My grandparents in 1955 had a sand yard,no grass,I have seen granny sweep it many times. The sand was great for a kid to play in and get in trouble with.As a young child,I filled my daddy's gas tank with sand.Amazed me to see it dissapear& I womonderd how long it would take to fill it up..I was maybe 5or less but can remember this clearly.I remember the car would not start & I was quit as a mouse.When daddy took the gas tank off,he discovered my deed.HA Since we are talking about older times.How many of you had their grandmothers make them snuff to dip ? I wanted snuff like my granny so she mixed up cocoa & Sugar,washed one of her snuff boxes,and I dipped and spit big as granny.I was 5.

Funny! I wondered if you got a trip to the woodshed or a peach tree switch for your experiement! Yes, yes, yes! The "children's snuff" was great! But we used cinnamon instead of cocoa. My grandmother was from Cannon Co., Tenn., and she used snuff. But we thought that spit can was so gross, we didn't want to copy that, at all. However, Bertie, my mother's help, in Calvert, Texas, had a big knot in her lower lip, that she told us was snuff. She kept her spit can hidden, though, and I didn't ever notice her spitting. We begged and begged for some snuff like Bertie, so she mixed us up some cinnamon and sugar in a cup. We went around dipping and spitting happily. (We couldn't get candy or cookies due to sugar rationing, but "snuff" kept us satisfied for the whole day. I made some up for my grandson when I was making cinnamon toast for him. He liked the toast, but didn't want much of the snuff. I just saved it and made more cinnamon toast the next day. Another treat that we got was something that my mother called a "man". She would use left over pie crust, roll it out, put it in a pan, put on some butter, sprinkle with cinnamon and sugar, roll up the edges, and bake it. Wonderful ! Sometimes she would make them and put lemon juice on them, along with the sugar and butter. Maybe the cinnamon too, I can't remember. At times, instead of making them flat, she would roll them up, loosely. So good. I thought that, when I retired, I was going to just make all kinds of goodies for my grandsons (and myself!). I haven't had one thing turn out like my mother's! (When I told my mother, years ago, that my soup and goolaush weren't turning out like her's, she said she believed it was a difference in water.) She didn't leave recipes for those basic things, and I didn't write things down. Even the French Toast and scrambled eggs, that I used to make for my children in the 60s, won't turn out like it used to. I know I am doing the same things, using the same items and procedure, it just isn't working. I grew up, sitting in the kitchen, with my mother, grandmother, great aunts, and they told me how to do things. I went to them for help, as they were still alive, when I was a young mother, if I needed to check on something, But, now that they are all gone, I'm just not having much luck. Even simple pie crust won't work. I got up one morning at 4 a.m., wanting to make scones for my grandson. What a mess I had! At 9 a.m., long after the boys had gone to school, I was still fighting with the really runny, sticky dough I had made! Once made, they were okay-for after school snacks. I decided I would just buy them at the store. However, those are not very good. Dry, and always labeled incorrectly! I heat them and put whipped cream on top, and they are okay that way. My grandfather used to get up really early and fix a big breakfast for the family, then he would spend a lot of the morning baking. My dad sure was glad when my grandfather came to visit! He loved those fresh biscuits every morning! And I loved the pies and cookies. (This was the grandfather who was married to my grandmother from Tennessee. He was from Texas, but his parents were from Alabama. Grandpa walked with his knees bent. We had a Civil War sword that my mother kept hidden in the couch that had a space to store blankets. I found that sword and took it to school to show in history class. One of my classmates had argued that I didn't have a grandfather in the Civil War. I thought I did and took the sword to show them. My teacher just told me to take it home, that it was too valuable to bring to school. Soon, we made a trip to Ft. Worth and took the sword. My mother said it was not because I took it to school, but because my sister was at that age of getting into everything and they were afraid she would find it and hurt herself. My mother and her sister traded things back and forth, including their parents ad they got older. They would stay with one a while, then they would rotate. I knew that the sword belonged to my grandfather, so I had asked my mother why my grandfather walked with his knees bent. I asked if he was in the Civil War. She was busy and just said, "yes", probably so I would go away and quit bothering her. I asked if that is why Grandpa limped, and she said "yes", and went on with talking to someone else. So, I always thought that Grandpa got hit behind the knees