played his mother. His text was 222. We were the congration and we sing Do you remember Grand Mama’s lye soap? Good for everything in the home? The pots and kittles. The dirty dishes; and for your hands and for your faceeee? Then the preachers got up and preach his brains out. That was the first and the last time that I can remember my older brother being in school. He must have come back from the juvenile detention or someplace. My younger brother Jim never went to school when I started.

One day June brought home to us a baby boy Terry. He was nine months old. He had a bad skin rash. His entire body was covered with sores. Even his face was covered with what looked like blisters, and they had buster all over his face. The rash on his little face were so bad; it looked as if his little ears would come off; with the least little touch. Mother had to wrap his hands with a cloth to keep him from scratching his delicate skin off. When ever he tried to make a b.m. his piles would run out and he’d scream and shake all over in pain. Mother made some kind of salve with egg whites, baking soda, molasses and some other stuff and put this on his skin. She started letting him stand up to a washtub to make his BM’s. When his piles run out she’d roll up a paper sack light it; put the flame out and let the smoke swell up to the pile. Then she’d rub some kind of ointment on them then they would go back up. Finally the rash was gone and the piles stopped running out and Terry could make a normal BM.

Time went by Beth started to get bigger and bigger, I had no idea what the problem was with her. Her feet were all swollen up and she couldn’t get into her old clothing. But she was still going to work she never went to school any more. My nephew Terry was in love with her. He wouldn’t let her get out of his sight. When she tries to get away he would fall out and kick until she picked him up. He didn’t care where he was he would just fall out. She was afraid that he would hurt himself by falling out like that so she’d wag with him. He was crazy about his auntie Beth. She was to swollen to handle him but he didn’t care he wanted her to pick him up any way.

Finally Beth was gone. I was told that she had gone to the hospital to have a baby. Mother went to the hospital she said; to help her have it. When Beth came home she had a little tiny bundle with her. Her name was Sara. She was so very tiny. She only weighed four pounds. She was allergic to milk as I had