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The "Cool" Playhouse
The front of our two-story house near Ladonia was built on blocks so
that it was about three feet off the ground, and the back was no more
than six inches off the ground. In the summertime the coolest place on
the farm was under the house. That's where the chickens stayed during
the heat of the day, even laying their eggs there. One of the jobs that
Mother had my sister, Gwen, and me do was to gather those eggs. In the
process of doing that, we discovered that it would be MUCH cooler to
play under the house than in the house. So we used to crawl under there
to play. We carried our set of tea dishes under there and had tea
parties. Mother's broom was borrowed to use for sweeping the area clean.
We each had our separate space, and visited, taking our dolls along.
One problem arose. While we were in the house having lunch, the chickens
proceeded to reclaim their space. They used the area for a bathroom if
the notion struck them, and we didn't like having to re-clean every time
we went under there. Then one day we came up with the idea of actually
building a playhouse with walls made from cardboard boxes. With Mother's
approval, we gathered up tacks, nails, hammer, and cardboard boxes and
got to work. The sides of the boxes were nailed to the beams under the
floor to make nice walls. One side was left loose so it would swing back
and forth just like a door on hinges. We could get in, but the chickens
could not.
Then we got carried away. We made a front room, two bedrooms, and a
kitchen. The ground under the house sloped drastically, so the back of
the house was setting right down on the ground. As we made those rooms
the space between the ground and the beams was getting shorter. Since
Gwen was smaller than I, she was working farther back under the
house--and one day, she got stuck! She had put her elbows in front of
two posts that supported the beams and pulled her body through as far as
would go, then she couldn't back out. Neither could she turn around. Her
elbows stuck behind the posts prevented her moving backward. She
panicked and yelled, "Lowell Ray, I can't get out!" I grabbed her feet
and pulled with all of my might, but nothing worked. I crawled out from
under the house and ran to the kitchen where I got a tablespoon. Back
under the house I went, and began using the spoon as a shovel to remove
enough dirt from around her to free her. She was sobbing, and so was I.
We never went under that house again! Gwen still has claustrophobia.
On Sundays, at Granny Coney's, we built playhouses under her house with our
cousins. We would pull a leafy tree branch to use as a broom, clear the
area we wanted to use, and have our "high society" tea parties. Our
cousin, Dorthy Fay, loved those playhouses. Their house was built right
on the ground, so there was no place for her to have a playhouse at
home. Since they lived only about a half mile from Granny's, she would
ask for permission to go to Granny's to visit and play under the house
while she was there. She would tell Granny how long her Mother said she
could stay, then Granny would tell her when it was time for her to go
home.
One particular day Dorthy Fay had not played as long as she wanted. She
was having so much fun that she hated to leave Granny's to go home.
However, she knew that her mother wouldn't let her visit again unless
she obeyed the rules. On the way home she devised a plan to go back to
Granny's that very day so she could finish her playing. When she arrived
home she told her mother, "I hated to leave Granny's today because she
just fell out of the barn loft and broke her leg." Her mother, Granny's
daughter, was quite upset at that news. She took Dorthy Fay and her
sister, Wanda Jo, and hastened to get back to Granny's to see how bad
the break was and to help take care of Granny. When they arrived at
Granny's she greeted them at the door and was puzzled as to why they had
come back. Dorthy Fay's mother got a switch and spanked Dorthy Fay's
legs all the way back home. She said that taught her that she should not
tell lies.
Oh, the lessons we learned the hard way growing up!
How well we remember them.
Lowell McCormack
Gainesville, Texas
Published:
November 14,
2005
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