After amassing 74 different dolls each one acquired during each passing birthday, Dr. Apples grew frustrated of only having clues to the whereabouts of his mother but no answers. But first, to understand where we are going it's important to understand where we came from. We learn of Dr. Apples' childhood, where he grew up, what he liked, his relationship with his mother, and much more. His mother was a remarkable woman unto her own right. She was frequently found conjuring spells and brewing potions to help heal the locals. Be sure to listen to find out more about where everything began for our magical and mysterious Dr. Apples.
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[Intro] Dr. Apples: Hey welcome. You're listening to Talk About Apples the podcast. The podcast version of the mystical fantasy folklore about me, Dr. Apple. That's right. Me.
Lacie: What are you doing?
Dr. Apples: I'm podcasting.
Lacie: No, you're not.
Dr. Apples: Yes.
Lacie: No, you're not.
Dr. Apples: Yes.
Dr. Apples: Yes.
Dr. Apples: Yes.
Lacie: No, you're not.
Dr. Apples: Oh, yes, I am.
Lacie: No, no.
Dr. Apples: No.
Lacie: Give it.
Dr. Apples: You give it.
Lacie: You give it.
Dr. Apples: You give it. Uh, fine you podcast. I'll go check on my cool press juice.
Lacie: Hmm. Enjoy the show.
Each year around his birthday, Dr. Apples is presented a doll. The style of the doll and pillow tends to change, but they all resemble his mother and have her essence. 74 dolls later, still no mother. I am now responsible for the safekeeping of them, an assistance job has never done. I don't know if or how often he looks at them, but they are truly a beautiful collection of figures. They all have different styles and I assumed they represent a part of his mother's personality, but I don't dare to ask. Oh, those days before his birthday are the days I loathe.
Dr. Apples: This is beyond reprehensible. I get clue after clue and these damn things keep showing up. Now my power is are weakening whenever I project. Every time, I feel so close, I'm further away.
Lacie: Of course, a new doll appears. There's no use of trying to film it or staying awake. The doll simply appears somewhere around him when no one is around. This is a time when Dr. Apples is at his most sadistic. I don't even order birthday cake anymore. Jeez and I think the gray hairs are getting to him too. Now, let me explain a bit about how Dr. Apples got to this point. He wasn't always this crazy. Many assume negative things about him. He's a villain, grouchy, egotistical, cheap, vain, pretentious. Blah-blah-blah yes, yes, yes. He's all of these, but it doesn't mean his knowledge is incorrect. You have to understand the fundamentals of the character to root for them. So, let's start when he was a lad. Now allow me to elucidate while I insert some alliteration. When necessary, while I'll educate. In New Orleans, Louisiana on October 31st, 1928, Dr. Apples was an observant, stoic, yet happy lad. He enjoyed being in adventuresome child, his fondest memories involved him playing with wooden trains, napping while his mother made potions and playing with his pet piggy bank. He never approved the piggy bank thing. He was raised by his mother and wasn't acquainted with his father for reasons understood by all parties. Although intriguing is not the basis for this too. Rumors went around about how he was some sort of a demon or voodoo sorcerer as the locals called it, the stories vary from person to person. People were afraid to bring up the topic for fear that his father might come and get them. They were simple like that, but then forgive them. The black folks, there may have been many muted physically, but not mentally. Plus bring his daddy up and it gets back to his mama, Miss Lacet Barule and that would mean you would no longer need her services. She was a stylish one that Miss Barule. It was something was rubbed off on Dr. Apples, but not in the beginning. Browse bumped together in a scowl. His frown touched the earth, but those big brown eyes were so cute staring at his mother when he wore his first suit, he clenched his fist and distaste. She noticed and may no reaction to the pout. She kissed his heated forehead. Her touches worry forth anointings with sheriffs.
Miss Barule: Aw, je t'aime ma Pom. Je t'aime.
Lacie: Her almond skin naturally glowed. His face, remained the same.
Miss Barule: [French Language 04:42]
Lacie: She bit down and made direct eye contact with him. Her dark hair soft as babies lamb hit his face for a moment. She kissed his cheek.
Miss Barule: Monsieur Pom.
Lacie: He stared intensely trying to fight her joke.
