My Life

© 2018 Carolyn Petersen. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 08/03/2018

ISBN: 978-1-5462-5375-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-5373-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-5374-7 (e)

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Contents

My Life

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

My Life

This book is written for and dedicated to my Daughter, Gena. There will be information in this book that has never been revealed, and is only being revealed now to give her a better understanding of how things have turned out in my life, and how you can always make it through bad times if you lean on God and have the love of family and friends. I hope she will not take this information the wrong way and think I am belittling her Dad in any way because that is not my intent. I loved J.D. with all my heart and soul just as much the day he passed away as the day I married him. He was a good man inside and out and was always willing to help anyone that needed help. He was a good Christian man and loved his family more than life. That being said, we all have our faults, me included, and none of us are perfect. If we were, we would not be walking on this earth.

Chapter 1

On June 4, 1944, my mother was enjoying the day at BetheI Memorial Day with my Aunt Eunice when she had to be rushed to the Winnsboro Hospital where I was delivered by Dr. Stuart, who was a D.O. in Winnsboro. I weighed in at less than 6 pounds and weighed this until I was almost 6 weeks old at which time my mother and daddy and Aunt Myrtie started bringing me to a specialist in Dallas, Texas to see why I wasn’t gaining weight. I guess it was because they could not find a formula that I could keep down. I would like to find the specialist that got me started eating and gaining weight because he has caused me a lot of misery in my life with weight problems. Ha!!!

Anyhow, he got me started gaining weight and I was soon so big that my mother couldn’t carry me around and had to pull me around in a red wagon wherever we went. I guess they did not have the money to buy a stroller. And, of course, I had a big sister that was very petite and very feisty. However, she caused mother and daddy a lot more trouble than their little fat baby.

I do not remember too much about my childhood until I started walking and talking and then I was a real pistol because I repeated everything that Mother and Daddy said in front of me. I stayed in trouble because of my mouth. I was raised by a daddy who knew no fear and his theory was that if you want your daughters to mind, don’t tell them to do anything they do not want to do, and a mother who feared everything. This was because she had witnessed my two-year-old sister, Joye Anne being run over on her tricycle by their next door neighbor. I think my mother was just lucky to survive this. However, she did have a breakdown that affected her nerves for the rest of her life.

I was raised in a little white house on the hill. This was a small house with two bedrooms, a living room, a small bathroom with a shower that I was not allowed to use except to hide in, and a pretty large kitchen with a table in it. We had a detached garage with the wringer washing machine and rinse tubs and a storeroom that later became my sister’s school room that I was only allowed into if I wanted to play school and let her teach me, which, of course, was never. I was into playing and not learning. I could go in if she was gone and be my own teacher or play dolls. I’m sure if she had had a key I wouldn’t have gotten into it then. Mother would bring in the No. 2 washtub and fill it with water for our baths. Of course I was always the last to have a bath because I was always the dirtiest, I guess. I can remember Mother always raised her legs and washed her feet in the lavatory and I thought that looked so good that I would try it.

I got my tiny little red chair and stood on it and tried to throw my leg up into the sink and, of course, the chair tipped over and I hit my head on the gas outlet and then was in trouble once again. I remember the kitchen had high cabinets that I could hardly reach, and that is where I had to have my hair washed in the sink and always rinsed with vinegar water. I had long hair and always dreaded hair washing day.

If this little white house could talk, it could tell many stories about our family, and especially me. My sister, who I always called Nannie, which she hated, but Mother said I could not say Sandy, so it was always Nannie, and I shared a small bedroom on the back of the house that was very cold in the winter. We slept in the same bed with an imaginary line down the middle. I wasn’t allowed to get one toe across that imaginary line or I was in big trouble. At some point in time an extra room was added to the east side of the house and that room doubled as a bedroom and mother’s sewing room. I think they added that for an extra bedroom in case we had overnight company. It was really a nice room and we all loved it.

We had a very large squirrel cage in the back yard and had supposedly pet squirrels. This was a joke because they were really pretty wild. We also had a chicken pen and a chicken coop where the hens laid eggs that we had to gather and eat. We had cows down at the barn, which I would later have to help milk, but I can’t remember how old I was when I started milking the cows. We also had an occasional bull named Bimbo that I never could understand why he just came to stay for a short visit. I think I was told that we were keeping him for someone. This was rather confusing because I knew nothing about the birds and bees, but was told that the cows went down in the trees in the pasture and found their calves and then brought them to the barn, or we would have to go down in the pasture and find them. I was raised thinking that calves were just found down in the pasture. I am sure my sister knew better but never told me. She wasn’t nearly as naïve as I was.

Actually, we didn’t have to milk the cows because we had a milking machine. We would just wash their teats and put the milking machine on them and then take it off and strip the milk from them; I guess because the milking machine could not get it all. I would hang my milk pail on the handle bars of our little red bicycle and fly down to the barn to help milk.

I remember how I hated to milk the cows during fly season because they would continuously swish their tail in your face and if they had bowel trouble, the tail was not always too clean. Also, you would have a quarter of a pail to a half a pail of milk and they would decide to hit a fly with their leg and would step in the pail and splash milk all in your face. It was not only a nuisance, but it wasted the milk because you then had to pour it into the kitten bowl or pour it out. I hated this because we used this milk to strain, bottle and deliver to the neighbors. Another job of my mother. I guess they paid her a little bit and we needed the money, so she would do it. I’m sure she didn’t make much, but in those days every little bit helped.

The good part about selling milk to the neighbors was that I got to go with Mother to deliver it. After delivering milk, we would always stop back in at Dal Hagan’s grocery store and get a Dr. Pepper. He would always give me a piece of candy or gum, and this made the milking and all of the work worthwhile for me.

I had more pinches from Mother in this little store than you could ever imagine. To begin with, the store usually had men in it, and then there was me and Mother. This is the little store where I couldn’t understand why we always had to buy just plain napkins, which was not often because we usually used a cup towel and passed it around the table when we had a meal. We called it the rag. I begged Mother to please buy some sanitary napkins instead of plain napkins because we had never had any of those. Of course the store was full of men, so I was quickly yanked out of there. This is also the store where I told Dal that I had tasted everything in that store except (and I looked all around and spotted a box of Kotex) those Kotex up there. Once again; a quick exit for me and Mother. Of course, nobody ever told me what I had said wrong, so it was hard for me to understand what was going on.

Often when we made the milk delivery, I would get to stay at Dina’s house, and was very happy about it. She had the best things to play with and we always had a good time together. She had dolls (with clothes) and her favorite doll was named Laureen. Rightfully so, because she adored her mother. This doll had so many clothes that Mrs. Dodgen had made for her. and had an outfit just like Dina’s because she would make Dina’s clothes and make an outfit for her doll out of the scraps. Her mother would make us a pallet on the floor and we would play dolls for hours. She would even chip a bowl of ice and give us on a hot day. Of course, I loved playing with her dolls with all of the clothes because I had to pin rags on my dolls for clothes and they didn’t have very many rag clothes. Dina also had a porch swing in her front yard that we always loved to swing on. She also had a limb on a tree out back that made a perfect horse. We were really into being cowgirls, especially her, and loved riding that horse. I think its name was Trigger. However, one day I stayed with her and realizing after Mother left that I would miss my Dr. Pepper, I started crying and wanting to go home. It was all about the Dr. Pepper, but I told Mrs. Dodgen that I was sick and wanted to go home. Of course she did not have a car and could not take me and we had no phones to call my mother to come and get me. I think she ended up walking me home