- PatsyJoReed added the photo Mark Burris obit. - 16 September 1899 - 20 July 1919 Jan 23, 2007
- PatsyJoReed added the photo John M. BURRIS 1781-1861 - tombstone Burris Cem. on Roaring River Jackson Co. TN Jan 22, 2007
- PatsyJoReed added the photo BURRIS, Georgia, Frank, & Jimmy Jan 22, 2007
PatsyJoReed Sircy "Ten Years From Now" by- Patsy Jo Reed 25 March 1957 Yesterday, as I was walking down Beale Street in Memphjis, I met a man. He seemed familiar, but, yet I could not place him. He turned, walked into a meat market, put on an apron, and started w weighing up some meat. Not until I saw the sign "STONE's MEAT MARKET" did I realize that it was my old friend, Jimmy Stone. He asked me to go home with him and meet his family. At the door, we were met by three boys, and a tall, slender woman whom I recognized at once as my old pal Patsy Ellen Anderson. Later some neighbors dropped in for a visit. They were none other than Jane Ellen Pharris and her husband Jere Apple. As I left a man was outside reading meters. He turned around and, at once, I saw that it was Joe Halfacre. He told me that he had married a former school-mate of mine, Etta Faye Cassetty, but she was away on a trip, so I didn't get to see her. I walked on, and in a few minutes I saw a sign that said, "York's Shoe Shop." I had known a boy named Troy York in school and I thought they might be some relatives of his. I walked in and there stood Troy himself. He invited me to go home with him and meet his wife. She was, I found out, an old friend of mine, Carol Henson. I ask Carol if anybody else I knew lived near. She told me that on one side of Troy and herself Wesley and Patty Ragland lived, and on the other side Larry and Jo Ann Whitaker. Next, I went downtown to an insurance office and who should I see behind a desk but Ellen Cassetty. She told me she hadn't gotten married because she couldn't make up her mind between Paul Huff and Bobby Clemons. She told me Richard and Nancy Hickok lived next door to the rooming house where she was staying. page 2 of story written 25 March 1957 "Ten Years From Now" by PJR When I left the office I decided to get my hair fixed. I walked across the street to "Geraldine's Beauty Shoppe." and who should I see, but an old friend of mine, Geraldine Chaffin. When I ask her why she didn't put Chaffin on the window she replied that her name wasn't Chaffin, it was Bailey. She had married Billy Joe Bailey better known as Wild Bill Bailey. She had two helpers. One was Carol Long. She told me she had married Barry Kennedy. The other one was Donna Kennedy. She had married Billy Wooten. There was another customer, too. Carol told me that she was Naomi Stephens. She had married Jimmy Birdwell. Today, I am happy because I saw so many of my old friends, yesterday. I FOUND THIS STORY IN MY SCRAPBOOK. It was on pink notebook paper with rounded corners, and neatly written with a no.2 pencil. I wrote only on one side of the paper, and had kept it without wrinkling or folding it. 20 Dec. 1998 PATSY JO REED SIRCY.