Kid Dr. Apples: I'm not an old man mama.
Lacie: He thought.
Kid Dr. Apples: I do look old. I'm an old Apple.
Lacie: He cracked soon. Her giggles became his giggles. Her laughter was peace to his soul. He never admitted it, but eventually he liked dressing up. Back then he would demand to have his Newsboys hat available when going out. And now I have to buy Ascots each month online. His mother never cared what they thought. She was a beautiful, independent soul. It was something about those chocolate eyes you had to allow her into your soul to be able to observe the different hues within her irises. Her white smile complimented the joy she brought when you were near her. I can feel that from the doll. With her supernatural abilities, she always had this deposition about her. She knew what was going to transpire before it happened because of this it was difficult to get a rise from her. She was into Hoodoo, not voodoo and helping help those who were open to consulting with her, doing her daily walks. That was a five-mile walk within town with stops in between. She walked with a Bellbird leather, doctor handbag that killed her potions. It spins of accessories, but she wasn't concerned. The locals ostracized her because she didn't talk like them.
Unknown Man: She don't talk like them.
Lacie: But still showed respect in her presence. Although she knew what they said about her behind her back, she was benefiting financially, charging the locals, thrice the amount to heal, prevent, and treat illnesses like small possible malaria, cholera and other illnesses the local doctors couldn't rectify. These were illnesses that were eradicated up North, but not down here. The doctors were palliative, but none as powerful as Miss. Barule. Her services were welcomed, but only discreetly. They were never mentioned in public nor in church. Yet many people kept their Hoodoo dolls made by Miss. Barule. These dolls would be a fixed to the clothing which they would even wear in public. No one spoke about their protective gre gru, but chose to go about their everyday lives. Ignoring where the sympathetic magic came from. Miss Barule was okay with this arrangement. The locals found her and Dr. Apples abstruse so no one bothered to befriend them. She enjoyed her privacy. It gave her time to write. Her heart craves to heal and this was the place to spread her love. There were many young children she watched form from their mother's bellies and grow around her. She felt their spirits and the potential love they could spread. They were innocent. She knew their fate was certain death if she moved away. So, she stayed. Segregation was a norm and even this community had doctors, but they were not as educated, nor experience as non-ethnic doctors.
Miss Barule stayed for the kids around her and her son. She knew New Orleans was a safe enough Haven and she had the reputation, resources, and connections here to raise Dr. Apples into a fine young man. His mother was fully aware he had supernatural gifts within him, but wanted him to be patient and let the gifts occur naturally. Patience from Dr. Apples. Oh man, that's a learning curve we're still working on today. Any who lying on the comfy sofa with bright focused eyes, a ten-year-old Dr. Apples watched his mother conjure spells and create potions to heal the ignorant locals. He took in as much knowledge as possible. He knew back then there was a need for magic in this simple world, whether considered good or bad it was all necessary. As spooked, as many of the locals were about castings, conjuring’s and spells. They welcome any form of the craft when the prayers and medicines from doctors didn't work. The locals self-righteous with particular religious perspectives. When faced with following their good teachings of the church versus result religion wasn't really that convenient. During this time, many black folks were still trying to grasp the concept of having freedom in the South, going to church was a norm. It was expected. Still judging Miss Barule for not attending services was top on the list. How simple minded. Instinctively Dr. Apples kept to himself. He saw nothing in common with the locals. His mother nudged him to socialize a bit, even though she didn't know she wanted something different for him, it would allow him to become more open to others than just her. Who knows the locals may surprise him. I mean, maybe Dr. Apple should cave in. If so, what could he learn from them? Are the locals just misunderstood, ignorant or are they secretly dangerous?
[Outro] Lacie: On the next episode is a discussion with Kristen Bradley West struggles of living your authentic truth. Well, that's all the time that we have for today. I would like to thank you for listening and I, along with Dr. Apples would love to hear your perspective on the story and or any comments, or just share your current journey. Visit talkaboutapples.com, where you can subscribe to the show and comment on every episode and stay up to date with the Dr. Apples Universe, by signing up for the newsletter, or simply tell a friend about the show, because that will help us a lot. And be sure to tune in every Tuesday and Thursday for new episodes. Thank you so much for joining us this week on Talk About Apples.