Tuesday, July 20, 2021

Thanks for the Memories!

"Another Bee Adventure" at Linda's Life Journal was an intriguing post that brought memories of a dear elderly but active family friend. 

Mr. Ford kept bees in Louisiana's Honey Island Swamp near where his three-room houseboat and my family's single room houseboat were tied up on west Pearl River. 

He never used protective gear. He said the occasional stings helped his arthritis. 

I was a curious five-year-old, and he was extra patient with my dogging his steps and pelting him with questions. He never agreed to take me to his bee hives, but he did give me just about free rein with all his many other projects. 

A favorite memory was of when he hatched a bunch of quail eggs and hen eggs. He had the baby quails in one huge cardboard box and the chicken biddies in another. He let me cuddle them and play with them.

He graciously accepted my dubbing the fluffy little quails as cowboys and the biddies as Indians. it was a time of innocence before political correctness changed the nomenclature. And it was before I was aware of his struggles with alcohol that drove him away from his home and family.

I was much older and he had passed on before that knowledge came my way, bringing both sorrow for his losses and admiration of his building a life that included friendship and  generosity toward a shy youngster.



  1. what a wonderful memory and story. as a child cowboys and indians and Tarzan were my entire life. I can see why you dubbed them that. also noticed you also call them biddies... not everyoe does... I have known many people from the past that i had zero idea of what they were when i was a child. In high school I had never heard the word Gay, this was in 1960, now I know tht my favorite teacher and the best one in the school was gay.

  2. Aww, those are precious memories.

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  4. A hopeful, yet sad story!!! I hope he finally found peace.

  5. What a special memory..God certainly places people in our lives for BOTH of our good and growth.
    Love this tender story. As a young child I always loved cowboys and indians. I could do a mean gallop up and down the sidewalk pretending. My dream was to have my own cowboy boots..never got them..when I was old enough to have my own income they were always too expensive. Dave had a pair for when we were into square dancing. If they were smaller I would wear them now.
    thanks for the stroll down memory lane.

  6. Precious memories.
    I have heard of people getting bee sting treatment for arthritis. Sounded painful.