1bobbylee on Family Tree Circles

As you have probably already noted, Off Topic (1)* journal has been eliminated. I am sorry. You will not be able to go back, read, or to share with friends, families etc. The journal and comments that I and others have contributed I'm sure, was for your pleasure, and, hopefully for entertainment. I did not own the Journal. It was taken out without my knowledge. There was nothing wrong with that. This journal was not mine.

I always kept comments light. I've always considered clean jokes the best jokes. I hope they made you smile or laugh. I hope my inspirational stories in some way touched you emotionally with insight to sometimes know that there are others who bless and are blessed. I hope I put in comments for us all to ponder, whether opening the Bible or analyzing the statements of others who have the freedom within democracy free countries to express their thoughts and feelings.

Janilye was wise when she injected the following statements.

This is important to me: I quote: "So for those who feel the need to share a thought, an opinion, or even an interesting website which may have nothing to do with ancestry, or just want to get away from the endless search for a moment"....

"Since we have no chat room in here and we really don't want to "send you packing".

"Say it on this page.... Say what you like. Get it off your chest.

"Keep it short, Keep it civilized, Keep it clean"

If I may, I would like to carry forward the above brilliant statements.

I'm pleased that Janilye was so kind to save and transfer all previous comments to: Laugh, Smile, Cry or Ponder. That was a gracious thing to do. I hope mine, and other comments left you agreeing, disagreeing, Laughing, Smiling, Crying, Pondering, or Questioning. If I ever said anything at all in my comments to offend you. I apologize.

"Bless your hearts" Regards, 1bobbiylee or if you desire, call me Bob or Butch. Off Topic (1) was getting huge. Response time may have been slow. I never had any problems. Possibly others did. just wanted you to have the opportunity to go back and view.
If I am repeating myself. Sorry...

I will give my comments on this journal. "And, please contribute." Surely you have something to say that is interesting and enjoyable. The same high standards that Janilye originally applied will also apply within this journal, and your comments.


* Correction: I have discovered that Off Topic (1) and Off Topic (2) are again available on Janilye's
journal listing. Wonderful!! All journals are now available for viewing and comments. Thank you
Janilye!!

I have observed recently an interest by some of our members in American history. Thank you. By being a member of Family Tree Circles, I to have learned some history about other countries. Primarily, Australia, New Zealand and England. There are others. Why shouldn't we from time to time, present a journal to introduce other members to our own individual countries?

Pick a subject that someone may not have thought about or know. It can be informative, happy, sad, or tragic. Most people know their own countries better than someone else's.

I was thinking about my country's Presidents. What was in their heart when they took the Oath of Office? By really listening and studying the words of a President's Inaugural Address has allowed me some insight as to how a U.S. President has governed or will govern.

My favorite President along with his Inaugural address was President Harry S Truman.

Read all the U.S. President's inaugural addresses..



"After reading President Truman's Inaugural Address, I want to jump up and shout, "God Bless America!" and to bless "any" country that seeks "Freedom" and "Democracy.

Seems to me that a huge quanity of points could possibly turn into a personal ego trip.

Please let me encourage the knowledgeable, experienced, well qualified in research, the historians, the genealogists to continue their tremendous help in assisting me to locate my ancestors and descendants. These wonderful people know who they are. Their journals have opened many doors for members who need you. I believe I can truthfully say that FamilyTreeCircles need you.

A well written, factual research journal about certain family, person, or area has sparked a familiarity that has led to members finding their ancestors.

All of our members, and I mean all, should contribute in journals. You may think, "I don't know what to say." "Write what you are thinking." Some member may very well pick it up and help you.

Do you have a story to share with members about a personal family member. An Aunt, An Uncle, Granpa, Granma. Please, give us the story! It's not all about dates, countries, deeds, wills, birth or death certificates. Of course these are very important when researching for an ancestor. Give as much information as you can.

Write from your memories. Write from your heart. Make us laugh, or shed a tear. What is more enjoyable than a human interest story?

Can the points! Abolish them! The points are empty anyway.

