In talking to my brother about this lapse of memory, he came up with an answer that looks good on paper even though I'm not just real sure it's true. He says if you had a bad childhood you can remember it all. However, if everything was roses you don't remember it. I don't know how much of his stories to believe, but he insist that as the youngest and the only girl, I was a spoiled brat!

According to my mother and the honorable Dr. John Kupka of Haskell, Oklahoma, I was born on June 27, 1941 at 10:15 pm at Haskell, Oklahoma. My weight was recorded as 7 pounds, 4 ounces. Now that was quite a surprise tome. I had always figured that I must have weighed at least 125 at birth. Now at the age of 44 years and 11 months, my memory is I've always weighed at least 300 pounds! But, getting back to the birth certificate from the doctor --it bothers me that there is no name on the thing. Dr. Kupka attest he was the attending physician at the birth of _______(blank) and it was never filled in! I have never requested my birth certificate from the State of Oklahoma. I think I am a little fearful that my name might be something else on the official certificate! The very thought that I might have been named after my own mother --Carol Bessie ---or possibly after my Aunt Alice --Carol Beedy ---scares the hell out of me.

My mother tells the story that when I was born the family was living one mile east of the Cole Pool store in a small two room house which sat on the banks of a small creek. Living in this small house was Mother, Daddy, my brothers Junior and Billy Ray and mother's sister Lois and her four children. Now that means there were three adults and six children all in two rooms. I can just imagine what the place looked like at bed time. Aunt Lois and her four children in one bed and Daddy, Mother and my two brothers in another bed. Now, I have always wondered why I am the only child that appears to be a little crazy from time to time. (My Mother probably wonders about this also.)

Well, I have finally came up with a solution to that question. After hearing that story, I figure I probably got sat on several times by those other six kids. So, that means I can legally blame my cousins and my two brothers for my actions now. I wonder if I could ever find an attorney to try that case!

When I was five years old I started school at the Cole Pool School. At that time we were living south of the store on an oil lease. I don't remember very much about this place except I do remember Grandfather Walters came to visit and stayed a few days. I remember thinking that he was awfully skinny. I know my Dad got hurt while we were living there but I don't remember how or if he was hurt bad. I don't ever remember my Dad not working so I assume he healed quickly. I do remember a neighbor who lived down the road. I don't remember much about her looks but she wore long dangle earrings much like you see the Spanish women wear. I thought they were the most beautiful things I had ever seen and remember wishing she would give me a pair to wear. Naturally, she didn't but I still remember them.

From the oil lease we moved west to the farm. We attended Liberty school and my brother's girl friend lived just down the road from us. We had an old (he probably wasn't that old but to me as a child he seemed old) negro man that helped Daddy on the farm. I can remember going to his house and eating. He and his wife were really good to all of us.

I remember several times when we lived on that farm it would rain and the road to the farm would get so muddy the car wouldn't make it out to the main road. This is when Daddy really showed his love for us. He would hook up the tractor and pull us out through the mud to the main road. Then he would take us into Haskell to the movies. Back home again he would hook the car back to the tractor and pull us home. The really funny thing about that story is, he now tells me we have spoiled our children. At times I wonder if dear beloved Daddy, with his gruff exterior, ever remembers all those little things he did for his kids.

I do remember several things that happened while we were living on the farm. Once in the winter the clothes line was frosted over. Now along comes my big brother Billy Ray and tells me to run my tongue down the line and lick off all that frost. Just like eating ice he said. Well, being a trusting little sister I did just that .....I am surprised I'm not still stuck to that line. Naturally, he ran while I yelled as best I could for Mama to come rescue me. Boy did I ever learn a lesson about frosted lines! Much to his sorrow, the tongue survived to lash out at him a few times while we were growing up and actually a few times since then also.

Now some of the best memories I have is going fishing for crawdads in the ditch beside the road. Man, did we ever pull in some big ones. Naturally I was scared to death of those little pinchers and will have to admit that even today I don't want them anywhere near me.

