Thoughts on the Past

I was born in a small town in southeast Missouri called ‘Poplar Bluff’. My early memories are almost exclusively happy. I remember looking up at the counter tops as I walked around the kitchen and living room. My mom, Penny, was making a grilled cheese sandwich and Perry Mason was on the television in the living room. My dad, Kenneth, was the pastor of Maud Street Baptist church at the time. We were Christians and it was something that ran in the family. My mom’s dad, Tommy, was also a pastor. I believe he was at Elsinore Baptist at the time. I was too young to have much say in denominational matters but I think there had been slow movement from the independent baptists of the area toward the souther baptist church at the time. But our life would still be markedly Christian in all the good things this entails and with some of the baggage as well.

My dad’s parents lived about 45 minutes north of Poplar Bluff in a small town called Patterson. I found their home to be a mysterious and exciting place. It was in the country amongst the rolling hills and trees. Pulling into their gravel driveway there was a large sawmill to the right that seemed to be fading into the foliage. The property had a main two story house with a large front porch and swing. The back porch was screened and led into long sidewalks that went near the pump house out near the fire pit. There was a second house dubbed ‘The Little House’ out behind the first. It had been built by my great grandfather and felt like a place out of time. It had a bird watching chart that was hand drawn, a fire stove, and an old wooden table to sit at. There were multiple old sheds that housed rusting contraptions. There were grass paths that weaved between vines around corners that felt like they could go anywhere. My favorite thing about that place was as a child it always felt like I saw a new part of it every visit. We would go up to an orchard I hadn’t been to or see an old fire pit that was used when my dad was a child. There was a blacksmiths shed and buildings that I wasn’t allowed to go into. I knew it all used to be alive with people but it felt alive with mystery.

The old sawmill also housed the workshop that my grandfather Don piddled around in when he wasn’t sitting on the porch swing or playing music. I didn’t know what all the machines did but he would explain them as I watched. There was an old soda machine from the 70s. Large flywheels in the air used to be powered by a steam engine to saw the logs. Grandpa had an old table in the back with schematics for different components of a steam engine that he was casting with metal. There were a couple of riding mowers and tractors hooked up to wagons that we would ride around the property when we were doing tasks and cleanup. For a few years, Grandpa had casted large train whistles that could be attached to the air brakes of tractor trailer trucks. He had one hooked up to an air compressor that we would let loose to sound like a train the workshop.

Grandma was likely up in the house. My first memories of Darlene are probably her smile and laugh. She would cook breakfast for us on the screen porch in the early morning. I first tried coffee here and learned to enjoy the morning sunrise on the porch while reading the paper. The living room had musical instruments and many nights were spent playing blue grass music or dominos while enjoying each others company.

My mom’s parents originally lived on land in Elsinore when I was born. I don’t remember much of that time except for stories of riding on a three wheeler in the woods and seeing the eyes of an animal looking at us out in the woods. They would later move to Poplar Bluff off of Woodland Meadow Drive. They had a small but nice house with cream brick and red trim. There were large built in wooden cabinets in the living room and large oversized leather couches and recliners. My grandfather Tommy was a large and kind man. My earliest memories are of his distinct smell. He always seemed clean. He would put me on his lap and read to me. We would read a bible story, or little orphan annie, or maybe just some funny jokes that he had heard. He had a radio show that he recorded in the back of the house where he would preach the gospel and play music. In the evenings he would relax in the recliner either reading a western, watching the Gather Vocal Band / Southern Gospel, or making plans for the next day. I always felt like we had someplace to be when I was with Grandpa. Many times we were heading to go fishing on Wappapello Lake or to the nursing home to visit the residents and sing to them. Sometimes we would be running errands or meeting a friend. But I always felt like proud to be with Grandpa since other people respected him.

Grandma Joyce was kind and patient. She was an excellent cook and would always make sure I had something to eat or drink soon after I arrived. I never had to wonder if she was praying for me as I grew up. Her hugs always felt genuine.