|
I was
born in the country in the state of Mississippi but moved to
Louisiana when I was ten years old. My parents did not have
a lot of money but we were happy to be alive and living in a
nice place. My daddy made enough money to keep us fed and
clothed and mother stayed at home and was a housewife.
Someone
mentioned to mother that a store in town needed someone to
work as a sales clerk and she jumped at the chance to make
her own money.
She
smoked constantly so having money to spend for that was
important to her. But, there was a problem. What was her
only child, me, going to do Saturdays when I was not in
school and during the summers when there was no school.
That
problem was soon solved when I met a girl about my age. Her
mother also worked in town and Polly was left alone too so
we became good friends. We would usually clean our rooms
and to be very honest the rest of our homes on Saturday
morning. During the 40??™s and even now, Delhi was a very
small town but there was a movie theatre and both of us
loved the movies. We would get dressed, pack a sack lunch
and off we would walk the few blocks to the middle of the
town of Delhi. We did not have a lot of money to spend so
we would get to the Cave Theatre at about 11 a.m. with our
lunch. We would pay our twelve cents and go in to find our
seats. Then the show would begin. There was an older boy
who always sat in the very front of the movie. Every time
there was a fight scene in the movie, he would start hitting
out and fighting as though someone was there and he was
fighting to beat them. We would sit there and laugh at him
and sometimes forget to watch the movie. Since our mothers
worked until about 9 p.m., we would sometimes see the same
movie several times during the day. As soon as the last
showing was over, we would walk across the street and to the
stores where our mothers were working.
As we
passed the local grocery store, we would see a lot of farm
workers sitting on the curb. Almost as though it were
required of them, they all had a meal of cheese, lunch meat
(usually bologna), crackers, and a cold drink. There was
very little traffic on the street and sometimes they would
walk into the street and show off to their friends. I don??™t
think I ever walked past those farm workers without wishing
I had some cheese, lunch meat, crackers and a cold drink of
my own. I believe that was some of the best food around. I
do know that when I did have those items, they did not taste
quite the way they seemed to be when the workers were eating
them. Perhaps the enjoyment they were showing as they ate
is the reason the food looked so good. Or as they say, ???the
grass is greener on the other side of the fence.??? It really
did not matter why it seemed so good. It just had that
effect on me.
Seeing
those farm hands those many years ago and now remembering
them has given me so many wonderful memories. It was a time
in the past and can never be repeated but thinking back and
remembering brings happiness as well as a bit of sadness for
that which is gone.
?© Doris
B. Fandal
May 30,
2005 |
