Winsome You Lose-some isn’t that What You Meant

Winsome You Lose-some isn't that What You MeantWinsome You Lose-some isn’t that What You Meant? But that is just how life really is, isn’t it?

We all win some and lose some in everything we do. Although it seems like I lose a lot more times than I win.

I remember growing up on a farm in rural Lewis County, Kentucky. We were poor, but we didn’t know it.

We had food to eat, a roof over our heads, beds to sleep in and we had each other. Heck, we even had a bathroom, sort of. The bathroom was the newest edition of this very old two-story house. The floor would rot out often and have to be replaced. The water lines would generally freeze in December, and thaw out in the spring. The kitchen was next newest edition.

One time during the wintertime the floor fell through with my mother standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes. She had to heat the water that was in gallon jugs on the stove because of the water lines being frozen. Needless to say, she was not very happy kinda like an old wet hen. My father boarded up the kitchen entrance so no one else would fall. He did that after moving the refrigerator and stove into the next room so we could still eat and cook. My grandmother lived about a mile away so we would visit her to take showers.

In the winter this old house was heated by wood on one side of the house, the side with Mom and Dads room. My bedroom was across from their’s but on the side of the house where there was absolutely no heat. It had windows that were very old and they no longer made glass for. In the springtime, we played baseball in the front yard. The window panes would get busted out. You paid for it in the winter, I would take my blanket and wrap it around the stove pipe. Then get it hot and run as fast as I could to my bed and dive under the piles of quilts I had. I have woken up several mornings with snow on top of my blanket. It’s a wonder we didn’t freeze to death.

 

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Winsome You Lose-some is that not What You Meant

But I wouldn’t want to grow up anywhere else or in any other time period. Living and surviving that time period was a win and a learning experience. I was never home much when I lived there except to eat and sleep and “occasionally” take a bath. That is whenever mom would get on me for not taking one. I was always either hunting, fishing, exploring, or off at a friends house playing. This was all from 1971 until around 1992 or so when my Dad purchased his own farm. Then they commenced remodeling the old house that was there on the farm he bought. Then we moved into the new house when it was done.

That is around the time that I moved out on my own. I really thought I knew what I was doing…wrong. That is where the losing part of this story comes into play. 20 or 21 years old I believe is too young to move out on your own. Especially, if you didn’t go to college and grew up in a holler. That was a learning experience, but I guess I survived that too. Because I never once moved back home with Mom and Dad. In fact, I really never did ask them for any help with anything until I became disabled. So I guess that was a win until I got hurt anyway.

Sorry for rambling on, but this was my attempt at being funny with the word prompt – winsome

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