Encourager #6 Tattling
When we were kids growing up, Mama had an unbreakable rule: NO TATTLING!
If you broke that rule, then the tattletale was punished as well as the offender.
Not only was it the last day of school and I had just completed the third grade, but also the very day Harris County (Texas) re-shelled over our road.
Our road was not paved. When it developed holes and ruts, the county would go down to Galveston Bay, dredge for shells, load county-owned dump trucks, (our freshly shelled road smelled like dead fish until the next good rain or two) and spread the smelly mess out on our road.
It was a pretty common practice for those rural, unpaved roads in the area at the time
I was riding my bicycle when a young man in a light blue convertible (I remember it well!) drove way too fast on that smelly road.
When I tried to dodge him, I wrecked on that freshly shelled road.
My brother, 5 years older than me, was also writing his bicycle and saw me sprawled out on the road; bicycle on top.
Did the driver or the big brother stop and offer assistance?
No, not at all!
But (I love it when there is a “but” stuck in a story)
But my big brother did return home and drive into our huge backyard where Mama and Grandmama were shelling peas from the garden.
(You would be under the shade tree too if you lived on the northside of Houston, Texas, in the summertime and you had no air conditioning!)
My brother drove circles around them on his bike. I guess he had watched one too many grade B westerns where the Indians circle the wagons.
After several times round and round, my Mama asked him what was the matter (note - he stayed as far away as possible from planting, picking, or shelling/preparing anything that grew on the property!).
At least, that's what I was told - as well as part of the rest of the story.
“Mama, I'm not tattling but Charlie Lou (he always called me that and I have no idea where he got the Charlie from - maybe he wanted a baby brother instead of another sister, I don’t know) is lying unconscious in the middle of the road.”
It is my understanding peas, shelled and not shelled went flying everywhere.
I was still under the bicycle when Mama and Grandmama got to me.
Mama took me on to the doctor because of the huge lump on my forehead and also so he could remove the shell from my mouth, my ears, my hands, my feet, my knees, and give me a shot of antibiotics.
Fresh shell from Galveston Bay was notorious for leaving serious infections behind.
Mama didn't permit any tattleing. But we do. We even have a form where you can actually tattle to us if you can't find your favorite KJV Bible verse on a mug here.
My advice:
When we were kids growing up, Mama had an unbreakable rule: NO TATTLING!
If you broke that rule, then the tattletale was punished as well as the offender.
Not only was it the last day of school and I had just completed the third grade, but also the very day Harris County (Texas) re-shelled over our road.
Our road was not paved. When it developed holes and ruts, the county would go down to Galveston Bay, dredge for shells, load county-owned dump trucks, (our freshly shelled road smelled like dead fish until the next good rain or two) and spread the smelly mess out on our road.
It was a pretty common practice for those rural, unpaved roads in the area at the time
I was riding my bicycle when a young man in a light blue convertible (I remember it well!) drove way too fast on that smelly road.
When I tried to dodge him, I wrecked on that freshly shelled road.
My brother, 5 years older than me, was also writing his bicycle and saw me sprawled out on the road; bicycle on top.
Did the driver or the big brother stop and offer assistance?
No, not at all!
But (I love it when there is a “but” stuck in a story)
But my big brother did return home and drive into our huge backyard where Mama and Grandmama were shelling peas from the garden.
(You would be under the shade tree too if you lived on the northside of Houston, Texas, in the summertime and you had no air conditioning!)
My brother drove circles around them on his bike. I guess he had watched one too many grade B westerns where the Indians circle the wagons.
After several times round and round, my Mama asked him what was the matter (note - he stayed as far away as possible from planting, picking, or shelling/preparing anything that grew on the property!).
At least, that's what I was told - as well as part of the rest of the story.
“Mama, I'm not tattling but Charlie Lou (he always called me that and I have no idea where he got the Charlie from - maybe he wanted a baby brother instead of another sister, I don’t know) is lying unconscious in the middle of the road.”
It is my understanding peas, shelled and not shelled went flying everywhere.
I was still under the bicycle when Mama and Grandmama got to me.
Mama took me on to the doctor because of the huge lump on my forehead and also so he could remove the shell from my mouth, my ears, my hands, my feet, my knees, and give me a shot of antibiotics.
Fresh shell from Galveston Bay was notorious for leaving serious infections behind.
Mama didn't permit any tattleing. But we do. We even have a form where you can actually tattle to us if you can't find your favorite KJV Bible verse on a mug here.
My advice:
- Don't ride your bicycle on a freshly shelled road, especially barefoot.
- Order your KJV mugs, gifts, and books today from here.