Connections: Paternal Side Ms. Alberta's In Laws

    Finley Thomas  Born: April 9, 1894 (Kensey Hollow, Whitley County, Kentucky) Died: 6/16/1962 (Rockholds, Kentucky) Married: October 13, 1923, Rachel Elizabeth Powers  Born: 10/31/1905 Died: 4/25/1999

     Rachel Elizabeth Powers  Born: 10/31/1905 Died: 4/25/1999

Children of:        Finley Thomas and Rachel Elizabeth Powers (12) Children:

1.       Harold Lee Thomas 8/4/1924 -1/14/1968 Spouse: Edith Alberta Shoupe

2.       Arville Eugene Thomas 3/31/1927 - 2/5/2010 – Spouses: Betty Lou Brock, Mildred Patrick

3.       Eula Nadine Thomas 7/9/1929 – 7/9/1929

4.       Ruth Geneva Thomas 8/3/1930 - Spouses: Herbert Earl Hannah, Wm. Aaron Burkhart

5.       Henrietta Margarett Thomas 8/20/1934 – Spouse: Lester Ray McFarland

6.       Charles Marshal Thomas 1/31/1937 – 1/22/1940

7.       John Robert Thomas 5/3/1939 Spouse: Wanda Faye Brock

8.       Wilma Frances Thomas 2/28/1941 Spouse: Clyde Sonny Noe, Jr.

9.       Nell Naomi Thomas 8/27/1943 Spouse: Paris Gaylon Jones

10.   Kenneth Edward Thomas 3/18/1946 Spouses: Diana Mae Drake, Ida Kathlene Bare, Debbie Darlene Wilder

11.   Marvin Finley Thomas 4/5/1948 - 12/18/2018 Spouses: Glenda Gay Meadows, Diane Lynn Miller

12.   Jimmy Earl Thomas 7/1/1950 Spouse: Martha Genvea Barton, Companion: Darlene Ellery

Memories: TV Time

From Debbie Thomas Keaton (daughter of Arville and Betty to Ann Thomas)

Drawing by Angela M. Booher (daughter of Ann Thomas)

I can still remember Gary & I getting to watch the “Wizard of Oz” for the first time at your Mom & Dad’s when they lived in Dayton. They had colored TV and we didn’t. We were so amazed. Funny how some things just stay in mind after all these years.

Others: Now - Not Later

I would rather have a little rose

From the garden of a friend,

Than flowers strewn around my casket,

When my days on earth must end.

I would rather have a living smile

From one I know is true,

Than tears shed round my casket

When this world I bid adieu.

Bring me all the flowers today

Whether pink or white or red, I would

Rather have one blossom now

Than a truckload when I am dead.

Others: Author: Unknown Source: email Pecans in the Cemetery

On the outskirts of a small town, there was a big, old pecan tree just inside the cemetery fence.

One day, two boys filled up a bucketful of nuts and sat down by the tree, out of sight, and began dividing the nuts, “One for you, one for me, one for you, one for me…,” said one boy.

Several dropped and rolled down toward the fence. Another boy came riding along the road on his bicycle. As he passed, he thought he heard voices from inside the cemetery. He slowed to investigate. Sure enough, “One for you, one for me, one for you, one for me…,”

He just knew what it was. He jumped back on his bike and rode off. Just around the bend he met an old man with a cane, hobbling along. “Come here quick,” said the boy, “you won’t believe what I heard! Satan and the Lord are down at the cemetery dividing up the souls!”

The man said, “Beat it kid, can’t you see it’s hard for me to walk.” When the boy insisted though, the man hobbled slowly to the cemetery. Standing by the fence they heard, “One for you, one for me, one for you, one for me…,”

The old man whispered, “Boy, you’ve been tellin’ me the truth. Let’s see if we can see the Lord.”

Shaking with fear, they peered through the fence, yet were still unable to see anything. The old man and the boy gripped the wrought iron bars of the fence tighter and tighter as they tried to get a glimpse of the Lord. 

At last they heard, “One for you, one for me, That’s all. Now let’s go get those nuts by the fence and we’ll be done.”

They say the old man had the lead for a good half-mile before the kid on the bike passed him.

