CAN Y'ALL STAY TO SUPPER

When I was a kid our house seemed to be the hub of activity for the neighborhood. If someone's kid was sick they would bring it to Mom for diagnosis. She could put the back of her hand to its forehead and tell what its temp. was. She could diagnose the various childhood diseases with just a look and she could tell an adult what was wrong with them just by listening to them describe their symptoms.


Dad was kind of the Mr. Know it all of the neighborhood. He could fix a car, Run electric circuits, do carpentry work, lay bricks and loan ten dollars till payday. He had a large box of tools that were about all you needed to fix most anything on a car and he could show you how or do it himself and he never charged for anything. Concerning cars and their repair people would bring them to our house and use the driveway and the tools to work on their car. They would always ask Poppa if it was all right to use the tools and Poppa would always say sure and if you need help, just say the word and I can come out and help you.


Back then about everybody ''knew'' everybody for a couple miles around our house. We had a real ''neighborhood''......


This was after the war and I was about seven or eight years old. There was a family that lived ''across the way'' on Kivett Drive. There was three boys in the family. One was Beverly and he and I were the same age, probably eight years old, there was C.W. And he was about sixteen. He was what mom called ''gangly''. Kinda long and tall, maybe six feet, and maybe 150 pounds. The eldest was Wayne and he was eighteen and well on his way at becoming a man. I liked all these guys and me and Bev played together and went to school together.


One Saturday they came over to the house driving their dads car. They needed to fix the generator or something and they needed the ''tools'' and the piece of ''cardboard'' for sliding under the car as necessary. Poppa said sure and he would help if they needed it. They assured Poppa that they could fix it and they went out and got to work.


Our driveway was really wide and nice and flat composed of mostly hard packed soil with imbedded gravel in the surface and it made a perfect place for a ''marble ring''. Poppa had made us a ''marble ring makin' tool'' consisting of two 16 penny nails with a string between. You drove one nail in the ground and made a perfect circle with the other nail.
Back then every kid had a ''sack of marbles'' and a slingshot. Bev had brought his marbles and I was challenged to a ''marble shotin contest'' for ''keepers''....... The game was started and all went well until Bev accused me of ''fudging'' when I made a shot. Words lead to action and we wound up rolling around on the ground and he socked me in then nose and caused it to bleed. I went into the house for mom to put a cold rag on my nose to stop the bleeding and Poppa asked what happened. I told him that Bev had socked me in the nose. It should be understood right here that Poppa could never keep the names of these boys straight with exactly Who was Whom as to which name went with which boy and he got Bev and C.W. Confused. He thought C.W. Had hit me. He came up out of his chair and hit the back door like a bull. He rounded the corner of the house and C.W. Was leaning on the finder of the car without a care in the world. Wayne was under the car doing something. In one action Poppa grabbed C.W. By the belt and the neck of his shirt and slammed him up against the house like a rag doll. Poppa loosed his right hand from C.W.'s belt still holding him against the side of the house with one hand. Poppa drew it back with a fist on the end and in a low voice whispered. ''Why did you hit my boy''. Poppa thought the big boy had hit me and he was wrong. His eyes were mere slits, his teeth were clinched and you could hardly hear his voice but his right arm was ''cocked'' and C.W. Had about three seconds to explain what happened or Poppa would have driven his head thru the side of the house. In a great way it was kinda funny. Poor C.W. Looked like he had six hands because he was covering up his face and waving my Dad off him as best he could.
''Honest to God Charlie,,,,,,,, I never hit your boy. Not me,,,,,, honest to God, I swear I never hit your boy. It wasnt me, it was Bev and that is the truth''......'' Please dont hit me and please put me down, please''.... ''they were playin marbles and got into a fight over ''fudging'' or something''


''It aint C.W. Dad, it was Bev that I got into a fight with'' I was tugging on dads leg as I said this. Poppa looked at me and asked ''which one was ''Bev''????????? ''He is the one hiding in the wood shed''.......... Poppa put C.W.'s feet back on the ground and smoothed his shirt out and apologized to him and begged his forgiveness for his stupid error. C.W. Said that from now on, when they came down to work on a car, that every body was going to take paper tape and put it on their shirt and put their ''name'' on the paper tape so dad would know who was whom. Mom stepped out the back door and asked the boys if they could ''stay to supper''? She said she could set extra plates and make a few extra biscuits. They said they had to go back home but they would love to have a ''sack of biscuits if she didnt mind''.. Mom was famous for her biscuits. Mom made extra bread while the boys finished the car and got the tools up and put everything away. The sack of biscuits was delivered piping hot and smelling like heaven. Me and Bev shook hands and forgave each other and became friends again and they got in the car with their ''sack of Miss Lula's'' biscuits and all was right with the world......
From then on when the boys would come down to the house to work on a car C.W. Made it point to tell Poppa everyone's name to start with.
So it went in the life of an eight year old boy, after the war, back when you knew everyone for a mile or two around our house, your word was your bond and neighbors helped neighbors..........


God bless our troops and bring them back to us tomorrow ….... better yet, BRING THEM BACK TODAY....