with a sword during the Civil War. Of course, that was all wrong. It was his father's sword, but he polished it every time he visited us. There was also a wall pendulum clock that belonged to his parents, that he worked on every time he came to see us. As soon as he left, it would stop running! A younger cousin told me that she thought that he limped because of a boyhood accident with an axe. He didn't really talk about things. After my cousin's parents died, the children divided things up. One son took the sword. But he has distanced himself from the family, and someone told me that the sword is now in the posession of a sutler. I wrote to them and asked for a photo of it for our family things, but no answer. Maybe I can draw a picture of it. It was kind of plain. I can remember the blade part, but I can't remember, exactly, the handle. It might come to me, once I start drawing. Anyway, I remember my grandfather, limping around the kitchen singing "Billy Boy" (which I thought was very appropriate!), "Froggy Went A Courtin' ", etc. Anybody ever play the musical saw? My grandmother did, while my grandfather played the fiddle. My mother and her sister played the piano. I was only about 3, but I remember it distinctly, and just did a drawing about it. I'm trying to write memories, as well as drawings of things that I don't have photos of. My grandmother tried to show me how to play the jug or the spoons so I could join in their Saturday night sessions on the farm. I couldn't manage them, so I just "rode the horsie" on my grandfather's foot, while he played the fiddle. I didn't know the words to the songs, but I tried to sing with them. Now if it had been classical, songs from the movies or popular radio, or from the Methodist Hymnal, I could have sung those. My mother said that I knew every song in the Methodist Hymnal by the time I was 2! Of course, I was always with her at choir practice, church, piano lessons in our house, and every time there was some need for a piano or organ in town! I was researching musical saws for my drawing. I'm sure my grandmother went outside and brought in a saw and a hammer, after I asked her what she was going to play with the little group. My grandfather had brought out his fiddle, and my mother and her sister were playing duets on the piano. I didn't believe that playing the saw was possible. So, she showed me! And just grinned all the while! I hope y'all are putting all these stories down, and labeling all your pictures! I always have thought that my little stories were too new, and not anything unusual or interesting. My family is totally uninterested. So, I'm just writing, painting and drawing, anyway, for someday, when I am no longer here and they will want to know. I finally decided that, maybe, they are a little interesting to some people when I was at writers conferences and read some of my things. I thought I was writing something very serious, when people would just be fallling out of their chairs laughing, and told me to finish what I was writing. I was puzzled, but I guess it is funny, come to think about it. I mentioned the time when one great-uncle, as a little boy, didn't want to take violin lessons. His mother made him go. So, Eddie went to his lesson. When the teacher was out of the room, Eddie peed in the teachers violin case, then ran home. He didn't have to take anymore violin lessons. I had actually written about a room in my great-grandfather's house, and I remembered when he died, and a grandfather clock that was in the hall. That was strange, because I was upstairs, and not in that room at all when he died. I was only 1, and was in my baby bed, not sitting in a chair in the entry hall, looking at my socks, while the grownups went in to see great-grandfather. But people got a big kick out of my story! Another thing that interested people was how, when we went to the picture show, everyone had a certain place to sit, sort of like in a family room. I was struggling to write the assignment, which was supposed to be a murder mystery (not my area of interest at all), and I started writing about the old movie theatre, and how things were. Never did get to a mystery or a murder! Guess that is a sign that I'm getting old! I found myself starting to tell little stories to my students before I retired. I grew up in the next town, so they knew the families, people and places. They seemed to enjoy them, but I would stop myself when I realized I was telling old stories. (We could do those things in art, journalism, yearbook, and newspaper classes! Might not work so well in other subjects!) It really helped when the kids knew people that I knew, or their parents knew my family. Cecelia > My grandparents in 1955 had a sand yard,no grass,I have seen granny > sweep it many times. > The sand was great for a kid to play in and get in trouble with.As a > young child,I filled my daddy's gas tank with sand.Amazed me to see it > dissapear& I womonderd how long it would take to fill it up..I was maybe > 5or less but can remember this clearly.I remember the car would not > start & I was quit as a mouse.When daddy took the gas tank off,he > discovered my deed.HA > Since we are talking about older times.How many of you had their > grandmothers make them snuff to dip ? I wanted snuff like my granny so > she mixed up cocoa & Sugar,washed one of her snuff boxes,and I dipped > and spit big as granny.I was 5. > > >

