Growing up Tisdale, huh? I got a few stories about that. One time Terry decided to walk out to Lums Chapel from Mama and Papa's house. I was maybe ten or eleven and went with him, not realizing just how far ten miles ( or however far it is) really was. I remember we found a buffalo nickle and a hole in the side of a bar ditch that Terry said might be badger hole. Anyway, I was really starting to get tired and regretting coming along. Terry told me, "If we keep this pace, we can do one mile an hour". Or something like that. It didn't make Aunt Irma Leta's house any closer for me. I have no idea how long or how far we actually walked, we were definitely out in the country. Just when I thought I might start to cry, a miracle occured. Janice and her boy friend, I think his name was Bruce, drove by and they stopped to pick us up. I was SOOOO happy. Forever after, in my book, Janice is an Angel.

I remember one time riding with Aunt Irma Leta and Uncle Herchel out to thier place and Uncle Herchel told me he had an airplane engine in his truck. It was an old white Dodge. I never did get a look under the hood, and I always wondered how he could have gotten a great big airplane engine under there. At the time it never dawned on me that he was pulling my leg.

Almost all of my other Tisdale stories would, of course, involve the same two suspects. Ricky and Terence Tisdale. I used to spend a couple of weeks each summer with them on the farm. We would build forts out of hay bales in the loft. They had a hole going one summer. Deep enough to need a ladder to get in and out of. I helped move into the "new" house. The rope swing in the barn is STILL there. Hoed some of the hottest, longest rows of cotton in the state of Texas. Learned that the only thing a dull hoe is good for is clubbing a snake. Tricks with electric fences. Details of that story and many others are, and forever will be, classified!

If your name is Tisdale, or your maiden name was Tisdale, or your family is part of this big Tisdale family, you need to get out to the farm. That's kinda like the ancestral home.
As far as I know Uncle Johnny still has his grand dad's hat hanging in the "old" house.