Let us concentrate on quality instead of quanity.

"In my short story, "Uncle Clyde, Please! Drive the boat" I described the nostalgic feeling I received when I viewed the white two story country store at Cross Springs, S.C. As noted in the journal, I had a delightful visit with a sweet lady. The store had been in her husband's family for four generations. A wide assortment of 19th century items were displayed for sale and purchased by many South Carolinians.

I came across the 19th century recipes below while surfing the internet.
I thought they might be a delightful addition to complement the 19th century era.



Listed are three 19th Century recipes.

COLONIAL AMERICA JOHNNY CAKES

Beat one egg and stir in 2 cups of cornmeal, 3/4 teaspoon salt, and 1 1/2 cups milk. This is your batter. Drop spoonfuls of this batter on a well-greased pan, and fry until they are brown on both sides.
Serve them hot with butter, sugar, or honey. Yield: 10-12 cakes.

NATIVE AMERICAN RECIPE

Cook a cup of wild rice in 2 1/2 cups of water, with a pinch of salt, for about 45 minutes on low heat. It will be ready when all the water is absorbed and the rice is soft. Stir in one cup of blue berries, and serve warm. Serves 4-6 people. (May add some sugar)
(You know, a little milk poured in may have the taste buds popping.)

EGG DROP SOUP

Boil about 4 cups of chicken broth and 2 cups water in a covered pot, then add a cornstarch mixture (2 tablespoons cornstarch, with 4 tablespoons water) while stirring add two slightly beaten eggs. Finally add a tablespoon of chopped scallions.

Here are three recipes that are inexpensive and easy to prepare. Try something "Way Out." You may be surprised how good it tastes.

You folks way up in the north country may appreciate these stomach warming recipes. "Well", "I think just about anyone would."

YUM YUM.

Source: I discoverd these 19th century recipes on the internet.. Unfortuntely, I did not write down web site address.

April showers bring spring flowers... I was driving leisurely southward toward Lake Greenwood, S.C. Ahead was a warm spring shower reaching downward in the distance. Soon we met, and soon we parted as the cascading rain trailed away from me. Quickly, a bright and beautiful rainbow formed to my right. The arch ended through a grove of green pines.

It was a pleasant spring day in South Carolina as I drove with contentment southward to visit my Uncle Clyde. Recently, he had leased a lake front home and acerage on picturesque Lake Greenwood in South Carolina. Three days previously, Uncle had invited me down to go fishing with him for a few days. He didn't have to ask twice. I returned an enthusiastic, Yes! Uncle Clyde chuckled. He knew that one of my passions was fishing.

I turned left onto S.C. state highway 39. I sniffed the air. What is that gentle erotic smell? It was defintely familiar. Then I saw the welcoming host. On both sides of the road were honeysuckle bushes with attractive yellow tubular flowers and small berries. I was entering the village of Cross Springs, S.C. The homes were aged and rustic. They seemed to be well taken care of. Most were painted white. The architecture was amazing. The gables, windows, columns, posts, and banisters were expertly carved. Such craftmanship.. I was in awe.

Soon, I was turning left across an old Southern Railroad track. I turned my head to the right and was welcomed by an amazing nostalgic sight. I felt my pulse race. I turned onto an unpaved parking space. Right in front of my eyes appeared a white 19th century two story country store. The building was lengthly and spacious. The wooden steps were crescent in design. As I opened the door, a bell rang above my head. A plumb, attractive, and friendly woman greeted me with a welcoming smile. Her eyes danced with merriment. I was a little dumbfounded as I gazed around the spacious store. I said to the sweet woman, "I feel as if I have traveled back in time." She smiled and nodded her head. I got the impression that she had heard that before from other travelers. She asked, "Would you like to hear a little history about our store?" I replied, "Yes, please."

"The store has been in my husband's family for four generations. His great granfather built it in the early eighteen eighties. Most people called him "Captain". He was an officer in the Confederacy. Captain was quite a businessman. Over a period of time, he had built a cotton gin behind the store. The railroad had a loading and unloading track. The farmer's cotton was ginned and shipped quickly to the market. Most people around here were farmers. Before motorized transportation, practically everything was stocked and sold here in the store." Consumer shopping was done in a single store. I asked, "What were the items that were stocked and sold long ago?"

