John's Little Acre
Sweet and Bitter Stories of a Little Girl Lost
by
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We were playing in the front yard at the foot of the hill when we heard the clip-clop of a horse and saw Grandma Bertha sitting atop the chestnut mare. Her brown brogan shoes were run over at the sides from to many months of wear. Sensible shoes she would call them. She wore a homemade dress and an apron made from colorful feed sacks, ironed nice and crisp. In her apron pocket was the ever present hankie to wipe the snotty nosed children with. Her shoulders bent with age from too many years of hard work raising her children after Grandpa Scraggs died in 1921. Her long gray hair was gathered in a roll around the top of her neck. Her hazel eyes and stern look softened as she looked at Johnny and Judy, but turned hard again as she looked at me. She place Johnny, age five, and Judy age two atop the chestnut mare. Johnny being the big brother, lovingly place his little arms protectively around Judy and held on for dear life. Grandma and I walked the five miles or so to nine-mile. It began to sprinkle rain just before we got ot Grandma's house. By the time we arrived it was pouring down hard. Once there Grandma told me she would keep Johnny and Judy, but she couldn't stand the sight of me. I looked away to the window so she wouldn't see the tears in my eyes.I stared at the rain pounding on the windows like tiny little fist begging to be let in.That's how I felt. I wanted to pound on grandma's chest over her heart and beg to be let in, but instead tiny cracks began to appear in my heart. I summoned up some emotional mortar to patch them with. I kept a straight face and never let her see how badly she had hurt me. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction.
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About the Author
When I was teaching school at Cammack Middle School in Huntington, WV, one the teachers there was on duty with me, and we talked about growing up and things that happened. He ask me if my children knew any of the things I was telling him. I said no. He said I should write it all down and not let this much history be lost. It was at this time a local publisher was teaching a Life Writing Class. I went and the rest is history. My book "John's Little Acre" has sold out of two printings. I feel my experiences in life holds some valuable lessons for other people. I was homeless from about the age of nine until I was twelve. I lived with whoever would keep me for a little while. Sometimes it would be two weeks sometimes a month. I was in many schools during the years and lived with as many as sixteen different families. One of my grandmothers said she would keep my brother and sister, but couldn't stand the sight of me. I dropped out of school in the middle of my senior year, because my clothes burned and I didn't have anymore. I went back to school when I was twenty-nine. I took my G.E.D., but no told me you could study for it. When I got my scores and was told they were above college level I decided to give it a try. I had three children and was pregnant with the fourth. It took me ten years to get my degree. In the meantime I got divorced and remarried to a man who had custody of his two children. We have raised six children and have eight grandchildren and one great-grandchild. I became an Art Teacher and taught for twenty-one years. I was a consultant for McGraw-Hill and worked on three text books. I am a member of the Woman's Club of Huntington and have served on the executive board for seven years. I am a member of the Create Huntington Task Force. We just recently got a new Art Gallery opened in Huntington. I am a member of the Patchwork Writers and the WV Writers. I am still doing my own art work and showing it every chance I get. I am working on my second quilt for the WV Quilt Trail. I live in Huntington, WV. It's a small city of 49,000. It's on the Ohio River and is a beautiful place to live and work.