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Barefoot In The Sand: Remembering the Waning Days of the Hopewell Community (1998) Bruce C. Gragg 20/123

They would start with the syrup candy base still real hot, as they
pulled it, it gradually cooled, while still a bit warm, they would
mix in the peanuts. Then it was spread on wax paper to form a big
cookie of peanut brittle. When it had set for a time and cooled, it
was time out for some good homemade candy eating. This was not a
regular everyday occurrence, so it was really special when it was
done.

We continued to use the old kitchen for several years after we moved
into the new living quarters. About the same time the fence was
replaced we also built a new kitchen. On the south end of the house
was an area originally intended to be a screened porch, or a Sun
room, instead it was walled up and made into our "new kitchen". In
the winter it was not as cold as the old one, but it could be just as
hot in the summer. In the new kitchen there was no chimney so the old
wood range had to go, we used a kerosene stove. It was hard to learn
to cook on compared to the wood stove. We all missed the old wood
stove so much, especially in the winter. There is nothing as
comforting as a wood stove to stand close to and get warm on a cold
morning. The little whiffs of smoke would smell so good, when mixed
with what was being cooked. On a kerosene stove the only whiff you
get is burning kerosene, and that does not mix well with what is
cooking. The way it was built originally, we had to have a concrete
floor, and compared to wood it was sure cold and hard. Mama and I
were in there one day and she was emptying a half gallon mason jar
and dropped it, it bounced. She stood there a few seconds motionless,
she turned white and shook her head in disbelief. It really shocked
her by not breaking.

Not long before we built the new kitchen, I was on the back porch,
Burnette came in a hurry calling Mama repeatedly Christine,
Christine, Christine trying to tell her something. I told her she was
talking to thin air, she cracked me over the head with the broom she
was carrying, because I interrupted her. It didn’t matter I was
trying to save her some time, by telling her Mama wasn’t there. With
all due respect to her, she was a very strict disciplinarian and
usually could find something nearby to accentuate her "Point of
Order." Many a time Vera and I got a very sharp reminder that when
adults were talking it was unacceptable for children to even think of
interrupting them for any reason. But, occasionally one of us would
momentarily forget this rule and suddenly we would get a reminder, we
had just committed an infraction of rule number "1." Around the house
there was always something nearby to help her get her point across,
rather sharply; and a way worth remembering for a long time. We
eventually outlived all the corrective action taken on us while we
were growing up, apparently no permanent damage done even to our ego.

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