We called my dad’s mother Mama Sims. She was not just a grandmother, she was the grand matriarch of the family.  Certain things about the house she called home are forever embedded in my mind– there are things about a house that little kids never forget.  My ten first cousins and two siblings who share memories of Mama Sims’ house  will certainly remember them all, but it’s time to share them with the world.  Let’s take a tour of Mama Sims’ house through the eyes of me as a child.

Front yard:  There was not much of a front yard at Mama Sims’ house.  The house was not more than twenty feet from the sidewalk in front of her home.  At least it was flat, allowing grandkid games of football, tag, and kick-the-can to happen at any time, while the adults all sat on the front porch in metal chairs and rocking chairs, smoking cigarettes and swatting flies. There was a problem, though.  Smack dab in the MIDDLE of the front yard was a water faucet on a galvanized steel pipe sticking up about 2 1/2 feet.  Cousins were regularly impaled there during the summer games.

Front Bedroom:  It was always cold in there and the door was usually shut.  There was an old upright piano in that room that Mama Sims won as a teenager in a raffle. Perhaps my earliest memory (age 3) is from that room– it’s the room that held Papa Sims’ casket after he died– a common practice in those days.  I remember my Dad holding me up to look at him in the casket. I thought the white pillow looked soft.

Living Room: It was rarely used except on Christmas.  It was where the Christmas tree stood, and the gifts were unwrapped. Every Christmas we cousins got a pair of socks and five dollars, unless we were under six years old, then we got two one-dollar bills.  After all, to a five year old two ones are more than one five.  Mama Sims was shrewd.  Oh, and then there was the brass alligator nut cracker, which was used by brothers and cousins to terrorize Gary Smith.

Other Front Bedroom/Den:  

It was a bedroom at one time, then it became the “sitting room” where the TV was located. Bonanza played regularly on the TV, and dominoes were played religiously on a card table. Little Grandma rocked in a chair and spit snuff into a can next to a space heater.  It was always sweating hot in that room.

Middle Bedroom:  I knew it as Little Grandma’s bedroom.  It was creepy.  There was a big chifforobe (armoire, or wardrobe) with musty old clothes in it, and an old pendulum clock that rang ever hour on the hour.  My cousins Nanda and Debbie were terrified of that clock ringing because Little Grandma died in that room.  Go figure.

Dining Room:  The furniture was Edwardian Walnut Veneer, but we just called it fancy, old-timey furniture. The room was always dark, no windows, and surrounded by other rooms.  Only the men ate in the dining room.  The women gathered for meals in the kitchen. The dining room floors always squeaked and it was colder in there than anywhere in the house.  I threw up once on the painted wood floor and it splattered onto the sideboard.  Mom had to wipe it down while Dad took me home.

Hallway to the Bathroom:  Just off the the dark dining room was an even darker narrow hallway leading to the bathroom.  The walls of the hallway were a series of curtains that hid things in storage like quilts, blankets, old electric fans, and artificial flower arrangements.  It was the best place for older cousins to jump out and scare the living daylights out of the younger ones like me.  It was also the perfect place for escaped convicts and axe murderers to hide once they gained entrance into the house. I usually tried to go to the bathroom outside as much as possible so as not to have to walk down the creepy hallway of death. The bathroom must have been late addition to the house.  It was very small, smelled like roses mixed with ivory soap, and the floor was uneven, sloping toward the tub.  Trees in the back yard were a much better bathroom alternative.

Kitchen:  This was the happiest place in the house.  There were always “Co-Colas” in the refrigerator crisper, cookies in the clown shaped cookie jar (Nanda was afraid of the cookie jar, too), biscuits on the stove, a pie on the table, and a delicious meal in the works. The tall tales told around that table are still legendary.  I was staying with Mama Sims one summer morning, at about the age of 5 or 6, looking intently at her as she fried some chicken.  She asked me, “Mark, what are you staring at?”  I responded, “Mama Sims, your neck don’t fit.”  (Alas, the skin on my neck doesn’t fit as tightly as it once did either.)

Back Porch:  It really wasn’t a porch, it was sort of a work room.  It had a big freezer we called the deep freeze, a sink, and lots of homemade canned goods stored all around.  It was in this room that Mama Sims kept her bonnet, gardening supplies, and rubber boots.  The screen door leading to the back steps always closed with a loud slap when someone went in or out.

Back Yard:  It was bigger than the front yard, but was mostly an acre or more of corn and a garden for vegetables.  There was a big round table for watermelon cutting under a giant pecan tree, some metal chairs, a tool shed, and some wooden steps leading up to the house.  We played rock school on those steps.  I also remember Uncle Mancil killing a big rattlesnake next to the grapevine.  I stayed away from there.

That’s what I saw.  That’s what I experienced.  That’s what I remember.

“But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart.”  Luke 2:19

Addendum:  And then there was the storm pit— I blogged about that before. https://www.marksimsblog.com/Christian-discipleship/storm-pit-apocalypse/