1936 - Blue Diamond Coal Camp

A partial view of Blue Diamond Coal Camp, ca. 1936. Blue Diamond was completely self-sufficient with the superintendent's office, a post office, fully-equipped dentist's office, churches, recreation, movie theatre, pool hall, beauty shop, barber shop, soda fountain, clubhouse, and a commissary. The commissary sold merchandise of the highest quality. Special attention was given to the health and happiness of employees. A full-time physician and staff lived there to answer calls, day and night. Special group arrangements were made with the hospital in nearby Hazard for hospitalization necessities. About 80 percent of all the employees lived in camp housing, which had electricity, running water, and were accessible by wagon or truck. Within the limits of Blue Diamond Camp were three schools (two for whites, one for Negro) with a combined enrollment of several hundred students and 25 faculty members. This photo and information are shared by Ernest Denny, P. O. Box 233, Woodbine, KY 40771.

OTHERS: A Living Bible - Author - Unknown

His name is Bill. He has wild hair, wears a t-shirt with holes in it, jeans and no shoes. This was literally his wardrobe for his entire four years of college. He is brilliant, kind of esoteric and very, very bright.

He became a Christian while attending college. Across the street from the campus is a well-dressed, very conservative church. They want to develop a ministry to the students, but are not sure how to go about it.

One day Bill decides to go there. He walks in with no shoes, jeans, his t-shirt, and wild hair.

The service has already started and so Bill starts down the aisle looking for a seat. The church is completely packed and he can’t find a seat.

By now people are really looking a bit uncomfortable, but no one says anything.

Bill gets closer and closer and closer to the pulpit and, when he realizes there are no seats, he just squats down right on the carpet. (Although this is perfectly acceptable behavior at a college fellowship, trust me, this had never happened in this church before!)

By now the people are really uptight, and the tension in the air is thick.

About this time, the minister realizes that from way at the back of the church, a deacon is slowly making his way toward Bill.

Now this deacon is in his eighties, he has silver-gray hair, and a three piece suit. He is a very godly man, very elegant, very dignified, and very courtly. He walks with a cane and, as he starts walking toward this boy, everyone is saying to themselves that you can’t blame him for what he’s going to do.

How can you expect a man of his age and of his background to understand some college kid on the floor?

It takes a long time for the man to reach the boy.

The church is utterly silent except for the clicking of the man’s cane. All eyes are focused on him. You can’t even hear anyone breathing.

The minister can’t even preach the sermon until the deacon does what he has to do. And now they see this elderly man reach Bill, drop his cane on the floor; and with great difficulty he lowers himself and sits down next to Bill and worships with him so he won’t be alone.

Everyone chokes up with emotion. When the minister gains control, he says. “What I’m about to preach, you will never remember. What you have seen, you will never forget.”

Be careful how you live. You may be the only Bible some people will ever read.

Memories: Ms. Alberta's Speeding Ticket

On May 23, 2012, I posted a joke about a lady who got a speeding ticket. The joke reminded me of the only speeding ticket that I know of that Ms. Alberta received.

This was during the time that Ms. Alberta was helping J. C. Jennings with his photography. She was on her way to meet J. C. Jennings and was pushing the speed limit by only two miles per hour over when she was pulled over by a state trooper.

Ms. Alberta handed the trooper her driver’s license and her proof of insurance; then told the officer this was the first time she had ever been given a ticket.

As he handed Ms. Alberta the ticket the officer told her, “Yes ma’am, but a lady your age should know better.”

So when Ms. Alberta would tell the story of her only ticket she would laugh and say, “Yes, that officer gave me my first and only ticket, and then added insult to injury by telling me I was old.”

PICTURES: Woodbine Train Station

This is a picture of the Woodbine Train Depot. The picture was taken by J. C. Jennings the morning before it was demolished.

James Collins Jennings

Born: 4/8/1910

Died of Lung Cancer - 12/22/1978

Others: Joke from an email

Got a joke for you: 

An old woman was caught speeding and when the officer approached her car he said, "Ma'am, I hope you can offer a good reason as to why you were going so fast." 

And she said, "Yes Officer, I can, if I don't hurry I'll forget where I was going before I can get there."

Have a great day!