PatsyJoReed Sircy "ROARING RIVER" by- Patsy Jo Reed Sircy My GRANNY said that "ROARING RIVER" is a name for our Family's untitled song; A tune that times your cradle's rock, but lasts your whole life long;. I take you with me every day, hear you in my sleep at night; Whoever named you "ROARING RIVER" said it all, a River named just right! The current surges through my veins, the River is my Family's BLOOD No need to search for HIGHS, life skirts an edge, "IMPENDING FLOOD"! Every Bend hides a new adventure, another page in Life's future log, Just out of sight, the "RUSH" is lurking, enhanced by the shifting fog; Each rock is different, but they all find a way to fit into the BED, A stormy night takes a restless turn, the River wanders EVERYWHERE instead! Some morn' could bring PEACE that looks as if nothing's changed at all; Another might show everything, the depth's deceit that makes the trees look small. ROARING RIVER, ROARING RIVER, don't ever let the lonely silence fall on my ear; A fading ROAR, my Family's River ceasing flowing, last worldly sound I'll ever hear!! 7 JULY 1997
Jul 16, 2006 · posted to the surname Reed
PatsyJoReed Sircy My Dad, LesterG.Reed, was a Taxidermist (as well as a Vet.,barber,carpenter,etc.,etc.). When Lonnell was a child Dad mounted a large GAR someone caught at Reelfoot for the TN State Children's Museum in Nashville. I saw it on my school trip. It hung over Lonnell's bed when he wasn't working on it until it was finished. That was before I was born. PJRS
PatsyJoReed Sircy IN MEMORIAL The sad and untimely death of Mark Burris, who lived 3 miles East of Gainesboro, occurred Sunday, July 20th, 1919, between 8 and 9 o'clock in the evening at the bridge that spans Roaring River. If Mark had lived until September 16th, he would have been twenty years old. The community in which he lived certainly sustained a great loss, since he was an ideal Christian boy, ever ready and willing to do his share to make the Sunday-school at Woodrow a success. He attended all the church services, assisted in the choir, and was a shining star in the great Christian activies of his home community. He accepted Christ as his Savior, and came out boldly on the Lord's side at a meeting conducted by Rev. O.P. Gentry at Woodrow more than a year ago. The bright and happy expression that shown from his face that night, was evidence that God's sunshine had swept over him and spoken peace to a troubled soul, and that sunshine he wore until that tragedy, which usher- ed him out of a world of sorrow into a Heaven of rest. He never had his name attached to any church register, save the Lamb's Book of Life, but lived a life worthy of membership into any earthly organization. He was a shining light to the lovely Christian home from which he was taken, perhaps the favorite son of that home. He was idolized by the entire family, and especially by the splendid Christian sisters that always looked to Mark to carry them around and be their protection. He was ever thoughtful of their wel- fare and happiness, and would sacrifice his own de- sires that they might be happy. As a son, he was obed- ient in all things, and always performing his duties about the home and farm in a cheerful, pleasant man- ner. He early learned that the best way to show his love and respect for his parents was to do their bid- ding. This he adhered to throughout his life, being one of the strongest traits of his noble character. He was as a brother to the many young people of his community, who respected him highly, and looked up to him as their leader in social circles. They, too, feel that a "Prince of Israel has fallen." We mourn, not as those who have no hope, but look forward to that happy reunion where there will be no more good byes, no tears, nor heartaches and sorrows, but where the former things have past away and all things have become new. There God shall wipe all the tears from our eyes. He is gone but not forgotten, Never will his memory fade. Sweet thoughts will ever linger, Around the grave where he is laid.
Jan 23, 2007 · posted to the surname Mercer
PatsyJoReed Sircy Mango Salsa - Taste the Tropical Side of Mexico! An unusual twist on an old favorite. Tomatoes and cilantro INGREDIENTS: 1 cup ripe seeded tomatoes, coarsely chopped 1 cup mango, diced 1/2 cup finely diced cilantro 1/2 cup red onion, finely diced 1 tsp garlic powder 1/2 teaspoon of salt (use more if needed) 1/2 teaspoon black pepper 1 serrano chili, seeded and veins removed, finely diced PREPARATION: Mix all ingredients and refrigerate overnight to enhance flavors. Serve with tortilla chips or on top of carnitas.
PatsyJoReed Sircy CHILI PIE 1 1/2 pounds ground beef 2 cups (1 large) onion, chopped 2 large cloves garlic, minced 1 (8-ounce) can tomato sauce 1 cup water 1 tablespoon chili powder 4 teaspoons TABASCO® brand Habanero Sauce 1 teaspoon salt 1 (15-ounce) can pinto or kidney beans, drained 1 (10-ounce) bag corn chips 2 cups (one 8-ounce package) shredded cheddar cheese Cook ground beef and onion in a large skillet over high heat until beef is browned; pour off excess drippings. Add garlic and cook 30 seconds. Stir in tomato sauce, water, chili powder, TABASCO® Habanero Sauce, and salt and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low, cover, and cook 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add beans and cook 10 minutes longer. To serve, divide chips between six bowls; spoon chili over chips and top with cheese. Makes 6 servings.
