Rosemary Bledsoe
Memories from Rosemary Bledsoe
Poor T. was always getting hauled to the Ouslar’s Clinic for an injury that was generally my fault. We were two years apart and we fought all the time. Our folks had a regular routine of grabbing him up, getting in the truck and heading to the Dr’s office, carrying him in, bleeding and squalling, right through the waiting room.
We were in the hay loft once, sliding down the hay, and he slid down the pile and right on through a big hole in the floor. What he landed on was about 100 years worth of compost, like a thick carpet. But it knocked the breath out of him and I just went running to the house yelling ”I’ve killed T! I’ve killed T!”
He got a needle in his knee from where I was sewing. And when we decided to pick up the glass in the yard so our baby brother wouldn’t cut his foot… yeah, you guessed it.
He got hit in the head with a dinner bell, which explains that dimple in his forehead… he was probably about 2 or 3, which would have made me 4 or 5… such a beautiful little blonde boy, just sitting there watching me. This old dinner bell was something that Grandaddy had when he taught school down at Enterprise in that one room schoolhouse. He rang that bell to call the kids in. By the time I got hold of it, the handle had disappeared and there was a thick twisted wire in its place. I was out there playing with it, swinging it around, and it just flew out of my hand and hit him right across the forehead, right where that scar is. I remember that angelic little face… with blood just pouring down it.
A little justice got served several years later. Billy Joe McKnight came to see him, riding a horse. I was about 13 and could ride pretty well, and I kept pestering them to let me ride. Finally, they relented and let me get on the horse. As soon as I was a little bit settled in the saddle, they handed me the reins and said “One more thing… he hates GIRLS!!!” and gave the horse a slap on the butt and the damn horse took off down the gravel road heading towards Billy Joe’s place.
I was hanging on for dear life... there were big ditches along the gravel road. The saddle was coming loose but I stuck like a cocklebur, I tell you. I hung on to his neck yelling “STOP, HORSE!”, which did no good whatsoever. The horse went right to the gate in the fence around the barn and just stood there. I got off and just stood there too.
Pretty soon I heard our old “B” John Deere putt-putting up the road. It was the only thing he could drive, and had a mowing attachment on it that looked like big alligator teeth. He drove that rig down to Billy Joe's to get me. Louis was about 2 and was standing on the tractor between his knees. T. had told him to stand still and hold on, and he stood still and held on. When they got there I swapped places with Billy Joe on the tractor hitch and T. got us all home.
I don’t know that our folks ever DID know about that; they could have heard from somebody, but I sure didn’t tell ‘em!