JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRL (Don't Stop Believin')

Oh Mama! That man over there just wadded up his napkin and ate it!!! .......and there goes another!!! Sweetie, you must be seein' things 'cause that simply doesn't happen. We'll feed me nails and call me rusty, 'cause this Ozark Farm Chick later witnessed that oddity time and time again at the cafe on Main Street durin' our weekly shoppin' trips. His name was J. Tate and he gobbled up napkins like they were hot fresh glazed doughnuts.

El Dorado (Eldo-RAAAH-do) Springs, Missouri is a land where onced and twiced are words yet was a metropolis compared to my teeny hometown, Stockton. Our farm was nestled between these two towns. We shopped at Eldo 'cause of it's greater variety. A little drive-in hosted the best Hickory Burgers in the world. They were mad dog doolin' delicious I tell ya! People traveled miles with glass jugs and odd containers in tow to bottle up the mineral rich water flowin' from the depths of the beautiful city park spring. It was the most horrifically putrid water that carried the stench of rotten eggs and tasted even worse, yet was known far and wide for it's magical medicinal healin' powers.

Yep, I have fond memories of this picturesque town and it's breathtaking city park surrounded by the quaint storefronts down Main Street. Memories sippin' Chocolate Ice Cream Sodas from the fountain at the Drug Store. I filled my inner teen diva buyin' Bobby Brook Fashions at Brownsburger's Department Store. Like everyone else 'round those parts I had to attend the biggest event of the year, The El Dorado Springs Annual Picnic but I never had the pleasure of meetin' my hillbilly neighbor, Kathie Truitt. It was in Blogland that our paths crossed. It truly is a small world after all!

Kathie's so sweet she could charm a 'coon right outta a tree. This big hearted beauty is a former Mrs. Missouri America. She's been a celebrated radio personality and motivational speaker 'round the Midwest. Ya'll can find her over at her place " The Hillbilly Debutante ." Oops...my bad! Did I mention that Kathie's also an author? She published 'False Victim' in 2010, a novel based on her own true story.

I have to tell ya, ya'll are in for a treat 'cause Kathie just released her newest book just this week. 'The Hillbilly Debutante Cafe' is filled with small town politics, adventure, mystery, just a wee drop of paranormal with heaps of good clean small town humor where everybody knows everybody's business and ain't ashamed to talk 'bout it! I sure pray my small town friend will be ridin' high on the gravy train with biscuit wheels 'cause this books gonna be hotter than a summer revival!!!

'The Hillbilly Debutante Cafe' is filled with colorful small town folks like Wilhelmina and Bobby Joe. There's the WWII veteran who chose to move into his 1969 T-Bird with his cat Mo-Ped. He was known to take baths in El Dorado City Park. Gettin' him to live anywhere else was kinda like teachin' a pig to dance. It only wastes your time and irritates the pig besides this fella was as content as a pig in a wallow right where his residence was parked.

With more guts than ya can hang on a fence, you'll meet the mechanic who donned himself in woman's clothin' accessorized with pearls, lipstick and all the glam he could conjure up. You might even bump into a Rain Man type character whose got a thing for numbers. One might think his phone's plumb off the hook but he'll know ya by your phone number, not by name. I had such fun readin' Kathie's ' The Hillbilly Debutante Cafe' and I know ya'll will too!!!!



Known by it's more popular name, 'Don't Stop Believin', was sung by the rock band Journey back in 1981 which has also sported a second name durin' it's life. Kathie was from my neck of the woods and I know ya'll are goin' to have as much fun readin' 'The Hillbilly Debutante Cafe' as I did. Yep, Kathie and I can both belt out that wonderful Journey oldie 'cause we're both "Just a Small Town Girl!!!

Please won't ya check out Kathie's Book at Barnes & Noble or Amazon. If ya pop over to her blog 'The Hillbilly Debutante' and purchase a book and leave Kathie a comment you'll be in the runnin' for some really cool bright red cowgirl boots. I promise you that ya'll are in for some amusin' Ozark entertainment!