Others: from an email

IF YOU MARRY A KENTUCKY GIRL

Three friends married women from different parts of the country.

The first man married a woman from Wisconsin. He told her that she was to do the dishes and house cleaning. It took a couple of days, but on the third day, he came home to see a clean house and dishes washed and put away. 
 
The second man married a woman from North Dakota . He gave his wife orders that she was to do all the cleaning, dishes and the cooking. The first day he didn't see any results, but the next day he saw it was better. By the third day, he saw his house was clean, the dishes were done and there was a huge dinner on the table.
 
The third man married a girl from Kentucky.  He ordered her to keep the house cleaned, dishes washed, lawn mowed, laundry washed, and hot meals on the table for every meal. He said the first day he didn't see anything, the second day he didn't see anything but by the third day, some of the swelling had gone down and he could see a little out of his left eye, and his arm was healed enough that he could fix himself a sandwich and load the dishwasher. He still has some difficulty when he pees.

Others Poems, Quotes and Thoughts

Sweet & Sour Sauce

If life were always springtime

We wouldn’t notice flowers.

Sunshine would not be half as sweet if there were never showers.

If we didn’t know the meaning of the simple word called sad,

How could we appreciate another one called glad?

Life can’t be always laughter; it is also filled with tears.

But the bad times are the ones that make the good times seem so dear.

-Sandra K. Miller in Sunshine Magazine

Others Poems, Quotes, Sayings and Thoughts

RISK

Author: Unknown

To laugh is to risk appearing the fool.

To weep is to risk being called sentimental.

To reach out to another is to risk involvement.

To expose feelings is to risk showing your true self.

To place your ideas and dreams before the crowd is to risk being called naïve.

To love is to risk not being loved in return.

To live is to risk dying.

To hope is to risk despair

To try is to risk failure.

But risks must be taken—because the greatest risk in life is to risk nothing.

The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing, is nothing, and becomes nothing.

They may avoid suffering and sorrow but they simply cannot learn and feel and change and grow and love and live.

Chained by their servitude, the slaves have fortified this freedom.

Only the person who risks is truly free.

Memories: A A Thomas

            I went back to college in 2005 in order to acquire an Associates Degree in Business Management. One of the classes I took required all participants to make a marketing survey for the downtown area of Elizabethtown for the Preservation Society.

            My group decided we needed a first hand look at the area in question. Our thought was that this would give us a better idea of what the area offered to locals and visitors.

            Our group met on October third two thousand six. This was a day that for me became a walk thru memory. Our group parked next to the parking lot at the old Herb Jones building, beside the Cobbler Café that used to be a cobblers place of business across from the new courthouse. As we walked toward the old courthouse in the center of 31 W then proceeded up North Main my memories started to surface.

            I came to Elizabethtown in early January 1952. Until this time I had been raised in a coal mining camp in Eastern Kentucky. If you have never been in a coal mining camp, let me tell you a little about my memories of living in one. Everyone keeps to themselves; you never knew when the person living next door might be affected by a death from the mine. Then there is the coal dust; persistent, ever-present, invasive coal dust. There is no place you can go that does not have a film of coal dust. Not the house you live in, not the yard you play in, not the path going to the company store, not even the woods that lay close to the coal mining camp were exempt from the coal dust. So my first memories of Elizabethtown were of the clean streets and the fresh air.

            When I first moved to Elizabethtown there was a drugstore on each corner of the beginning of North Main; the drugstore on the right was where I first saw, bought and read my very first Superman comic book.

            As we proceeded toward the Brown-Pusey House on the left, I remembered the square dances that were held in the parking lot across from Bean Publishing. At that time there were no meters or curbs, just a large space marked for parking. When there was anything going on in Elizabethtown, such as the town square dances, a wagon would be hauled in for speakers or bands and that parking area was the area that was set up for the dances.

            There were several celebrations held annually in Elizabethtown. One of these was Old Fashioned Day when everyone would dress up in clothing from times gone by. My mother still has the dress and bonnet she wore back then. There are pictures of her being towed along in a wagon by the people she worked with. My sister won the best pet award during one of these celebrations. I have a picture of her wearing a long dress, ringlets falling down her back as she clutched the ribbon she won in one hand as she held our pet duck, Quackers, in the other.

