The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly: From Trashy to Triumphant, God Did It

By Terrell E.J.

My purpose for writing this book is to encourage teenagers, young ladies, and women not to make the mistakes I made.

I realize that "self-experience" is the best teacher, but sometimes one can learn from another's experiences.

I pray this is one of those cases. I hope this book will be an inspiration in some "small" way!

Read and Enjoy.

May God bless each of you,

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493105885

Book preview

Copyright © 2013 by E.J. Terrell.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2013917499

ISBN      Softcover      978-1-4931-0587-8

                Ebook           978-1-4931-0588-5

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 09/30/2013

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CONTENTS

MY LIFE

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

1ST CHAPTER OF 1974 (OR CHAPTER IV)

2ND CHAPTER (OR CHAPTER V)

[CHAPTER NINE]

3RD CHAPTER

4TH CHAPTER

5TH CHAPTER

6TH CHAPTER

7TH CHAPTER

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

This book is dedicated to my Granddaughter, Malisha Woods.

MY LIFE

(As it is, not as it seems to be)

How God turned my life around. Experience is the best teacher. After years of searching for something, I found it—an everlasting relationship.

It is a very cold and wintry day, a little snow on the ground and very depressing. As I was sitting there beside my patient’s bed, I suddenly had an idea—one that had come to my mind before, but I never really gave it much thought until today, January 27, 1986. I decided I wanted to try to write a short novel of my life. I talked it over with a dear friend of mine whom I will call Miss Ellie. She encouraged me very much. She said you will never know until you try. Someone may wonder, Why would she want to write a book? Well, I will tell you why. I have always loved people, and I love making other people happy. I love to feel that I have said or done something to help someone. I hope that by telling the story of my life may help someone to examine theirs to find out if maybe they are having some of the same experiences I have had and will help them not to make the same mistakes I made. Well, now I begin my story. I will begin with my childhood of the early 40’s as much as I can remember.

CHAPTER I

During the early 40’s I was just a little girl, and I remember how I used to play outside—mostly by myself.

I loved playing in mud making mud pies and such. I also loved dolls. I was a chubby little girl. I remember in the summertime I would be out on the front porch playing in nothing but my underwear.

I have a brother and my brother is younger than I by about two years. One day my mother had me holding my brother, and I was sitting in front of the fireplace in a chair. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I dropped my brother in the fireplace. My mother got to him before he was burned too badly, but it was bad enough. He was burned on one of his legs, but I don’t remember which one. I remember crying, but my mother didn’t blame me for the accident.

After my brother was big enough for us to play together, I remember we used to fight all the time. Both of us were big eaters. We loved oatmeal, Cheerios and shredded wheat for breakfast. We used to try to out-eat each other, and that would cause us to fight.

Our favorite dessert was banana pudding, and our favorite bean was pinto beans. We were some eating little children. I remember I used to empty my beans out on the floor and rub them around on the floor, then I would eat them. I guess that’s how I liked them. I remember one day my daddy saw his insurance man coming, and he told me to go to the door and tell the man he wasn’t there, so I did what he said. I went to the door and told the man, and, I quote, My daddy told me to tell you he wasn’t here. I don’t know what happened that day after I told the man, but I don’t think my daddy whipped me. I also remember that whenever I was about to get a whipping, I would run every time. Once when my daddy was about to whip me, I took off running up this hill called the reservoir hill. My daddy didn’t have on a shirt and was barefooted, but he was right behind me. I really gave him a run that day, but he caught me. He really did whip me, but that didn’t stop me. I continued to run every time I was about to get a whipping. I remember those as happy times in my childhood, but I also remember the sad times. My daddy used to beat up on my mother. He would beat her very badly. My brother and I were too small to do anything to help Mama—all we could do was cry. I remember one time my daddy beat Mama with each one of our shoes. I remember another time when he beat her, holding her down on the bed by straddling her. He was choking her and kept saying repeatedly, die, die." My daddy was and still is a very mean man. Of course, I don’t know of him fighting anyone in many, many years, but he has a terrible temper. My mother and father separated in the fall of 1945, and we moved to Philadelphia. I was about seven or eight years old when the worst thing that could happen to a little girl happened to me

I don’t know how long we had been living in Philadelphia when this happened, but anyway my brother and I were in school and had met new friends. One day when we were on our way home from school, one of my friends and I found some money that belonged to the bank that was near our home. It was only $5, and as far as I can remember it was dimes or quarters, and it was in a wrapper. My friend and I were as excited as if we had found $100. I don’t know what we did with the money—whether we gave it to our parents or what.