Funny! I wondered if you got a trip to the woodshed or a peach tree switch for your experiement! Yes, yes, yes! The "children's snuff" was great! But we used cinnamon instead of cocoa. My grandmother was from Cannon Co., Tenn., and she used snuff. But we thought that spit can was so gross, we didn't want to copy that, at all. However, Bertie, my mother's help, in Calvert, Texas, had a big knot in her lower lip, that she told us was snuff. She kept her spit can hidden, though, and I didn't ever notice her spitting. We begged and begged for some snuff like Bertie, so she mixed us up some cinnamon and sugar in a cup. We went around dipping and spitting happily. (We couldn't get candy or cookies due to sugar rationing, but "snuff" kept us satisfied for the whole day. I made some up for my grandson when I was making cinnamon toast for him. He liked the toast, but didn't want much of the snuff. I just saved it and made more cinnamon toast the next day. Another treat that we got was something that my mother called a "man". She would use left over pie crust, roll it out, put it in a pan, put on some butter, sprinkle with cinnamon and sugar, roll up the edges, and bake it. Wonderful ! Sometimes she would make them and put lemon juice on them, along with the sugar and butter. Maybe the cinnamon too, I can't remember. At times, instead of making them flat, she would roll them up, loosely. So good. I thought that, when I retired, I was going to just make all kinds of goodies for my grandsons (and myself!). I haven't had one thing turn out like my mother's! (When I told my mother, years ago, that my soup and goolaush weren't turning out like her's, she said she believed it was a difference in water.) She didn't leave recipes for those basic things, and I didn't write things down. Even the French Toast and scrambled eggs, that I used to make for my children in the 60s, won't turn out like it used to. I know I am doing the same things, using the same items and procedure, it just isn't working. I grew up, sitting in the kitchen, with my mother, grandmother, great aunts, and they told me how to do things. I went to them for help, as they were still alive, when I was a young mother, if I needed to check on something, But, now that they are all gone, I'm just not having much luck. Even simple pie crust won't work. I got up one morning at 4 a.m., wanting to make scones for my grandson. What a mess I had! At 9 a.m., long after the boys had gone to school, I was still fighting with the really runny, sticky dough I had made! Once made, they were okay-for after school snacks. I decided I would just buy them at the store. However, those are not very good. Dry, and always labeled incorrectly! I heat them and put whipped cream on top, and they are okay that way. My grandfather used to get up really early and fix a big breakfast for the family, then he would spend a lot of the morning baking. My dad sure was glad when my grandfather came to visit! He loved those fresh biscuits every morning! And I loved the pies and cookies. (This was the grandfather who was married to my grandmother from Tennessee. He was from Texas, but his parents were from Alabama. Grandpa walked with his knees bent. We had a Civil War sword that my mother kept hidden in the couch that had a space to store blankets. I found that sword and took it to school to show in history class. One of my classmates had argued that I didn't have a grandfather in the Civil War. I thought I did and took the sword to show them. My teacher just told me to take it home, that it was too valuable to bring to school. Soon, we made a trip to Ft. Worth and took the sword. My mother said it was not because I took it to school, but because my sister was at that age of getting into everything and they were afraid she would find it and hurt herself. My mother and her sister traded things back and forth, including their parents ad they got older. They would stay with one a while, then they would rotate. I knew that the sword belonged to my grandfather, so I had asked my mother why my grandfather walked with his knees bent. I asked if he was in the Civil War. She was busy and just said, "yes", probably so I would go away and quit bothering her. I asked if that is why Grandpa limped, and she said "yes", and went on with talking to someone else. So, I always thought that Grandpa got hit behind the knees with a sword during the Civil War. Of course, that was all wrong. It was his father's sword, but he polished it every time he visited us. There was also a wall pendulum clock that belonged to his parents, that he worked on every time he came to see us. As soon as he left, it would stop running! A younger cousin told me that she thought that he