PatsyJoReed Sircy FROG LEGS in BEER Batter 3 pounds FROG LEGS 1 cup Flour 1/2 tsp. Paprika 1/2 tsp. chopped Parsley 1 tsp. Salt 1/8 tsp. Pepper 3/4 cup BEER Cur meat off Frog Legs and chop into chunks. Combine flour, paprika, and s & p in lg. bowl. Whisk while gradually adding BEER, blending til smooth. Pour 2" cooking oil in deep saucepan and heat to 350 F. Place meat in batter and coat well. Place 6 to 8 pieces in hot oil, using tongs. Cook til meat is no longer pink in middle - 3 to 5 min. Repeat with remaining pieces. Remove from oil with tongs and drain on paper towels. Keep cooked meat warm. Serve with sauces for dipping - any or all : your favs. Teriyaki, Sweet and Sour, BBQ.
PatsyJoReed Sircy Tennessee Cornbread Salad PREP: Chill Cuisine : COUNTRY - SOUTHERN USA INGREDIENTS: 1 recipe of cornbread 1 envelope ranch dressing mix 1 cup (8 oz) sour cream 1 cup mayonnaise 2 cans (16 oz each) pinto beans 2 cups shredded cheddar cheese 10 slices bacon, fried very crispy, and crumbled 2 cans whole kernel corn, drained 1/2 cup each of chopped red bell pepper, green bell pepper, green onions and several chopped tomatoes PREPARATION: Make up the cornbread, cool. Stir together salad dressing mix, sour cream and mayonnaise until blended; set aside. Combine tomatoes, bell peppers and onions. Toss gently. Crumble 1/2 of the cornbread into a large bowl. Top with half each of beans, tomato mixture, cheese, bacon, corn and dressing mixture. Repeat layers. Cover and chill for at least 3 hours. When ready to serve, stir the whole mess together! This is also great without ranch dressing package mix. Plus, you may add any veggies you want.
Apr 30, 2006 · posted to the surname Reed
PatsyJoReed Sircy "MEMORIES OF GOLD" by- Patsy Jo Reed Sircy My DADDY gave me a little GOLD hook, to FISH with luck, It was tiny, insignificant, didn't even cost a buck; So many more important items are long since gone, But I still have my lucky fishhook, TREASURE brought along ! Just to get to FISH with DADDY is the funnest time I know, Nothing seems so great as hearing, "Going FISHing, can you go?"; I caught the bug as just a baby, I ain't never seen a cure, I ain't looking, I ain't searching, just trying to endure ! Grab your pole, the pressure's rising, always living on the edge, Storm's a coming, short-term refuge, under some old bluff or ledge; "Fishie" thinks my HOOK's a "goodie," bites to eat the shiny flash, GOLDEN HOOK's my GOLDEN TREASURE, worth a million bucks in cash ! If you've heard the SONG my HEART sings, bait your HOOK, and come along; I'll let you touch my LUCKY fishhook, your HEART can learn the Golden Song!! 11 APRIL 1998 IMO my dad, Lester G. REED
Jul 16, 2006 · posted to the surname Reed
PatsyJoReed Sircy FEB.1999 "GRANNY's FARM" by- Patsy Jo Reed Sircy It was three weeks until my school vacation started, and my mind raced and soared, as my seat became the perch from which a ten year old tomboy could glimpse the future! I knew the summer would be an exciting adventure with cousins and friends on the river bottom farm of my Grandparents, now to avoid the teacher's wrath reserved only for daydreamers. Too late! Miss Vera had seen me looking out the window again, and I longed for recess to come so I could escape to the playground to think. Each day dragged more slowly than the one before as I endured the Spring days of Fourth Grade, finally arriving at "report card day" to deliver the word PASSED to my mother with pride. I waited at the grocery store, impatient for the customers to leave, but knowing not to interrupt when Mother was busy. Through the open door, I could hear the other children laughing, and a song (in an unknown key) "School's out, school's out, teacher wore her paddle out!........" The sidewalks were filled with signs of Summer such as the dusty seed rack filled with bright packs. They tempted the farmers' wives to spend their egg money, in the hope of growing food to can for Winter. I gazed at the pictures on the packs, wondering if Granny had her seeds yet. Suddenly the impossible happened! My mother's soft voice broke my concentration, "Your daddy called today, and he will be after you on Sunday to take you to Granny's house." I held out my report card, with a big grin, covering the word PASSED with my hand. "Why, Patty Jo, you passed to Fifth Grade!" my mother remarked, with fake surprise. A white- haired lady smiled as Mother turned to her, basket in hand, to pay her for the eggs she'd sold, and point at a sack of flour. "I found the flour sack you wanted with yellow print," I heard my mother's fading voice say as I ran out the door. I had to get home to add my gold fish hooks my uncle had sent to my page 2. "Granny's Farm" by- Patsy Jo Reed Sircy FEB.1999 other neatly packed things in my cardboard suitcase. My heart pounded as