I recently read The Painted House by John Grisham It has a really good sense of the nostalgic about it...the book does....I could imagine my dad really liking the book because he grew up in the 50's. He was about the same age as this kid. He wasn't a farmer's kid of course, but his mother was. They had cotton on their farm in Dale (outside of Shawnee). She never had to pick
cotton...she was the baby. But her two sisters did, and she would tell
stories of them wearing socks on their hands and stuff so that they
wouldn't get tanned by the sun and look like farmer's daughters....and damage
their hands and stuff....if i get any sense of glamour in my genes it
comes from my grandma and two great aunts.I love the stories of them being young in the 30's,and looking at the pictures where they look so young and stylish.
That is what i come from,cotton pickers and farmers, and that is kind of cool. I once wanted to write the story of my grandma growing up on the farm in Oklahoma in the 20's and 30's with two older sisters. My great grandpa died by the time my grandma was nine...so a lot of that is about four women living alone on farm land, and all of that. My grandma tells stories about chickens, and learning to drive a car, and about my grandpa who went to school with my grandma since kindergarten, and loved her all that time. She finally agreed to date
and marry him when she was 23. I just really get a whole sense of place when she talks about them. I hate the fact that so much of that is slipping away. She is the last one that can really recount all of those stories, and all of the feeling that comes with
that. All of the ethnicities that she came into contact with because of
it being early Oklahoma, and everyone came here to get away and sort of
make a new life.
I wish I could really write a novel like that. One where really not a whole lot is
happening, but just my writing style, the sense of place, the characters,
the goodness in people...all of that just kept the story going, and kept
others interested in what i wanted to say...instead of some fast paced, complex
plot. I will never do it, but that would pretty cool.
I wish I had time to describe my grandma and great aunts to you....and that it would
be something you would be interested in. They were so....great. Each one
just happy and sparkly....each one so stylish....each one about 5'2 and 100
pounds....one with ambition, one with masses of talent, and the third, my
grandma, the baby, the cute one everyone teased, who was more of a
domestic....all living in the country...with a desperate taste in their
mouths for the big city....(oklahoma city that is) and for fine things.
All with a certain idea of what a lady should be.
It is kind of weird, but when we go put flowers on the graves there at the cemetry ...i sometimes just want to sit and dream about those people...and all of the LIFE that was
lived....all the struggles, and courage, and happiness, and pain....seems like so much
bigger than my little life sometimes.
cotton...she was the baby. But her two sisters did, and she would tell
stories of them wearing socks on their hands and stuff so that they
wouldn't get tanned by the sun and look like farmer's daughters....and damage
their hands and stuff....if i get any sense of glamour in my genes it
comes from my grandma and two great aunts.I love the stories of them being young in the 30's,and looking at the pictures where they look so young and stylish.
That is what i come from,cotton pickers and farmers, and that is kind of cool. I once wanted to write the story of my grandma growing up on the farm in Oklahoma in the 20's and 30's with two older sisters. My great grandpa died by the time my grandma was nine...so a lot of that is about four women living alone on farm land, and all of that. My grandma tells stories about chickens, and learning to drive a car, and about my grandpa who went to school with my grandma since kindergarten, and loved her all that time. She finally agreed to date
and marry him when she was 23. I just really get a whole sense of place when she talks about them. I hate the fact that so much of that is slipping away. She is the last one that can really recount all of those stories, and all of the feeling that comes with
that. All of the ethnicities that she came into contact with because of
it being early Oklahoma, and everyone came here to get away and sort of
make a new life.
I wish I could really write a novel like that. One where really not a whole lot is
happening, but just my writing style, the sense of place, the characters,
the goodness in people...all of that just kept the story going, and kept
others interested in what i wanted to say...instead of some fast paced, complex
plot. I will never do it, but that would pretty cool.
I wish I had time to describe my grandma and great aunts to you....and that it would
be something you would be interested in. They were so....great. Each one
just happy and sparkly....each one so stylish....each one about 5'2 and 100
pounds....one with ambition, one with masses of talent, and the third, my
grandma, the baby, the cute one everyone teased, who was more of a
domestic....all living in the country...with a desperate taste in their
mouths for the big city....(oklahoma city that is) and for fine things.
All with a certain idea of what a lady should be.
It is kind of weird, but when we go put flowers on the graves there at the cemetry ...i sometimes just want to sit and dream about those people...and all of the LIFE that was
lived....all the struggles, and courage, and happiness, and pain....seems like so much
bigger than my little life sometimes.
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