She smiled. Again, I had the impression that she had heard this question asked many times before. "Well, In transportation, there were saddles, harness, mule and horse shoes, even an occasional buck board wagon. If the store did not stock it, it was ordered from the wholesaler. There were cast iron stoves, coffee, sugar, oatmeal, fruit and vegetables, dried beans. In dry goods there were bolts of cloth, pins and needles, thread, ribbon, silk, buttons, collars, suspenders, dungarees, hats and shoes. Some essential items were, rifles, pistols, ammunition, lanterns, lamps, rope, pots and pans, cooking utensils, dishes, farm supplies. And, Oh yes, a penny's worth of candy filled a bag." I smiled and thought, "Now that was an interesting and pleasureable trip back in time."

The country store was a social hub where neighbors met. Stories, jokes, and gossip was exchanged. What a joy it must have been for the men folk and women folk to happily greet one another. Sometimes, other than church meetings, It may be several weeks or longer before they drove their wagons into the small dusty village of Cross Springs.

Today, most of the "Old Country Stores" are gone. The ones that are left are stocked sparingly or turned into museums.

What events transpired to end the era of "The Old Country Store?" There were several reasons. First on the list was the introduction of RFD. (Rural Free Delivery) Also, RFD opened the door for mail order companies. In turn, these companies gave consumers merchandise catalogs. Rural and city folks made fewer trips to the country store. They ordered from the catalogs and had their mail delivered. Due to RFD, the government built more roads. The people traveled to larger towns and cities where they could shop at a greater number of merchants to buy and trade.

What a thrill. This dear store-keep lady has given me a history lesson and an enjoyable tour. It was time to leave. One of the modern conveniences was refrigeration. I bought two pounds of hoop cheese, cans of vienna sausage, saltine crackers, a large jar of dilled pickles, sodas, and two large cans of peaches. This food would make a delicious snack for Uncle and I.

To make sure I was headed in the right direction, I asked for directions to "Josh's Landing." Having learned earlier that my last name was Waters and that I was joining my Uncle at his lake home for some fishing, She exclaimed, "Oh, you are Mr. Waters' nephew." We are well acquainted with Mr. Waters'." She gave directions and said, "Good reports from our fishermen." The fish are biting real good."

As I drove into Uncle's drive, I saw him by his dock loading fishing gear into a boat. He heard me walking up, turned, and said, "Hello Butch." "I have been expecting you." "What you say we get some lunch." I said, "That sounds great. I have it right here for us." I began to spread our fishermens'lunch on the picnic table. We munched our lunch while enjoying the beautiful scenery on Lake Greenwood. We began to reminisce about past memories. Uncle Clyde had once owned a gasoline station, convenience store, and a clothing store combined. He had retired and leased this home on Lake Greenwood.

During my summer vacation months, I would work at Uncle's gasoline station. I enjoyed the company of Uncle Clyde. He was a good boss. I enjoyed the work and meeting our customers. I also enjoyed the pay. The year was 1959. I was fifteen years old. "Now, get a grip on this. "We were selling regular gasoline for 22-23 cents per gallon. We sold cans of oil for 15-25 cents per quart. Now friend, that would make you smile if you could fill up a sixteen gallon tank for $3.68." I pumped the gas, washed the windows, checked the oil and all fluid levels. I checked the air in the tires. During this summer month, oil companies were having a gas war with competing oil companies. Gasoline stations were in hot competition with each other up and down the Spartanburg S.C. highway. The gas prices were ridiculously low! My Uncle had someone construct and paint a large picture on plywood board. The painting was a huge red mushroom cloud bursting skyward. Below the plywood he had written with white paint, "Gasoline seventeen cents per gallon! At seventeen cents per gallon one could fill a sixteen gallon tank for $2.72! "Boom" We were at war!" You could travel from east coast to west coast and back for around $30-$35. I topped my tank off the other day. Ten gallons cost me $39.80! Some people cannot afford to travel on taxpayer paid highways to visit granma and granpa in other states. Enough! "I am grindng my teeth down." "while pumping gas at Uncle's station, I discovered I needed eyeglasses. When pumping gas near the pumps, I could see clearly. When on the other side of an automobile, I was squinting my eyes to read the numbers. When I got home, dad took me to have Dr. Baker, the optometrist, check my eyes. I was near sighted. As teenagers will do, some called me "four eyes." I got into more than one fight when some guy called me that. "I hated it!"