I heard the echo of my mother's voice, "Granny's house, Granny's house." Finally Summer vacation was so near I could smell biscuits, taste honey, and feel cold plowed earth under my bare feet! I always thought of "Granny's house" and "Granny's farm", although Pa would also be there. My grandfather Reed was a farmer, and he kept farmer's hours, early to bed and early to rise. But my Granny was different! At night it seemed so very peaceful in the big house, always well lit with the yellow glow of special "bug light" bulbs. As a special treat, Granny let me read or play by the soft flicker of her coal oil lamp. (That very lamp is on my hall bookcase now, and I give it a fond glance as I pass it every day.) Granny had boxes, and boxes, of little treasures to share, and our nights were a private rebellion against the myth that a "generation gap" could exist. We shared hours of time alone just making happy memories together. Granny's farm was everything good I could have imagined in my wildest daydreams! My cousins, Rodger and Ronnie, lived on the same farm in a smaller house across the road with their parents, Uncle "Mann" and Aunt Dot. Granny's house was huge, and she had a permanent "Open House" which was frequented by family and friends in great numbers. When you went to sleep, you never knew who all would be there when you woke up, and there was never a dull day! It is hard now to decide which memory to savor first! In Trousdale County, the smallest county in the state, the rolling hills and valleys of Middle Tennessee stayed post card clear in my mind from one Summer till the next, helped by shorter visits at Holiday times in the Winter and Spring. The farm was over two hundred acres, and varied in terrain. From a steep hill with a fantastic view of the Cumberland River and the whole area, my eyelids were shutters for the memory imprints which can never fade. The grass on Granny's farm was the greenest grass on Earth, and the vivid wildflowers dotting the pastures exploded each day as the dew gave way to the Summer sun. There were creeks and ponds for page 3. "Granny's Farm" by- Patsy Jo Reed Sircy FEB.1999 fishing, as well as the river. There were caves and rocks at places, mixed among the fertile fields used for crops and gardens. Granny had all sorts of domestic animals, and the wildlife was plentiful, and of much interest to me! Along with the animals of specifically assigned living places by fences, there were chickens, geese, ducks, and guineas wanderng the farm, and sometimes Granny had Peafowl. Quail and pheasant were hunted by my uncles and cousins, as well as rabbits, squirrels, and other small game animals, but I always thought of them as my friends and loved to watch them. The animals, and even the songbirds seemed to sense that they had nothing to fear from me, often coming daringly close as I sat motionless and spellbound. Any little fish I caught might just end up as my pet in a fruit jar or bowl. I used an old bird cage as a rehab hospital for injured birds, and was very ceremonious on the release days. Doll bottles were used to feed abandoned or orphaned baby rabbits,(and mice when Pa didn't find out about them). I was a nurse, and my life's path was chartered in those days of love. As a Registered Nurse after I grew up, I still wanted the best recovery possible for each patient, as with my little patients of childhood days. My Granny loved the animals, and I guess she taught me her tenderness by example. We were close companions for countless hours of fun, both day and night. My grandfather had horses, and his mare was his mode of transportation on the farm, and on visits with neighbors, even across the Cumberland River Bridge to the town of Hartsville. Hartsville was small, but a busy place in the middle of the tobacco growing country. Sales warehouses helped make it a social gathering place for farmers and their families. Pa would dress very nicely with a crisp clean shirt when he rode to town on his horse. Also Mr. Hubert Ward, Pa's best friend rode his horse and often visited Granny's farm, which had been in his family in years gone by. I loved Mr. Ward dearly and he always treated me to a horseback ride about the yard when he visited. He told me stories of his family, and the farm, and so many interesting things, and we were friends for life. My life page 4. "Granny's Farm" by- Patsy Jo Reed Sircy FEB.1999 has a dimension it might not have included if I had not made friends of all ages, instead of just in my own age group. My school was out earlier than at Hartsville, so I had the full attention of the adults for the first few weeks of my vacation, while my cousins and the other kids were still in school. I enjoyed that attention! My times alone in the woods watching my animal friends were spent in elaborate