Molly's Country Memories

Molly's Country Memories

The memories and happening in the everyday life of a country girl

Monday, February 16, 2009

More of Molly's Country Memories

An Angel unaware
When I started this blog, it was to try and preserve some of my Country memories from a time and place that no longer exist , except in my mind. If you have followed my blog you have seen some of my Memories on other posts. As a new friend, over at Penniwig's said Our South and our time was slowly disappearing before Katrina and afterwards it is almost completely gone.

The slow easy going days, have been lost to the hussle and bussle of the mordern world.
So today I'd like to take you back to my South, when summers where hot and sultry and kids lived the innocent life, we didn't grow up and know the facts of life before we reached the age of 8. But we did know how to help and take responsiblities of the family. We all had our chores and we didn't argue or whine when we where told to do them. No, that didn't enter our minds, not because we would be punished if we didn't, we were just taught that in order for the family to fuction we all had to pull our load.
I was the baby of the family and at the age of 6, my Mom returned to MS from New Orleans with my 2 older sisters and I in tow. It was a sad time for me because I loved my Daddy dearly, but I knew it wasn't my Momma's fault. She had to do what she had to do to feed us, since he wouldn't. There were many nights all we had to eat for supper was milk and white bread that my older Brother Jim, brought home from the Drug Store around the corner where he worked in the evenings when he got out of school. Mom used to say she felt like the owner of the store put back a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk, so Jim would have something to bring home to us. He was a good man, with a big heart. But Mom was a proud woman and just couldn't handle it any more.
My sister and I used to make a game of eating the'd take the crust off the bread and tear it into strips and called it our dollar bills and we'd roll the inside into little round balls and call them peas. Mom used to tell us to not play with our food, but it make it look like more and we'd fill up faster or we thought we you know I never felt deprived, because of the love that flowed in our home from our Mom and from each other. When we returned to Mississippi, we lived with my Grandparents and we all had to work to keep things going. Granddaddy passed 7 mos after we moved back....Mom had to go to work, in Rural MS in 1949, a job for a woman was not an easy thing to find. She went to work as a waitress at the local Hotel Resturant, it was a good job with a great bunch of ladies who kind of adopted us all. But she worked 10 hr shifts. 7 days a week.
So we all had to do our part to keep everything going while Mom worked. I don't feel like we lost our childhood because we had to work, we had a great childhood. I feel like we gained charactor because we had to work.
My sister Dean, that I mentioned before was 2 yrs old than me and our older Sister Shirley was 7 yrs older. But she was our gift from God, our precious Angel. she was a beautiful child and at the age of 2 they realized something wasn't right. She could walk, but she couldn't talk or do anything a child her age could do. The Drs could not find anything wrong, but when they took her to a specialist in New Orleans he said she would never develope mentally past 6 mos. She grow and she looked like a normal child, but she was blissfully in her own world. She was not suppose to live to be 12 yrs old, but we had our Doll with us untill she was 23 and we all felt like we where extra blessed to have an Angel living with us.
This picture of her and our older Brother Jim, was taken a few months before the Dr gave them his opionon and sad news.
Here is a picture of her at age 4, isn't she beautiful, she had long red hair, Momma never cut it, porcelain white skin, blue eyes and the cutest little freckled nose, you ever saw. And temper my did she have a temper, she couldn't talk but you knew when she wasn't happy. Ever morning I combed her hair and then plaited it. Yes that was my job from age 6 till she passed when I was 16. I changed her diapers, feed her, combed her hair and set in the house with her when Mom was at work and Dean, my older sister and Granny milked the cows and took care of the outside chore. As I said we all had our jobs.
Here is a picture of her when she was 16. I was 9 and Dean was 11, Shirley loved going out side but as she got older we had to let Mom handle that because she was tall and slinder but she was extra ordinarly strong.There was one time I remember when we had gone to town and she was sitting in the car, a group of kids came by and started making fun of her, she didn't know and didn't care, but I did and if Momma had stopped me I'd whip several behinds that was MY baby they were being mean to, but Mom simple told them "But by the grace of God there go you" I don't know if they ever understood what she meant.
Life was good and we enjoyed the long summer days in the old farm house. We lost our Angel in the spring of 1959, when I was 16 and she was 23. She had been sick for several weeks and the Dr. told us she could go anytime. Mom had stayed up with her for 5 days straight, Dean was married by then and would come out during the day to set with her while Mom got some rest and I was in school. I slept with her the night God took her home and held her in my arms till day light and then I woke Mom up, Shirley slipped into God's arms while in a peaceful sleep.
I will always hold her in my heart and know someday I will see her again and at that time she will be completely whole and one of the most beautiful angels in God chour.
I will have more memories of my country life, in future post. I hope you will come back to visit.


  1. Molly, Came over to visit from Penniwigs, What a beautiful post, so glad to get to know you! What beautiful memories you have shared! Visit me sometime!

  2. Hi Molly! What wonderful memories you have to share! How different life was back in those days compared to now.What a beautiful angel your sister Shirley was. I enjoyed reading your post, hope you have a great day!

  3. I enjoyed your photos. Thanks for sharing and thanks for stopping by my blog too. I hope you have a great week!

  4. What a beautiful story,it is so nice to have such great memories of your childhood and of your little angel.

  5. Such a wonderful story - such memories you must have! I truly enjoyed reading your post. I'm going to sign up as a follower. Please visit my blog - hope you like it! Thanks for sharing.

  6. Hi Molly! I came over from Miss Penniwigs and I'm so glad I did. I am a New Orleans native now living in Texas due to Katrina. I deeply loved reading your story and feeling the love for your family.

  7. Molly girl, that was quite a story. My daughter always fought for her special brother too.
    I always consider special kids, angels on earth as well. I know that my Josh is, and he's heavily guarded by a band of angels daily.
    Your family memories are so touching and sweet.
    YOur early hardships made you the person you are, and that's why your family is so tight. Your sons have that trait too. You've done well, but then again, you yourself had some terrific teachers in this life.
    Weren't you the lucky one, afterall?

  8. I think I change my mind about following your blog... if I am going to CRY each time I read it!! I was just so touched. I am sorry I never knew Aunt Shirley, and I know this might sound really strange, but somewhere way back there I do remember her. I know I was very, very young, but I do.

  9. Such a sweet story about your life. Life is really about family. And your memories live up to that.

  10. Hi Molly,
    Reading about your life growing up reminded me a little of mine. We were poor as could be, but everyone we knew were about the same, so we never felt deprived. This was a sweet post about your memories!

  11. I posted this on my blog the other day - I too have been touched by a 'special' person. Sorry it's long, but thought you might like it.

    Welcome to Holland by Emily Perl Kingley

    "I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability – to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It’s like this…

    When you’re going to have a baby, it’s like planning a fabulous vacation trip – to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It’s all very exciting.

    After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands, the stewardess comes in and says, “Welcome to Holland.”

    “Holland?!” you say. “What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I’m supposed to be in Italy. All my life I’ve dreamed of Italy.”

    But there’s been a change in the flight plan. They’ve landed in Holland and there you must stay.

    The important thing is that they haven’t taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It’s just a different place.

    So you must go out and but new guidebooks. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

    It’s just a different place. It’s slower paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around… and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills… and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandt's.

    But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy… and they’re all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say, “Yes, that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned.”

    And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away… because of the loss of that dream is a very, very significant loss.

    But… if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the lovely things… about Holland."

    By Emily Perl Kingsley


Little sweet memories whispered..