Mississippi Memories

My childhood was pretty “normal” for the 40s and 50s; most of the people I knew were about like us – neither rich nor poor in a relatively safe small city environment. That’s why as I reflect back on that time that I’m surprised that my happiest memories (my sisters agree) were when we spent several weeks each summer at my grandparents’ house in rural Mississippi.

My grandparents lived on a dirt road in a four room cabin (shack, really) down in a little valley behind the slightly larger house of my aunt and uncle. In fact, several other aunts and uncles and older cousins lived all around them within walking distance. That was certainly one of the attractions – being able to see many relatives. And there was always someone close enough in age with whom to play. (We had 47 first cousins on that side of the family, but that’s another story.)

But why did we like the visits so much when they had no indoor plumbing, no electricity, no toys, bicycles, etc.? Every night we took sponge baths and on Saturday nights the big wash tub was filled and we all bathed in the same tepid water. We slept on “pallets” at night and sometimes woke up with bed bug bites on us. What was the appeal, and why do we recall those times with such pleasure?

I believe that the biggest reason we liked it was because of the immense differences we encountered there from our life at home. There was something exciting about lighting kerosene lanterns at night and drinking well water out of a dipper shared with everyone else. When the iceman came, it was a big deal to ride on his wagon for a while sucking on little slivers of ice he chipped off for us.

We loved to collect eggs and feed the chickens and were fascinated when our grandmother killed one or two of them for our dinner. She always gave us a chicken foot to play with and we enjoyed pulling on one of the tendons and watching the claws contract.

There was so much to do that we were never bored. Our toys were discarded bottles and cans. I remember a huge stump that we invented all kinds of games to play on. A cousin showed me how to cut out pictures from an old Sears catalogue and we played “paper dolls” for hours complete with all kinds of paper furniture. Once in a great while we were allowed to go splashing in a “swimming hole” located deep in the pasture. All this and more kept us fully occupied while we were with our grandparents.

The biggest mystery of all was why would our mother, a city-bred, lawyer’s daughter, put herself through that every summer? She never sat around being waited on either. She pitched right in and worked from morning till night just like our grandmother did. Even our Mississippi relatives wondered about it, but they always admired her for doing it. All I can say is that my sisters and I will be forever grateful for those experiences and appreciate the sacrifices she made to give them to us.