.................."ALMOST TRUE"...........by Paul Sliger..................

These are portions of a book that I wrote several years ago in which I tried to recall and write stories that I remember, stories that I had heard from members of my family AND humorous things that happened to me. I selected the title-"Almost True"-because these stories have been told by me so many times (with embelishments) that I simply cannot remember for certain which parts are totally true and which are not. I can assure you, with ALMOST total certainy however, that the basis of ALMOST all of the tales are ALMOST true.

In the spirit of a disclaimer of sorts, peoples names that are used may or may not be factual. If I think that the story would embarass the principal, you can be sure that the correct name is not used. Otherwise, the name is probably correct.

I will try to add a little each week or so to this "sort of a blog" If I do not keep that schedule exactly, do not be surprised. After all, I am a very busy person. (wink.....wink). One consoling fact is that if I miss a deadline, I can assure you that you will not have missed much, if anything.

"About Me"

I was born in March, 1933, deivered by Dr. W.E.("Doc ED") Foree, M.D., in Mom and Dad's bedroom in their home on Third Street in Athens, Tennessee. My first memories at about four years of age, were of living in that little house in Athens, a small town in East Tennessee about mid-way between Knoxville and Chattanooga. Dad bought that little house during the depths of the depression. He told me later that he did not see the house in daylight for weeks after he bought it because it was Winter and the days were short. In order to make as much money as he could, he was working about twelve hours a day so it was before daylight when he left the house for work in the morning and it was after dark when he returned in the evening.

Dad's full name was George Paul Sliger and Mother's name was Fay Clark Sliger.

Neither of them had a birth certificate and Mom always said that her "real" name was Fay Audrey Lola Burton Clark Sliger. According to Mom, her Mother had promised four of her aunts and uncles that she would name a baby after them and Mom was the last baby so she had to "tag" her with all of the promised names.

Dad was a iron foundry pattern maker and worked for the Athens Stove Works where he was an employee over for forty-seven years. He retired at the age of sixty-six and continued to live a great life with my Mother until he passed away at ninety-four years of age. Mother lived for two months after Dad passed away. She did not know that Dad was no longer with her until she met him in Heaven. She was ninty-two years old.

Mom told me one time that she and Dad were only separated for a total of six or seven nights in the almost eighty years that they were wed. Those nights were when Dad had to take an overnight trip or two for the company he worked for and could not take Mom along.

Mother had begun to lose her mental capabilities when Dad fell and broke his hip. Since Dad was no longer able to "take care of Mom", he decided for both of them that it was time to move into a rest home. They were lucky enough to find a great facility close to our home and were able to get a single room with hospital beds for both of them. They had been there less than a week when the Nurse on their wing told Peg and me that she had never seen two old people so close. When Dad woke up every morning, Mom was in bed with him....but I am ahead of the book plan.....

When Peg and I built our antique mall near Lake City TN, we included an apartment for Mom and Dad because they had expressed a desire to "give up the farm" in McMinn County and move into an apartment or condominium.

Since Peg and I had discussed retiring for the fifth time (that is another strory) and opening an antique mall, we decided to go ahead and build the mall in 1996 and to provide the apartment in the mall for Mom and Dad so we could "keep an eye on them"....and we did, although if the truth be known, they helped us more than we ever helped them. This was a great decision because we got to spend the last years of Mom and Dad's life with them. It was almost as if Peggy and I discovered them all over again......It was great and such a pleasure to "take care of them".

When I was seven, we moved from the house ln which I was born to a “farm” in the Pond Hill community about ten miles from Athens. It was on Rural Route 1, Niota, Tennessee. Believe me, when you are ten miles from Athens. Tennessee, you are very nearly ten miles from nowhere. It sort of reminds me of a friend that lives in (I kid you not-), None Such, Kentucky which is North of Lexington. We visited him one time and there is a rarm near my friend's farm that has a sign on the gate" "No Such Farm, None Such, Kentucky".

We moved to Pond Hill so that my Dad would be near his Mother, my “Mamaw” Sliger. Mamaw was getting to the point where my “Papaw" Sliger could not take care of her in a manner that my Dad felt was adequate. Like me, my Dad was an only child.

The “farm life” was drastically different from the life within the city limits of Athens.

First of all, we had no electricity or running water in Pond Hill….no one did. This meant that my Mother had to carry water in buckets from the spring which was at the bottom of the hill we lived on, up to the house. It also meant that we had no bathroom. I quickly learned that our bathroom was anywhere outside the house.