imaginary adventures based on books I read, and Granny's stories about my Native American ancestors, the "Indians" she called them. An elderly man came to the farm sometimes, the home of his ancestors. A very good hunting ground of his people, and burial ground were on the farm. I still have many arrow heads I found there as a child. My home with my mother was in Gainesboro, Tennessee, safely tucked between the beautiful hills in Jackson County. We lived in town, so the fresh air and exercise I got on the farm made for a healthy and happy vacation. Mother always remarked how much I grew during the Summer. I was very active, an athletic tomboy type, and every day was a whole new beginning! Ronnie and I learned that redworms stayed where the ground is wet, so we created our own worm farm by watering the ground. In later years, we spent a lot of hours in an apparent fruitless search for redworms when we were really searching for a fruit jar we saw Pa bury with some money inside. We never found it, but we never officially gave up either. It was just weeks before his death when we saw him bury it. Our sense of adventure kept us from telling anyone else, so . . . .the farm had "buried treasure," along with all the treasures that make hearts sing. One of the farm ponds had minnows in it, but I seldom used the minnows for bait, finding it easier to murder a redworm. Rodger was afraid of his dad (and his belt), so it was often Ronnie and I who got into real trouble. We managed to steal the tractor of Harold West one morning, though we just thought we borrowed it. Harold was a family friend, and his tractor was parked in our barn lot. The tractor had a cab on it, the first one we had seen. The morning seemed chilly as Ronnie and I set out for the Willow Spring Creek that ran into the River. We got page 5. Granny's Farm" by- Patsy Jo Reed Sircy FEB.1999 up before good daylight to "beat the fish getting up", and decided it was pretty silly to walk that mile or so with Harold's "Cadillac Tractor" (as we called it) sitting idle. we drove the tractor down the dirt road, feeling very smart and warm, to our fishing spot. We had a great morning, completely unaware that a search for the tractor was going on in several counties! Needless to say, Uncle Mann was not happy at all! Another time, a similar thing happened when we took Uncle Mann's boat fishing. We had asked his permission, and he said okay to it, but thought it was a joke because we couldn't physically do it. He was wrong! He was so mad at us he was yelling threats, and I never started for shore until I saw him laugh. We had one broken paddle and one pole, so we had kept a large carp Ronnie hooked on the line, and the fish had pulled our boat along as he swam in the creek. We had managed to navigate our boat to the place where the creek ran into the river, then back up the creek safely, staying far enough to avoid the swift currents of the muddy Cumberland. Uncle Mann probably had visions of our boat sinking, or us waving as we went out of sight on our way to Nashville in the wayward boat! The balcony of the big house was one of my favorite spots on Earth. Like Granny's upstairs, the balcony held secrets of the bygone days, the inspiration to set my imagination afire! The old movie magazines were a trip to Hollywood and New York, and parts unknown. The covers of Progressive Farmer took me down every dirt road in Middle America on a tractor, at a pace so slow I had time to take in all the sights in detail. I saw deer grazing by the road in the mist of early morning, and an Eagle flew right off the page and landed on my shoulder! I sat calmly in the wagon I had filled with geodes on a steep and rocky yesterhill, then scrambled wildly to the ground (and safety) when the rocks rolled suddenly toward me (as the valley again became a hill, then another valley, and another hill). A huge cedar tree stood directly in front of Granny's house, and it got hit by lightning nearly every storm that blew in. Nobody ever suggested cutting it out of the way, even if it was a hazard, because Mr. Hubert Ward page 6. "Granny's Farm" by- Patsy Jo Reed Sircy 8 MARCH 1999 had set it out there when he was a little boy, and it was just a twig. And that was the way it was! Nobody even remotely suggested, or seemed to think, that sensibility should rule over sentimentality in any instance! That was the way it was at Granny's Farm. The search for four-leaf clovers was a regular activity, done almost daily, which could begin spontaneously at any time. Frequently a baseball game would get interrupted by an impromptu search for the valued lucky charm. The search might involve three generations crawling about together on the lawn, but usually was just us kids with Granny joining in. I found the four-leafers by the handful, but