Fire, Rain and Lies…

16 Jan



An excerpt from the beginning of my autobiography:  

These days I contemplate the mystery of life, of my life; and that I exist at all, born in the South during a time when people were trying to pull out of the Great Depression, the year was 1939.  The rural South I am told, was affected the most.  My daddy worked as a tenant farmer, never making enough money to get ahead, but just enough to buy some store bought foods.  I guess that you could say that we were better off than most, many were forced to beg, train hop, or look for daily work to feed their families. 

10.Cabin in the Meadow

“Above is a watercolor painting I did of the place where I was born, fortunately it was there long enough for me to place it in memory.  It was unoccupied and burned down by vandals in 1949”.

 My daddy use to say, if Hoover had been reelected everybody in the south would have starved to death, he was tired of eating Hoover gravy; as it turned out he lived on Hoover gravy and fatback for years.  Even when Mr. Roosevelt was elected and long after the depression was over my daddy would find himself no better off.

My mother and daddy married in May 1932, my sister was born in February 1933; this would be the only child my mother ever wanted.  She was almost happy in those days, then in 1938, she found out she was pregnant with me…

I repeat these days I contemplate the mystery of life, of my life; and why I exist at all!

[This autobiography is ongoing and has been for a few years, complicated, thorny and heartbreaking I continue to write about a life fill with abuse, sprinkles of happiness and mammoth lies.  I will bring you updates from time to time.]  


Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree    

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19 responses to “Fire, Rain and Lies…

  1. misstalkaholic

    January 16, 2017 at 5:00 pm

    The painting you did looks beautiful

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Mollie Hunt

    January 16, 2017 at 5:11 pm

    I’m eager to read of your life, but it’s a brave undertaking to write an autobiography. Reliving all those disturbing memories. How does it make you feel?

    Liked by 1 person

    • elizabeth ann johnson-murphree

      January 16, 2017 at 5:19 pm

      I live with the emotional difficulties, yes it is often heartbreaking to relive; I am also writing a biography about my daughter who passed in 2010. Do I want to punish myself, no! I want her story told; and I have a need to put down on paper my life.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. A Pondering Mind

    January 16, 2017 at 5:29 pm

    An insightful read, and looking forward to more of your updates.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. jackcollier7

    January 16, 2017 at 7:27 pm

    Brilliant opening ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Carl D'Agostino

    January 22, 2017 at 11:02 pm

    Father born 1923 and as youngster wore adult men’s shoes stuffed with newspaper. Mother born 1924 and as youngster had no coat until a teacher gave her one of her own. Many of today’s poor would be considered upper middle class by these people.

    Liked by 1 person

    • elizabeth ann johnson-murphree

      January 23, 2017 at 3:43 pm

      You have that right Carl, I was born into “poor” South and we in that “class” were years behind others in the area. I know what it is like and what you are saying. Yet, all of my beginnings makes me who I am today. Thank you for stopping by, as you know I love your work. Ann


  6. kim blades, writer

    February 10, 2017 at 4:03 pm

    My mother was born on 8 August 1939, in England. Just 3 weeks before the beginning of the 2nd World War. She was looking up her family tree and thinking about writing a memoir of her life, when she was diagnosed with terminal cancer and died 5 months later, aged 53.

    Liked by 1 person

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