Wouldn't it be good, if we found some old diaries or letters? If there are any, I don't remember hearing about it. How much money would it take to make that kind of move, with that many people and all their animals? Maybe they had to hang on with their toe nails until they got some crops planted, harvested, and sold. It wasn't until 1906 that they built the house. I don't know if they did it all at once, or in segments.
They must have pretty soon dug up the stones from the old dugout and built the stone building that sets there now. When we got there, the barn was down the hill south of the house. I remember it seemed pretty complex (to a boy of three). Under the stanchions and mangers I found a goose nest. It was full of feathers. The deeper I dug, the more eggs I discovered. I don't remember a flock of geese, but I know there was a flock. Maybe family members took them away, more likely the coyotes dined on them. There was one old gander who lasted a long time. He was a character we'll talk about later.
Thanks to Pallie! She has news from the past. Daddy told her that he and Mother, "were to move there and take over the duties of Grandpa, January 1, but Grandpa died prematurely on Christmas Eve." Pallie thought "prematurely" was a strange word to use for a man who was already 92 years old. I tend to agree. January 1, 1941, makes sense to me, because I always thought Donnie was not sitting alone -- the reason I needed to hold her as we drove. She would have been about 3 months, three weeks old.
When we moved in, Grand Ma's old black cast iron wood burning cook stove set at the east end of the long room in the main house. We had a four burner kerosene cook stove. They were all in a row. At the right end of those burners was the oven. I think Mother cooked on the wood burner for a while after we were there. Probably for heat in the room. But the first remodel job as spring came was to move the cast iron stove out and to cut a window opening directly behind where that stove has set. I remember how dark it was in that part of the room. The south wall of that room had two doors onto the porch with a window between them. So the window of the east door was the only light for that end of the room and there was a roof out over the porch to cut off some of the light.
The next project was to tear the porch off the two-roomer that set east of the cistern. Then that two room section was jacked up and sets of truck wheels were rolled under the building. The rooms were lowered onto beams attached to the frame work holding the wheels in place. The rooms were pulled a little distance to the southeast. There they were set down on foundation posts and stones, to become the feed bins for a new barn that would be built on in the near future.
It didn't occur to me at the time, but as an adult I finally realized that Daddy never did have just one job. He was a farmer with dairy cows. He had a four man shearing crew. They were gone about 4 weeks every spring shearing flocks of sheep on ranches through the Texas panhandle, the northeast corner of New Mexico, the southeast corner of Colorado, the southwest corner of Kansas, down across the panhandle of Oklahoma and home again. Then we had Papa's flock of 200 ewes to shear, the fleeces to tie and tamp into bags and ship to market. On the farm we had a feed binder and hay baler. In addition to our own work, we did custom work with those for neighbors and family. Daddy was also the finest of carpenters and cabinet maker. There were always outside work of that type calling him. And the constantly expanding projects of building improvements on the farm. And the bee hive inside the kitchen.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
FINALLY: WE MOVE
Grand Pa Easley was bedfast for five years. Aunt Pearl was his youngest daughter. She and her husband, Uncle Everett Davis, agreed to take care of him and manage his farm. By December 1936, Mother and Daddy were married. A few weeks before that, Grand Ma Easley had died. I don’t know how long they were married when they arranged with Grand Pa and / or his estate to buy his farm. Sometime in 1940 Uncle Everett and Aunt Pearl requested to be relieved of their assignment. He wanted to move to the State of Washington to take a job in defence work. So it seems that Mother and Daddy agreed to move in ahead of whatever the original plan had been. They would assume the responsiblity of Grand Pa’s needs. And since they may have already been making payments on the farm, everything should move along smoothly.
Grand Pa died Christmas Eve, 1940. (The next day I was 3 years old.) He had one brother, Uncle Burnett Easley, a Baptist Preacher, in Texas, who was two years younger. Uncle Burnett died two days later, December 26, 1940. That resolved any problems related to Grand Pa's care and Uncle Everett and Aunt Pearl's move. I always thought it relaxed the need of our imminent move. I remember the move. I don't remember the when. It might have been early in January or as late as March 1941.
