The Good Ole Days

I was thinking about the good old days and remembered that as a kid, the t.v. wasn't known to us until I was about 6 or 7 years old. When we got one, we watched that "off the air logo" until something would come on. Before the tv, we listened to the music on the radio at night with Wolf Man Jack as the announcer. I remember the amber light from the radio that lit up the darkness while the older kids sat talking with each other and the younger ones ran around and played while listening to the gravelly voice of Wolf Man Jack.

Our first phone was a crank ringer phone, that cranked out certain ring tones; like one short and 2 longs, to call those who also had one. Everyone on the party line was assigned a certain ring tone and that was your phone number. It was hard to get on that phone because it was always occupied.

Most of us had outhouses and for our bath, we heated water on the big coal or wood stoves and bathed in big silver wash tubs. We spent many a cold winter night bathing with steam coming off our bodies. We bathed in front of the fireplace or right next to the big stoves. We'd jump out and get as close to the fire as we could then get dressed in our pajamas and jump into bed under the covers as fast as we could. Our mom had a ringer washer, but before she got that, she used a wash board and she hung our clothes out on the clothes line winter, summer, spring or fall.

We used coal burning fireplaces and wood and coal burning stoves in which we built fires for cooking and for warming the 8 room coal camp house we lived in. On winter mornings we would wake up and see our breath in the air it was so cold inside the house because at night, the fire was "banked". I know from experience that it gets cold enough outside there in Kentucky where we lived that if you're adventurous enough to test the theory that a wet tongue will stick to a metal object; trust me, don't do it. The fire in the hearth at night with its crackling embers was wonderful and cozy and listening to the gentle sounds of the flames put us to sleep. We often baked potatoes in the hot ashes underneath the fires. They just tasted better than any baked potato I've ever had since.

We played kick the cans, hide and seek, tug of war, Simon says, dodge ball and tag, hopscotch, jacks and jumped rope; the boys played mumblety peg (aka mumble the peg) and marbles with great enthusiasm. They would do daring stunts on their bicycles and anything else they could ride with wheels on it. We could often hear them discussing what wonderful, unusual marble this one or that one won or lost; all the while they played their marbles, the boys had a big jaw full of chewing tobacco. I remember envying the boys chewing tobacco and when my brother finally gave me a chew, I swallowed the juice and got so sick I thought I would die.

We smoked in the outhouse, got into trouble with mom and dad followed by getting extremely ill. We got paddlings and mom and dad never feared to use a switch to whip our behinds if we got out of line. I believe that our parents kept us from harm and danger by not sparing the rod. We loved to run in the woods and took anything we could find to slide on up to the top of the hills. When we got to the top, we would slide all the way down and then run back up to slide down again until we just couldn't do it anymore. We found many an arrow head in those mountains. They were everywhere in the hills and we found them by the handful every time we went up there. We explored the numerous caves and valleys and hills; we made swings on the sides of mountains out of grapevines and ropes that would scare the adults of today to death and swung on them without any adult supervision.

There were night sounds and sights that you never hear or see in the city; crickets and frogs sang us to sleep at night; fireflies ("lightening bugs") were thicker than the stars and appeared to light up the nights. With darkness as deep as could be, it was very easy to envision the ghosts everyone told about in the scary stories that we intimately shared between ourselves. We had no street lights, but we could find our way around in the moonlight and even when there wasn't a moon, it made for great hiding during our hide and seek and kick the cans games. Once I remember one player actually stood up on a fence post and it was so dark that no one ever found him. He was right out in front of our house out in the open just standing up there as still and straight as could be right on top of that post and we couldn't even see him until he started laughing and then we realized he was there, but he had already been called in free because none of the others could find him.

We rode our sleds and our bikes up and down country roads and hills doing things that no parent today would allow their kids to do but we all survived intact and had the greatest time ever. We picked berries of all kinds and gathered nuts from underneath the trees when they fell in the fall. We dried walnuts on our coal house roof and smoke house roof and shelled them until our hands were black from the stains of the husks. The juice from the walnut husks had an acidic, stinging scent that would burn your nose it was so strong, but we loved the scent, nonetheless. We ate June apples, peaches and cherries from the trees and the "peddler" brought around vegetables and fruits of all kinds to sell to our moms.

I remember my first sparkler and can still remember the wonderment of it all. On the fourth of July, our brothers would blow up fire crackers and scare all of us to death. The bigger boys were always involved in some kind of great adventure and kept the neighborhood enthralled. We built giant bonfires out in the open and the entire neighborhood would get together and roast marshmallows and wieners. We celebrated at school functions with sack races, wheelbarrow races (that's where you hold someone by the feet and they run on their hands), three legged races, bobbing for apples, and races holding an-egg-in-a-spoon in our mouths and we laughed till we couldn't laugh any more.

We shared ghost stories and tales and enjoyed being scared to death. The scarier the ghost story, the better we loved it! Our moms and grandmothers and fathers and grandfathers entertained us with music played on Dulcimers, Guitars, Banjos and Pianos and sang to us wonderful old and new songs that many of us still remember and some of us carry on today; they entertained us with stories and tales that we would ask them to tell us over and over and we never got tired of their entertainment. I really miss that the most.

