Grandma's Front Porch - Kindle edition by Jane M. Bode Caracci. Download it once and read it on your Kindle device, PC, phones or tablets. Use features like.
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- Chillin on the front porch - Picture of Grandma's Beans and Cornbread, Eureka Springs
- Grandma's Front Porch Swing - Nanahood
As Mom aged, the split-level design of the house proved daunting, and one spring she took a tumble down the stairs, breaking her ankle. This was her home — the place she and Dad ceased their wanderings, and besides, I lived just a few blocks away. This summer her mental and physical health failed at an alarming rate. Suddenly, my siblings and I had to make major decisions with no input from Mom.
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Thankfully, my brother David and his wife, Becky, had retired to Spokane several years ago. They were able to find Mom a nice apartment in an assisted living facility, arrange for movers and an estate sale, and last week they sold the house.
Her new residence is just two blocks from her old one, so the landscape of her neighborhood is familiar. Get the day's top headlines delivered to your inbox every morning by subscribing to our newsletter.
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- Grandma’s Front Porch?
I pulled over in front of what used to be my house and let the memories wash over me. Freedom had a laborious cost back in the day. Subscribe to the Morning Review newsletter Get the day's top headlines delivered to your inbox every morning by subscribing to our newsletter There was a problem subscribing you to the newsletter.
Chillin on the front porch - Picture of Grandma's Beans and Cornbread, Eureka Springs
Double check your email and try again, or email webteam spokesman. You have been successfully subscribed! With the lack of electricity, there was no way to cool those little houses that turned into furnaces under the sun-drenched, hot South Louisiana summers. We stayed outdoors until the house cooled down some; it never cooled enough to prevent a lot of sweating.
Mosquito dope in any form was unheard of, so we made our own by starting a fire and loading it down with green limbs, leaves, grass and even pieces of old tires, to make a black, thick smoke that drove the pest away. We had to make sure the fire was in the right place so as not to drive us away. Too poor for anything else, this special time was something we could share. Sometimes neighborhood children and their parents came over for the Vaiea. Exhausted by bedtime, there was always one more chore before turning in; washing your feet was a must.
Grandma's Front Porch Swing - Nanahood
A pan or bucket of water stood at the doorsteps. The big bath came up on Saturday, but you washed up every morning and never failed to wash your feet at night. I often sat on that little porch and made dreams for tomorrow and thought about far away places. I learned my first song on that porch while playing a homemade guitar built with a cigar box and wire from a screen door, stretched and attached to a handle.
I strummed it to the words of Gov. About the time I was 10 years old, we really came on hard times. Mom, who took in washing and ironing for the better-off uptown folks, broke a needle in her hand, which got infected. I washed dishes for 50 cents a day on the 4 p. I washed dishes and peeled potatoes.
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I sat in a little dirt floor shack peeling until the dishes piled up inside. Mom would make soup or thick gravy to put on rice.
I recall one night, as I sat there peeling, tears started down my cheeks. My thoughts were of home and family, gathered on the old front porch. This was one of the few times that I felt sorry for myself. I longed to be there with family and neighbors at the happiest time of the day. In the great upheaval of war, customs began to change.
Electricity and the radio changed habits also. It was as if that great porch time went off to war and never came back. Every once in awhile I go back to Abbeville, stop and look at the house and recall those happy times so many long years ago.