Fragments

Ever hear of Hadacol? Hadacol was a potent alcohol elixir, for what purpose I don't know, and was part elixir, part laxative. Hadacol sponsored Hank Williams' radio show in the 1940's. It was foul tasting, awful really. Even after 55 years, I remember the taste. I assume they gave it to me as a laxative. I wasn't ill, not then.

The 'stuff' got quite a reputation. I suspect many people got drunk on it, the sot's 'mogan david' of the day. A quite popular country song was written called 'Hadacol Boogie.' I remember tap dancing to the tune on top of my grandmother's dining room table in my fancy new tap shoes which were black with silver tie ribbons. The men viewing the performance would throw quarters at my feet which I dutifully collected after the dance. I didn't get to keep the quarters. I don't know who took the money, but does a great dancer really care?

Other 'remedies'

It seemed to me that people were 'preoccupied' with their digestive systems in those days. :) We children were given turpentine and cod liver oil for, I guess, constipation. That was only slightly worse than other treatments I won't mention. It's a wonder we didn't all die of poisoning. One woman gave her baby so much 'Castoria,' an infant laxative, that the child died of liver damage, nine months old.

The most fascinating 'medications' I remember are these... 'pink liquid' and Asthmador cigarettes and 'ammonia' cokes. The pink liquid may have been paragoric. It was given for 'nerves.' Everyone had nerves, of course, but some peoples' nerves were more active than others I guess. I used to go to the doctor's office and pick up the pink nerve medicine frequently for my Aunt Lila.

Asthmador cigarettes, I am told, contained marijuana, when it was still legal. I still remember the smell of those cigarettes. In the 1960's, in college, I smelled it again, after the cigarettes were banned in the early 1950's.

Ammonia cokes could be purchased at the drug store's food counter. I don't know why women liked it, but they did. It was supposed to be a 'pick me up' if one felt faint. I don't know what it's like to feel faint, but many women did back then.

Outracing the Moon.. I thought I could at one time. I lived in Dehue, WV with my aunt and uncle and their daughter, Janet, the Charles McCormick family. The Hubert McCormick family, Charles' brother's family, lived across the street. We had an enfenced yard and it 'sloped' behind the house down to the back fence and not far from a railroad track. I, when alone, would see the moon in the sky, just before dark, and I would try to out run it. I didn't like it 'looking' at me much for I heard there was a man in the moon. There were too many bad men watching me as far as I was concerned. So, I would 'take off running.' I ran as hard as I could, up and down that yard, but I never out ran him, the moon man, never. I would be totally out of breath, and I would look up, and there was that smirk on his face. The moon shone, and I could see that face. Discourged, I would go in before it got too dark. Who knew what the moon man did after dark? I didn't want to find out. I was luckier with some of the other bad men who watched, but I had to do a lot of running. A lot. Now, I can no longer run. So if any moon man or bad man wants me, I'm done for, but I guess there are advantages to getting old. Not too many men watch anymore, including the bad ones.

The Honey Dippers.. We had no indoor plumbing in Dehue, WV. We had an 'outhouse' which Lila scrubbed with bleach water almost every day to keep the spiders and rats away. She showed me how to roll up a newspaper or magazine and swirl it around the seat to clear away any spider webs. It was a fearsome thing to sit on a toilet seat in an outhouse. I never did. I did what the ladies called the 'pee squat.' lol

Once a year, the 'honey dippers' came and cleaned out the toilets. This was a big deal. The 'honey dippers' were the men who had to do the cleaning. If there was any job worse that that one, I can't remember what it would have been. These guys (only black men) wore boots up to their hips. They would have to get into the 'hole' after turning the out house over and out of the way and shovel it out. There were no rotor rooters or pumps to do it then.. at least not for them. After they cleaned it all out, they put lime powder all around the hole and in it and put the 'house' back on it's little foundation.

I cannot tell you how sorry I felt for those guys. Even at age four or so, I knew it must be humiliating to have to do such work. I always tried to talk to them, would take them Kool Aid or tea or water. If I could do anything to make their job a little less humilitating, I tried. I know you wonder why I was such a little busy body, but that's for another page. At that age, I already was cooking, serving, cleaning. I believe that's the first time I realized how inhuman man can be to man (or woman). I was always glad to see the 'honey wagon' go, not because of the smell, after all we all have it sometimes. It was because I couldn't 'fix' things. I've always wanted to fix injustice. Once in a while I do, but not nearly as often as I wish.