my Dad was not so lucky. They couldn't seem to find him, and neither could good luck! One day we were in the middle of a big clover search which involved several people when Uncle Amon drove up in Granny's yard in his car, and parked under the cedar tree. Sticking out the backseat window of the car was the head of a black Welsh pony. He had taken his back seat out and left it at home, then led the pony right in and closed the door. The pony was a wild unbroken pony, of course, and Dwight Terwilliger, the son of Alice Ward Terwilliger, gave up the clover search and became an instant rodeo star! By dark that afternoon, that pony was "well broke" and had a new home. Granny not only had "open house" for people, but for animals. Her house, yard, barn, and pastures were always available to anybody who needed shelter, man or beast. She ran a limited adoption service from there, too. If you saw an animal you liked, for instance, Gran might just say, "That's Penny's Easter rabbit, but I know she won't mind if you want him now." And nobody ever minded, and so your pet was really the family's pet, and everybody helped in caring for the animals. I saw Uncle Mann's coon hound eat breakfast three times one morning, but he seemed happy with the situation. Sometimes the animals needed instructions, and I was always willing to help out. Unfortunately for a baby duck I was trying to teach how to swim underwater, the lesson resulted in his untimely death by drowning! page 7. "Granny's Farm" by- Patsy Jo Reed Sircy 9 MARCH 1999 The Wards were always good with horses, especially Lewis Ward. He seemed to be able to break and ride, with ease, horses other people just gave up on! Uncle Mann and Pa had a mare that had been on the farm for some time, and she just seemed to have a wider "wild streak" than most. She was labeled an outlaw, and Lewis decided he would ride her one day. Several of us gathered at the end of a plowed field as Lewis prepared to ride her there. The thinking was that she couldn't buck as well on the plowed ground, also the landing would be softer if she managed to throw Lewis, which we considered unlikely. Uncle Mann and Lewis bridled and saddled the problem girl, and we all were excited about the ride. I stood with Ronnie near a thorn tree at the edge of the field, planning to take cover behind the tree if she headed in my direction. Lewis was ready and he swiftly straddled her back atop the tightly girted saddle. Uncle Mann turned the bridle loose, and the ride was on! The mare (who had no name that I know of, rare for any animal we associated with) bucked as hard as she could, jumping skyward with Lewis still in place, one jump, two jumps, three jumps! On the third jump, Lewis continued his journey toward the sun as the mare returned to Earth! The saddle girt had broken, and Lewis still was in the saddle, but not attached to the horse! Lewis made a high dive for the plowed dirt, first leading with the top of his head, but continuing his flip and landing on his shoulders with the saddle sticking up toward the sky, still between his legs. The mare headed straight for Ronnie and I, still bucking and jumping at top speed. I ran behind the thorn tree for protection, but a bumble bee was back there, and I came back out, waving my hands wildly at the mare. I trusted my safety more with the wild mare than the bumble bee, and Ronnie's safety was in his own hands as I had no ideas except to save myself! The mare continued her rebellion against all concerned and went down the creek bed through a line of trees, many of them thorns, cutting herself up until she was a bloody mess! Lewis wasn't hurt, or didn't admit it if he was, and he handed the saddle to Uncle Mann. Uncle Mann just said, "You know, I think I'll sell that mare," and that is page 8. "Granny's Farm" by Patsy Jo Reed Sircy 9 MARCH 1999 exactly what he did after her cuts had time to heal! Pa had a roan walking mare called "Shaggy" and she was very gentle, and liked children. When I would ride on the farm away from the area near the house, I was always afraid I would let "Shaggy" get away from me, so I would sit near her when I got off, using the shade of her body to shield me from the hot sun. When she changed the position of her feet, she would feel very carefully to make sure she was not putting her foot down on me. "Shaggy" was an important member of the family. Pa got a white mare once that I thought was my dream come true! She had "glass" (blue) eyes, and she was about 14« hands (a hand is 4 in.). I couldn't wait to ride her, because I could be a movie star when I rode her (in my imagination, of course). It was Sunday afternoon, so I would have a good audience to see me ride, which was even better! Uncle Tommy and Bobbie Jean were there, and Uncle Tommy was looking under