Memories: May 18, 2012

I find I am like Mother. I want to write about her and Dad; the things that they said and did that shaped us children into the strong adults we are today; but like Ms. Alberta, I find that it isn’t that there are too few memories but too many. It is never just one thing that shapes us but the combination of all that we are exposed to and taught that makes us what we are.

“God helps those who help themselves,” taught as we plowed, planted and took care of the garden we raised each year.

“There’s always someone just a little bit worse off than you are yourself,” this one taught as we shared what we had with neighbors, friends and some times strangers that needed help.

“A place for everything, and everything in its place,” That taught us to be neat and organized.

“When you point a finger at someone, you have three pointing back at yourself,” “Don’t pass judgment until you've walked a mile in the other man’s shoes,” taught us to consider before we condemned.

“Words are like bullets; once you let them loose you can’t call them back,” taught us to take a deep breathe before we spoke.

Mom and Dads actions and all the sayings helped to shape us as we grew up. But what I remember the most is the laughter. Mother could find what was funny in the worst situation and Dad was always ready for a pillow fight or a water fight.

I can remember the mischief dancing in Dads eyes and how Dad would give Mother one of his sideways smiles and Mother would say “Now Harold!” as she took off running as fast as she could go with him running close behind, as both their voices rang with laughter and joy in the running.

Yes, too many memories – and too few words to put those memories onto paper to share. But I am going to try to share the memories. I promised Ms. Alberta and besides, one of my memories may be the pebble thrown into the pond of life that will ripple and touch someone else’s life. That memory may be the one that will give someone else hope or laughter; and that is the one thing that I know for sure. Mother and Dad believed there was always a silver lining in the darkest cloud; God always opens a window when He closes a door; cry and you cry alone – laugh and the world laughs with you.

What I learned from my mother and my father was this:

God should always be first and foremost in your life. Laughter is the best medicine in the world. When it is combined with a strong faith in God, the Father, Christ, the Son, and the Holy Spirit; you may have problems, trials, and tribulations; you may stumble and even fall; but God will be there to comfort you while you are weak and He will help you stand tall and strong again.

Memories: Lambchops

Memories: Lambchops by A. A. Thomas

Before Dad went to work at Ft. Knox he worked for Rudolf Moore who owned the farm above us. Mr. Moore had a dairy, raised a few sheep, and tobacco.

Dad would go up early morning and late afternoon to milk the cows for Mr. Moore. One of the times he went up one of the sheep had twins and she had pushed one of the babies over to the side because she didn’t have enough milk for the two little ones. Mr. Moore told Dad he could have the lamb the mother had pushed to the side, maybe by bottle feeding it; the lamb would grow into a sheep.

Of course, we three were tickled to death that we had another pet to play with. We named the little lamb, Lambchops. He was so small that he stayed in the bathtub so Mom or Dad had easy access to feed him during the night. Lambchops eventually got too big for the tub and Dad moved him out to the shed in the back yard. 

He was starting to nibble at grass and Dad told mother it was time for Lambchops to give up the bottle.

Dad left to work at Ft. Knox early and Mom left for work at the coil plant in Elizabethtown about an hour after Dad left.

One morning after Dad had decided Lambchops was too big for a bottle, I got up early and saw mother going outside to the fence where Lambchops was. I could hear her talking and telling him not to worry she would make sure he didn’t do without his morning bottle of warm goats milk.

Sure enough she reached into one of her deep pockets and pulled out the bottle that Lambchops had been raised on. I never let her or Dad know that I saw her going out each morning to feed Lambchops.

I'm Not Sleepy Yet! - After the Story

            Granny Ann looked around her at the now sleeping children and once again smiled her sideways smile. A story worked almost every time.

            “Wonder if my voice just bores them to sleep?” she mumbled as she left the room, leaving the door slightly open.

Ann

Danny

Jean

I'm Not Sleepy Yet! Mouse in the House 2

Mouse in the House - Part 2

            Ann started down the hall, Mom was fixing supper, and Dad was outside working on a car. Dad was a good mechanic, they called him Tune Up Tom at work, and someday she’d have to ask why. Wonder if it was because he was so good at “tuning “up cars?

