FanStory.com - The Radio and a Briar Patchby BethShelby

Since the electrical poles and wiring hadn’t become available for our area when I was small, our house and my grandparent's house had no access to electricity. Grandma’s brother, my Uncle Willie, wanted to hear the news and country music, so he put a tall pole on the edge of the yard in order to pull in radio signals for a battery powered radio.

Because Uncle Willie and Aunt Eva lived with my grandparents just over the hill from our house, we had access to his radio as well. There was good reception, particularly at night when far away signals came in. All of us except Dad, who hated all noise, enjoyed the radio.

The stores in Newton opened around 7 a.m. and closed at 5 p.m. on Monday through Friday. Dad always worked late on Saturday nights because the stores were open until 9 p.m. for the convenience of those getting paid at the end of the week. After that, Dad had to do inventory, so he often didn’t get home until midnight. Since Newton was a small town, the Chamber of Commerce voted to close all stores at noon on Thursdays. The best I remember, this only took place during the growing season and not during winter months. Dad, like many of the store managers, was a part-time farmer. It gave him some time to do work that needed to be done around the house.

Mom didn’t like being in our house late with only me to protect her, so, just before dark on Saturday, we’d walk to Grandpa’s house to wait for Dad. She’d make me go to bed by 10 p.m., so Dad would pick me up and carry me to the car over his shoulder. Sometimes I’d hear him griping about why kids seemed to weigh more when they were sleeping.

Saturday night meant Uncle Willie’s radio was tuned to the Grand Ole Opry. My skinny little legs went crazy when country music came on. Children seemed to be born with rhythm and find it hard to be still when there’s music in the air.

I’d never seen anyone dance, but I had seen Mama do a few steps to the Jitterbug to prove she could. Not a song came on that I didn’t make up my own wild version of dancing to entertain or drive everyone around me nuts. I also enjoyed the comedy of characters like Minnie Pearl, June Bug Carter, as she was called on the show, and Little Jimmy Dickens.

The radio enabled Mama to learn what was happening in the news of the world. She found what she was hearing alarming. The news was all about the war in Europe. Stories were starting to filter in about death camps being built in Austria and Germany to rid their countries of those of Jewish origin.

The latest news told of Japan getting into the conflict. The commentator told in somber tones, that he believed Japan would be likely to invade the United States. The news struck a cord of fear in my mother's soul and triggered her overactive imagination.

One particular Thursday, Dad had gone to his parent’s house to pick up some tools. The day was hot and Daddy had forgotten his straw hat. Grandma was returning an aluminum roasting pot Mama had left there. Dad put the pot on his balding head and carried the tool on his shoulder.

Mom glanced down the dirt road and saw him approaching, but to her eyes, what she thought she saw was a Japanese soldier marching toward her wearing a helmet and carrying a gun on his shoulder. She ran in the bedroom and got the pistol, Dad kept under their mattress for protection.It’s a good thing Mom had never actually fired a weapon, but like a mother hen she believed it was her duty to protect her nest. Fortunately, she recognized her husband as he drew closer. I didn’t learn of that incident until years later, so I wasn’t aware I had a ‘pistol packing mama’.

I was allowed and encouraged to play outside, but with no one to play with, I became bored easily. One particular day, I kept begging my mother to read to me. Dad was home that day and Mama was fixing lunch. “Beth, I’m busy right now. I’ll make some time later, to read you a story. Why don’t you go outside and find Daddy and tell him lunch is almost ready?”

Okay, that was a task I could handle, but I knew something mama didn’t know. I knew Daddy wasn’t outside. He had told me that he would be back later, but he was going to Grandpa’s house.

There was a large field between our house and theirs. Dad had once planted cotton there, but now it had grown up with weeds and briar vines. We always walked on the dirt road when going to their house, but I wasn’t allowed in the road alone. In fact, I always had someone with me when I’d gone there. This was an important task to be allowed to go there alone. Since I couldn’t use the road, the only other choice would be to go by way of the field.

I carefully rolled under the barbed wire fence and started my journey. The first few yards weren’t so bad, but the nearer I got toward the crest of the hill the thicker the briars became. The weeds and bushes were over my head. I was constantly having to stop and untangle myself. I had scratches all over me and blood was running down my legs. A vine of briers was tangled in my hair and I was caught fast. Tears started as I yelled as loud as I could for help.

I must have made a lot of noise, because Mama and Daddy both came to my rescue from different directions. It wasn’t easy for them to get me untangled. It seemed to me it took an awfully long time. Mama had to go back to our house for scissors to cut my hair in places in order to set me free. Daddy blamed Mama for me being there, and she blamed him for not telling her he had gone to Grandpa’s house.

Of course, I was getting my share of scolding too. Once I was free and back at home, there was other torture I had to endure. Mama put iodine that burned like fire on my cuts, and Daddy doused me all over with rubbing alcohol from head to foot to get rid of all the chiggers and ticks which I’d picked up on my little adventure. The alcohol burned almost as bad as the iodine when it hit the broken skin.

What a bummer this day had turned out to be. I wouldn’t be trying this alternate route out again any time soon.