the hood of the cars parked in the yard, and he sat down in one of them. Granny was walking around the side of the house on the path she had worn in the grass there. Everybody seemed to be looking, so I swung up into the left stirrup, then put my right leg across and settled into the saddle. About that time, Uncle Tommy started the engine of the car he was in and revved the motor loudly about three times. The mare made a lunge through the air with me, barely missing Granny and her little dog, Randall. Randall ran for cover when Granny screamed, "Whoa, WHOA!" Granny had on an apron, and she flapped her apron as she threw up her hands and screamed. Granny kept jumping in the air, flapping her apron, and screaming "Whoa, WHOA!" over and over, frightening the already out of control mare more and more. Plus Uncle Tommy and some others ran in my direction to try to assist, but the frightened mare started running and bucking in the other direction. I was laughing so hard I was limber, so miraculously stayed on the mare until she calmed down. I rode that mare many times after that, but was ever mindful that she was "car shy". I sure was glad we hadn't met a car crossing a bridge instead of in the yard! page 9. "Granny's Farm" by- Patsy Jo Reed Sircy 10 March 1999 Uncle Mann's wife, Aunt Dot (called Red Dot because of her red hair, since my Dad had three brothers, and all three managed to marry a woman named Dorothy) was a city girl from Detroit, but everybody wanted her to "fit in" and be able to do all the things the rest of the family did. Aunt Dot was fearful of the horses, but she did ride one day. As Usual, Granny's yard was the scene. Nobody ever seemed to do anything without an audience, so Aunt Dot got on a pony some kids had trained to run fast when they dropped the reins. She dropped the reins, off he ran up the highway at top speed with her red hair flying in the breeze! I still think of Aunt Dot's wild ride every time I see one of those old Mobil gasoline signs with the picture of the "Flying Red Horse." Uncle Mann jumped in his car and drove up the road to try to rescue his "damsel in distress" and met the pony running in his direction, just as fast, and they passed. The pony ran back into Granny's yard where he had started out, and slid to a stop. That was the end of Aunt Dot's riding career, and if she ever even sat on a real horse again, I am not aware of it! Ronnie and I both loved to ride, but neither of us really liked to sit behind the saddle and get all wet with horse sweat, so we would both sit in the saddle. We would ride on the farm, but loved to venture off on horseback to visit neighbors, or just ride up and down the highway. We rode many many miles like that and would sing as we went along, most often the song, "Does Your Chewing Gum Lose It's Flavor On the Bedpost Overnight?" I don't recall us having an argument. Once we were walking down a steep hill and leading the mare. She started jumping around because there was a horse in a lot we were passing, so we both got on her because we thought that was a safe place. You see, it never entered our minds that she might be able to throw us off. Once Ronnie decided he wanted a Western style horse, and he bought a Quarter Horse mare, trained for cutting cattle. If I rode her faster than a walk, I was in danger of getting left sitting on the ground instead of the saddle! She turned around so fast, she gave me a crick in my neck! She page 10. "Granny's Farm" by- Patsy Jo Reed Sircy 10 MARCH 1999 also had a bad habit of going back to the barn when she decided to, no matter how much you tried to rein her in the other direction. Just give me a good walking horse you can steer in the right direction! Rodger always seemed to get the bad end of the deal with anything connected to horses. When he was young, he rode an old clubfooted mule of Pa's, also "Old One Eye," one of Pa's cows. When he was riding at the Ward farm once, he got hung by the neck by a grass string that was hanging down from a tree. His life was possibly saved by the string being rotten, and breaking. Rodger had a beautiful black and white spotted mare in later years after I was already a nurse. He was sitting on the mare in his yard relaxing when a bird flew down, and landed on a nearby electric wire, startling the mare. She threw Rodger high into the air, and he landed on his back, knocking the breath out of him. My boyfriend, Jean Marie Leclerc from Canada, stayed with Granny while Uncle Mann took Aunt Dot and Rodger and Ronnie to Michigan to visit Aunt Dot's parents, Galon & Mildred "Minnie" Stephenson. Rodger's mare died while they were gone and Jean was caring for things. Jean was very upset about the horse dying! When I was very small I can remember that Pa had a little pony that could "count". Pa would