            “I don’t have him!” Jean was crying as Ann turned the corner. “Are you sure he’s not in your pocket?”

            “No, he’s not in my pocket! That’s why I came and got you. I thought you had him!”

            “Uh oh,” Ann thought, “What’s wrong? Where’s Whitey?” she asked, looking into the now empty shoebox.

            “That’s what we want to know! We’ve been looking for him all over! He’s gone!” Jean wailed as tears ran down her face.

            “Oh boy! Just what we needed!” Danny exclaimed, “Better not mention Whitey until we find him.” They all agreed.

            For two weeks there was no sign of Whitey. Ann, Danny and Jean were afraid Whitey was dead. Then at the breakfast table on Sunday morning, before church, Mom said, “We need to put out a trap. I think we have mice.”

            Ann looked at Danny then Jean. Poor Whitey, he sure would be a goner now!

            For four days Ann, Danny and Jean took turns springing the trap. On Friday morning the trap wasn’t where it had been. So either Mom had moved the trap or she had caught Whitey. After school they gathered for a conference on the swing set.

            “Well, what are we going to do?” Jean wanted to know, as she hung by her knees on the swing set crossbar. “I don’t know about you all but I want to know if Mom caught Whitey.”

            “Yeah, I think we all want to know the answer to that,” Danny said as he turned around toward Ann.

            “Sure I want to know, but I don’t want what we’re probably going to get when Mom and Dad find out we had a mouse in the house without permission.” Ann said, as she leaned back in the swing. “I’ve already done my homework, and we have all our chores caught up. So maybe we should start supper that might soften Mom up a little.”

            “Okay, sis,” Danny said getting up off the ground. “I’ll go get something out of the freezer.”

            “I’ll set the table,” Jean said, “if you’ll peel the potatoes.”

            “Okay, let’s get going gang!” Ann said. They all ran into the house.

            They weren’t allowed to use the stove because Mom was afraid of fire. She had been ever since Ann had burnt off her eyelashes trying to show Granny Thomas how to light the gas stove. Getting meat out of the freezer, setting the table and peeling potatoes was all they could do towards supper so every thing went fast. Ann was just finishing the potatoes when she heard Mom’s car pull into the drive.

            Just about the same time, Jean started yelling from their parent’s bedroom, “It’s Whitey! It’s Whitey! I found the trap, and he’s in it!”

            Danny and Ann hit the door just in time to see Jean starting to pick up the trap. “Wait Jean!” Ann yelled, “Remember what Dad said about animals that were hurt. They don’t know that you’re not the one hurting them and they’ll hurt you, even when they know you, because they’re afraid.”

            “Well I don’t care,” Jean said, turning around again, “Whitey’s my friend, besides it’s just his tail that’s caught. I’m going to let him go!”

            As Jean loosened the trap on Whitey’s tail, he bit her and ran under the bed. Jean started crying and shaking her hand. “He bit me! He bit me!” she said dancing around.

            “Danny, did you bite Jean?” Mom asked as she came into the room.

            “No, Mom I don’t bite; not unless they bite me first,” Danny answered, “It was Whitey! Whitey bit Jean.”

            “Whitey? Who is Whitey? Or should I be asking what Whitey is?” Mom wanted to know. “What have you all brought into the house now, I sure hope it’s not a rabbit, or – it’s not a snake is it, Ann? You know I told you not to collect any more snakes!”

            “Oh Mom!” Ann exclaimed, “You know I don’t do that anymore! Not since Aunt Sue screamed and scared that poor garden snake. Then she scared me when she fainted. I didn’t know grownups did that!”

            “Okay I believe you,” Mom said, “But what exactly is Whitey? How long has he been here? More important – where is this Whitey?”

            Ann and Danny were both trying to tell Mom about Whitey as Mom held Jean’s hand to see how badly she was bitten.

            “What’s going on?” Dad said, coming into the room too.

            There was sudden silence! Dad didn’t often spank, but he could talk to you, making you feel and see how stupid the best ideas could be.

            “Well, as best I can figure out,” Mom started, “the kids have had a mouse, named Whitey, in a shoebox, Whitey got out. I saw the mice signs, put out a trap, caught Whitey by the tail – and Jean got bit while she was letting him out of the trap. Does that about cover it all, kids?”

