Memories are yarns - does it matter

When you think back to your childhood what are your fondest memories? I have so very many, growing up in the county only adds to the multitude of memories that I can embellish and tell anytime the need arises. Since I was young I have been know for the “tales” I could spin. My Dad use to say that I could remember things that happened before I was born. This is more than likely a true statement – because I have always loved a good story and I learned at the feet of some of the best yarn spinners to come out of Alabama. I can remember falling asleep many nights curled up on the floor beside the couch listening to my relatives talk about the “good ole days”. If my Grand dad told a story my Uncle J.B. would have to up him one – this could go on for hours. If one went hunting and shot a deer, a couple of rabbits and a squirrel the other one shot a bear. I was young and believed everything and when I told my friends my Uncle shot 2 bears and a wolf. So, who knows how much of what is stuck in the creases of my mind is something I heard or something I added and for the most part who cares. Everyone loves a good yarn! There are some things that are my memories that need nothing added.
My Mom and Dad had only 3 “fight’s” that I can remember. My Dad worshiped my Mom and he expected the rest of us to worship at the pedestal he had placed her on. One day Mom went to “town” with my aunt to get a makeover at Merrill Normans – this make over was suppose to make you look 10 years younger. Mom would have been around 35, not old by any stretch of the imagination. Well, Dad and I got up that morning and went fishing as we often did on Saturday. Not long after we got home Mom knocked on the front door. Dad went to answer it – of course he knew who it was – but he played along. When Dad opened the door he said “Hi, little girl have you lost your Mother”. Dad just knew this would make Mom feel great – she was suppose to look 10 years young after all. Things did not go quite as Dad planned. Mom pushed passed him, ran straight to the bedroom, flung herself on the bed and cried like her heart was broken. Dad and I stood at the front door looking at each stopped in mid laugh. Dad had never been able to handle Mom crying and now he was the one that had caused her to “take to her bed”. He tried explaining that he thought she looked very nice but the tears would not stop. So, we sat on the couch and waited. As I have mentioned we did not have indoor plumbing at this point. There was no bathroom for Mother to go in and wash up – she had to walk out through the living room right pass me and Dad. We waited and waited finally the bedroom door opened and what we saw look like a raccoon with red lipstick smeared on it’s face – BUT we did not crack a smile. Mom walked pass us and into the kitchen – Dad and I slipped out the front door our plans were to lay low for awhile. Dad was heartbroken that he had hurt Mom’s feelings and was clueless about how to make things better.
We feed the hogs and got some corn out of the shed for the cows. By the time we got back to the house Mom’s face was washed clean and not a word was ever spoken about it again. I will say that Mom never went to have her “face done” again.
The other 2 involved a Masonic Bible and a movie about Pinky on a Horse named Stinky –but those are tells for another day.
I do know that my Mom and Dad loved each other with a love that not many people will ever experience. As different as they were , love was the common thread woven through their lives.
He was her strength and she was his heart beat.