Sunday, March 29

The wheel of father time continues to roll and where it stops nobody knows. At least that is the opinion of Cromwell Sluder who has been waiting out a granny frolic for almost three weeks. He says this has just about got the best of him through all this hot weather. He thinks some miscalculating has gone haywire down the line somewhere. All I can say is take it easy ole boy, you are not by yourself. It seems an epidemic of this happens ever so often, believe it is something like the measles, once they get started it is hard to stop. Why not get an old fashion bean stringin going or canning bee. That is the way they use to celebrate this event. Since this is canning time this could be utilized as a profitable event, Sluder.

1 comment:

  1. I was raised on the word, "granny frolic" and that meant that someone in the neighborhood was having a baby and it merely meant when the time came, my Granny would always says, "be back when you see me comin' I'm going up to so and so's house for a "granny frolic" meaning I am going to midwife or be there for support. I remember so clearly the night my brother was born, it was Christmas Eve and the snow was deep, deep, so deep that Dad shoveled out a tunnel from our porch to the porch next door so they could take me over there until the birth. I remember my granny commenting, "a granny frolic on Christmas Eve". The old timers had names for everything and me being brought up in a house of old timers, I remember most of them.

    I remember Sluder and his beautiful wife, Cuba. I remember when she was "in the family way"; mind you I dare not say the word "pregnant" back then. It was either in the family way or with child.

    At one time they lived in the Bakery Building and his shop was right behind the bakery. He used to give me an old cassion that he couldn't fix and that meant a lot to me for we loved to crawl up and bend inside one and let another roll us all over Liberty and Chester Streets. We were not allowed to go onto East Main, but sometimes I would sneak and someone would watch the traffic and when it was clear they would give me a big push and across East Main I went inside that tire and stopped at Brown and Nancy Baker's house on Maple Street. Of course, I was followed and chastised in front of everybody for doing that, but did that stop me, no, I did it again and again. WHEW!!!! I made it through without getting a scar.