            “Yes Mother,” Ann, Danny and Jean chorused together, looking up at their father.

            “Guess they all have to be grounded for a week,” Mom said. “Guess that will do,” Dad agreed. Ann, Danny and Jean sighed with relief. “But we do need to find that mouse.” Mom said.

            They never did find Whitey, but every once in a while there would be signs that a mouse was still in the house.

I'm Not Sleepy Yet! Mouse in the House

Mouse in the House

            Once upon a time, not so very long ago, there were two sisters and a brother who lived in the country. Their names were Ann., Danny, and Jean.

            Now these three did a lot of arguing and fighting among themselves, as brothers and sisters often do; it didn’t mean they didn’t love one another just that sometimes they made one another mad, so they would fight. But it sure wouldn’t do for anybody else to try to pick on one of them; because then that person would have all three people to fight.

            But I’m getting away from my story; which is how the white mouse came to live in the house!

            Danny had always wanted a pet that he could keep inside and take care of. Sure he knew there were dogs, cats, chickens and even a duck, Quackers (which is another story), but there was nothing inside where he could see it and feed it and hold it whenever he wanted to. He thought about how he was going to ask Mom about this and decided the best plan was a frontal attack; you know just go ahead and ask.

            “Hey Mom,” Danny started, as Mom was fixing supper, “Do you think I could get a mouse next time we go into town?”

            “What? What are you talking about, Danny?” Mom answered.

            Danny could tell this wasn’t going very well, Mom seemed to have her mind on fixing supper, but he had already started the conversation and was determined to get an answer. “I was asking if I could get a pet mouse. You know a pretty white one with a pink nose. I’d take real good care of it, I really would!” Danny told Mom.

            “A mouse! Are you crazy?” Mom murmured, looking dazed, “The last thing we need in this house is a mouse! What’s the problem son? Don’t you have enough to do? There’s a dog that adopted a kitten, a cat that adopted a puppy and even a crazy duck that thinks it’s a dog. All to be fed and watered and you want a mouse!” Mom shook her head no. “I don’t think so, son. There’s more than enough to do now.”

            “But Mom,” Danny argued, “There’s nothing inside! Something that would be just mine, something that I could hold and talk to. Oh Mom, You know what I mean!”

            Mom looked at Danny for a minute then said, “No Son, I don’t really understand. But I sure know we don’t need a mouse. They’re nasty creatures! But I guess we could get a bird. That’s it! A nice pretty canary! You can teach canaries to sing, I’ve always thought they would be nice to have.”

            Danny could see this was getting nowhere and he would have to give a little more thought to how he could get a pet of his own. Maybe he could think of something.

            It was the next week in school that the opportunity of a lifetime came along! Of course he had to say yes right away and figure out how later. But there was just no way he could say no when the science teacher asked if anyone could take the pet white mouse home with them. No way Jose! He wouldn’t even wait, like the teacher wanted him to, for permission from his parents. Danny told his teacher, “I know it will be okay. We were talking about getting a pet mouse just last week.”

            “Well, if you’re sure your parents won’t mind,” his teacher said, “You can go on and take him today. I have a shoebox you can carry him home in.”

            Danny hugged the shoebox to his chest on the school bus as he was riding it home after school. Every once in a while he lifted the corner of the lid to look inside.

            “What do you have in the shoebox, Danny” his nosy sister Ann wanted to know.

            “That’s for me to know and you not to find out!” he told her as he hid the box under his bed.

            “Well okay, but it sure better not be something messy,” she told him, “or Mom will get all three of us.”

            They all went outside to do their chores. They had to feed and water all the animals, weed the garden do their homework and clean their rooms before Mom and Dad got home from work. Otherwise there wouldn’t be any allowance for movies, popcorn and colas or, in the summer, swimming.

            “I’m thirsty,” Danny said, putting down his hoe, “I’m going to get a drink of water.”

            “Me too,” his tag-a-long sister Jean said, as Danny was disappearing into the house. Jean went running to catch up with Danny.

            “Okay, but hurry,” Ann called after her, “I don’t want to do this all by myself. You know how I hate to hoe.”

