The Beverly Hillbillies

I have watched the pilot episode for The Beverly Hillbillies several times.

I especially enjoy the early seasons.

They have me smiling and laughing.

Not only just for the show itself but reminding me of how Rick called me his "hillbilly".

I was born and raised just 7 miles outside of Sulphur Springs, TX.

Even though we were close to a more modern way of living - we lived a life like our ancestors lived.

The first flushing toilet I saw was when I started 1st grade at 6 years old, with Mrs. P*.

I needed to potty, so I raised my hand and she said I could go.

I went outside.

She came after me asking me where I was going –

"I am going to the outhouse", I answered.

She smiled, took me by the hand and led me to the restroom.

Turned the light on, which scared me.

Then she shut the door.

I was so scared, I just stood there and cried.

She heard me, opened the door, and then knelt down to hug me.

When she realized that I had NO idea what to do in there - she closed the door and helped me.

I jumped when the potty flushed.

And I was very confused about where the water came from when she had me wash my hands.

The way she took time and cared for me, explaining everything, meant so much, still does.

Daddy and Momma got running water laid into the house when I was about 10 and we got electricity when I was about 12.

No more going to the outhouse or using the pee-pot in the night.

No more lighting coal oil lanterns to see after dark.

The boys installed a shower, which totally terrified me at first, but that shower meant no more Saturday night baths in the #3 wash tub on the kitchen floor.

Soon after, daddy and momma got a propane stove. Which meant no more wood to haul, or ashes to clean out.

It was a miracle for me to be able to simply turn on a burner when helping Momma cook supper.

We grew, picked and canned (or froze) all our vegetables and fruits.

We killed our chickens every October.

It was Momma who would wring their necks, and I would wait till they stopped running around - go pick them up, and we hung them up and plucked feathers.

We killed our hogs the first of November.

Processed the meat ourselves. I remember Momma and I taking turns with the meat grinder to make the sausage.

The only meat taken to the locker was the beef, one per year.

Meat was the center of Sunday dinners, holding the honored place instead of the beans that were served the other evenings of the week.

It was my job to draw up water from the cistern and water all of the gardens (3 of them) and the fruit trees (lost count on those).

I learned to let the windlass down with the bucket, not disturb the water, and draw up bucket after bucket of water – pouring it into a 5 gallon bucket on the ground, so I could carry the water to the various trees, flowers and garden.

Momma and I quilted in the wintertime, as she would let down the quilting frames from the ceiling.

We would lay the bottom in the frame, then the batting, finishing it with the quilt top she had been working on through the summer evenings.

Pin it all together, roll it up so we could start in the center of the quilt.

Those were the story times – when she would tell about her Momma, and other family members long gone before I came along.

Oh, how I miss her stories!

Sometimes her sisters would come for a visit and to help on the quilt.

The stories flew much like their fingers did with the needles and thread.

I would be sitting under the quilt frame, pushing the needles with thread back up to them, because they were all too short to reach the middle of the quilt – listening to their laughter, to the stories, learning much about love and laughter and life.

The first color TV set I saw was when I was 18, spending a Sunday afternoon at Rick's parents’ house - and Rick turned the TV on.

We had gotten a black and white set a couple of years before, but when he turned the color set on, I thought something was wrong with it!

I did not admit to that for several years, and when I did –Rick got much laughter out of my admission.

So many things I knew about our way of life . . . and so many things I did not know about how others lived.

Rick would tease me and give me "edumaction lessons".

Through the years since those “raising days”, I have talked to many people older than me - and they were raised in like manner.

But few who are my age (mid-6o’s now) understand.

A few of their grandparents lived like this, and some have memories of going to their homes for a day, or a weekend, maybe a week in the summer.

But for me, it was a way of life – my history, and the legacy of making do and doing without that I continue to live.

Rick said if you looked in the dictionary for "East Texas hillbilly" you would find my picture!

Watching this episode is always sweet to my heart.