LOOK WHAT THEY'VE DONE TO MY SONG

I've been madder than a dwarf with a long stringed yo~yo! Folks, this has been one tough week on this Ozark Farm Chick. I've sadly been greavin' deeply for a loss I never thought I'd have to face. Farm Boy tried to break it to me gently for he knows my passions but I have to tell ya it went down 'bout as well as the iron tonic Mama used to force me to swallow. Few things will rile me up like this and make me madder than a welfare mom runnin' outta food stamps mid~month.

Hubs said, "your not gonna like this" and I didn't. He knows me too well. Sunday mornin' when the radio clicked on I was not awaken by my beloved oldies that have nudged me from sleep for eons. Nooooo0, I heard Scrugg's banjo blarin' which was 'bout as welcomed as deviled egg gas passed in a telephone booth. My oldies station has gone country and turned my world upside down!!!

I fed piles of quarters into the jukeboxes at Stockton's Castle Drive~In and El Dorado's Cooper Drug store durin' my teen years to saturate my soul with this music. Ya just can't beat the sound of The Beetles, Elton John, The Beach Boys and Connie Frances while sippin' a chocolate ice cream soda or playin' the pinball machines. My first party, dance, kiss and pretty near everything else left to the imagination involved this music. Why, life without these grand tunes would be kinda like goin' to the goat house for wool!

My first clock radio was purchased at a little hardware store just off the square in Stockton. I had saved my money and thought I had gathered just enough to own it. I'd been droolin' over it for months. As I very carefully unfolded my bills to complete this transaction, I discovered I had not saved enough to cover my dream radio and the tax. The kind owner smiled and sold me the radio anyway. Woohoo, my tween self couldn't get the boxed tunes home fast enough to set the alarm to awaken me with the best songs ever. Elvis sang me awake that mornin' with ample time to ready myself and catch the school bus. This vintage boombox stirred my sleep through high school and was my early mornin' companion in college as well as the lyrics which shaped my life.

When my hunka~hunka~burnin' love and I married and moved to the Ponderosa there was one and only one oldie station we could get down here in these hills and hollers. We live so far back in the country folks think a Volvo is a woman's body part. I've faithfully listened to this 'Oldies Station' over thirty nine years. I raised Geek Son and Social Butterfly on these nostalgic melodies. My grandkiddos know 'em well. Heck, my posts carry the names of the songs I adore.

While the dishwashers sloshin', washer's agitatin', dryer's tumblin' on Deep Clean Friday, ya can find this caped crusader super cleanin' freak dancin' and dustin', singin' and scrubbin' or rockin' and rubbin' to the oldies as I get the Ponderosa's abode cleaner than a freshly showered priest on Sunday mornin'. Ya'll know how twisted this chick is when it comes to clean but it makes my heart sing and when ya add some rockin' tunes, life just doesn't get any better!

I can be workin' outside sweetin' like a gal writtin' her fist love letter while workin' in one of my many flower gardens yet be happier than a hungry bird with a french fry as long as I have my oldies to listen to. (Pictures from my rose garden last summer) My afternoon swims will never be the same void of Kool & The Gang, The Temptations or The Carpenters. I fear without my oldies I'm gonna sink lower than a moles belly on diggin' day.



I called the radio station and they acted like I was a half a bubble off plum 'cause I wasn't thrilled with their changes. They scoffed at me when I explained there's a country station on every corner 'round these parts and without oldies, they were simply just another station. I felt like I was talkin' to a rock. My emails have gone unanswered. Colder than a polar bears toenails~ they don't care. Oh Mama, look what they've done with my songs!!!

Don't get me wrong. I love music...varieties of music and will listen to more than only the oldies. I love soft jazz, contemporary christian, praise and worship and most anything playin' in my head but I thrive on the oldies. Miss Safka expressed my current feelins on her 1970 hit album 'Candles in the Rain' as she sang, "Well they tied it up in a plastic bag and turned it upside down." This little radio station is now as useless to me as a screen door on a submarine as I cry out "Look What They've Done to My Song!!!"

THE BEST

As sure as this Ozark Farm Chick knows a 'possum is a flat animal that sleeps in the middle of the road, it's clear that this man was one remarkable fella. Ya'll might say he was "Simply the Best!" That fact is always confirmed by the glimmer in my Mama's eyes and the joy in her voice as she speaks of him.