            When Danny and Jean hadn’t come back in ten minutes, Ann threw her hoe down. “Darn you guys anyway,” she murmured to herself, “I hate doing this kind of stuff anyway! Where are you? Guess I better go make sure they’re not fighting. If that glass in the front door gets broken again, our butts will be the grass and Mom will be the lawnmower!”

            “But I think his name should be Pinky,” Jean was saying as Ann slipped in the back door.

            “Well, he belongs to me! And I say his name is Whitey,” Danny yelled back.

            “What’s going on now?" Ann asked, “Whose name is Pinky or Whitey?”

            “First you gotta promise you won’t tell!” Danny said.

            Jean echoed, “Yeah, sis. Ya gotta promise!”

            Ann sighed disgustedly, when these two ganged up on her she just might as well promise and see what was up. She sure wouldn’t find out until she did; and of course she had to know! You never knew when you might miss something really exciting!

            “Okay! I promise,” Ann answered, “Now, what’s up?”

            “Hold out your hand, sis! You’re gonna love this!” Danny told her.

            Ann had been around too long for that one, you never knew what Danny had in one of his pockets! Mom had found a live frog in his coat pocket just last week. “Oh no you don’t, Danny.” She told him, “Not until I see with my own eyes what you have!” Then when Danny showed her what he had, “Oh, he’s beautiful! So white – look at his ears! They’re pink! Why his eyes are even pink!”

            “Yep!” Jean said, “That’s why his name should be Pinky! ‘Cause his nose, eyes and ears are pink!”

            “No, dummy,” Danny exclaimed, “Don’t you know anything? You can’t call a boy mouse Pinky! Why that would be insulting! He’s a boy, for goodness sake!”

            Jean balled her hand into a fist, this was a sure sign she was about to lose her cool. Jean didn’t like to see Danny and Ann fight, but she sure waded in when she got mad!

            “Hold on you guys!” Ann said, “Danny is right, sis. Think about it, if you were a boy mouse, would you want to be called Pinky?”

            “No,” Jean answered, with her head to one side, “you’re right! He is pretty and white; I guess Whitey is a better name!”

            “Yeah, it is,” Ann said, as she stroked the mouse’s pink nose. He was so tiny and soft; but wait a minute, hadn’t she overheard Mother telling Danny he couldn’t have a mouse? Then where had this little guy come from!

            “Danny,” Ann said softly, so she wouldn’t scare the mouse, “Does Mom or Dad know you have him? Where did he come from?”

            “Well, uh, Sis, you see,” Danny stuttered, “My science teacher gave him to me, and I knew Mom would say okay, if she could just see him; and –“

            “But Danny,” Ann interrupted, “I thought I heard Mom tell you there was no way you could have a mouse and now here one is! She is going to be so mad.”

            “Darn it, Ann,” Danny answered back, “I told you if Mom can just see him she’ll love him. Maybe.”

            “So when are you going to break this to her?” Ann asked curiously, still stroking Whitey gently.

            “I’ll ask her tonight, if she’s in a good mood. What do you think she’ll say, Sis?” Dan said, as he stared at her with his big brown and green eyes.

            “I don’t know, Danny. Mom did say no.” Ann gave the mouse back to Danny.

            Danny put Whitey back in the shoebox, and then put the shoebox back under the bed. “Well come on!” Danny said, “It’ll go better if we have our work done!”

            They all three ran back out, racing to see who got there first. Mom and Dad would be home soon!

I'm Not Sleepy Yet! by A A Thomas - Beginning

            “Tell us a story, Granny Ann. We’re not sleepy yet,” two pairs of blue gray eyes stared up with hopeful appeal into the equally blue gray eyes of their grandmother. “A real story,” they begged, “of when you or our Mommies were little girls.”

            Granny Ann smiled her sideways smile as she remembered three other little ones who were “not sleepy yet” and the bedtime stories she use to tell that were from her childhood memories or from stories she had made up herself.

            So began the “I’m Not Sleepy Yet!” stories. They go something like this.

