Just A Little Dip
Okay, Lola.
I’m trying to show I can stick to one subject, and not be a schizophrenic writer with my journaling.
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Here’s the last of the third part of my exceptionally long journal entry from February 6th. which I divided into three parts.
And hopefully the turning of a new leaf in my blogging………………more often……………..less volume…………………and fewer topics/per blog.
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Here’s a fun little fact:
To this day my sister, Betty Joe Bob and I are not smokers and probably never will be……………………..and it’s probably because of the next little-known story.
*****I never knew why, but like all young children do———-we took for granted that our Great Uncle—–Uncle Mike—–would give us packets of stale chewing tobacco which we would keep in the hoosier cabinet in the feed room in the barn and we would subsequently give handfuls of the stale tobacco to the donkeys to eat as treats(?)……………
Like I said, I don’t know why, but I was a non-decision-making-minor. I had no input into that matter whatsoever.
But the donkeys loved eating the stale chewing tobacco(?) And it smelled sooooooooo sweet.
It just smelled so darned sweet……………
And of course we all ate some……………………that was just a given…………………..wasn’t it?
Like I said: It Smelled So Darned SWEET!
But we didn’t chew and spit.
We just ate and swallowed……………………
You probably know the rest……………………to this day, my sister and myself and Betty have never been inclined to partake in the tobacco plant in any form whatsoever——-ever again.
Ever again…………………………………
*****
Just one more little memory of my childhood farm………………..we had bad neighbors there too!?!…………………………….
……………………………Could it just be us?
Or were we/are we………….just that unlucky?
Did I already mention that the bad neighbors once threw a dead rabbit down our drinking water well?……………………I may have. I don’t remember…
When we figured out what they had done, my Dad had to drain the well completely (somehow?) and bleach it repeatedly…………………it was nasty.
And they would break mason jars in the donkey’s dusting bowl areas in our pasture, too.
Why?…………….I really don’t know……………..teenage angst?
This was the era of Hot Rods and Greasers and our neighboring farm (a.k.a. the bad neighbors) only had a passel of sons and they were all “hoods”.
I have to Wikipedia the word “hoods” and see what they defined it as in the late fifties & early sixties ………………….time out………………
*********Hoods——-“petty criminals”.
……………………Yep, that about covers it.
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I was a pre-teen at that time and wasn’t involved in all of that silliness & nonsense………………………………….
I was biding my time and waiting for the late sixties and early seventies to crank into gear.
That was my era.
And it was just around the corner……………..
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Anyone remember the “Fish Cheer”
I’ve still got my fringe vest & love beads.