After lunch, I had gear to store in Uncle's boat. Uncle had already stored his. He used the 16' aluminum boat while his other boat was being repaired. We had a right smart of equipment. I should have noticed that Uncle had stored most of it in the stern. He had a fifteen horse power marine motor and battery that I would guess weighed 65-70 pounds. He said something that I would recollect with frightful memory. He said, "I have been doing some work on this boat, and I want to check it out when we are on the water." I really didn't think to much about this statement at the time. My Uncle took the drivers seat in the stern.
"Okay, Butch," That was my nickname. I was named after my dad's school mascot at Gardner Webb College, Boiling Springs, N.C. In dad's school annual was a photo of "Butch" on the first page. He was an English Bulldog. In the photo, his legs were slightly bent and wide apart. His chest was muscular and protruded outward. He had a sweater on with the name "Butch" emblazoned on the front. He wore a silly looking school beanie hat. His jaws were hanging low. He had this goofy stupid look on his face. It's as if he was saying, "I'm the big man on campus." Dad loved Butch's picture. "So, when I was just a small lad, I was nicknamed Butch. Most of my relatives picked it up. Uncle was ready. "Butch, push me off and then you jump in." I forgot to mention that Uncle could be overly zealous at times. This was one of those times. The bow was partially on land. A strong rope was attached to the bow. I gave a mighty push. Maybe to much of a push... The boat went quickly into the water. So quickly that I did not have time to jump in. My Uncle began screaming. "Help!! pull me in Butch, pull me in!" Too much equipment had been packed in the stern. Along with Uncle's weight and the weight of the motor, battery, and gear, water was coming over the stern. The boat was sinking! I grabbed the rope and began pulling with all my strength. My herculean effort created a small wake as the boat and Uncle Clyde, who was holding onto the sides with wide eyes and a terrified look came speedily onto shore. "Thanks Butch, I was sure the boat would sink along with all our equipment and the motor." From adrenaline and fright, I was bending over catching my breath, "Whew" That was close!

We motored to a special fishing spot. The fish were biting good. My Uncle Clyde was not only zealous at times, but he was frugal all the time. In other words, "He would squeeze the buffalo until it grunted." "Butch, go easy on those minnows. They cost five cents a piece." There were three dozen. 60 cents per dozen. "Uncle, next time, I will buy the minnows." Really! My Uncle enjoyed talking. No wonder the lady at the country store knew him so well. While she and Uncle talked, (I should say while Uncle talked) all she could do was smile and nod her head.

Uncle was primarily a self-educated man. He was very intelligent. He invented things. He had applied for patents on several of his ideas. There was a large work shop behind his house at Gaffney, S.C.

We caught a lot of fish. This evening they would be fileted and make their journey into hot oil. Golden brown along with the hush puppies. I fixed the slaw. Grated cabbage, Duke's mayonnaise, (Has to be Duke's)
chopped green pimento olives, some salt, and plenty of pepper. Remember, We had a lot of fish, so we tried not to waste.

