| October 29 '05 |
|
| Volume 491 |
|
Iuka Trip Along
Came A Spider
In the first eight years of my childhood, my family lived in Pontotoc,
Corinth, Iuka, and Starkville, before my dad was transferred to the Kroger
Store in Okolona, MS. Okolona is the small town that holds the happiest of
my childhood memories, but it was Iuka that Mom held dearest in her memories
of places we lived and of people most cherished.
I was five years old when we moved to Iuka. The street on which we lived
ran uphill from the famous Mineral Springs Park on Hwy. 72. We lived within
a short walk from both the public school and the downtown business area,
but of course, it didn’t seem a short walk for a five-year old.
Mom loved our neighbors in Iuka, especially the Lominecks. I remember their
names, Harold, Dickie, Estelle, and Icie, but I am unsure of all the
relationships. I think Dickie and Estelle were the son and daughter-in-law
of Miss Icie. I took Mom back to Iuka a couple of times during the later
years of her life, and she enjoyed seeing, however briefly, her old friends.
A few years ago, I learned that Miss Virginia Dillard grew up in Iuka. Now
that I visit Miss Virginia on a regular basis, I recently became aware that
it had been a few years since she visited Iuka. She has maintained a lifelong
friendship with a couple of Iuka ladies, whom she’s known since her
childhood, and she occasionally likes to visit "the old home place" as well
as the house and land owned by her grandfather in East Port.
Thus, rather spontaneously one day, I suggested, "When the weather gets a
little cooler, why don’t we just drive up to Iuka some Saturday? I’m
sure Barbara would enjoy the ride, especially if the leaves are changing
color."
During the months of summer, it’s hard for me to take off a Saturday
from working in the yard, but as the days get shorter in autumn and the nights
a little cooler, the grass and shrubs grow more slowly, allowing me to skip
an occasional weekend of yard work.
"I’d love to do that," Miss Virginia replied.
"Great!" I responded. "I’ll give you a few days’ notice, once I
land on a date."
So, it came to pass, on Saturday, October 22, ’05, the three of us found
our way to Iuka. Yet, we didn’t get to follow our planned schedule of
leaving at 9:00 a.m. It seems whenever my wife and I plan to be anywhere
near Belmont, MS, my daughter, bless her heart, finds a chore or errand for
one of us. This time, it was to drop off her two youngest girls at her house
after they spent the night with us.
Rayanne vacillates among "stay at home mom," working multiple part-time jobs,
and full time employment, but if she had her druthers it would be staying
home. She had sent Merilese and Katherine to Pontotoc on Friday night, via
Anna. Rayanne had to work Saturday morning, and, for reasons I don’t
recall, was without a Saturday morning babysitter. So Rayanne and her
co-conspirator, Barbara Anne, hit upon the plan of us keeping the girls Friday
night. I wouldn’t normally drive through Belmont on the way to Iuka,
but it’s not really much out of the way.
The biggest problem I faced was timing our arrival with Rayanne getting off
work at noon. We resolved the problem by leaving at 10:00 a.m. instead of
9:00 a.m., but that reduced our tour-time by an hour.
We had hardly pulled out of Miss Virginia’s driveway, when she spotted
a small spider on the dash. Normally, we would have driven my car, but since
Barbara’s LeSabre is roomier and more comfortable than my Impala, we
had chosen it for the trip.
"Ooh, there’s a spider," cried Miss Virginia. "Kill it!"
As spiders go, it was a bit unusual. It was gray and black, and its bulky,
hairy legs matched the colors of its bulky, hairy body. With respect to size
it was probably small enough to fit on my thumbnail, though I didn’t
care to measure it. Miss Virginia swatted at it with a pocket notebook without
success, and it sought refuge in the air vent of the windshield defroster.
Now, I’m afraid of spiders, but Miss Virginia has me beat by a country
mile. Outside of my house, I’ll leave spiders alone if they don’t
threaten me. The one inside the air vent posed no threat to me, but it left
Miss Virginia unsettled.
I stopped the car in a parking lot of a business, as we considered how to
remove the spider. Barbara asked me to open the trunk. She produced a pump
sprayer of insect repellant. We sprayed the area where the spider was last
seen, hoping that would repress its urge to roam the surface of the dash.
