The Life of Me - an autobiography Part 6

I wanted to play in the games, but I realized that I was much smaller than any of the others who took part in them, and I was afraid I might do something wrong and cause them to laugh at me.

Two of the party song-and-dance "swings" they did were "Shoot the Buffalo" and "Farmer by the Mill." These were the promenade type dances where they swung their partners kind of like in a square dance. Mr. Flint was about the best man in the neighborhood at calling those dances.

Now I have gone and contradicted myself. I first said we didn't have dances. Now I'm telling you we danced. But this was not the kind of dance where they waltzed around in each other's arms. They were party dances.

When the party activities got under way, the people were seated all around the room next to the walls. Usually some were standing in the adjoining rooms also, looking through the doors, because the living room wasn't large enough to hold the crowd. When that many came to a party, it was considered a good party.

A large crowd was just what they wanted. More people meant more games and more happy people playing games. In general, when there was a large crowd, things moved along at a faster pace.

The game of "snap" was usually played by the young set-that is, the sweetheart set who enjoyed holding hands and chasing after each other.

The game was easy to get started. All it took was a girl and a boy to stand in the middle of the room and hold hands, facing each other. Then the girls would "volunteer" one of their crowd and push her forward to be "it." Then the "it" girl would circle the room looking for the boy she wanted for a partner. When she found him, she would snap her fingers in front of his face, just as you would in school when you wanted to get the teacher's attention.

This snap told the boy that he was her chosen, at least for a few minutes. As soon as she snapped her fingers, she would hurry to the couple in the middle of the room and the boy she "snapped" would chase after her. His object was to touch the girl, and her object was to try to prevent his touching her.

She would try to prolong the chase by dodging and sometimes swinging around the couple in the center of the room. And sometimes the couple would prolong the chase by favoring the girl. They might raise their arms to let the girl go through between them and then lower their arms quickly to stop the boy. Or, if the boy was having a hard time catching her, they might let her start through between them and then lower their arms quickly and trap her in their arms.

As soon as the boy touched the girl, the chase was ended. Then the couple who had held hands would leave and let the new couple hold hands in the center of the room while another chase took place.

This was not only a holding-hands game, at times it became a body- contact game. And yet, not too much contact, because the grown- ups were watching. Anyway, snap was a popular game at our parties.

Now, this Friday night the party might be at the Johnsons, but before the party was over, you could bet good money that the teen- agers would have talked another family into giving a party next Friday night.

These were strictly play parties. There were no refreshments served, not a lot of cooking and fixing. Just make sure the house is clean, the yard is clean, and there are plenty of places to park buggies, hacks, and wagons. Then hope a big crowd begins gathering soon after sundown.

Parties were preferred over dances because it was considered immoral for a boy to put his arm around a girl before they were married. Sweethearts could hold hands in the presence of adults, if it were in the process of playing a game. But just to sit this one out and hold hands was unthinkable.

A "good" mother would never tell her daughter it was all right for her to hold hands in public, or to hug and kiss anywhere, on her way to church or anywhere else, either afoot or in a buggy- not even at night.

Somehow, I just can't help but believe that parents knew these little things were going on between lovers, but they seemed to think that if they told their kids it was all right for them to do these things, it would be like saying "sic 'em" to a dog. Putting it another way, parents were saying, "Don't ever let me catch you doing such things." And the kids were not actually saying but were thinking, "Okay, I'll try not to let you catch me when I do them."

Dances were looked down upon because they attracted boys who drank, and girls with loose morals. There were some boys and girls who lived six or eight miles from us who were not wanted at some of the parties given in our neighborhood, and were not invited by some of our neighbors who were giving the parties.

But when my parents gave a party at our house, they invited everyone who would come. They thought it unmannerly to invite certain ones and leave others out. They seemed to figure that their integrity would demand respect from the worst of them-and it did. There never was any trouble at our house-no drinking, no fighting, no "cussing."

I remember one of those parties when some young people came in a buggy from quite a distance away. I think I was about nine years old and, of course, I didn't know all about everything that went on around me but I knew enough to realize there were some bad feelings between their families and some of those in our immediate neighborhood. The main reason seemed to be that those youngsters attended dances in other communities and some parents in our neighborhood sure didn't approve of that.

The incident I remember had to do with their buggy horse which got sick with a severe attack of colic while the party was going on. Someone had wandered outside and had discovered the horse in great pain. The boy who owned the animal had seen the disease before and knew how quickly it could kill a good horse. So he offered to sell the animal to anyone for $10. It would have been a bargain for Papa, because he knew exactly what to do to cure the horse. And the horse was probably worth $50.

When Papa learned about the problem, he got a quart bottle, filled it about a quarter-full of soda and then added about a half-quart of kerosene. Then he climbed up in a tree, pulled the horse's head high in the air with the bridle reins and poured the mixture down his throat. Within ten minutes, the horse was without pain and resting comfortably, except for a mighty bad taste in his mouth.

I think the boy was truly grateful that Papa had not taken advantage of him by buying the horse. Will Johnson knew that a good name was rather to be chosen than the value of a buggy horse.

Along with sweethearts, there were a few other things I didn't understand altogether. One time during my younger days, I cut out a picture of a baby buggy from a Sears, Roebuck catalog. I don't remember just how old I was at the time. I was old enough to do a pretty good job of cutting out, but I didn't do so well with my reasoning. I was disappointed to learn that the buggy wouldn't sit up and roll.

That was not altogether a case of stupidity but rather, a lack of research. This was part of the research through which I learned about the third dimension.

It's hard to believe a kid that stupid could become so smart within the next few years and retain that smartness for the rest of his life.

