TEMPORARILY DISPLACED

There were several psychotic episodes during the remainder of the time we lived in Elmdale.  Sometimes my mother would appear to be perfectly normal, then she would slip into a pattern in which rationality did not exist.  We bought a farm in Clyde and moved back there on January 1, 1947.  I was in the middle of the seventh grade.

Sometime in the early spring Mama had a severe episode about the same time that I got an eye injury on the playground at school.  Johnny Bailey, one of my classmates, and the son of a local pharmacist, picked up a rock and casually threw it in the air.  He did not aim it at anyone, but when it came down, it hit me in the eye.  Although it was somewhat painful, I finished out the day in school.  After I went home I realized the glare of the sunlight was irritating, so I went down into the storm cellar.  We had a bed down there, and it was dark.  I thought I would be better off there.  After I had lain on the bed for a little while, I was much aware of my pain, and I was having trouble seeing out of that eye.  I finally decided I had better tell Daddy.  He was plowing in the field.  I had chores to do when I came home, so I told him it would be hard for me to do my chores because I was having trouble seeing.  He pulled up the plows and headed the tractor for the house.

I don’t remember how we knew it, but there was a retired ophthalmologist living in Clyde.  Daddy took me to his house where his office was located.  It didn’t take him long to figure out that I had a blood clot in my eye.  He put some kind of medicine in it that was supposed to help dissolve the blood clot and some salve that eased the pain.  Hw gave us a prescription for more.

I was out of school for several days.  Daddy didn’t think it would be a good idea for me to stay at home since Mama was in pretty bad shape mentally. He took me to Grandpa and Grandma Bales’ house, which was about a half a mile away.  I stayed with them until I was well enough to go back to school.  It was really a good time.  I had always thought of my grandmother as a humorless person, but she had raised 11 kids, but she knew a few things that would keep a kid entertained. 

As I’ve mentioned before Grandpa was a singer, and it was during that period that I was introduced to Southern Gospel  music, which I’ve loved her since.  They also had an old windup Victrola, so in many ways the experience was pleasant.  Many years later John Denver would sing a song about “Grandma’s Featherbed.”  Well my grandma had one and I slept under it during the time I was recovering..