The story is told that my Uncle Richard (as with Uncle Taylor, really a Great-Uncle), was telling his brother Taylor that he was thinking about getting married, but that his intended bride was insisting that he provide an "outhouse" for her or she would not marry him. "I wouldn't marry a woman that couldn't squat" was Taylor's advice.

"Good Morning Clarabelle"

I know that for someone who was not "raised" in a time and place that was sparsely populated that it is difficult to believe or even comprehend that in places only a mile or so outside the small towns and communities of rural East Tennessee, people could "go to the bathroom" almost anywhere without being embarrassed by being seen by others. There were simply very few people around.

My Papaw was plowing in a field one morning when "the urge" for a bowel movement became quite urgent. He simply squatted down at the edge of the field to "do his business". About that time Clarabelle West, an old maid in the community who frequently walked to visit neighbors, came walking up a path at the edge of the field and was directly in front of Papaw while he was in the compromising position. When he told the story to me some years later, I asked him "What in the world did Miss Clarabelle say to you, Papaw? "She said "Good Morning Mr. Sliger", he replied. "Well, what in the world did you say to her, Papaw?, I asked." He replied matter of factly. "I said Good Morning Clarabelle".

"Cause They Ain't No Cornbread"

This type of simple and "to the point" answers from my Papaw Sliger were typical, especially if he thought that you should know the answer.

Years later after my Mamaw Sliger passed away and Papaw moved in with us, he loved my Mother's cornbread....well, actually, Papaw liked anyones cornbread.

Mother had prepared fresh strawberries for desert one night for supper and had bought little "cup-shaped" pastries to serve the strawberrys in. My Papaw selected a slice of "light bread" and proceeded to pour his strawberries onto the slice of sandwich bread. "Papaw", I asked, "why are you eating your strawberries on light bread"? "Because we don'thave cornbread" was his answer. He never considered eating cup cakes with strawberries.

"The Pond Hill House"

Baths during winter in our family were taken in a galvanized “wash tub” placed near the fireplace. In the summertime, I used the creek at the foot of our hill.

Our house had only four rooms. There were two bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen. Heat was supplied by two fireplaces that shared a common chimney, Mom cooked the meals on a “wood cook stove” which was made by the company that Dad worked for. I honestly cannot imagine how my Mom accepted this since she was “raised” in the city and had never lived without the benefits of “modern” convinces like electric heat and indoor plumbing and, of course, electric lights.

Our lighting was provided by “coal oil” (kerosene) lamps. One thing I do remember is that Mom kept a radio from our home in town. I continually wondered why Mom could not simply plug the radio into the lamp and listen to “our Gal Sal” which was her favorite soap opera. As I got older, I came to respect my Mother more and more for the sacrifices that she made.

Because we did not have television, or even radio, entertainment was much different out in “the country”

"My Uncle Taylor"

My Dad’s family was close knit and very clannish. As a result, we spent a lot of time together. Virtually every night we would gather at “Uncle Taylor’s” house. As I look back, Uncle Taylor was the titular head of my Mamaw Sliger’s family. Although almost every member of this family was intelligent, Uncle Taylor was the most intelligent of those old enough and male enough to be the leader. We all respected Uncle Taylor and without question had conferred on him the leadership of the clan. Meeting on Uncle Taylor’s front porch was a nightly ritual. Taylor and all of the ladies sat in chairs and the men sat on the porch floor and on the porch steps. This was the setting for so many of the stories that I remember.

Uncle Taylor was, needless to say, my hero….and…I am firmly convinced, he was also the hero of my Dad , especially when Dad was young.

Uncle Taylor, although very intelligent, never learned to read or write but he was SUCH a successful man, none the less.

He might not have been able to read or write, but he was the consummate outdoorsman. He could see a squirrel in “that old white oak up there on the side of the hill” as he would say when he and I were waling through a field. I had to admit that even with my much younger eyes, I had difficulty even seeing the white oak that he was talking about.

. Countless times he and I would be walking in the field between our farms and Uncle Taylor would stop and tell me that “there was a rabbit sitting beside the path” a few feet past where we had stopped. He knew from years of experience that if it you stopped as soon as you saw the rabbit, it would jump and run. For this reason, you had to keep on walking past the rabbit as if you had seen nothing. At his direction, I would shoot the rabbit. Sometimes I had trouble seeing the cottontail even with Uncle Taylor pointing it out to me.

Taylor would always keep the game since the squirrels and rabbits that we shot provided him with a goodly portion of his food budget. ...........Continued....

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