Rural Entertainment




When I was a kid, in the nearby town of Buffalo, MO, there was an outdoor movie theater—a drive-in. I know that doesn’t seem unusual since there were many sprinkled across the USA then, but our drive-in movie was special. The Autoscope did not have one large screen but somewhere around 120 screens (opinions vary on the number) positioned in a circle. Cars would pull into individual parking spots facing a screen that was about the size of the old projection screen—give or take. Next to the car on a post was a clunky box with a cord attached. You would hang this box on your rolled down window which would allow you to hear the movie.

The quality of the picture, for that time, was great. And the audio coming from the clunky boxes was good, too.

Memories of my Autoscope experience:

•     Hot muggy nights watching a movie from your car

•     Food smells from the concession stand

•     Cars cram packed with teenagers

•     First dates

•     Family outings

•     Kisses

•     Cats and dogs coming up to your car

•     My boyfriend (became my husband) wanting me to sneak him into the drive-in in the trunk of his car so he wouldn’t have to pay.  (He’d done it before. I declined. But, I thought it was funny.)

•     A violent second date with someone who took out his frustration (can't remember why) on the windshield of his father’s car and thankfully not me. (I can’t believe I dated him 2 or 3 more times before ending it. He was clearly unbalanced. I discovered the reason why—later.)

I watched many movies at the the Autoscope, but I only remember a few. The first (I think) was with my folks: Bonnie and Clyde. I thought the movie was very exciting. I found out later the movie didn’t cover all their murderous ways.

The thing I remember most about this movie was Bonnie’s (Faye Dunaway) hair.  If you know me at all then you may remember my curly hair woes.  I tried to make my puffy hair be smooth and fashionable like Ms. Faye Dunaway, but without the product and machines of today and it was not going to happen. Instead, my best friend who had  straight hair mimicked the style perfectly.   

I can only remember a few titles of the movies I saw at the Autoscope, but there were others.

•     Bonnie and Clyde

•     The Towering Inferno

•     The PoseidonAdventure

•     Deliverance

•     And a slasher movie .I can’t recall its title but I can remember the slashing--yuck.

Sometime in the mid (I think) 70’s the Autoscope’s individual screens were replaced by a big screen. We took our children to see movies on it, but it wasn’t the same.  

Read more about the Autoscope

Reminisce magazine has an article and photo of it here. 

You can see a postcard of it here.

An article (1954) from the Box Office Magazine seen here tells about the Autoscope projection process, shows an aerial view of the drive-in and a photo of the concession stand.

Missouri still has a few drive-in movies see here. One of which, I'd like to visit is the Sunset Drive-in in Aurora, Missouri.

Significance

You would think growing up in a rural community in the 6o's and 70's would mean a life without entertainment, but not at all. We lived within 30 miles of a couple of towns that held entertainment opportunities. The drive in movie theaters were just one source of fun.  

I will always cherish my childhood entertainment memories with one of those being the Autoscope Drive-In.

Sources: Wikipedia, http://www.reminisce.com/2011/03/autoscope-drive-in-movie-had-a-screen-for-every-car/, http://www.americandrivein.com/states/mo.htm,

Hurschel Powell - Grandfather

GRANDFATHERS

You hear about grandmothers all the time because they are awesome, but grandfathers are just as significant in a child’s life. Boys need their fathers and grandfathers, but girls need healthy opposite sex relationships, too. These relationships are essential to a girl’s emotional growth and often determine how they (females) relate to men as adults.

I feel connected to both my grandfathers even though they passed away years ago. Frank Dugan, my maternal grandfather, passed away when I was around six months old. We lived with my grandparents the first few months of my life. (You can see their home in my sidebar.) I’ve always felt a connection to my Grandpa Frank, but that will be a story for another time.  

Today, I write about my other grandfather Hurschel Powell who holds a very special place in my heart. He was a farmer. He was in the military. But, most importantly to me, he was an excellent grandfather.

MEMORIES

When I was 3 or 4 years old (I think) my grandfather needed to go to town 20 miles away. And he took me with him. I remember feeling happy that I got to go with him. I remember a couple of things about that day:

·         I rode in the middle of the front seat switching from standing in the seat to kneeling. I could see better that way. No seatbelts in the car then. Car seat? What was that?

·         I liked walking hand in hand with him, but my favorite part was when he lifted me in his arms and carried me. I could be right next to his heart and pleasant face.

·         He let me pick out a toy. I chose a tiny glass doll.

Other memories of my grandpa:  

·         He took my brother and me for rides on his tractor.

·         He was never cross with me. When my grandmother would scold me or tell me I couldn’t do something, he would explain why it needed to be that way.

·         He was very handsome.  

·         He was tall.

·         He took me fishing in a creek on the farm.  

·         He knew who I was as a child and let me be me.

