A long fabrication of tall tales woven

This was told to me seven years ago by Miss Drucella Wade who sold us her home. I was only
twelve years old at the time and had a penchant for dreaming. How I would yearn for stories told
to me by my grandparents and aunt's and uncle's alike. How they laughed or became excited when
they told them and how these tales took me to another place in my mind. To hear them speak of
when they were children, growing up on Thompson Street in Manhattan, and what wonderful times
they were! My aunts and uncles who never married were still living there, and once a year we would
visit. The place was kept fairly neat, and the interior brick walls were never painted. In the bathroom,
you had to pull a chain which in turn released the water so the toilet bowl could flush. Unfortunately,
there never was a hand painted Victorian toilet bowl depicting a scene you would expect to find
on some of the worlds most expensive china. No, those toilets were only reserved for the wealthy.



My uncle Tony was notorious for clogging it, and whenever he went in to do his business,
someone would open a window! They are no longer with us for they have escaped through
a tiny crack in time and have vanished. Just to see a part of what they saw in that forgotten
era is enough to drive me forward; until it be my turn to move on to better pastures.

Yes, the missing pieces of time, before we were to relive again in thought.
How I conceptualized those days of long ago!

It made me forget about things on my mind that were bothering me.
Things I no longer had any control over.
Things that would eventually take their toll on me,
until there was nothing left, but a shadow of who I once was.

The year was 1975 and my parents were officially divorced.

Joe MacAlister was a military man who served his country well. Enlisting in the army
in 1926, he would abandon his comely wife of four years leaving her to raise two little
tyrants on her own for many months at a time. His occasional return would impart
much discipline needed upon the youths, but when he left the children would live as
though they had bulls for a father. Somewhere in the beginning of the 1930's that tree
fort was built by the boys and their dad. Drucella would tell me unending stories about
life in her day before moving to New York, and for me that was history coming first
hand from the source. Unlike in high school where everything is totally unrelated to
the person sitting right in front of you.

The way I see it, old women have only two things left in life;
long stories and plenty of idle time to tell them!

She spoke fondly of her parents as she reminisced of a gentler time. A time when
everything in the universe was perfect, because the chronological order of events
had already unfolded. Like the withered spine of a discarded novel becomes untaut,
the strings which bind all things slowly lose their merriment. She also told me a story
about her very first car. It was a Model A Ford purchased in the fall of 1903 for under
a thousand dollars. Converted from a two seater into a Tonneau at time of purchase,
she had the back seat all to herself as a youngster growing up in rural Ohio. Only
seventeen hundred and fifty cars were made, but would boast hers was the finest!



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So highly she spoke of that automobile it almost sounded as though she were speaking
of a small child. How proud she must have been! When I first saw that car, I walked
over to it and would not leave its side. It was fire engine red, and I was hypnotized. The
sky was overcast that day making all the other cars appear gloomy. Too business-like
or I don't know what it was exactly. I only knew that if my daddy was going to buy a
car then it was going to be this one, so I sat inside and would not get out for the world.
The salesman took a liking to me as mom and dad walked around the lot looking, and he
bet me a nickel that he could sell my daddy the car. Now that was some bet! My father
never liked the color red much to begin with, but that salesman, what was his name?
Oh never mind. That salesman was so good he could have talked my father into buying
any car on that lot, but he did it for me, you see!

A week later I'll never forget it, I had daddy drive back to the lot where I showed that
man the nickel. Of course he wouldn't take it, so I said to him, you see that car over
there? He said "yes." I said, If you don't take this nickel then I'm going over to that
car, I'm going to get inside and I'm not going to leave. I'll be here for weeksssssss.
He started to laugh; "Well in that case, I better take it!" Do you know it took me a
weeks worth of household chores to earn that nickel, but it was worth it. Who do
you know that gets the car of their dreams for a nickel? "And a chauffeur to boot,"
I exclaimed! That's right, said the old lady with bleached white curls now laughing!
The long fabrication of tall tales woven would never at any time become dull
and my ears could not get enough words to listen to.

After daddy purchased the automobile, he took me and my mother to the confectionist.
That was so nice of him! I bought rock candy and sucked on it all day long! From there
we stopped off at the general store for some school supplies I needed, and then daddy
took us home. Whenever I made crafts, it was always paper and glue I ran out of first!



Do you know my parents had that car until I was almost thirty years old? A couple of
fixer-ups along the way but nothin' major. You see back then there was no assembly
line so the automobile had to be made by hand and this took time. But doing things this
way assured the buyer, he was getting a quality product, unlike today where everything
is mass produced. They should call it New America 'cos it's certainly not the land I grew
up in, but what can ya do. *Sighs deeply* Boy, they certainly don't make 'em like they
used to! The following month we were going to the store and my mother was so
determined, having finally worked up the courage to test drive that new car! In those years
licenses for driving hadn't even been issued yet let alone made mandatory. My mother was
so happy that day because it was her anniversary and father remembered! Just to know he
hadn't forgotten was enough to brighten mother's heart allowing her to feel like the queen
she most certainly was!

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Little things were a thrill back then like going to the marketplace, for example,
or giving the new car a go. We had nothin' much to do in those days but remain
a family, 'cos money was tight and times were hard. Even going to church was
an adventure for us. There was always laughter and harmony and joy.

Where was I again?
I seem to have forgotten where I was going with this story.
"You were saying your mom was gonna test drive the car."
Oh that's right, I'm getting senile in my old age!
*Laughs lightly* Never thought I'd see the day!

