January 1, 2021- My Favorite Childhood Story
Winter of 1937, and the world seemed white in Clinton, Oklahoma. When we opened the front door, there was a wall of White. Dad and Mother decided it was a ‘snow day’. My two brothers, Jim – 7 years, and Gene—6 years, and I watched our Dad dig a tunnel through the snow to the garage. Somehow, he fed the chickens and milked the cow.
He worked for the post office and needed to go to work after the chores. We knew Dad could do anything and knew about his prowess. He often showed us how he could chin himself on any available pipe.
What would we do all day? Mother knew. She told us to get ready to listen to a book. I loved books and reading. Mother said my elbows were dirty until I turned sixteen, since my favorite position was on the floor with elbows propping up my head for hours at a time.
Somehow, Mother knew and checked a book out of the library before the big snow. We didn’t know it then, but it was a classic that appeared in the year 1880. Mother was born in 1907. Now I wonder if she heard about the book when she was a child. As the day wore on, I know Mother grew tired, and wanted to stop occasionally for a drink.
We loved the title. Five little peppers, there were three of us. They lived in a brown house, and we did, too. Then Mom began. Phronsie was the little girl. Polly was the oldest daughter who loved to ‘mother’ the younger children.
Mrs. Pepper was a widow. She had a difficult time feeding and caring for her children, Her children always want to help
Candles were the only light, and they desired more. They talked about how many candles they desired. Phronsie couldn’t believe how bright it would be with two hundred candles.
There were so many troubles that happened. The five children discussed everything. There were hard times and shared laughter in the house.
Our favorite part of the story was when they had a parrot, and Phronsie wanted to know, ‘Tan it sing?’ Our house rang with cries of ‘Tan it sing? From all of us as we mimicked Phronsie.
We long remembered that snow day, because of the way Mom read to us. A shared experience in our family made this story day sweeter.
We loved stories. I remember the Bible Stories Dad told us, the way he told them made us feel as if we were part of the story. His eyes grew large when at the peak of each story and he whispered when to make the tension grow.
On that snowy day, Mom created a love for reading stories for all three of us. I soon noticed when I was old enough to go to the library, I had criteria for choosing a ‘good’ book.
- Is the book well-worn?
- Are there lots of quotation marks which meant to be there would be action and no long and unnecessary descriptions.
Reading made trouble for me. Saturday morning became the “Cleaning Day!”
The day I polished the floor on my hands and knees, pushing the book along. is the day Mother asked if I was reading. I quickly closed my book and hid it under my mattress, and then said, ‘No!’ Yet Mother knew. After that experience, she hid my books before Saturday morning chores.
Another favorite place to read was my closet with a light. One shelf was just right for holding a book and reading until I couldn’t stand up anymore. Little did I know that I would entice my own children to love reading by promising, if you go to bed early, you can read awhile.
One other experience with reading is the edict to take a nap on Sunday afternoon, so Dad, the mail carrier, could rest. I had a beautiful pink bedspread. It let the light in and I could read. Then I earned God can see everything. I asked my Mom, “Can God see through my pink bedspread?” Mother nodded her head, and in today’s vernacular, “Busted!”
Yes, I love to read! Thank you, Mom!