that beer.
The worse thing that has happened is that the Jr. Debutantes have started and I have to go to the meetings with that white stuff on my face. There’s nobody good in the club, just Kay Bob Benson and a bunch of shrimpers’ daughters that won’t talk to me on account of they are real religious and found out that Daddy is a drinker.
The first meeting Kay Bob got to stand up and explain the charms on her add-on charm bracelet. Who cares? All we did is learn to pour tea and curtsy. I already knew how to do that. We have to wear plastic barrettes in our hair with the club colors, seafoam green and oleander pink, and make ashtrays and tea plates out of shells.
We are supposed to do good deeds. Next week we are going to clean up the debris at the end of Highway 3, weather permitting. I can hardly drink my tea and eat my cookies, that live bait shop smells so bad. Those shrimper girls are used to it, but I’m not.
Mrs. Dot always ends the meeting with a thought for the day. Mrs. Dot’s thought for the day was: “You can get through life if you realize at an early age that the only two books in the world that really mean anything are the
Memphis Junior League Cookbook
and the Holy Bible, in that order.”
Momma and Daddy are fighting a lot and they are always tired. A carnival is coming here soon. I don’t feel well. My neck hurts and my back hurts. My legs are real stiff. I probably have polio and will have to go in an iron lung and be a crippled girl, like Betty Caldwell, or maybe it is appendicitis or TB even.
P.S. I also have been exposed to elephantiasis!
July 1, 1952
I didn’t have polio, but I did have to have an enema.
Momma is definitely not happy with Daddy’s actions this summer. The other morning I was witness to one of the greatest temper fits of all times. Daddy hadn’t been home all night because he was running up and down the road with Jimmy Snow and Al the Drummer. It was about seven o’clock in the morning when he finally did come home, and Momma and Hank were trying to get the place ready to open. I myself was trying to have a quiet breakfast.
When Daddy did come in, Momma took one look at him and saw he was still drunk. On top of that, he was wearing someone else’s clothes. All hell broke loose.
Momma was holding a white platter known as a seafood platter, but they are good to serve breakfast on, too. She took that platter and smashed it on the floor, hollering at him she was sick of him acting like a horse’s ass. Then she broke another platter and another. Every time she said something, she’d break another one. She went through every platter we own and then started through the cups and saucers, breaking two or three of them at a time. Daddy ran out the door. I didn’t move. After all, she wasn’t mad at me and I sure wasn’t going to miss this fitfor anybody. I figured it was the best one I’d ever see in real life. Hank and I didn’t take a chance and say anything, though. You never can tell about these fits, she could have turned on us.
After Daddy ran out, she finished breaking everything, including the shrimp cocktail cups. She was starting on the display table and was smashing all our shell arrangements until she came to the ones with the crosses in them and she just stopped.
She went in the back and didn’t come out for a long time. The only person that can match her throwing a fit is Barbara Stanwyck.
Harper’s Malt Shop didn’t open that day or the next. It took us two days to clean up the mess and get more dishes.
The only thing left were some ashtrays under the counter that Momma didn’t see. Daddy said she cost him about $350 in dishes. I think he is going to behave himself from now on. It is too expensive otherwise. He explained to Momma why he had on someone else’s clothes. They had all decided to take a swim and had taken their clothes off. Sheila Ray, as a joke, had dug a hole and hid them in the sand, then couldn’t remember where she had buried
The worse thing that has happened is that the Jr. Debutantes have started and I have to go to the meetings with that white stuff on my face. There’s nobody good in the club, just Kay Bob Benson and a bunch of shrimpers’ daughters that won’t talk to me on account of they are real religious and found out that Daddy is a drinker.
The first meeting Kay Bob got to stand up and explain the charms on her add-on charm bracelet. Who cares? All we did is learn to pour tea and curtsy. I already knew how to do that. We have to wear plastic barrettes in our hair with the club colors, seafoam green and oleander pink, and make ashtrays and tea plates out of shells.
We are supposed to do good deeds. Next week we are going to clean up the debris at the end of Highway 3, weather permitting. I can hardly drink my tea and eat my cookies, that live bait shop smells so bad. Those shrimper girls are used to it, but I’m not.
Mrs. Dot always ends the meeting with a thought for the day. Mrs. Dot’s thought for the day was: “You can get through life if you realize at an early age that the only two books in the world that really mean anything are the
Memphis Junior League Cookbook
and the Holy Bible, in that order.”
Momma and Daddy are fighting a lot and they are always tired. A carnival is coming here soon. I don’t feel well. My neck hurts and my back hurts. My legs are real stiff. I probably have polio and will have to go in an iron lung and be a crippled girl, like Betty Caldwell, or maybe it is appendicitis or TB even.
P.S. I also have been exposed to elephantiasis!
July 1, 1952
I didn’t have polio, but I did have to have an enema.
Momma is definitely not happy with Daddy’s actions this summer. The other morning I was witness to one of the greatest temper fits of all times. Daddy hadn’t been home all night because he was running up and down the road with Jimmy Snow and Al the Drummer. It was about seven o’clock in the morning when he finally did come home, and Momma and Hank were trying to get the place ready to open. I myself was trying to have a quiet breakfast.
When Daddy did come in, Momma took one look at him and saw he was still drunk. On top of that, he was wearing someone else’s clothes. All hell broke loose.
Momma was holding a white platter known as a seafood platter, but they are good to serve breakfast on, too. She took that platter and smashed it on the floor, hollering at him she was sick of him acting like a horse’s ass. Then she broke another platter and another. Every time she said something, she’d break another one. She went through every platter we own and then started through the cups and saucers, breaking two or three of them at a time. Daddy ran out the door. I didn’t move. After all, she wasn’t mad at me and I sure wasn’t going to miss this fitfor anybody. I figured it was the best one I’d ever see in real life. Hank and I didn’t take a chance and say anything, though. You never can tell about these fits, she could have turned on us.
After Daddy ran out, she finished breaking everything, including the shrimp cocktail cups. She was starting on the display table and was smashing all our shell arrangements until she came to the ones with the crosses in them and she just stopped.
She went in the back and didn’t come out for a long time. The only person that can match her throwing a fit is Barbara Stanwyck.
Harper’s Malt Shop didn’t open that day or the next. It took us two days to clean up the mess and get more dishes.
The only thing left were some ashtrays under the counter that Momma didn’t see. Daddy said she cost him about $350 in dishes. I think he is going to behave himself from now on. It is too expensive otherwise. He explained to Momma why he had on someone else’s clothes. They had all decided to take a swim and had taken their clothes off. Sheila Ray, as a joke, had dug a hole and hid them in the sand, then couldn’t remember where she had buried
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