We were zipping across the water with speed on our return trip to the dock. "Remember when I had mentioned that Uncle was overly zealous?" "Well, here is a perfect example." The boat was hitting the small waves and making a smacking sound as the bow pushed into the water. The boat would go up and then down. I was sitting on the middle seat holding firmly on the sides with both hands. My long auburn hair was blowing in the wind. We were going fast! Thank goodness I had already outgrown my freckles. If not, "I would have had them stretching backwards. All of a sudden, I felt a hand leaning against my shoulder. "Uh Oh! I hope this isn't who I think it is." As the driver of the boat, Uncle had left the pilot's seat. He was moving past me. "Boom, Slam." We were zooming and smashing into the water without a driver! "Uncle, I screamed in alarm. "Why arn't you driving the boat? We are in danger! What if we run into another boat or dock?!!" "Oh don't worry he says. "I made sure it was running straight before I came up here to check the motor's steering cable while we are running in a straight line. "Oh no." I remember now. He did say that he had been working on this boat. I stumbled quickly to the rear and began driving the boat. "Sit in the middle Uncle. Hold on and don't move."

We unloaded our gear, cleaned the fish, and fried them along with all the trimmings. They were delicious. Uncle looked at me sheepishly and said, "You know Butch, that was a stupid thing I did." I wasn't going to let him off the hook so easily. "Yes Uncle Clyde, that was a stupid thing you did." "Don't do it again." That wasn't the last time I went fishing with Uncle Clyde. He was my favorite Uncle. On this fishing trip, we bonded closer. Even though it was a frightful experience...

* This adventure happened in the spring of 1973.

This is a story about two families. Allow me to call them, "The Waters' Family" and "The Patterson Family." They are of different color. The Waters' family was white and the Patterson family was black. I grew up in a segregated South. Both blacks and whites were the victims of prejudiced and fearful legislators who passed discriminate state laws. A sad time in American history. However, there were many white and black families that did not allow the "Demon of Bitterness and Hatred" enter into their hearts. I'm white. My parent's did not permit their children to be cruel to those of different color. We were not taught hate. We were taught to speak decently to persons of white, black or any color.


My Dad had recently moved his family into a five room, clapboard, tin roof house. Before long, Mom had transformed it into a comfortable home. We became "Country Folks."


Dad had enrolled at a near by college. He was taking courses in biblical studies. We were told that he had taken a sabbatical from his full time insurance job. He worked part-time selling life insurance and part-time as a candy salesman. We three boys were happy and excited over his candy salesman job. Dad seemed to know when some of his candy was being sampled. "How did he know this?" Dad's seem to have a way of knowing these things. We three boys were usually involved and confessed when confronted with dad's stern countenance. He read from the Bible on the sin of stealing. Now, dear reader, What he had us do was difficult and laden with despair. We each had to cut our own switch for discipline. I was the stubborn one; therefore, several times I returned to the despicable bush for another switch until he was satisfied. Now what really made me feel the post sting of discipline was when I ran and slid under my bed. He knew exactly where to find me. He would get down and reach for me. I would slide to the other side of the bed. He would go around and reach for me again. I would slide to the opposite side. If I moved to the front of the bed, he would reach for me at the front. When I slid to the rear, he would try there. He was shouting at me and getting really angry. We could tell when he was really mad. His face would turn fire engine red. When he had finished reaching for me, the bed would be in the middle of the room. "Okay Robert," He would always call me Robert when he was really angry. "You have to come out sometime." I did. When disciplining me this time, he put the "peddle to the metal." By this time, my bed was in the middle of the room. I was real small, but I had to move that heavy metal bed back where it belonged.

Dad reasoned that the open spaces and fresh air (excluding the neighbor's pig pen when down wind) would be healthy for us all. Must be something to that. Mother mentioned that we were rarely ill. Excluding of course, scrapes, bruises, and bleeding toes. If we became sick Mom would bring out the castor oil. "Oh dear reader, that is the most vile tasting concoction on God's earth." It was awful. We tried real hard not to get sick. Mom never did run out of that stuff. She always seemed to have plenty. In late spring, summer, and early fall, we went without shoes. One of my Uncle's would say that the bottom of our feet was so tough, that if we stepped on a nail, It would bend.

Having a tin roof was blissful. My brothers and I would lie in bed listening to the rain or sleet pinging against the roof. "Nature's Lullaby." Sooooooo soothing. I can remember falling asleep peacefully listening to the rhythm of the falling rain. Should I awake, it was comforting to know that I wasn't alone. The rain was my companion.