We lived upstairs over some gypsies who were some strange people and smelled awful.

And, if I remember correctly, they were bad about stealing.

After we had lived in Philly for awhile, my mother met this man whose name was Roosevelt. He was very, very black with red lips. His lips looked like they were burned. After she met him, that’s when the trouble started. I don’t remember very much about this man, other than the fact that he was very ugly, except for what he did to me—the terrible thing that I mentioned earlier. This terrible thing that happened to me was that this ugly man raped me. I had my own bedroom, and outside my window was a fire escape. One night when I was in bed, I remember this man coming through my window. I don’t know where he came from or how he got on the fire escape, but I do know he got into my bed, putting his hand over my mouth, and, possibly, threatening me. He used Vaseline on me and raped me. I don’t remember any small details, but I do know that I never told my mother or my brother about what happened to me. I also, vaguely, remember this man doing something to my brother. It seems he tried to stick my brother in the commode, but that’s all I remember. I don’t remember why it happened or anything. My mother obviously trusted this man, and I believe he must have threatened me, and that’s the reason I didn’t tell Mama or anyone. That is one incident that happened in my life that I never told anyone about until after I was married, had children and was separated from husband.

I do know I was a very, very frightened little girl, but I thank God that it wasn’t any worse than it was because I realize now that he could have killed me. I realize also that I was greatly blessed hearing all the things today about what’s happening to little boys and little girls. I don’t know what happened after that as far as that man is concerned. My mother used to take my brother and me over to Jersey to visit our relatives. We would go over on a boat called a ferry boat, and I was so afraid, I would scream to the top of my voice. My mother had a time with me on that boat.

My brother and I had some good times together even if we did fight a lot. I feel that, that terrible incident that happened to me was blocked out by God, and that’s the reason I couldn’t remember any more than I did.

We lived in Philly about two years then we left and moved back to Georgia. I don’t remember anything at all about that time except that I was about nine years old. We lived in Georgia about a year, then we moved to South Georgia to live near my granddaddy awhile. He wanted to get acquainted with my brother and me. Now that’s when we really had a good experience. My brother and I had never seen or heard of a cotton patch before, until we moved to South Georgia.

We met some of our relatives, and we used to laugh at their poor English. For instance, instead of their saying, We are going to play in the sand box, they would say, Us play in sand box. Instead of saying, The food is ready, they would say, The teat is ready. We had never eaten our food mixed together like our grandmother fixed it—such as blackeyed peas and rice and rice and tomatoes. They would even eat this kind of food for breakfast.

The more people we met, the more we heard the way they talked. I never did meet anyone who used the word we. Instead of saying seven, they said sebben, and instead of eleven, they said, lebben. Instead of saying mop the floors, they said scour the floor, and instead of skillet, they said spider.

Oooh we really had a ball, my mother, my brother, and I, laughing at the way they talked. We had never heard anyone talk like that before. I don’t guess we were really making fun of them, we just laughed at the way they pronounced certain words.

But the real fun came when my granddaddy took my brother and me to the cotton patch to pick cotton. We had never seen a cotton patch before, this was really a great experience. We had to pick the cotton out of a cotton bud and put it on a croker sack sheet until the end of the day so it could be weighed. At the end of that day, my brother and I had picked 20 pounds of cotton, and had made 20 cents. I don’t think Grandpa took us back again. Mama finally rented us a house, and we moved out from Grandpa.

We learned to like South Georgia after a short time because the people were so nice and friendly, and my step-grandmother was so sweet. She thought my brother and me were the best-mannered and prettiest children she had ever met. My brother was pretty because he had a sort of chocolate-brown complexion and had very beautiful, naturally curly hair. My grandmother called him her pretty boy.

Once we started to school, we were very popular with the girls, the boys and the teachers. I was very smart in school, and my conduct was excellent. My mother always taught me to be quiet in school unless I was asked questions by the teacher.

I had lots of girlfriends, one in particular whose name was Beverly with a nickname of Bell. She and I were more alike than any of the others. We were both sort of shy, from an average family, no fancy house or fancy clothes, but we dressed very nice.

After Bell and I became close friends, some of the other girls didn’t like us. There were some twins in our class, and I think they were less fortunate than Bell and I. They dressed nice, but I don’t think they had very many clothes. Their mother was a very sweet, hard-working lady just like my mother, but she had a lot more children. She and her husband were separated, too.

I really did love the twins just as much as I did Bell, but they were very different—one of them was sort of quiet, and the other one was very outspoken and loud. They had a very bad reputation. I don’t know why, but everyone talked about those G twins. They didn’t care for Bell or hardly anyone else, but the three of us became friends. However, I never let them come between Bell and me because I loved all of them.

