Childhood — An Abundant Source of Wonderful Memories
When Ray and I headed out of town recently, we decided to avoid early morning traffic by taking a rural route around Nashville. With Ray in the driver’s seat, I started my ride by enjoying the early morning sunshine on the beautiful backroad hills and hollows. My enjoyment soon faded into a much-needed nap after my late night of preparations.
Knowing I wouldn’t want to miss it, Ray woke me up when we pulled up to the town square of my birthplace, Springfield, Tennessee. It was fun to wake up to bright sunshine reflecting off the yellow bricks of the Robertson County Courthouse. I quickly asked Ray to wait while I hopped out for a picture.
As we drove along the east side of the square, I told Ray I’d like to drive by Granny’s house, just a few blocks away. Here it is.
I only lived in Springfield for a few weeks before moving to adjoining Cheatham County where Daddy’s folks are from, but we drove north on Highway 49 almost every Sunday to see Granny and Granddaddy. The house is bigger than it was all those decades ago when it had a kitchen, Granny and Granddaddy’s combination bedroom and sitting room, a living room, an extra bedroom, and a bath.
We ate meals in the kitchen . . .
. . . and usually visited in the bedroom/sitting room. In the wintertime, we gathered near its potbelly coal stove.
Chickens roamed freely in much of the back yard. Granny’s clothesline that stretched above the chicken yard provided a place for her to hang both her laundry and the chicken she had killed for Sunday dinner. Off the chicken yard was a wonderful cellar packed with her canned goods. The canned delectables I remember most were the quart jars of peaches.
Granddaddy grew vegetables behind the garage and behind the chicken yard. He sold them from his black antique pickup truck. Over the bed of the truck was a homemade roof which served to cover his wares and hold up the swinging scale he used to weigh them.
I have long owned a ceramic cookie jar designed to look like a box of Quaker Oats. Quaker Oats remind me of both Granny and Daddy’s daddy Daddy Leland who owned a grocery store. Granny made good use of many a Quaker Oats box. First, she got out the free glass dishware hidden inside Quaker Oats. Then, she dipped out oats to cook for breakfast and serve with the fresh milk Granddaddy brought in from the cow he kept in someone else’s barn across the street. An empty Quaker Oats box became a great trash can in her kitchen where she threw so very little away. One day she helped me catch a bird in her yard by salting its tail. Then I took it home in a Quaker Oats box.
You never know what memories you are going to wake up to, but the experiences you are providing for your children now will give them an abundant source of wonderful ones.
Grandchildren are the crown of old men,
And the glory of sons is their fathers.
Proverbs 17:6
Charlene, you look so very much like your grandmother. This post brought back great memories for me.