Our little country home was comfortable. Mother's enemy was germs. She was always scrubbing something. We had the cleanest dirt yard around. Out in the country during the early fifties, very seldom did one see a green manicured lawn. Mom would get her broom and go to work. If there was anything on top that crawled or was sharp, it soon disappeard in a cloud of dust from Mom's swift broom.

We had a large vegetable garden. The favorite vegetables were corn, tomatoes, lima beans, green beans, spring onions, okra, squash, and hot peppers. Mom canned our vegetables in preparation for the winter
months. We had delicious vegetables year round. "Just the other day, I had the taste for a tomato sandwich. I purchased one medium sized tomato. Seventy one cents for one tomato! That's not counting the tax. Mom canned dozens of tasty tomatoes."

My brother's and I still chuckle over Dad's closed in battle with two "red boned" hound dogs. We were all visiting Mom's brother in Gaffney, S.C. Uncle had two hound dogs. These dogs were becoming a nuisance to him. They were continually escaping from their enclosures. He lived in town, So; It was important that something be done about the dogs. He asked my Dad if he would take the dogs to live with us in the country. Dad agreed. He figured they would be protection for my Mom when she was home alone. Dad loaded Toby and Red in the back seat of his car. He was driving slowly toward home. The huge "red boned" hounds suddenly began a fierce and savage fight in the back seat of Dad's car. They were snarling, snapping their teeth, and biting. Dad made a feeble effort to dislodge them. But, to no avail. He jumped out of the car, slammed the door, sat beside the road, and let the gladiators go at it. The ferocious fight was over. Each warrior returned to his corner in the back seat. They still growled and glared at each other. Thankfully, Dad and the dogs made it home safely. Toby and Red loved Mom. It may have had something to do with the gravy and biscuits Mom fed them. If Mom was home alone, they sensed it and stayed close. If a stranger came, they would position themselves between Mom and the stranger. They did not display aggression, but I would not want to be on the receiving end of their attack if some person or persons displayed a threat to Mom. She always felt safe when Toby and Red were around. They were bred to hunt and run. So naturally, they would chase animals. They began traveling farther and farther from home. Neighbors began complaining how they were destroying their crops. If a rabbit jumped and ran, they were quickly after it. They had to go. Dad returned them to Uncle Forrest. We missed them. Especially Mom, She loved those dogs.
.

Our home was on a ridge. On the next ridge lived the Patterson family. They had three sons, Odel, the oldest, Floyd, and then the youngest, "Little Joe." Joe was short. He got the name honestly. We three Waters' boys were close to the ages of the Patterson boys. Joe and I were about five years younger than our middle brothers; Needless to say, when they played or worked, we usually got left out. Little Joe and I would create our own fun games. We had acres of woods to roam about in. We walked softly on our barefeet. We had a game we called "The Squirrel's Game." Squirrels were very alert. If they heard you, they would scamper around to the other side of a tree. We wanted the squirrel facing both of us. We had a white sock which our Mom's were constantly washing. We put 2/3 bad apples in the sock, tied it securely at the top. We would throw the sock around the tree to where the squirrel was. He caught a glimpse of the white sock zipping by. In no time, he scooted around and was facing us. By using this trick, many a squirrel graced a farmer's table.

The Patteron boys were welcome at our home. Mom would fix a pan of hot biscuits and bring out a jar of black strap molasses. She would shoo us out into the yard. She didn't want sticky molasses on her table, floor, and porch. The kindness was reciprocated by Mrs. Patterson. She would bake a hot cake of cornbread in a large black iron skillet. We crunched our cornbread into bowls. Mrs. Patterson would pour spring chilled milk over this delicious treat. "Oh My, I can close my eyes and still smell and taste this scrumptious delicacy."