Anyway, she put the key into the ignition and went around to crank the car from the front.
Recklessly, and in haste she tried to start the engine but the car misfired and the crank
spun out of her hand nearly breaking my mother's wrist! Needless to say my father
started the car that morning and drove Mother straight to the town infirmary!

I can see you're fascinated by all this but livin' back then, well let's just say it isn't
all you imagine it to be. Dangers lurked around every corner at the turn of the century.



You always had to keep your eyes open! God forbid you should step on a nail or
come down with the flu, for that matter. In those days 'us people' called it the grippe!
We had no vaccines back then for nothin', with the exception of the cowpox, but even
then allergic reactions weren't unheard of and in those cases that person usually died.
Her voice grew weak as she muttered beneath her breath, as in the case of my older
sister who I never met. You got sick back then and your parents prayed before taking
you to a doctor. They prayed for my sister, but she passed on in the night, "God rest
her soul." She died of rheumatic fever before I was even thought of. Now they have
vaccines for everything under the sun, but the world has grown colder since my day.

Just look at all the medicines we have today opposed to when I was a little girl.



Back then it was a chemist's dream! We had tonics, bitters, tinctures and liniments,
all to cure everything and none that worked. . . They did provide hope though.



I can recall tincture of lavender, tincture of bloodroot, tincture of vanilla, tincture of iodine.
"My grandmother has that in her medicine cabinet," I interjected. "A little brown glass
bottle with an old paper label. When I get a bad scrape, she gets it. There's a long glass
stem on the cap inside the bottle that she rubs on my cut." And what color is it? "Red."
And how does it feel? "Burns like fire!" That's one thing you never forget, the sting
of iodine! I fell once, while running with my friends and tore all the skin off my knee.
The second that iodine touched me, hoo-eee did I scream!

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And if I ever felt like I was getting sick, my mother would give me a warm glass of ginger ale
to drink. "I like root beer but it has to be cold." Root beer is good, if you wanna throw up!



"Were there a lot of superstitious people in your time?" What do you think? We lived
like Amish folk in a town that was just beginning to improve itself! There was nothing
but superstitious minds being influenced by just about anything. Even the most foolish
things could make one gasp in surprise or spin out of control. One person told another
and before you knew, it was already two towns over! "Do you remember any?" Are you
writing a book young man? "I just might one day," I said with eyes that sparkled in their
own quizzicality. Well you better remember me in your story or I'll come back to haunt
you. (She spoke jovially, but in a way that one listening might have interpreted otherwise.)
I remember my mother telling me that if a dog is heard howling in the night when someone
is sick, it means that the person who is sick will probably pass away before sunrise. Never
kill a sparrow; if you do you will be cursed for a sparrow carries the souls of our dearly
departed into the next life. Finding the whisker of a dog will bring untold joy! If you find
one you should hide it in a very safe place and never bring it into a sunny room.
Oh there were hundreds of them. We were so silly!

"How were kids back then?" Pardon? "When you were a child, how did the other
kids act?" The girls probably teased the boys more than they do nowadays, and the
boys would play their share of practical jokes on the girls as well, but nothing ever
too drastic. Everyone went to church with their family on Sunday, whether they liked
it or not, and that was the way it was. We had a lot more respect for God back then
than your generation has for him today, I'll say that much. "You didn't have a television
or radio back then did you?" No I didn't and you want to know something, we didn't need
one. We had each other and we had our friends, and back then that was all that mattered!
All these new contraptions, my goodness! I guarantee you in a few more years some new
gadget will find its way onto the market and everyone will have to buy it. We don't have it
now, and we really don't need it, but I'm sure that It'll ease life's burden a bit! "What else
could they make?" They'll make it! You mark my words, they will make it, and do you want
to know something else? There are still towns in this country and by country, I mean America
that don't even have common telephone service. They're still getting around to it.
Now think of how lucky we are to have had one for so long!



"What do you do when you feel really bad about something inside and nothing makes
it go away?" You can start by talking about it. I shook my head while looking down at
the table. Sometimes, the way I like to look at things is to imagine the worst situation you
can possibly think of being in, and then putting someone in it. Then you know what that
person would do? That person would say to himself, this isn't so bad, and then he would
put somebody in a situation worse than even he is in! Now after doing this two or three
times you look at your problem, and it isn't really so bad at all now is it? Later that night
I did as Drucella said, but it only made the problem worse.

"Aren't you afraid of dying," I asked politely?

No one should ever be afraid of dyin' child, if they have faith that is.
I think maybe it's because my father would read to me every night
something from the bible. Then if ever I became frightened, he would
have me say aloud Romans 10:13 and all my fears would subside.
You do know Romans 10:13 don't you?

For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved,
and then he would say, now not even death can hurt you.

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Reviews for chapter 14

Marie Asabelli  - Your writing enlightens me


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PG 70) The Brighton water-closet - page removed from an old catalog

PG 70) The Model A Ford advertisement scanned from an old newspaper

PG 71) LePage's gripspreader mucilage from Vanessa Le Page's archives

PG 72) Oddment 54 by Leah Palmer Preiss @ http://www.leahpalmerpreiss.com/

PG 72) Dr. Sage's catarrh remedy extracted from an ad dating back to 1877

PG 72) Warner's safe Diabetes cure - (circa 1880)

PG 73) Hires Root Beer advertising sign that sold for $52,000 at Morphy's

PG 73) The telephone by Stanislav Plutenko @ http://plutenko.ru/en/news.php/