We also learned-not through research, but from concerned parents, about the choice of words to use, the careful choice, I might add.

Some words were strictly forbidden. The word "bull" was one of them. We didn't dare use that word in the presence of Papa or Mama. And if any of the other kids heard us use it, they would tattle on us. So, we just didn't use it. We were taught to use the word "surley" instead.

As late as 1940 I knew middle-aged men who would not use the word "bull" before a woman. One old farmer said, "I don't know what the world is coming to. I believe the time will come when men and women will use the word 'bull' in mixed company and think nothing of it."

But that was in farming country. In cattle country it was different. I'll bet a ranch boy wouldn't have known what a surley was. One of my rancher uncles was talking to a farmer who had some calves he wanted to sell to the rancher. He told the rancher, "Three of those calves are still nursing." Well, my uncle and his daughter had to put forth an effort to hold back their laughter. They were not used to nursing calves. In cattle country calves don't nurse, they suck.

Continuing along that same line, up until I was a teenager, I never heard the words "s.e.x" or "male" or "female" used except by some dirty-mouthed kid. Even when I was in the seventh and eighth grades, when I had to fill out certain school papers and was told to put an M for male or an F for female, there was a wee bit of embarra.s.sment or shyness a.s.sociated with the use of gender words. The use of the word "s.e.x" was still guarded against, except in writing. The word was never spoken in mixed company. The word "gender" was considered bad enough.

And speaking of dirty-mouthed kids-no one in our family ever used any kind of dirty words, at least not in my presence. Some of the brothers I grew up with are in their seventies now and I can truthfully say, I can not recall ever having heard one of them "cuss" nor utter a dirty word.

We have all heard of that proverbial corner around which prosperity is lurking. Well, at the Exum place we finally rounded that corner and b.u.mped right into it. We got a telephone.

I'm sure we didn't have a telephone at the Flint place. But by about the time I started to school, almost everyone in our neighborhood had one. There were maybe eight or ten parties on the same line.

We owned our own telephone, put up our own lines, and bought our own batteries. Having so many on one line wasn't the best arrangement but it was better than no phone at all. It was a big step forward at that time in the history of our community.

Every day at noon-straight up twelve o'clock-the operator would ring a long, long ring. We could set our clocks by it and we could listen to the weather forecast immediately after the long ring. I don't know where they got the weather information, probably from a record of what the weather did on that same day a year ago, or maybe from the almanac. Anyway, wherever they got it, most of us listened to it and were stuck with it.

In the above paragraph I said the operator would ring. That's not exactly right. It's true, she was a woman operator. And we kids knew she was a woman, but we didn't know she was an operator. We only knew her as "Central." As far as we were concerned, her name might just as well have been Mrs. Central.

At any rate, when we wanted to ring someone on our line, out our direction from "Central," all we had to do was turn the crank and ring their ring. For instance, our ring was a long and four shorts. But, if we wanted to talk to someone on a line out another direction from Hamlin, we had to ring a long ring to get "Central" and get her to connect our line to the other line. Then she would ring that party for us.

When any of us tried and tried to ring Central and couldn't get her to answer, naturally all the phones on our line would be ringing at the same time, and usually some neighbor on our line would volunteer to ring for us and help us get through to Central. Perhaps the neighbor's phone had a stronger magneto, or perhaps two or three of us ringing at the same time might send a stronger current and get through to her. We tried everything.

Come to think of it, there was the possibility that Central's phone had been ringing from the beginning. It was just barely possible that she was eating a sandwich in another room. And of course, we shouldn't overlook the possibility that she might have been out in the little house backed up to the alley.

Speaking of getting through to the operator, let me tell you about one day when the operator got through to me. Now, on this particular day, Frank was the operator. He was in command.

Frank, Earl, Joel and I were hoeing cotton. Frank, being the oldest and the one who would have to answer to Papa if the work didn't get done, was working hard and was way out ahead of the rest of us. I was the youngest and least and was way behind, but not too far behind to be able to talk to Earl and Joel.

After awhile Frank looked back and found us doing a lot of standing and talking and not much working. He shouted to us to get to work. We did for awhile because we knew Frank was boss. But again we got to talking more than hoeing and Frank yelled again, "Get to work back there!"

Now, I know it was hard on Frank, he being the oldest and having all the responsibility for getting the hoeing done. It was hard on me too, just being the youngest with no responsibility.

Finally Frank got so far ahead that it seemed not so necessary to obey him. Some of us read the Bible with that same att.i.tude. We seem to think that G.o.d has gone so far away we need not obey him any more. But I suppose G.o.d knows when we are loafing and getting further behind, just as Frank knew about us boys that day. Anyway, we got more and more lax and Frank got more and more tense. Then he shouted again. "Get to work back there!"

Earl looked at me and said, "Tell him to come and make you."

Now, Earl always was one to recommend that someone else do something he wouldn't do for anything. But Earl also knew me and he was reasonably sure I would do it. That would leave him guiltless and he would get to see the fun. His pleasure would be twofold. He would glory in the thought that he had caused me to do something that we both knew I shouldn't do and he would enjoy seeing me get a good licking which he knew I had needed many times more than I had gotten.

At the same time, I was eager to show off and furnish entertainment for my "fans." So, I shouted back, "Come and make me!"

And Frank did just that.

I knew what was coming long before he got to me. I knew it would hurt and I knew I deserved every bit of it. But it was funny-in a way.

By the time Frank got to me I was flat on my back with my feet toward him. I kicked furiously. My laughing hindered me somewhat but I managed to keep him at bay for awhile.