All went well for a few minutes, but when the spider reappeared, it was promptly
sprayed again. Then, as we neared Bissell, the spider surfaced and made a
dash for the edge of the dash and flung itself, lemming-style, off the dash
and right at the feet of Miss Virginia.
Here, my recollection of our conversation gets shaky, but the gist of it
was, the sooner I could stop the car the better off we’d be, which is
exactly what I did, to the consternation of the two drivers behind me. Miss
Virginia was about halfway out the door, before I completely stopped. I thought
I saw the critter on the floor mat, and someone handed me a Kleenex tissue,
which I used to pinch the spider between my thumb and index finger. I opened
the tissue to find the spider still alive and quickly dumped tissue and spider
on the ground. But, not wishing to leave any litter, I picked up the tissue
and used it to squash the spider once more.
"Where is it?" Miss Virginia asked excitedly, having exited the vehicle.
"Did you get it?"
"It’s dead. It’s on the ground." I shared.
"How did you see it?" she inquired.
"Just lucky," I replied. "It didn’t move, once it hit the floor. All
that spray, must have affected it."
I think I would have been forced to drive back home and swap cars, had we
not found and disposed of the little gray spider.
Our next stop was for gasoline in Tupelo, as it’s normally cheaper than
what’s sold in Pontotoc.
Once we were underway again, Barbara stated, "You’ll have to tell Miss
Virginia about James’ experience with a spider."
I explained I had shared that story in an early edition of this newsletter
and tried to summarize the happenings for Miss Virginia.
James, my younger brother, was around twelve years old at the time, and often
went to sleep on a pallet on the living room floor where the adults were
watching television. Shortly, before he fell asleep that night we all saw
a huge spider on the hearth right before it disappeared behind the radiant
heater insert in the fireplace. I don’t know what kind it was, but it
was almost tarantula sized.
Remembering a trick or two that I learned while living in college dormitories,
and noticing James had fallen asleep, I pulled a thread across his right
cheek and ear, while a big grin crept across Dad’s face as he watched
my actions with great interest.
As soon as James showed the first sign of a facial reaction, I yelled, "Spider."
With a spasmodic jerk, James actually levitated horizontally for a split
second, hovering about a foot above the floor before flipping over in mid-air
and landing knees-first on the pallet. By the time he hit the pallet, he
had already struck his right ear five or six times.
"Where, where?" he hollered, while flailing his arms wildly.
We were laughing so hard none of us could tell him it was a prank.
Miss Virginia laughed at the scene I described, and I think she was able
to relax better than before.
To be continued…
Sarah’s
Edging Initiated By Her Yard Boy
As my sister’s yard boy, I take more liberties in trimming the shrubs
and fighting back the encroachment of honeysuckle and grape vines than would
perhaps a hired hand. It’s a job I may have to turn over to someone
else, down the road, but it’s not one I mind handling at this time.
Until recently, the front flowerbed at Sarah’s was really an edged bed
of small shrubs, ground cover, and patches of monkey grass. Flowers were
almost nonexistent, and whatever mulch may have once been present had been
taken over by grass. Thus, a few times a year, I set out to
‘weed-eat’ the flower bed and trim the shrubs. The edging, a heavy
gauge plastic, had managed to free itself from the ground in a few places,
something Sarah noticed and called to my attention on an occasion in which
we were both in the front yard at the same time.
"I need to get some new edging, I suppose," she sighed, resigned to the fact
that nothing lasts forever.
"Yeah, you do." I replied.
No decision or action plan was made, and I filed the thought for another
day.
Miss Virginia Dillard recently asked me who she might contact regarding the
trimming of her shrubbery.
"I used to have a black man who’d come by in the spring and in the fall
to trim my shrubs. He didn’t come by this year, but I need to find somebody
to trim them."
I suggested she contact John Schubert, a brother-in-law to my neighbor, Raymond
Montgomery.
"Mr. Raymond and Mr. John often work together, but Mr. John likes trimming
shrubs better than Mr. Raymond. They don’t work cheap, but they really
do a good job. The next time I see Mr. John, I’ll tell him to check
with you."
Between Mr. Raymond and Mr. John, they keep the entrance to my subdivision
in pretty fair condition, especially when one considers they aren’t
reimbursed for their work or their plant purchases. Mr. Raymond usually sets
out seasonal plants to add extra color to the entrance. Mr. John keeps the
hedge and shrubbery trimmed, and both men contribute to grass control in
the beds. Did I mention these guys are 83 and 79, or they were at last count?
