 My
mother had stories to tell!
In every family there is a story teller. Her stories were about her life and the way that she had lived it and about things that had happened to her. It was just the life of a little cracker girl. A "St. John's River Rat," that is what she liked to call herself! She wasn't quite sure when or where she was born. At the time, at least among poor people, a doctor was not generally in attendance; and a birth certificate was not filed, or records of any kind kept, unless there was a family Bible and someone who knew how to write well enough to write things like that down. In this case, there was no family Bible and no one who knew how to read or write. Things eventually became confused especially concerning my mother's age. By the time the old photo above with her brother, Edward, was taken, she had gained a lot of weight as girls often do during puberty; but, a few years before, she had been little and scrawny, so much so that her parents were ashamed and afraid that people might think they were starving her. So they often lied about her age, telling people that she was much younger than she actually was; and, over time the actual date of birth was forgotten. She guessed it was about 1908 though. So that is the year she always used, in later years, when asked for her date of birth. One thing my mother was sure of, she was born somewhere along the St. John's River nowhere near any city or town; and, she lived her life in cities and towns and in the country, all along the St. John's River. Her father got whatever work he could; generally it was in the turpentine industry and he went from still to still wherever work was available. His wife and six children, including my mother, followed him whenever they could. They usually could since many turpentine stills had shacks, and that is all they were, for their employees; but, even if a still did not have any sort of lodgings for an employee and his family, if you could find an empty house, you could just move into it and no one would say a thing! People built things without worrying about whose
property they were building on; and, they moved into abandoned
buildings without worrying as to who owned it or I know it sounds strange; but, that is the way it was back then! 
Most 0f the houses were single story "shotgun" houses. They
were called shotgun houses because they were built with the rooms
one after another; and, it was said that if all the doors were
open and a shotgun fired through the front door, it would come
out the back. That was just the easiest way to build a house;
and, most of these houses were also unpainted and build up off
the ground and with tin roofs that got hot in summer, cold in
winter, and very noisy whenever it rained.
Most of the houses were near some source of fresh water; sometimes a well, but more often a spring. There are a lot of springs in Florida. Whenever they moved into a house, there was generally a toilet already somewhere nearby; but, my grandfather would usually tear that one down, cover it with dirt; and, build a new one always making sure that it was situated so that it could not run off into the water supply. The cooking was done outside over a open fire. The laundry was done outside too, sometimes boiled in a big iron pot; and, then hung outside on a line to dry. Mattresses were made of canvas and stuffed with Spanish moss, a bromeliad which hangs on trees throughout much of the southeastern United States. Once a year the mattresses would be opened, the moss boiled and "combed" to remove any tangles and then put back in the mattress. This was done to cut down on the number of bedbugs they were infested with. Bedbugs used to be quite a problem; but, shortly after World War 11, DDT came along and their numbers sharply decreased. Just a few years later, when I was just a little girl, my parents would say "Sleep tight. Don't let the bedbug bite." and I thought that bedbugs were just something that they made up to scare little children! I had never seen one. I have never seen one. Once they moved into an old second story house; but, the stairway was crumbling so they just lived in the downstairs portion; but, they kept hearing things upstairs! Finally, my grandfather investigated and found a bunch of goats living there!One of the houses they moved into actually had a well with good fresh water; but, funny noises were always coming from it, noises which my mother said sounded like people talking. Eventually the well had them so spooked they left. Another time, some people moved out of a house about a mile away and had left some old pictures so my mother and her older sister were told. Back then, at least to them, an actual picture was something even if it was of somebody you didn't know. My mother and aunt decided to go get the pictures. Nowadays, no way would children be allowed to go alone such a distance; but, back then no one thought anything of it. Turned out a bobcat and her brood had gotten there first! The bobcat followed them almost all the way home; but, never actually attacked. Needless to say, my mother and aunt were badly shaken. My mother loved animals, especially cats. One cat she had was buried alive and she did not find out what happened until quite a while later. She jumped on the boy who did it and badly scratched him; and, for that at least she was not punished, although she could have been put in jail for it. Back then animals had no rights and she had no legal recourse to make him pay for what he had done. Her father had a favorite cat who would go out and catch rabbits and bring them home. My grandfather would then cut off the head and give it to the cat and that seemed to be all the cat wanted. The cat had his rabbit dinner and the rest of the family had a rabbit dinner too. That cat eventually died in a house fire! |