Carol, I wrote an answer to your email about this picture. I know it is the house on Snow Road but I realize it is at the back of the house where the awning is. That was a little screened in porch. That was where Mother and Daddy lived and you got sick from eating too much mustard one summer. Do you remember visiting there?
Oh, thank you for identifying the house for me! Yes, one of my earliest memories is getting sick from eating too much mustard. It is so clear in my mind. The time that I’m thinking about was when I stayed with Grandmother and Papa when Boyd was born.
I remember sitting at the kitchen table, and Papa fried a plate of eggs. I watched him put mustard on his eggs, and I wanted some on mine. That was the first time I remember tasting mustard. I really liked the taste, and was intrigued with the bright yellow color. When we ran out of eggs, I still wanted more mustard. I kept dipping my finger in the mustard on the lid until I had eaten all of that and I ate some out of the jar, a finger-dip at a time. When Grandmother noticed that I had eaten quite a bit, she put the jar away. She and Papa had a conversation about how much I had eaten.
Then on the way to Weatherford, I threw up the eggs and the mustard. It was really cold and windy (January), and Grandmother stripped me on the side of the road, and got clean clothes for me from the trunk. I was really miserable, and I was concerned that I had caused all that trouble for Grandmother.
Mom was surprised when I showed up at the hospital in multi-colored clothes: red socks, pink top, yellow pants or some such mis-matched outfit. It was the best Grandmother could do. 🙂
The next time I had an opportunity to eat mustard, I thought about what had happened with Grandmother and Papa. I decided to eat a reasonable amount, and not take any chances.
I was three years and three months old when that happened. From that time on, I have many, clear childhood memories. I think Boyd’s arrival had something to do with solidifying my memories at that age.
The picture wasn’t dated but I was thinking maybe the late 1950s?
I remember the sleeping porch that was on the front of the house. The ball shaped propane tank is still there. I got sick there once also. I used to love cooked cabbage. I ate a whole lot, at least as a 5 or 6 year old child I thought it was a lot, and James Johnson came and took Richard and me to a baseball came. He bought us a red snowcone. When I woke up the next morning the whole bed was covered in red cabbage. True to Richard, he never said a word. I remember Grandmother scrubbing Richards hair as he leaned over the bathroom sink. It was several years before I could eat a snow cone and I still have never had anymore cooked cabbage!
I like being able to connect stories that I’ve heard before to the actual location. Boyd falling off the bed as an infant, eating mustard and eggs at the kitchen table, and Frank’s vividly colored experience as a five-year-old are stories that start out as “remember when . . . .” Now I can add the proper setting to the event.