Tuesday, July 24, 2018

It was 7 am this morning, I was still in my jammies and the phone rang. 

Laurie, "Hello, neighbor, how are you?"

Neighbor, "Well, I am doing better than you are this morning, because I have
cows today and you don't."

I was a wee bit slow, but then, bingo I got it.  Our cows were at their house.

Kent took off at a quick walk.  I, meanwhile, had to dress first.  One may
chase cows in their jammies in the privacy of their backyard, but not in the
public arena of their neighbor's backyard.

By the time I was dressed and had fast-walked down the road and down the lane,
both Kent and the cows were gone.  In my defense, I have very short legs.  I have
to...they match my short body.

So, I turned around and fast-walked back to the house.  Kent and the cows were
already there, having taken a path through the neighbor's property to the gravel.

It really went fairly smoothly.  The little calf that we were afraid was still missing
was still in her original field.  So we soon had everyone lined up and back in place.

The problem is that it is so dry, there is no grass left for the cows to eat in the fields.

They were just trying to see if the grass is greener on the other side of the fence.

Can you  blame them?
Funny how people remember the same thing completely differently.

Mike:  I like my okra the way G'ma Opal used to make it.  Battered and deepfried.




















Uncle Jim:  I like my okra the way Mom used to make it.  Stewed with
tomatoes, and with a little hot pepper added.  Yum!
















Laurie:  I like my okra the way G'ma Opal used to make it.  Pan fried with
cornmeal, flour, salt, and pepper.  (Though I don't turn up my nose at okra
any old way it's cooked.)

Monday, July 23, 2018















From Uncle Jimmy:
FERNNOOK NEWS July 23, 2018
Volume 1, Issue 1
News not found elsewhere
This was told to me by my mother and is her best recollection of the events of July 22nd and 23rd of 1930.
Following is some information that helps put into perspective the situation at that time.
Art and Iva Crow were neighbors who lived about a mile from the old Simon home place.
Art was 37 and Iva was 21 that year. Iva had her own baby Mildred who was less than three years old.
John and Hattie Simon had been married 48 years and were 76 and 56 years old respectively.
Opal’s brother Paul was 27 and John was 21 and Opal's sister
Hazel children were living with John and Hattie. Gilbert was 6 and Helen was 4
John J. Simon would have less than two years left to live in July 1930 and Hattie would live for 18 and 1/2 more years.
A story as told to Jimmy L. Fleetwood by Opal Fleetwood in 2002
How Bob lost his Petey but found a name.
It was a very hot and dry summer that year, the corn had twisted and withered in the field.
Art Crow, a neighbor, had been sent for to help cut and shock the corn so there would be some fodder for the animals. The day before, July 22nd had been a hot and hazy day. Paul and John Simon had been in the hay fields along with Marion Fleetwood their brother-in-law. They were preparing to put hay into the barn.
Inside the house, Opal was getting ready to give birth to her first child. Opal’s Mother, Hattie was there to comfort her daughter as she experienced the pangs of childbirth. As the day wore on and evening came, Opal’s brother Paul was sent to Doniphan to fetch Dr. Carter Proctor. Paul and the doctor got back just as it was getting dark. The old Model T truck rattled and sputtered its way down the dirt road that stopped in front of the house. The doctor went into the bedroom where Opal was waiting. He examined her quickly and then gave her two capsules from his bag.
He then made his way out onto the porch where a bed had been prepared for him and tried to get some rest. The drugs soon took effect on Opal and she went to sleep. As the night wore on, the doctor sleeping on the porch and Opal dozing fitfully in her bed, the time was quickly approaching for the baby to come. Opal awakened with a start at 2 A.M. She knew the time was close. The pain was intense, sweeping in waves over her body. Hattie roused the doctor from his sleep. Opal fought with the doctor as he applied chloroform. She fought to stay awake. She hated the smell and the way it made her feel but the drug won the battle and when she awakened there was a new baby boy in the world. He was born about 8 A.M. that 23rd day of July 1930. He had big blue eyes and lots of dark brown hair. When Opal awoke her new son’s hair had already been combed maybe by Iva Crow or his Grandma Hattie.
He was a healthy baby boy about 8 lbs 4 ounces and 19 inches long. Paul Marion Fleetwood that’s what he was named. He was named for his Uncle Paul Simon and for his father Marion. It was his Aunt Jewel who gave him the name that we know him by today. She called him “Petey Bob”. Somewhere along the way, the “Petey” was dropped and he became known simply as Bob. His father Marion once explained to a merchant in Naylor when she inquired about his name, “We just cut off the Petey and called him Bob”. As he grew older and someone would call him Paul, he would say “No! Bobby!!
Grandma Hattie went into the garden and gathered vegetables to make a pot of homemade soup to help Opal feel better. The aroma of the soup simmering on the wood stove was soothing to everyone. Opal ate the soup with great satisfaction. In fact, vegetable soup had never tasted so good. The new mother and baby rested from the ordeal of birth.
It was Wednesday, July 23rd, 1930. There was a new life in Jordan Township, Ripley County Missouri.
I want to wish that baby a Very Happy 88th Birthday.
Happy Birthday, Bobby!!!

Sunday, July 01, 2018

Some strange happenings have been going on up and down the gravel,
or at least they have on our little plot of the gravel.

Several months ago, maybe around the time Chappell was born, Kent
and I returned from a trip (probably to help with the grandies in St. Charles.
When Kent went to check on the cows, he stepped out on the porch to put
on his boots...but there were no boots there.  We looked in the house, in
Hattie's room, in the shed, on the carport, but they just weren't anywhere.

We asked the boys (Joel and Tyler) and Hattie, but no, they hadn't used them.

They just walked away, seemingly, into never-never land.

Then we left town again.  I think it was to Arkansas to spend a few days
with Oma and Opa at Horseshoe Bend.  We stopped on the way home, by
the mailbox to check for mail before we turned into the driveway and it
(the mailbox) was all wonky.  It was wobbly and wouldn't close right.

I just put it down to being 25 or so years old and figured it was time to buy
a new one.

Then a few days later in church Debby made a true confession.  She said that
Mike had a long something or other in the back of the truck and he hit our
mailbox with it while driving down the gravel.  Well, now that explained a
lot!  No wonder our box was wobbly and wonky.  Anyway it was old, I figured
it was time to buy a new one.  But, a few days later, Mike worked on the old
box and now it is unwobbly and unwonky.

A week or two later, Mike mentioned to Kent, during one of our gravel-road
dinners, that he had borrowed Kent's boots at some time or another and still
had them.

AHA!  Another true confession.  And with that, the mystery of the missing
boots was cleared up.  However, cleared up or no, they still haven't showed up.

Today, during Fellowship Dinner at church, 6 year old Paxton, who was sitting
across from me, said, "There's a spider on you."

And, boy howdy, there was one.  It was big and brown with a huge creamy
abdomen.  I am not afraid of spiders, but he (or she) was really quite large.
So, I stood up and shook my top and it fell, but they I couldn't see it.  I
am not afraid of spiders, but I didn't want it crawling around on me unchecked.
So I shook my skirts and got down on the floor and finally found it.  Really,
I am not afraid of spiders, but I did send it to a squishy death.