Were I to say that my childhood was perfect you might label me a liar and rightly so. Perfection means without flaws and having no room for improvement and that very definition could never be applied to many aspects of my early years.
Easy street was not in our neighborhood, and the lap of luxury was not where we spent our time. No silver spoons in my Mama’s kitchen. But we learned love and respect for one another. Daddy and Mama modeled what it meant to prefer a brother before oneself, compassion for those less fortunate, and a sincere spirit of giving. We were taught that God is always first and then other things of life He will manage when placed in his capable hands.
Our house did not have a heat pump nor air conditioning. In winter Daddy kept a fire going in the wood heater. That kept the living room and kitchen toasty warm. The bedrooms were freezing on really cold nights, so to keep us warm Mama would pile on the covers. The layers of quilts and blankets were so heavy we could hardly move. In the mornings we would jump out of bed and fly to the kitchen where it was warm.
I remember one winter morning in particular. Mama was cooking breakfast. I sat in a chair near the table. Mama had made me what I called a shorty gown to sleep in. We did not have summer and winter sleepwear, so the shorty gown served for both seasons.
This was an unusually cold morning and the fire had not yet chased the chill from the room. As I sat in the chair, I pulled my knees up against my chest and pulled the shorty gown down over them. Then I pulled my arms back through the sleeve holes and hugged them around my worm body. Somehow, I lost my balance and fell out of the chair. With no arms or legs available to break the fall I landed flat of my face.
I went to school that day with a fat lip. Of course, it was picture day. You have heard the saying “a picture is worth a thousand words”. Well, that one truly had a story to tell. I’ll never forget how mortified I was when I brought the picture home. Mama laughed and laughed. She thought it was hilarious. She could always see humor in our escapades.
Later, my sister Skeeter, who was about four years old at the time, got the picture and poured orange methanolate on my lip. That’s what Mama always used on our scrapes and scratches. I guess you could say she “touched up” the photo.
In summer we raised the window and put a box fan in it to circulate the air. Having put away the stack of quilts and blankets, at night we made do with only a sheet for cover. On especially hot nights we just lay on top of the covers.
One hot summer night I slept over at my grandparents’ house. They, like us, had no air conditioning. I slept in the little back bedroom with my two aunts who were about five years my senior. It was a very tiny room and there was only space for a bed and an old chest. The head of the bed sat across the only window. Because of the heat the window had been raised. The window would not stay up on its own, so it had been propped open with a wire clothes hanger. As the night was very hot, we three slept with our heads at the foot of the bed and our feet near the open window.
Sometime during the night my younger aunt got her foot entangled in the wire hanger and jerked it out of the window. With a bang the window fell on my older aunt’s big toe. It really wasn’t funny. Well, at least that is what my older aunt said.
Times have changed. Our homes have climate control. No need for quilts except as a memento from Grandma’s. We have a fire only to set the mood, romantic or festive. The night sounds of summer are locked outside our comfortable homes by closed doors and windows. It’s always too cold or too hot to spend time gazing at a sky full of stars or marveling at the beauty of a full moon.
No, my childhood was not perfect, but pleasant is too mild an adjective to describe it. There are so many fond memories that I’ll never forget. Times that some would consider bad times because we were lacking so many conveniences of life. But, for a child, material things have no value. To a child, life means being close to ones you love, exploring the unknown, and discovering new things.
When I think about it, I realize that we actually had the best that money could not buy. There was unconditional love, mutual respect, and security of home. These things still follow me through life and remind me the commodities of life that have true lasting value.