A few days after I spoke with Miss Virginia, I saw Mr. John working at the
entrance of Woodland Hills' subdivision on the side adjacent to Sarah’s
property. I stopped and gave him Miss Virginia’s name and address and
asked him to give her an estimate. I also mentioned to him that Sarah needed
some new edging along her front flowerbed. We walked over and took a look
at what was needed. He said he’d measure the linear footage and give
Sarah an estimate of the cost of materials and labor. He suggested replacing
the plastic edging with a concrete edging that’s sold in two-foot lengths.
"The last red concrete edging we bought wasn’t any good. It’d fall
apart with you trying to place it." Mr. John shared. "Wal Mart said they’d
had a lot of complaints, since they changed suppliers. Anyway, the natural
concrete color will go better with the gray brick walls. If it was me, I’d
straighten out the line and bring this narrow section out a few more inches."
"That will be fine," I added, knowing Sarah would not mind me making the
decision.
When the work estimate came back affordable and Sarah shared the figure with
me, I waited a couple of days before telling Mr. John to proceed with the
project. Once the edging was down, I asked Mr. Raymond how much mulch it
would take to mulch the bed. He estimated five or six scoops, which translates
into about two loads for a full sized pickup truck.
Of course, the grass needed to be removed or treated with an herbicide before
the mulch was put down, and once I had Sarah’s okay on the mulch, I
asked Mr. John to handle the grass situation however he thought would be
best.
He and Mr. Raymond chose to dig out the grass. I was really impressed with
the results. They didn’t leave a blade of grass, and they removed all
of the vine-based ground cover, too.
Mr. Raymond suggested the two juniper plants in the front corner be removed,
as they had gotten scraggly with the out-of-control ground cover. I told
him Sarah wouldn’t mind. He mentioned that yellow mums would do well
where the junipers were, and I agreed.
The next day, the transformed flower bed really caught my eye
as I drove by Sarah’s. The red mulch and yellow mums created a warm
and inviting look to what had been a drab looking entrance. Sarah is well
pleased with both the results and the modest price for the work. I’m
not making a commission, but if you need a new look for your landscaping,
Mr. Raymond and Mr. John are the folks to call. Meanwhile, if you drive by
and see Sarah’s yard boy mowing her lawn or weed-eating, check out his
big smile.
Bodock Beau
Seasonal Humor
There’s not much our editor finds humorous concerning Halloween, especially
the yard rolling part. However, this tale came to us from Larry Young and
gave us a good laugh.
Early one evening after dark, in the Randolph community of Pontotoc County,
an elderly man and his guest were talking about the good old days. Suddenly,
they heard sounds that made them think it was hailing on the tin-roof structure.
Thinking it unusual for the time of the year, they went outside to investigate.
Corncobs were everywhere…in the yard, on the porch, and even some on
the roof.
"What in the world?" exclaimed the guest?
"Oh, it’s just those Amish, who live down the road, rolling my yard
again," he responded.
Extra Spit And Polish
Back in the mid-1930s, I was having my family over for Thanksgiving dinner
for the first time, so everything had to be perfect.
We put out a white tablecloth, my best china and silver-plated flatware.
The table was set, with a few dishes of condiments added.
As I returned to the kitchen to check on the turkey, my two-year-old daughter
was drinking water in the doorway and began to cough from getting water down
her windpipe.
I patted her on the back and said, "Well, spit and sputter."
When I came back into the dining room, I saw that my daughter had pulled
a chair out and was on her hands and knees on the table.
"What do you think you’re doing?" I asked.
She replied, "You told me to spit in the butter." And she did!
For years, every time we got together for a meal, someone would yell out,
"Have you rinsed the butter?"
Jane Wells, Bella Vista, AR.
Reminisce Magazine Nov.-Dec. 2005
What Did She Say?
The editor was about to take Sarah to do volunteer work at Barbara’s
office this week.
"Does she have a copier at the office?" Sarah asked.
"Yes!" he replied, not noticing that Sarah grabbed a coffee mug before leaving.
Arriving at the office, the editor pointed out the copier, "Here’s the
copier."
"I said COFFEE POT, not copier," Sarah laughed.
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