limped because of a boyhood accident with an axe. He didn't really talk about things. After my cousin's parents died, the children divided things up. One son took the sword. But he has distanced himself from the family, and someone told me that the sword is now in the posession of a sutler. I wrote to them and asked for a photo of it for our family things, but no answer. Maybe I can draw a picture of it. It was kind of plain. I can remember the blade part, but I can't remember, exactly, the handle. It might come to me, once I start drawing. Anyway, I remember my grandfather, limping around the kitchen singing "Billy Boy" (which I thought was very appropriate!), "Froggy Went A Courtin' ", etc. Anybody ever play the musical saw? My grandmother did, while my grandfather played the fiddle. My mother and her sister played the piano. I was only about 3, but I remember it distinctly, and just did a drawing about it. I'm trying to write memories, as well as drawings of things that I don't have photos of. My grandmother tried to show me how to play the jug or the spoons so I could join in their Saturday night sessions on the farm. I couldn't manage them, so I just "rode the horsie" on my grandfather's foot, while he played the fiddle. I didn't know the words to the songs, but I tried to sing with them. Now if it had been classical, songs from the movies or popular radio, or from the Methodist Hymnal, I could have sung those. My mother said that I knew every song in the Methodist Hymnal by the time I was 2! Of course, I was always with her at choir practice, church, piano lessons in our house, and every time there was some need for a piano or organ in town! I was researching musical saws for my drawing. I'm sure my grandmother went outside and brought in a saw and a hammer, after I asked her what she was going to play with the little group. My grandfather had brought out his fiddle, and my mother and her sister were playing duets on the piano. I didn't believe that playing the saw was possible. So, she showed me! And just grinned all the while! I hope y'all are putting all these stories down, and labeling all your pictures! I always have thought that my little stories were too new, and not anything unusual or interesting. My family is totally uninterested. So, I'm just writing, painting and drawing, anyway, for someday, when I am no longer here and they will want to know. I finally decided that, maybe, they are a little interesting to some people when I was at writers conferences and read some of my things. I thought I was writing something very serious, when people would just be fallling out of their chairs laughing, and told me to finish what I was writing. I was puzzled, but I guess it is funny, come to think about it. I mentioned the time when one great-uncle, as a little boy, didn't want to take violin lessons. His mother made him go. So, Eddie went to his lesson. When the teacher was out of the room, Eddie peed in the teachers violin case, then ran home. He didn't have to take anymore violin lessons. I had actually written about a room in my great-grandfather's house, and I remembered when he died, and a grandfather clock that was in the hall. That was strange, because I was upstairs, and not in that room at all when he died. I was only 1, and was in my baby bed, not sitting in a chair in the entry hall, looking at my socks, while the grownups went in to see great-grandfather. But people got a big kick out of my story! Another thing that interested people was how, when we went to the picture show, everyone had a certain place to sit, sort of like in a family room. I was struggling to write the assignment, which was supposed to be a murder mystery (not my area of interest at all), and I started writing about the old movie theatre, and how things were. Never did get to a mystery or a murder! Guess that is a sign that I'm getting old! I found myself starting to tell little stories to my students before I retired. I grew up in the next town, so they knew the families, people and places. They seemed to enjoy them, but I would stop myself when I realized I was telling old stories. (We could do those things in art, journalism, yearbook, and newspaper classes! Might not work so well in other subjects!) It really helped when the kids knew people that I knew, or their parents knew my family. Cecelia > My grandparents in 1955 had a sand yard,no grass,I have seen granny > sweep it many times. > The sand was great for a kid to play in and get in trouble with.As a > young child,I filled my daddy's gas tank with sand.Amazed me to see it > dissapear& I womonderd how long it would take to fill it up..I was maybe > 5or less but can remember this clearly.I remember the car would not > start & I was quit as a mouse.When daddy took the gas tank off,he > discovered my deed.HA > Since we are talking about older times.How many of you had their > grandmothers make them snuff to dip ? I wanted snuff like my granny so > she mixed up cocoa & Sugar,washed one of her snuff boxes,and I dipped > and spit big as granny.I was 5. > > >