Two hundred yards above the Patterson farm was the huge farm of Mr. Tate. He had horses, pigs, chickens, mules, and probably other animals that I can't remember. He tended a large vegetable garden. There was corn, green beans, okra cantaloupe, watermelons and turnips. Turnips is a fall crop. It is not unusual to see frost on the tops of turnips. There were apples, plums, and pear trees. Those turnips got me and Little Joe in big trouble. We pulled Mr Tate's turnips without permission and ate them. Our elder brothers told on us. I knew what was in store for me. I was really worried. Dad was waiting on me and led me into his bedroom. He sat me down and gazed on me with sad, disappointing eyes. After what seemed like an eternity, he asked me. "Did you and Little Joe steal Mr. Tate's turnips?" The word steal and the way he said it sent shivers down my spine. He looked at me intently, waiting for an answer. I dropped my head sadly, and replied, "Yes." "You know Robert" - He always used Robert when he meant business. "I have to discipline you." Tears were cascading down my cheeks. I replied humbly, "Yes sir." He opened his Bible and began teaching me. He taught me how terrible was the sin of stealing. "Bobby, He was now calling me Bobby. "There are pit falls to those who practice stealing. Their life will be encumbered. I didn't know what encumbered meant, but it sure didn't sound good. I was guilty. He applied the discipline directly to the seat of my thin overalls. OUUCCHH!

Mr. Tate answerd the knock to his door. Mr Patterson introduced himself. Of course, Mr. Tate knew who he was. "Sir, Joe here has something he wants to confess." Little Joe lowered his head. Big tears were streaming down his face. Between sobs, he weeped the words, "Mr. Tate, I'm sorry I stole your turnips." Mr. Tate looked down and smiled. "Mr. Tate, Bobby has an apology to make." Mr. Tate looked down with a smile. "I'm sorry I stole your turnips Mr. Tate." "Boys, I have a big garden. If you want something, just ask."

My brothers still find delight in teasing me about the Patterson's "Red Eyed Demonic Rooster." Little Joe and I routinely visited each other. We were buddies. When I visited my little buddy, I was always on the look out for the "Red Eyed Demonic Rooster." I was afraid of the evil fowl. I was just a little boy. The crazy rooster knew I was afraid of him. Most of the time, I managed to avoid this red eyed beast. Not this time! He caught me unawares. His neck would stretch out. His cape of feathers bristled. His long strong wings began beating fiercely. His sharp spurs were on display as he danced backward and forward. He attacked! I ran screaming and hollering. The demented fowl was close behind and closing. "Help! Help!" I screamed. I was terrified! My skinny legs in my cut off overalls was churning up the dust. "Help! Help!" I screamed again and again. On the second trip around the Patterson home, Little Joe snatched up a hoe handle. We three were all running around the house. I'm in front screaming, the psycho rooster in the middle flapping his wings, and Little Joe gaining on the demonic rooster. This idiot rooster would not back off. He was running and jumping forward with those dagger spurs. Little Joe was in the back swinging the hoe handle. On our third trip around the house, Joe connected with the hoe handle. The crazed bird hit the ground and skidded to a stop. "Oh no! We had killed the Patterson's rooster!" Slowly, he regained his feet and wobbled away. All the fight was knocked out of him by Joe's hoe handle.

I cannot remember the psycho rooster ever attacking me again. I'm sure he didn't want to feel the sting of Little Joe's hoe handle.



* This adventure happened when I was about six years old.

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW - whose descent is traced from William Longfellow of Byfield Massachusetts, an English immigrant of the third quarter of the seventeenth century, was the son of Stephen and Zilpha (Wadsworth) Longfellow. He was born in a house still standing at the corner of Fore and Hancock streets, Portland, Maine, February 27, 1807. He was trained for college at the Portland Academy, and in 1821 entered Bowdoin College (founded but twenty years before), was graduated in 1825, and immediately received an invitation to teach the modern languages in his Alma Mater, with leave of absence for travel and study in Europe

Mr. Longfellow died March 24, 1882, leaving two sons and three daughters.

This is an excerpt from the first paragraph of Mr. Longfellow's Biographical sketch.

Source: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poems., Longriver Press, Secaucus, N.J. 1976


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