I remember when we would have ball games, each time the teacher would choose different ones to serve refreshments after the games. I was almost always one of the chosen ones, and I was soon called the teacher’s pet. I didn’t feel that way at all because I had to work as hard in class as any of the other kids or I wouldn’t make good grades.

I was very good at memorizing poems, and I was a very good reader and an excellent speller. I wasn’t very good in math or home economics. I did okay in cooking, but I just wasn’t interested in sewing.

Somehow word got around that my brother and I could sing so his teacher would send for me to come to his classroom, and we would sing a song called Run Joe for the class and would get a great applause.

We had some very happy days in South Georgia. My mother was a Sunday school teacher and kept us in church. We used to go to a church out in the country, and I remember what a good time we had. I was only about ten or eleven years old, but I remember how those old people would sing hymns and how they would clap their hands and pat their feet. It sounded very, very good. I guess that was the music back then, and I must admit that sounded better than some of the music sounds today.

My mother also belonged to a club, and they used to dress up in evening gowns and go to parties. My mother was very pretty. Their club colors were maroon and grey, and they wore grey blouses and maroon skirts. I remember one night my mother and my favorite aunt (my mother’s baby sister) were going out, and I didn’t want Mama to go. I stood in the front door and screamed to the top of my voice. Mama came back to the house and threatened to whip me, and, believe me, I shut my mouth. I was only about twelve years old. I was big for my age, but I looked very young.

CHAPTER II

During the summer, Mama always carried my brother and me to our hometown for a visit. We rode on the bus which was very exciting. My brother and I could hardly wait to get there to see our relatives and friends. I believe Mama was just as excited as we were when the bus driver called the name of our hometown as the next stop. We would start grinning.

Almost as soon as we arrived at our grandparents’ house and spoke and hugged and all of that stuff, we would strike out running down to our aunt’s house who lived in a community called The Hole. I was looking forward to good food. My aunt always cooked big white biscuits and fried green tomatoes. Her biscuits were white because she didn’t let them brown good, but they were finger-licking good! Our grandmother was a superb cook—her biscuits practically melted in your mouth, and her good old fried pies did melt in your mouth. She was a perfect cook.

My brother and I played with our friends, and we would tell them how funny the people in South Georgia talked and how very black they were. I never understood why the people in South Georgia were so black—not all of them, of course, because there were some light-skinned people and some almost white, but the ones who were black were black, but, even so, most of them were good looking people.

We also told our friends about the different nicknames we heard people called, such as these men we heard of called Mr. Ticklebritches, Mr. Pasture Mule, Mr. Cubie and Mr. Hudie. Of course, these were some of these people’s real names. My granddaddy’s nickname was Mr. Sislu. There were also some ladies with funny nicknames. For instance, my great-grandmother’s nickname was Miss Tit, and there was a lady called Ma Sis" who was a very sweet lady. Our friends, my brother, and I would have a ball laughing at those names.

When time would come for us to go back to South Georgia, we would hate to leave, and we would be so sad. Our friends would hate to see us leave, also. Once we got on the bus, we were okay because we had made so many friends in South Georgia, we looked forward to seeing them again.

I always kept in touch with my friends at home. They would write and tell me what was happening there in school, and I would tell them what was happening in my school even though they didn’t know the people.

By this time, Mama had started letting me go to the café, but I wasn’t allowed to date anyone. Anyway, Bell and I used to go to the café at this place called Five Points. Back in those days, the kids only wanted to associate with the ones from their community. The twins that I spoke of earlier lived in Five Points. We would all dance and have fun together, but somehow they never did accept Bell. I don’t know why because she was a very nice person. As I grew older, I realized that you don’t have to give people a reason to dislike you, they just automatically dislike you.

Well, to go on with the story, there was this older boy that used to be at the café who could really dance, and I loved to dance. I used to dance with him, and we started liking each other. Of course, I had lots of admirers, but they knew I wasn’t allowed to receive company, and they didn’t hang around me because they thought Mama was mean. She wasn’t mean—she was just very strict.

This boy didn’t know all of this because he wasn’t a school boy, and, as I told you earlier, I was big for my age. This boy lived across the street from the high school. I could sit in my classroom and look on his front porch. A lot of times he was on the porch, and I would just sit and stare at him. He was soooooooo cute. Of course, he couldn’t see me, and I am glad he couldn’t. The only time I saw him was at the cafe or going or coming down the street in front of our house.