Memories: Spring Cleaning and Derby Day

Memories: Spring Cleaning and Derby Day

by daughter - Anne

I can remember as we were growing up that Derby Day was our spring house cleaning day. We would all get up really early, have a good breakfast, and then go to work. Our goal was to get everything done, inside and out, before the Kentucky Derby started so we could sit down in front of the TV to shout for our pick to win the Derby.

Danny and Dad would go outside to work on the yard or in the garden while we women did what we were suppose to do – clean house and cook.

There were hardwood floors all the way through the house. We would move all the furniture out of a room; sweep down the walls; scrub the woodwork; then sweep, mop and wax the hardwood floors. The whole time music was going with all of us singing along.

When the hardwood was ready for shining mother would give us socks for our feet and light weight blankets to use for shining the floors. Then she would crank up the music and the fun part of our spring cleaning would begin.

Jean and I would take turns pulling each other around on those blankets and then we would do the twist to the music so we could get into the corners. Sometimes we would just skate from one end of the room to the other. Mother was always right in the middle with us; usually dancing along and keeping time with the music.

Mother loved music and dancing as much as she loved cooking and eating. When she was growing up she did a lot of roller skating. I was told she could tap dance on roller skates; as I remember the way she used to dance I can believe that without even trying! Jean inherited mother’s rhythm and dancing ability; but I inherited Dad’s two left feet.


On Derby Day our house was filled with laughter and music. I believe we all enjoyed those days of spring cleaning almost as much as we enjoyed watching the Derby when we were through.

Memories: I'll Open That

Memories: I’ll Open That for You – by daughter Anne Thomas

Mother and I did a lot of traveling together. She always brought along snacks and something to drink so we wouldn’t have to do a lot of stopping or spending our money for something that would cost more than at a local WalMart.

Since she was the co-pilot and I was the pilot, I wasn’t allowed to take my hands off the wheel in order to be distracted by opening something to eat or drink. It was bad enough that I would eat or drink a soda as I drove.

On one of our trips she asked me if I would like a Nutty Buddy to go with my Sprite. I told her, “Yes, please; that would be nice”.

I heard the rustle of the paper as she opened the Nutty Buddy but after about five minutes she still hadn’t handed me a Nutty Buddy. I glanced over to see what was going on.

Mother was crunching the Nutty Buddy and seeming to enjoy it very much. This was a surprise because I had never seen her eat one before. She always said that she didn’t think she would like them, and besides they would probably get under her teeth.

I gave her a few more minutes; glancing over occasionally to see how it was going. When I saw she was fixing to take the last bite I said, “How was that Nutty Buddy? Did you like it?”

Mother’s surprise was so funny I had to laugh; and as usual she joined in. “I hope you enjoyed that, Anne. I know I sure did.”

Every time I eat a Nutty Buddy I think of Ms. Alberta and the day she ate a Nutty Buddy for me.

Life, and The Blog, Goes On

 May 8, 2012

When I first started transcribing mother’s tapes, it was a painful journey. Then I started really listening to the tapes. Most of the things she talked about were what I call “defining moments”, you know those things that had a hand in shaping the adults that we become, and I had heard them; but so many of them were new. Then there were stories that she would repeat. The first time it happened I almost fast forwarded to the next story. I am so glad I didn’t because I found out that the first telling was sometimes just the bones or skeleton of the story; the second telling was the meat and substance of the story.

I had looked into publishing mother’s memoirs; found that it was a highly unlikely thing to happen but went forward with transcribing anyway. Someone sent me a link to a blog they had seen and that made me look into “blogging”. It didn’t take me long to realize that here was a medium that would literally publish mother’s memoirs for family and friends and an occasional stranger to enjoy. It was my intention to transcribe mother’s tapes; place them on the blog, then go on my way.

But like many plans that we humans make there has been a twist that came at me out of left field. Like that long ago baseball that caught me in the throat and knocked me to my knees; I hope I have learned a lesson. No plan is set in concrete – all plans can be changed.

As I have sent links to Ms Alberta’s Memories and Recipes, I have received phone calls and ran into people and the conversation usually goes something like this:

“I saw the blog and I was wondering … ” with the next part going “ did she ever tell you about when ?” or “ did you know ?” and there has followed one of their memories of mother.

So as mother use to say about things, “It just took on a life of its own and went on from there.”