Born in 1904, Fred Augustus Dow grew up in Iowa where this industrious young lad ran a paper route. He later moved to Emporia, Kansas before settlin' in Albuquerque, New Mexico. He loved to gather his family for Sunday drives which consistently included a melody of his favorite songs like "My Blue Heaven." Seemed he always had a great tune to belt out, imagine that!!! Fred delivered groceries, was a railroad fireman, ran yet another paper route and was for a very short time, my Grandfather.

'Pa' was feelin' higher than an Ozark pine holdin' a six week old Nezzy Chicklett. Would ya'll look at those toothpick squirrel legs? Dang, I was so skinny it looked like I swapped legs with a wasp and got cheated a stinger!!! This was my first trip to see my maternal grandparents who lived in Albuquerque and the last time they both would both be there. My grandpa had suffered with heart problems as did two of his four children. Booger, I'd love to of known this man.

He did get the chance to visit the Stockton farm and was nuttier over me than a port~a~potty at a Peanut Festival. It was durin' this visit I called him 'Pa'. Me?? Well, accordin' to my daddy I was born a farmer skilled at milkin' and spreadin' manure from the get~go but ya can tell my 'Pa' was a true city slicker. Who wears penny loafers and white socks 'round cow patties???

'Pa' didn't come to visit me empty handed. No, he brought me a beautiful gold locket~bracelet set which I still cherish today and a skillfully hand made potty chair.

Upon arriving' 'Pa' brought the potty chair into the house where I was nappin'. A gals gotta get her beauty rest ya know? Mom woke me and was gonna put a clean hippen on me when she noticed my diaper wasn't wet. (Even then I was kinda a control freak) She sat me on my new princess commode and slicker than grease off a BBQ biscuit I tinkled! Knowin' I was the most intelligent exceptional ten month old on Earth , 'Pa' bowed up like a Banty Rooster with pride! He had a gifted prodigy tot on his hands but ya'll know even a blind hog finds and acorn every now and again! Or....maybe... just maybe, my grandpa hit the nail on the head and I am a true genius!!! A girl can dream can't she?

That was the last time I would see my grandfather. He passed shortly after makin' his one and only trip to these Ozark hills. After runnin' an early dawn paper route Pa sat down on the sofa to count his mornin' collections as my Grandmother (Ma) rustled up some breakfast. Ma heard a thump and discovered that my grandfather had collapsed from a heart attack. He could not be revived. All I have today are the pictures, a beautiful gold locket set, an old potty chair and the assurance of a grandpa's love. I'm saddened that he never got the chance to visit the Ponderosa, he would'a loved it! I know these things.

In 1974 I discovered I had my own little bun brewin' in the oven. Well, I got busier than a kitty tryin' to cover it's business on a marble floor to prepare the little loo for my own brood. I sanded my little heart out and refinished the beautiful wood grain in that old potty chair. I burnt lines in it for a distressed look and painted a Winnie the Pooh theme on the 'wee' john. Only the best for my youngens!

Over the past 59 years this potty chair has traveled almost as much as this old gal. I'm almost ashamed of how long I used this marvelous privy. Raised without indoor plumbin', it was a welcomed warm friend to my tush when it was cold enough outside to freeze the balls off a pool table. My tiny throne traveled from New Mexico to Missouri. It's visited the Gulf of Mexico in Brownsville, Texas and returned back to the Ozarks. Pooh Chair has caressed the bottoms of my kiddos (Geek Son and Social Butterfly), nieces, nephews and grandkiddos alike.

These days the galvanized pot is rustier than an old sheriff's badge and so ugly maggots would have to be blindfolded to use it. Yep, your eyes aren't deceivin' ya folks, that sure enough is Pooh Bear waitin' for incomin' poo. I'm twisted like that!!!

This positive rare gem of a song confirms the way my 'Pa' thought of me, "Your simply the best, better than all the rest, better than anyone, anyone I've ever met." Miss Tina Turner sang this encouragin' anthem from 1966 to present day. Knowin' how very blessed I am, I too can sing... "I'm stuck on your heart", 'cause I know my 'Pa' had the biggest heart of hearts and that he was " (Simply)The Best !!!"

The old potty chair is goin' into storage but not so far that it can't be pulled out to be used another day or another generation.