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The Post-RegisterDecember 19, 2002Reflections4Dorothy Taylor*For the first time ever, I carried my grannie shawl with me to the church house. For some reason, .when the fallish weather shows up, I tend to get cold sitting in an air-conditioned room. Don’t get me wrong here, I love and appreciate air conditioning! There’s no way under the sun that I’d want to head back to life without cool air and electricity.Just think, time was when we would ready ourselves for church in a nicely starched and ironed dress and be awrinkled picture within seconds of getting to the church house. In addition to that, we’d sit on the pew, in the wrinkles and folds, using one of those old-fashioned type fans. You know the kind- they had soft, wooden handles and heavy poster board with some advertisement pictured on each side. People were nice enough, in the old days, to leave the fans on the church pew where they had used them.That old country church welcomed the surrounding area with its loud ringing bell. That is, when someone arrivedearly enough for such activity.It was a huge? bell mid the steeple where it was placed gave the effect of the old time church* Remember the song, Qh cpT$e, cpme, come to the,\come to the church in the vale:” We didn’t sing that too often, but it always comes to. mind when I think about the community and the church.A number of years ago it y : was Lynn and Sharon Moore^ * • * i - ' * - . ..who invited us to travel with' • , .1 • • ■: * . * • ‘them to Eureka Springs, JArkansas, and Branson. After a time of enjoying everythingwe visited, and ate, and mar-.■veled at the Passipn Play in -Eureka Springs, andTots of country music shows and jokes, we headed home. Driving along 1-35, we were somewhat surprised when Lynn decided that he’d like to see the Hays of Cooke County. Although I had declared that the old church house was gone, the school house was no more, and the old house of my childhood had disappeared long ago; and the old place only had the bam my dad had managed to put together. The cemetery was still around and the Vestal* * * 4 * # *grandparents remained part of the place. The road had been straightened that meanderedby the cemetery. I was the only one who could see the old schoolhouse with the teachingroom known as the cloak room. *where a young couple tried kissing with all the younger folks patching. Then there was the merry-go-round, the seesaws, the sidewalks with the large red ant beds beside them, the cook house where the children participated in hot meals and yukky tastinggrapefruit juice, the teacher-age, the basketball court, the boys and girls outhouses, theone time softball field and whatever else. But, they .were all there in my mind’s eye and numerous memories. Gazing at the old farm and the pasture,4 .the oil wells pumped theirbest in the paths that at one♦time were, filled with cows heading home for milking time.Are grannie shawls still in style?*Psalms 10:7 The memory of the just is blessed, but the name of the wicked shall rot.”
Newspaper Details
Lockhart Post Register
Lockhart, Texas, US
Thu, Dec 19, 2002
Page 7
Full Page
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Anonymous
NC, USA 19 Feb 2022
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