signal the pony and have him to move his foot in a pawing motion repetitively to do the "counting." The pony was named "Cutie Allen." Prince Allen was a Tennessee Walking Horse stallion that belonged to Uncle Mann. he was very big, and I was not allowed to ride him he was so spirited. Sometimes he would play, jumping the fences into other lots, as if it was a game he enjoyed. He once jumped over me when I saw him coming and got near the fence so he wouldn't step on me after clearing the fence. I have a picture of Prince Allen at the barn with Uncle Mann, Galon, and "Minnie." Cane poles were kept at the pond, nearby, and beside Granny's house, always ready for grabbing on short notice. The pond seemed huge when I was a child! There was a fence in the middle, half on the Jim Stone farm, page 11. "Granny's Farm" by- Patsy Jo Reed Sircy 11 MARCH 1999 and half on the Reed farm. There was a spring that fed the pond, and the water at that spot was deep and cold. Aunt Dot's cousin, Carolyn Bell, almost drowned when I was not there. I never swam in that dirty water in my life! Besides, it was full of snakes, as I remember! But Jo Ann, my cousin, and others did swim in it. There were hats you could use to keep the sun off while fishing kept at Granny's house, too. Two of them were huge, and the wind always blew them into the pond. Then they floated patiently, waiting for somebody to hook them with their line, shake the water off, dry them in the sun, and put them back on their heads. The creek that ran to the river was essentially the line for dividing the farm from the old Lyles Place in the direction of town, which I believe was West. I knew exactly at the time because a compass was part of my treasured equipment for adventures (of a magnitude to exceed adventures other kids had, in fact or fiction, I thought). This equipment varied according to what I was doing and/or what I had on hand. My next adventure was in fact sometimes dictated simply by what equipment I had on hand! Anyhow, the creek was as far as we were allowed to go routinely to play without special permission. Being off our own land was frowned on, usually denied unless it was a joint adventure with members of our friends, the Ward family, and always required special permission. The creek was therefore thought of as top level play, the frontier of the farm, if you will, big adventure territory. The creek had a personality of it's own. It could be violent, meandering and peaceful, dried up and angrily thirsty, or a combination. Deeper pools dotted it's length, and became fishing holes or play sites during the hot days of Summer. Flash flooding would occur during a storm, just to be absorbed by the dry snakelike stream that wound through the fields and woods. Deep pools of water were left as the creek dried back up, and hordes of fish might be trapped there if they had swam upstream while the creek was flowing. One particularly hot July, there were large numbers of fish trapped in page 12. "Granny's Farm" by- Patsy Jo Reed Sircy 12 MARCH 1999 some pools which were located in the woods, just right for kids looking for a cool place to play. We discovered that some fish were hiding under the rocks in the more shallow end of the pool, so we could wade (allowed in water shallow enough to avoid getting your clothes wet, a loosely defined and loosely enforced rule which could and did change several times in one day), and reach under the rocks with our hands to catch the fish. We spent two or three morning hours taking turns wading and reaching, all managing to get our clothes wet and get cool. This involved my younger nephew, Don, my cousins Rodger and Ronnie, and I, and later Granny. We dashed home at lunch time to grab the fixings for a picnic, and returned to eat on a small island in the creek. While we were on our picnic lunch break, Granny joined us, and so did another visitor, a snake. The snake was a Cottonmouth (poisonous water snake) and he was sticking his head out from under one of the very rocks we had been reaching under to catch the fish! I guess he was fishing, too! We spied a fence post which had been left by the receding water, and that became the weapon to be used to kill the snake. We soon found out that every time we jumped on the rock, it moved and the angered snake stuck his head out from under the rock. When we took a swing at him with the fence post, he pulled his head back under the rock. We each took turns at batting at the snake as if we were Babe Ruth and he was a baseball. It was a scary thought that we had been reaching under that rock where we couldn't see, and he was probably hiding! By nightfall, we were all tired and excited, and we discussed our day's adventures well into the night over a game of cards. I guess the snake slept well, nobody ever hit him!