We plan to get our flu shots in the coming weeks. Old folks should do all they can to avoid that demon.
This memory of having the flu sticks in my mind like no other when compared to many childhood illnesses. My family had a seemingly strudy hold on well being, but one long ago time the flu put us down like a stack of dominos and it wasn't pretty.
My most memoriable experience being sick with the flu was circa 1946-47. Deep into winter, cold as that proverbial well diggers hind quarters, our house not finished inside as yet and not insulated well enough, our family fell like acorns in a hail storm to the illness.
I cannot remember who took ill first, but with Mama, Daddy and five kids in bed the place was a petri dish of funk and danger for anyone darkening our doors.
Daddy coughing and staggereing out to the woodpile for wood to keep our fireplaces filled and roaring along with the kitchen stove to keep the broth simmering and the reservior filled with water for dish washing and sponging off the results of fevered sweat and stomach virus.
Poor Daddy, poor Mama.
Poor Smith young'uns.
Mama staggered in and out of bed to take care of us while she shivered and shook with coughing fits and bone aches.
That demon was on my family and it wasn't fun.
Everybody's bedding was covered in snot and cough due to colds.
My baby brother cried and clung to Mama, I cried, my sister and two older brothers hibernated under mounds of quilts and still nearly froze to death with fevers and chills.
Days turned into nights that turned back into hazy days of coughing and drifting in and out of counciousness for our family.
I distinctly remember looking up through the rafters of our unfinished bedroom to watch a big old red wasp fly against the roofing planks as he tried to keep from freezing up there.
Y'all it was a bad time for us.
I think the turning point and saving grace for our family was when our neighbors came like the Red Cross calvery to rescue us.
Our neighbors, Mr. Charlie and Miz. Clara Dawson, brought pots of chicken soup and a BIG pot of chicken-n-dumplins.
She stoked the cook stove and brought nourishment to the needy.
Coffee was brewed and drank down in glups by Mama and Daddy as the words, " Oh this is so good" were spoken.
I remember spooning up, made from scratch, chicken broth gruel fortifed with cornmeal and little pieces of chopped up winter garden onions.
My throat feels easy just remembering that kindness.
" Feed a fever, starve a cold".
Old school, but has stood the test of time in my thinking.
Miz. Clara and Mama were first cousins and being family meant taking care of ones people.
They took care of us. Miz. Clara bathed us kids and changed us into fresh sleeping gowns and longjohns before tucking us back into bed between fresh sheets and smoothed covers.
She rubbed us slick with Vicks and Musterole salves.
She put Vicks salve in a cast iron pot on the stove filled with boiling water to fog the house and get inhaled by all of us to loosen our lungs of the flu collection.
I think I remember some lard and turpentine wrapped in red flannel poltices was factored in the doctoring someway.
I can still feel the healing effects of that home remendy as I write this memory.
Miz. Clara was our Florence Nightingale in her apron.
She would warm her hands and rub us with those healing remedies.
I remember being able to actually beathe without struggling against the congestion.
My head felt so much better.
That was the best feeling in the world.
Mr. Charlie loaded our woodbox on the back porch and behind the kitchen stove.
Our fireplaces sparked and burned while the heat spread throughout house. The old wood burning stove was filled to the brim with wood that burned hot enough to turn the stove pipe fire engine red as the built up energy caused the thing to viberate.
Mr. Charlie knew how to heat a house and stove.
The reserviour held hot water for the scalding away of flu and giving us warming baths.
They cleaned the kitchen of dirty dishes and Miz. Clara took our flu funked bedding and sleepwear back home with her to wash them in the washpot and tubs before hanging them on the clothes lines to freeze until everything finally dried.
While they worked like they were paid servents that critical day they also went home to take care of their own four little boys.
To hold us over, the stove warmer held a baking of sweet potatoes, a platter of fried bacon and a big pan of the most delicious biscuits this side of Martha White heaven.
I believe we all slept through the night without somebody calling for Mama.
To this day I remember how sick and sad our famiy was that winter of the Big Flu season.
I know for certain I never told my kinfolk how much that kindness meant to me and my family, but I have to believe they never expected my praise.
I'm giving a word of compassionate advise here. If you have a family member or neighbor or a friend that needs a hand in helping when sickness comes, do yourself a favor and help them.
You just may feel better yourself.
I can tell you with absolute certainty the ones felled by the flu will feel better and never forget the kindness.
***Help yourself, get your flu shots
