| Biographical Non-Fiction posted May 16, 2024 | Chapters: |
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More of my thinking at age three.
A chapter in the book At Home in Mississippi
Favorites, Fears, and Willpower
by BethShelby
When I was three, I had a favorites list among my family members. I kept it to myself because I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. Mama and Daddy had to be at the top of my list because they were always there for me. Mama was number one, because she tried to carve a lot of time out of her busy schedule to read to me, and to teach me things about the world around me. I knew she really loved me because she was always telling me that.
Of course, she was the main one to punish me, if I did something that she had a problem with. She could go off on me really quickly. Unless she laid into me before I had a chance to explain why I didn’t deserve to be spanked, I could usually convince her to let it go.
Daddy was my second favorite. He would beam all over when someone told him, I looked just like him. He’d let me ride on his shoulders and get down on the floor and be the horse as I rode while he crawled on his knees. He liked to take me riding in the car when it was just the two of us. Sometimes, he would let me ride on the car’s running board. He always brought me candy or a treat when he came home from work each evening. He had a bad temper, but he never seemed to lose it with me.
My three grandparents were next. Mama’s daddy was a grandparent I never knew, because he died before I was born, but Grandpa Weir was my favorite of the other three. It was obvious, he adored me. If he was anywhere near me, he was telling me stories, which I’d begged him to tell.
Grandpa was tall and bony. He was crippled from rheumatoid arthritis, so he used a cane. That didn’t stop him from making toys for me, like whistles, stilts, doll furniture, and swings. I told everyone who would listen that my grandpa could do anything. He was versatile. He ran a gristmill, had a blacksmith shop, was a carpenter, made cane syrup, kept bees, farmed, distilled mineral water from soil, and the list went on.
Grandma Lay rated fourth because she lived with us part of the time and she made most of my clothes and sometimes a dress for my doll. When she was with us, she shared the room with me. She was always giving me advice, which for the most part, I tuned out.
I rated Grandma Weir as number five. She was an energetic little woman who hardly ever stopped working. She made me hot chocolate every day when I came around. She made the world's best cornbread twice a day. I loved being there for the evening meal. I guess she was last on my list because she was so afraid that something I was doing would lead to me getting hurt. I hated being cautioned so often.
Eva and Willie were extended family but still a part of my world since I was around them so often. Eva did a lot of needle work like embroidery and tatting. She loved growing flowers and didn’t mind doing yard work. I thought she seemed shy around people and didn’t have a lot of opinions about things. Sometimes, she let me play with a tiny tea set she’d had as a child. She inspired me to appreciate the beauty of flowers. Her nemesis was bad weather. She was extremely afraid of storms.
Uncle Willie was seldom around. He was afraid of other things like rats and snakes. He always tied the bottom of his pant legs with string to keep something from running up his legs as he walked across the pasture. Grandpa’s bees seemed to always sting him, and his mule would chase him if he was anywhere within range. I didn’t see a lot of him when I was little. He was always busy doing something. He refused to work for anyone, and eventually, started a business of his own.
My grandma had free range chickens. I often saw a rooster on the back of a hen. He would always have the hens comb in his beak. Knowing nothing of the sex life of chickens, I would say “Come look, this rooster is combing the hen.” Aunt Eva and Grandma would try to shush me and tell me it wasn’t nice to say that. I had no idea why it wasn’t nice, but if Uncle Willie happened to hear me, he would crack up laughing.
There were some subjects that were taboo. Pregnancy was another. I saw black ladies walking down the little dirt road on their way into town with huge bellies. I would ask “Why does her stomach look like that.” Grandma would tell me, “She has probably swallowed a watermelon seed.” I loved watermelons, but I was extremely careful not to swallow any seed from then on.
Still, that didn’t keep me from stuffing a pillow in my panties at home and walking around like the women I’d seen. Mom yelled at me, and told me not to ever do that again. She didn’t explain what I’d done wrong. Lack of information often found me confused.
No one explained to me about monthly periods which all women have. In those days, most women didn’t buy disposable sanitary products, but rather they made a pad by folding cloth that could be washed, sanitized and used again. Usually, they waited until their three-to-five-day period ended and then washed the cloth separate from the other laundry.
One day while exploring in our bathroom, I came across some cloths with blood on them. I thought someone must be hurt really bad. Since Mama was out of the house, I asked my grandmother what happened. “Don’t touch those,” she said. “Your mother is sick. She’ll take care of them.”
If my mama was sick enough to be bleeding like that, then she much be dying. Again, a lack of information was something that made my world a scary place. Subjects that adults thought children were too young to understand were simply avoided.
One thing Mom did try to teach me was the importance of something she called willpower. She said if there was something you wanted really bad, but you know it isn’t good for you, you need to be strong and say, ‘no’. She sometime fussed at Daddy for bringing me so much candy. I'd heard her tell him it wasn’t good for me, and it might make my teeth rot out.
I really loved that candy, but I decided without telling anyone, I’d try out my willpower. Each night I took my candy bar and hid it. As the stack grew larger, each day, I would look at it and think about how much I wanted it. I was determined I would be strong and not eat it. My willpower lasted all the way up to eighteen bars.
I could stand it no longer. After consuming ten bars at one sitting, I was sick enough that I never wanted to see another candy bar again. When I admitted why I was so sick, Daddy decided popcorn or nuts might be a better choice for me. I’m sorry to report my aversion to sweets didn’t stand the test of time, but I never ate ten bars all at once again.
My willpower worked better with money. I was determined not to spend the 25-cent allowance I got each week. I kept all the money in my piggybank and refused to use it for anything. When I got older, I would count my money often, and look in a catalog and dream of all I could buy if I decided to use it. I still had most of it when I got married.
My kids today don’t understand my reluctance to spend money. I think it all started when I was three.
 Recognized |
This story is about my early life in Mississippi. I was an only child with a mother, dad and grandmother in my home and next door was my dad's mother and father and Eva and Willie, my grandmother Weir, unmarried brother and sister. This will be a chapter in the book about growing up in Mississippi.
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