There was also an older boy Bell liked, but he was in school. Bell and I gave them some nicknames. The one I liked was a light-skinned boy so I named him Red Fox, and the one Bell liked was brown-skinned so she named him Brown Mule (after the Brown Mule tobacco).

Ooooh, Bell and I had some really fun times together. We went to the movies together, we went shopping together and she would visit me and I her. One of our classmates used to have parties at her home, sometimes in the yard and sometimes in the house, according to the weather. Bell and I used to go together. Neither one of us could date, but most of our classmates could.

One night after one of the parties, this boy wanted to walk me home so I let him. It was a very long walk because my girlfriend lived across town. I think someone walked Bell home, too. Anyway this boy was one of our classmates. We walked and talked. I think he did most of the talking because I was very shy and not very talkative to anyone but Bell. After we got to my door, the boy wanted me to kiss him goodnight. I had never kissed anyone before, but I tried, or should I say, we tried. We both had our heads leaning the same way, and then we tried having our heads in opposite directions, but we both still had our eyes wide open looking at each other. We never got that kiss. We both burst out laughing and said good-night.

I could hardly wait until the next day so I could tell Bell. We sure did laugh, but I was so ashamed when I saw the boy, but we just smiled at each other.

I remember the first time I told Mama a lie. I wanted to meet this older boy one night, and I told Mama I was going some place—I don’t remember where, but, anyway, it was a lie. When I was going down the street to meet this boy, I saw a friend of Mama’s, and I knew they would go back and tell Mama, so I got afraid to go on, and I went back home. Mama’s friend did tell her, and I got a whipping. Another time I was supposed to meet this boy during the day after school while Mama was still at work. I was supposed to sneak down to this boy’s house where he would be waiting for me. He didn’t live very far from me. I went down to his house, and he was waiting for me and was all alone because his mother was out somewhere drinking—she drank a lot. We were just about to lie down on the bed when we heard his mother coming. We were both afraid, but, somehow, he sneaked me out before his mother saw me. Ooooh, boy, was I glad to get out of that house. As far as I know, Mama never knew about that. I never tried to see him anymore. I guess I figured the third time would be out for me.

There was another boy who liked me. He lived across the street from us. He was very, very tall and slim—not very good looking, but okay. He used to come over, and we would stand in the yard and talk. By this time, Mama had started letting my brother and me visit our daddy in Ohio. We would either spend the summer with him or spend a school term with him. Whenever I was in Ohio, this boy would write me. When Daddy finally saw one of the letters and noticed that it was from a boy, he demanded that I stop receiving letters from a boy, but I was smart. I wrote and told the boy to address the envelope as if it were from a girl so he started using Bell’s name. Daddy never knew. Daddy had a girlfriend who really didn’t care for my brother or me. She had a daughter who was about my age who was nice to us. I remember every time Daddy’s girlfriend bought her daughter something, she would buy for me, too. I guess she figured she better.

Her daughter used to take me places. Once she took me to a recreation center and was going to teach me how to swim I had a 2-piece bathing suit—sort of red. I was really built to be so young. I was very shy about going out to the pool, but my friend kept encouraging me to go. I walked outside with her, and almost time I stepped out to the pool, boys started to whistle at me from both sides of the pool. There were so many people out there, and when they began to whistle, everyone turned to look at me. I was so terrified that I ran back inside the building and got dressed. My girlfriend came in behind me, laughing at me and trying to encourage me to come back out to the pool. No, No, I never went back out, and I never went back to the center again. Pretty silly, wasn’t I?

After we got back home, my friend told her mother, and they both laughed at me. When Daddy heard about it, I think he was pleased. I would never go out to any center anymore—I would only go to the movies. Daddy used to take us out to Mt. Airy Forest on picnics, and we had lots of fun. Daddy also used to take us to this Chinese restaurant, and he taught us how to eat with chop sticks. Ooooh, it was lots of fun, and we enjoyed it.

When our time was up in Ohio, and it was time for us to go back to Mama, we were always happy to go back to Mama even though we loved Daddy, too. The way they did when they sent us from one place to another was to have us tagged, and the conductor on the train was responsible for our safety. After getting settled back home, we would contact our friends and tell them all about our trip. Of course, we would tell Mama everything first.

My brother and I did a lot of traveling when we were small. We were a lot more fortunate than a lot of our friends. Some of our friends had never been out of Georgia, and a lot of them had never been out of our hometown.

The café where Bell and I used to go was much more than a café. It was a little grocery store on the other side, and on the outside in the yard, some of the old neighborhood men