The first blues I ever heard was on my Mom's and her brother's and sister's guitars. Mountain songs like "Pretty Polly", "I Wish I Was a Little Sparrow", and "Sweet William" were sung in soulful, mournful ways that could bring a tear to your eye, and "Green Back Dollar" would make us dance. My mom sang "St Louis Woman" in her strong, beautiful voice and never missed a note. She had a rare beautiful talent.

When we first heard Elvis, we all really did swoon. None of us had ever heard anything like "Don't Be Cruel" or "Hound Dog". Any boy who could imitate Elvis with their hair combed back in a duck tail, black jacket, and blue jeans had all the girls crazy about him. Even in our grade school, there was a little fellow who imitated Elvis and all us little girls would just scream and holler when he did his imitation. He would get up on the big flat rock at the back of our school and sing to us and we loved it.

Going downtown was a big treat for us. We never got to go very far from home, so when we went to the theatre or to the drug store for a cherry coke, it was a special occasion. We also had a little drive in place where we could get ice cream, hamburgers and hotdogs. Mom would also take us to church with her to different places. She went to the Holiness churches and they would scare us little kids to death with all their shouting and speaking in tongues. One would speak in tongues and then another would translate to the others what message had come through the one who had received the message in the spirit. It was fascinating, but scared the daylights out of us little ones. Needless to say, Mom didn't take us very often because she would have to deal with the big eyed "what was that?" questions when we got home.

Our moms, aunts and grandmothers cooked us the best food in the world. I remember coffee from a percolator that left grounds in the cup. To entertain us, our Grandmother would read the grounds and tell the future from the images she saw left by the grounds settling. An eagle image in the coffee grounds meant that money was coming your way. Of course, we young ones never got to drink coffee unless we sneaked around and drank it without our moms catching us.

They made home made biscuits and gravy, shucky beans, soup beans, cornbread and fried "taters", chicken and dumplings and every kind of delicious country food. They canned and they planted and picked fresh vegetables from their gardens; they milked the cows and made home made, creamy, white, butter that was sweet and mild. The women would kill a chicken by ringing its neck and they did it without scaring the chicken or prolonging its misery. My mom could take a chicken and ring its neck with one quick flip of the wrist and it was over. Our fathers, brothers, uncles and grandfathers slaughtered the meat, cured it, and all the neighbors shared whatever they butchered.

When we lost a loved one, the viewing was at home and everyone came to bring food and help any way they could. They sat with the family in their homes to share their grief and offer their support. Funerals weren't just a two or three hour thing; they lasted for days. When someone was sick, the neighbors cared enough to visit the sick one and help in anyway they could.

Our schools were tiny, but seemed very large. They smelled of floor wax and chalk and we loved to be there. Our girls bathroom was in the basement at our school and it was cold there in the winter. That was the one place I remember that had indoor bathrooms. The basement was scary because it was dark down there. There was a big room off to the right which had no lights except for several small windows close to the ceiling on one side of the room. It was a perfect place to imagine all kinds of goblins, ghosts and spirits or "haints" as my granny used to call them.

We experienced the first polio shots and some of us were later given the Polio sugar cubes. There were some in our hometown that got polio before the vaccinations. It was a fearful time and I still remember the pictures our school showed us of the children in "iron lungs". We took our first tetanus - diphtheria vaccines that left a scab and we were told not to mess with it or it would leave a big scar; and we messed with it and it did.

Girls were not allowed to wear pants in those days. In the winter time, we were allowed to wear pants underneath our skirts for warmth, but we had to remove them in the cloak room at school. There is no way we could wear a short skirt! The older girls wore crinolines (the more the better). Poodle skirts were a big thing for the "older" girls and it seems I remember that there was a shoe called the saddle oxford that was popular in those days.

Our dads, grandfathers, uncles, and brothers were devoted United Mine Workers Members. They went through difficult times fighting for miners' rights. Their women joined in the strikes and protests. Many fought and some died for the Union. Our dads uncles, brothers and cousins worked hard in the mines and died in coal mining disasters and many died too young with black lung or other coal dust related diseases. On 26 January 1959 in Paintsville, KY Hospital, Creed Flannery Potter died at age 57 from breathing coal dust. My father is buried in the Reynolds Family Cemetery, Seco, Letcher County, Kentucky.

My generation survived through women's lib, the so-called sexual revolution, the Vietnam War and the communist sympathizers who successfully protested the war, ratted hair, bell bottoms, mini skirts and boots, the so called - rock and roll era and anyone who believes that the late 60's and 70's were the good old days just wasn't there!

The good old days were the days in the mountains of Kentucky when we were all innocent and really free to be who we were in our hearts. We prayed in public; we put up Christmas trees and never dreamed that anyone would ever complain about it; we freely showed our bibles anywhere we wanted to; including school; we said the Pledge of Allegiance with great pride, hands to our hearts and tears in our eyes and used the words One Nation Under God and no one complained; we waved our flags and marched down main street with flags a-waving at the drop of a hat; we were proud of our military and we supported them; women weren't ashamed to be housewives; in fact they were proud to be married and proud to have a houseful of kids. They were proud of their homes and cooking and took good care of their children.

We felt the love from everyone in our neighborhoods and we didn't have to worry about locking our doors or windows. Crime was something that happened on extremely rare occasions and was far removed from any of us. Those truly were the good old days.