INFLUENCE

I knew my grandfather loved me. His hugs said it. His attention to me said he cared. In the last months of his life when he was bedridden from Parkinson’s disease and I sat by his bed painting my fingernails, he couldn’t talk easily but the twinkle in his expressive eyes told me how much he loved me. I was 12 years old and was still a fan of his.

I've seen in my dad these past years reflections of my grandfather. That's a good thing.

SIGNIFICANCE OF FAMILY

The influence of family is significant to a child. We know that healthy family connections contribute to a child’s well being. Children learn some of their identity from their parents and extended family members as well.  Healthy family relationships teaches a child useful strategies for living life.  

Whether you're a parent, aunt or uncle, a grandparent or whatever your role is to a child, do it well.

  

Music Traditions in the Ozarks

by Teresa Powell Coltrin

I love music. Music lives in my soul and often determines my mindset for the day. I must admit, my music preferences are eclectic. I listen to everything from classical to country from rock to hymns. I love Reggae and Christian contemporary. I like it all—nearly.  Right now, two of my favorite artists are Adele and Francesca Battistelli.  

When I was a child, this country girl had a desire to play an instrument and more than one, if I could. I started teaching myself to play the guitar around the age of 16 and learned to play a little snare drum at school.  I still can’t read music.

Because I enjoy music, it was important to me that my children learn to play an instrument. I don’t know if I gave them a choice or not. (I may have bullied them into playing an instrument.) My son played the guitar and the alto saxophone. My daughter played the flute and the tenor saxophone. THEY learned to read music.

My family gatherings weren't laced with musical performances, but all around my rural culture families and community focused on music. The Ozarks tradition, like many cultures, has its assortment of music to enjoy and to pass on to their children.  During my childhood, music brought people together in many ways in our community.

Home

Growing up, my parents played Country Music on their stereo and radio. I remember the soulful sound of Hank Williams and many others. When I hit high school, I thought the music my parents listened to would kill my very soul.  It’s very typical of a teenager to disagree with their parents’ choice of music. I mean, how could they like Country {Western} Music (that was the label then) over 70’s Rock? But, Country Music is now on my list of favorites, too.

Community Gatherings

Often people got together on a Friday or Saturday evenings to play their instruments, sing, dance or just listen.  For the non-players, this was a way to socialize and be entertained.  Admission was nominal or free and there was always food available.  For the musicians, it was a venue in which to show their talent by playing their instruments and/or singing to express their love of music. People still get together in this area to play their banjos, guitars, and sing. Even today, our local musicians will often put on concerts to raise money for good causes.

Churches

I was no stranger to going to church. My mama made sure of that. And, I grew up following my grandma to church revivals. I don’t’ know why I frequently went with her, since it’s hard for me to sit still for long periods of time, but I did. I’m not sure there is anything more beautiful than church hymns. Hymns are imprinted on my brain.  I may have trouble remembering names, but I’ll always remember the words and music to Amazing Grace.

Churches also had their monthly “singings”.  Once a month, communities would come together in a church and take turns singing. This would go on for hours. The adults would show their love for the music by clapping their hands to the rhythm or singing along.

The Ozarks Traditions

Ozarks Traditions- Our Heritage is a web site dedicated to music of the past in our area. One area that interested me was Shape Note Singing where “four-shape and seven-shape notation systems were used by people in social settings, in “singing schools,” and in church congregations” (Ozarks Traditions-Our Heritage, 2010).

Recently, OPTV (PBS) aired a show Ozarks Musical Traditions that talked about preserving music traditions of the Ozarks.  In the past, people didn’t just play instruments and sing; it was a part of who they were and how they were recognized.  Music tradition often outlines a culture. You can watch it here.

Significance

Music has always been a part of me. As a teenager, I sang in a group of girls at “church singings”. When I learned the guitar, for a couple of years, I was in a rock band. As an adult, I’ve sang many solos in church and with my children. One man in my church compared the tone of my voice to my maternal grandfather. He died when I was six months old, but his musical voice and love for singing might be living through me. I feel honored.

I’ve only known one person who didn’t like music. But, for the rest of the world, music is a huge part of the culture we live in.  

Our music traditions might just be the tempo that drives our journey.

Images: My guitar.

Walking and Revelations

How times have changed. I wouldn’t dream of trespassing today on someone's property. But in earlier times…

I took a walk in the woods that led to a lone house in the middle of a field before No Trespassing signs were on every tree and every fence post, when you knew your neighbors extremely well and might have been relatives. No one cared much if you took long walks on their property back then. No one was hiding their marijuana crops, nor did they want to keep their land only for game hunting--then.

That day, I walked along a faded trail that led to a weather worn abandoned house that had once been a home that held a family, before my time. My imagination helped me consider that the tractor trail beneath my feet had been used for wagon wheels or an early made car.

