Cousins. I have been pretty much blessed with a whole passel of 'em, that's for sure and for certain. Counting both sides of my family, I estimate the number at 50. I may have missed one, I'm not sure.
As a wee child, I can barely remember a few of the older cousins. I look at the pictures & it's pretty obvious they liked me. A little, anyway. The days I spent at Aunt Betty's house on Signal Mountain stand out, because Jr, Johnny, Joyce Ann & Melissa were all older than me and pretty much made me their play pretty. As did my late cousin Judie. I loved being their little pet.
Then there was "the country". My Dad was from a tiny little village called Mulberry, just a few miles from Lynchburg, TN. Back when I was little, I-24 wasn't built yet so you travelled old Hwy 41. It was a 2-lane that should've taken around 3 hours to traverse, but Daddy didn't pay much attention to speed limits back then. And seatbelts? What the heck was that?
We would all pile in the cab of his pick-up truck to head to "the country". By we, I mean Daddy, Mama, me, Mike & Cindy. It wasn't an extended cab, either. We crammed in that truck, with the narrow-assed among us sitting on the others' laps. It was tight. We walked home from school, or rode the bus, loaded up & headed out. It was like a wagon train, only no wagon. And no cows..
We left Rossville around 3:30, just after the bus ran. Daddy drove like a bat out of hell, and most times we beat our cousins' bus home. Cecil Cannon drove that bus, and Pap & Ma lived on Wabash Road -- so naturally this was dubbed The Wabash Cannonball! And cousins would pile out - Donna, Diane, Buck, Cathy & Jerry Lee. Uncle Bob always lived near Ma, and of course Jerry Lee had been adopted by my grandparents long ago.
Like most kids will do, we all paired up, usually according to age. Cindy, Cathy, Buck and Jerry Lee (or Jake as we called him) usually had a squabble over who got to ride the horse & pony. Now, to get to Ma's house, one drove about 2 miles maybe up into the holler. You drove through the creek, not over some high-falutin' bridge. You could ride the ponies or walk for miles and not see a soul! Oh how we loved that place!!
When we arrived, Mom would say "Now don't y'all get wet in that creek"!! Ok, Mama, we'd tell her. And what was the first thing we did? Of course, we accidentally slid down in the creek. After that, we figured we were already soaked, so what the hey! If we weren't swimming in it, we were catching crawdads in it. You had to step careful, though. There were the most nasty thorn bushes along that creek that I've ever seen in my life! Thorns as long as sabers, I tell you!
I remember one time a bunch of us were in the swimming hole, splashing & yelling for all we were worth. Cindy & Cathy decided they were gonna sneak up on us, so they slithered along the bank through the high grass.. They jumped up and yelled "BOO!!". We all proceeded to LOAO!! Cindy had crawled right through a big cow pile!! Neck to knees, she was covered. Bless her heart.
Most every Sunday when both my Grandparents were alive, all the Aunts, Uncles and cousins who lived nearby came for Sunday dinner. That could mean 20 adults and about 28 kids. It might also mean Clara Mae & Arthur (a niece & her husband). Ma, my Mama & the aunts would cook the most delicious food. There was a tradition there, and it's that the men ate first. We didn't do that at our house, but there you did. Then, the women & children got to partake. With that many people, most of the kids sat on the stairs going up to the attic and bedrooms. Those were the steepest stairs I've ever seen & the male cousins usually perched on top because they were fearless & brave. Or maybe because the men ate first.
We worked while we were there, too. We didn't understand at the time about farmers and free labor, we just knew when we left Rossville and went to "the country" we went back in time. Waaaay back, to a functional outhouse and no indoor plumbing. I kid you not. The kids would take buckets, empty milk jugs or whatever we could tote and go to the well. It was a far piece from the house. Or, if the well wasn't pumping, we went to the spring. It was a square hole, about 7' down, with steps going down the bank and a flat limestone straddling from side to side. You squatted on the limestone and dipped that fresh sweet water into your bucket or jug. One side was shallow, maybe ankle deep on a good day. The other side of the limestone was deeper, and went back underneath the bank. Funny thing back then - Ma kept a metal milk bucket of water on the kitchen counter with a metal dipper for drinking. Every man, woman & child drank from that dipper and we were probably the most healthy people you knew. Now, I'll barely share a cup with my spouse of 30 some odd years!
One day a bunch of us are fetching Ma some water at the spring and it was my turn to dip. I ease down the bank and dip my milk pail in the deep end. All of a sudden I am helicoptering my arms and I fell for what felt like 5 whole minutes! I landed with a loud splash and just knew I was a goner, sucked forever down into the dark pits abyss! I splashed, I cried for help, I managed to Glub Glub a few times. Well, my ungrateful sorry cousins and siblings just stood there laughing!! What the what??? I'm drowning, can't you see?!?! I'm drowning in about 3" of water... I had fallen in the shallow side!! Only my back half was wet! I still take a good ribbing for that one!
There was nothing like getting trapped in the outhouse in the dead of summer, because the cattle came over and laid down next to the door. Or running out of the outhouse with your drawers around your ankles because a 10' long chicken snake was in the rafters. Or having to go to the outhouse in the middle of the night, but being scared because of all the nighttime animal calls you'd hear. And Rufus - the little man who guarded Pa's bedroom with his shotgun. I believe Rufus took a shot at Bubba Gatlin once, for sneaking around.
Today, I don't get to see these cousins much. Some I haven't seen in years. Quite a few I "see" on Facebook regularly, and I am so glad!! All these cousins are such an integral part of my childhood and of my life today. I cherish them, I miss them, and I hope they think the same of me.
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