I also remember sitting in front of the house one summer making mud pies. Now that was fun. I'm sure now that mother must have wanted to beat me for getting so dirty. Anyway, I remember the preacher came one day to visit while I was cookin' up those little lovelies. He talked to mother awhile and then came my turn. He asked me if I remembered any scripture and I was so proud. I quoted John 3:16 like a pro, then promptly went back to making more mud pies.

Daddy finally gave up farming. We were probably starving but I don't remember. One thing I do know is that we always had plenty to eat so I guess we weren't really going hungry. I am quite sure my Dad worked very hard on that farm. He had been planting seed since he was big enough to walk so he tells me now, and I guess there was some mighty lean years from time to time.

We left the farm and moved to Liberty school. We had a house on the school grounds and Daddy was a bus driver and also mechanic. Mother worked as the school cook and things seemed to roll along. My brothers and I all played basketball. This was the great sport at Liberty. I remember how handsome my brothers looked in those uniforms. Mother and Daddy were always at the games to cheer us on. Seems my oldest brother Junior always did spoil me a little. But, Billy Ray was a horse of another color. I used to wonder why he hated me so. Once I recall him throwing me down on the floor and holding a pillow over my head. To this day I can't stand small closed up places and I truly blame that on him. Now, years later, I realize he always loved me but being followed around by a little sister isn't fun for any boy!

We lived at Liberty until I started the ninth grade in 1954. By that time my Dad was a very good mechanic and we moved to Sand Springs where he went to work for the local Chevrolet dealer. I started school in Sand Springs. Now that was quite a feat, after going to a small country school. I was the original COUNTRY BUMPKIN. First day of school, scared to death, and what did I do. Seemed like ten thousand kids coming from all directions and I went up the staircase everyone else was coming down! Naturally I got collared by a teacher who not so gently explained "You go up on the east side and go down on the west side and don't you forget it!". These town people sure did take stairs seriously.

Well, I finally got everything together and managed to make it all the way through high school. I had quite a time getting a job because I didn't really want to work I guess. Naturally, living in Sand Springs I did manage to work at Kerr Glass a few months. That seemed to be the true mark of a Sandite. Probably every true Sandite worked at Kerr Glass sometime in their life. But, I finally branched out and went to work in Tulsa. Now that was really big time.

I guess my really one big thing was driving my Dad's pink and white 1958 Crown Victoria Ford. The guys really liked that car and so did I. The thrill of those days was to pile in four or five girls and head to Tulsa. There you would drive down Admiral Blvd. and through Cotton's Drive-In and then back to 11th and Boston and cruise through Penningtons Drive In. Well, I finally got caught. Someone dared me to ask this real quiet guy, who always sat at Cottons drinking coffee, for a date and they would give me $5 to do so. Well, I guess I have always been just a little gutsy and besides that I needed the money for gas in the super car. So I did exactly that. I think I scared him so he spilled his coffee. Now I never dreamed that this guy would say YES; and certainly never dreamed I would wind up married to him, but you got it; that sweet young guy was named KING JOHNSON. I don't think I found out until we got our marriage license that his real name was Maurice King Johnson. However, by that time it was already to late and I was madly in love with him and I have to admit to the fact that I still am in love with him today after 25 years of marriage.

I admit there were a few other things I remember about growing up but some isn't worth telling and other things I really don't want anyone to know! I don't think I want my children or grandchildren to know some of the things I did back then. But some of those things have lead me to believe that my children really were not so bad when they were growing up because if I admit it I probably did a lot of things worse than they did.

The next chapter of my life will probably read "The Days of Our Three Ring Circus" which are forthcoming.
FOOTNOTE: The above story written in 1985. Not much has changed since then. Still married to King for almost 40 years now. Children all grown and have one great grandson, Charley, who I adore. Retired now and living the life of leisure. WELL, King is living that life. I still have to pick up after him.