Vaccinated with a Phonograph Needle

Recording my youth for the next 12 weeks. Click on the link above if you would like to read more or join.

My early years could have come straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. I was blessed to have lived in a time and place where I was free to play for long hours outside, not worrying who lived next door or down the street. Days were endless and time stood still on lazy Sunday afternoons. Simple things were celebrated, and sorrows were grieved by the whole community. Family, community, and church were integral parts of my life. Half of our church was related to me, and that half was related to the other half, so everybody was aunt and uncle. I was the darling of the church, due in large part to two of my cousins having being killed nine months earlier. I arrived at a time when the church needed a bit of uplifting; therefore, I was spoiled and loved by all!

My ability to talk started early, probably because I was the only child for the first four years of my life. I would say, "Hi, doll!" to everyone I met by the time I was ten months old. I was such a talker that my uncle told my mom one day, "They must have vaccinated Kayla with a phonograph needle when she was born."

Around the age of three, my dad tried his hand at ranching. I was a cowgirl through and through. I had a pair of Dingo boots, a hat, and a cowgirl dress that mom had made. Going to cattle auctions with my dad made me feel so big! Unfortunately, within a couple of years, the cattle market crashed and Dad lost a lot of money. He got out of the cattle business altogether, and I had to hang up my boots and hat.

By the age of four, I became fascinated with Native Americans. I loved the idea of living in a tee pee, riding horses, and using bows and arrows; but my favorite was wearing moccasins. I loved the feel of soft leather on my feet and being able to sneak up on someone was a huge bonus that couldn't be beat!!!! That summer we went on a family vacation and visited a reservation where I was able to meet a Native American boy with a squirrel. That sealed it in my mind! I returned home determined more than ever to grow up and live on a reservation!

I was four years old when my parents brought home what I affectionately call the bain of my existence, my brother. He was adopted through the same agency; and even though I loved him, sharing the attention was a little hard. He was a sickly baby and one that I felt I had to take care of and teach about this great big world. In my book, he was a project to work on and I went right into my new role with gusto. Having mastered the art of communication when young, and being so much older and wiser, sure helped me with this situation. One of the first things I thought he should learn was medical terms and aspects of body functions. One day my mom overheard me telling him, "Peyton, when you were born, they cut your vocal cord; that's where your belly button came from." On another occasion I was heard explaining that your "ballard" holds your tee-tee. Guess I should have been a doctor today with all that knowledge!

Kindergarten was a breeze for me in many ways. I am sure poor Mrs. Davis counted down the days left in her school year, and I felt that this lady needed my help. I loved recess and enjoyed story time, but the greatest time of all was nap time. I could entertain my classmates with stories and keep them all from taking a dreaded nap. I spent over half of the year with my sleeping mat behind the teacher's desk to isolate me from my audience. Oh, poor substitutes who had no clue!!! Needless to say, I passed Kindergarten with flying colors.


I wish all kids could experience the joy, happiness, and love that filled my early years. They are some of my sweetest memories!