From a distance, I could see movement in the glassless windows that looked like waving hands.  I shivered and wondered if I should continue, if I had discovered squatters or if I was entertaining figments of my imagination. So, I walked on.

It was mid autumn and with each step the cold ground crunched beneath my booted feet. The crisp clean country air hosted aromas of my childhood: trees, river and cows. Woodsy smells engaged my senses with tender intrusion and produced mental images from the past—some I recognized and some I did not.

Although my first impression of the ramshackle house was of decay and loneliness, I soon realized it was not isolated at all, but a house amid a life copious in nature.  My stroll allowed me a glimpse of three deer grazing in the meadow near the house. A young raccoon hurried up a tree startled by my interruption. A lone squirrel ran past me with food.  Several hefty crows scolded each other. And, high in the sky, buzzards circled with something in mind.

At that moment, I had a revelation. I had become an intrusion in an ecosystem of excellence.

As I neared the house, I could hear the river rushing its banks. The inundation of rainfall two days before my walk had filled the river banks. Although the river didn’t run through this particular piece of land, the roar of its travel reached my ears.

When I finally arrived at the old building, I looked back and realized how far I’d come to get to the house standing in the middle of a field. The waving that I’d seen earlier was strips of unrecognizable fabric that could have been a curtain, at one time. My determination to arrive at the house had scared the wildlife away and I was alone--nearly. Now, I felt out of place in a place where everything had its purpose there, except me.

I learned some things that day.

I learned it's ok to explore life, but there are places we don’t belong and that includes people we shouldn't entertain. And, my inflated self importance took a back seat that day to the revelation that I'm only a tiny speck on very big planet.

I finished my walk around the house leaving only my footprints in the frosted grass as my imprint and walked back home. AsI left that beautiful place, I breathed in the clean crisp air deep into my lungs one last time.

It's been a long time since that walk. My life then and my life now do not mirror each other. In fact that person is long gone and nearly forgotten.

Losing My Marbles

My family moved to Illinois for the second and final time, during my third grade year. It was very difficult for this little country girl, who spent her summers barefoot, to move away from her best friend Janet, her extended family and the pull of nature. Oh, and let’s not forget her boyfriend Jimmy. But, I’m always up for an adventure and I was excited to see what new experiences living in a city would provide. But, that’s another Ruralhood post.

During the time I lived in Washington, I was introduced to the  world of marble game playing. Kids at school and on my block owned and played marble games. Marbles had always fascinated me, but now as a child I could play a game with these smooth round wonders of rock and glass.

I don’t know if the game I played had a name, but this is what we did. We each put an equal share of marbles on the ground depending on how many players. You could include larger marbles that we called boulders, but after losing my favorite marble, I never again played my boulders. And we all had a favorite boulder or shooter. 

We used terms like aggie, cat eyes, keepsies and biggies.

After we put our portion of marbles down, we would kneel on the ground, rest our shooter on our crooked forefinger and flip the boulder with our thumb toward a marble that we wanted. If we knocked it out of the imaginary circle (often drawn in chalk on the sidewalk or sketched out in the grass) the marble became ours.  But, we all had to decide beforehand if we were playing for keepsies.

And we could trade marbles. That was fun, too.

My mother sewed my brother and I a marble drawstring pouch with our initials embroidered on each. I wish I still had my pouch. Last year, I made my grandkids a pouch and gave them marbles.

I also gave my GKids more marbles this year in their Halloween treat bags.

I loved marbles. I still do.

Did you play marble games as a child?

A Right of Passage

As a child, deodorant was a right (or a curse) of passage into adulthood or at least older childhood.


My second grandson told me last year that he now has to wear deodorant even though he forgets sometimes. His one and only sister said, "You need it." (You gotta love those siblings, right?) Then he said, "I know, but I forget."

I was around nine years of age when my mother introduced me to a canister of Arrid Cream Deodorant and told me it was now my responsibility to use it daily on my armpits. I remember giggling in my mind until I heard her reasoning. My mother said that deodorant would help me not smell like sweat. I must say, I was offended because I bathed regularly, rarely sweated and most of all (and importantly) had recently bought a bottle of perfume with my allowance which I was sure would spice up any alleged odor.

But, deodorant for me as a child had two implications.  Using it meant I was getting older, which of course I wanted. I was sure this was the beginning of being taken seriously. But the downside, I would realize later, was that deodorant would be a lifetime friend.



Through the years, my brand and style of deo has changed from cream to spray to roller to solids. 

Since that time, I've never left home without it...well not on purpose.

 

From the Ruralhood culture, or any culture, wearing deodorant for the first time is a right of passage or is it a curse?







Photo sources: Google Images

Happy Father's Day

Happy Father's Day, Dad!