We had a 1937 pickup. We didn't have much. I think someone had already moved some of the stuff. There were things in the pickup bed. The part I remember most, Mother had me climb onto the passenger side of the seat. She sat Donnie between my legs. I held around her middle while Mother drove us to our new home.
Wow! What a big wonderful place. I think of the house as having two fronts. The front on the west faced the road. That part was a "two-roomer," north to south. Centered behind those two was a room about as wide as those in front, but probably half again as long. It's front faced south. On the north side of that room was a lean-to about 8' wide and the same length as the room. The shape of the whole was a "T" with the lean-to filling out the width filling out on the north so that was all one straight wall, front to back. A porch ran the ful length of the front, turned and ran around the "T" part of the south and continued along to the back wall. A cistern had been dug at the back southeast corner of the house. Then just beyond the cistern another "two-roomer" had been built in the same architecture as the rest. All exterior walls were board and batten, except the north wall of the lean-to had a type of clap board. The porch ran right on past the cistern and along the front (south) of those two rooms. So there were six large rooms with a lean-to.
The barn was dpwn the hill straight south. Then behind the two rooms that were separated from the main house, there was a square stone building, a small window in the back and one door in the front. It had no roof. But had an octaginal hall about 6 to 8 feet wide with a roof over the whole.
An old man had staked a claim on the property in 1895. Grand Pa and / or family bought it from him. When they moved there in 1900, there was a stone building about 10' by 15'. It was a good 100' east of the stone house behind the cistern and big house. That stone house to the east was roofed with a very sharp peak over the stone walls, then the pitch became much less steep and continued out for at least another 6' or 8' on the sides and the ful style extended out to the south also 6' or 8'. Those other buildings were not there and the stone house with octaginal walls was not there in that form. It has been a simple half dugout just to the east of it's present location.
I think the old owner had built and been living in the dugout. The family: Grand Ma and Grand Pa with 6 sons and 3 daughters, and at least one daughter-in-law, most of them approaching adulthood, had to make-do with those two stone rooms, the wide roofs and what ever covered wagons they had.
To Be Continued.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
STILL PLANNING TO MOVE. BUT FIRST...
GOOD GRIEF! How can we move on under conditions like these? Karla has almost swallowed her teeth. [Now a separate story. ] She also knows something about Uncle Dillon, Aunt Thelma, Mother and Daddy double dating down by the railroad track with marsh mellows, a bond fire and "love making" mid-century style, of course. And Dori, who is hanging you up and going off and leaving you? I thing this blogging is a great way to bait the lake. As soon as the bobbers begin to switch about, you know an unknown tale is about to surface. Thanks to all of you.
And by the way, I've tried to respond to some of your comments. But I'm not sure they're ever leaving my computer. Or they maybe just falling into the Grand Canyon.
I should explain. On the north side of the Shumaker farm, the Santa Fe Rail Road track ran along parallel to the highway from Eldorado to Olustee. That may have been the scene of the dating, to which Karla refers.
We may not get moved this trip either. There are still tales of amazement in the air. In his teens, Daddy bought an "Indian" motor cycle. (There's a great movie on DVD about one. It's called "The Fastest Indian on Earth.") When I was young it was rusting out by the trench silo west of Papa's barn. They, the Indians, are very heavy and the wheel base is rather long.
On a late Saturday afternoon, Daddy was riding his Indian on his way to "court" Mother. There had been a rain earlier in the week. Someone had been driving their car on the road in the mile that runs north to south along the side of the Shumaker farm. Because of the wet muddy conditions the car wheel ruts slid along from side to side of the road as the vehicle progressed in it's journey. By the time Daddy and his Indian came rolling along the path to courtship, the road had dried. He drove along the right side, as the ruts were taking up the left half of the path to future plans. But alas, the earlier car had begun to slide toward the right and came very near the bar ditch. The rider in wisdom told the Indian to leap the rut and take the path between the two ruts. No sooner was the thought conveyed to the machine than it made the manuver. However, what was supposed to have been a leap became something of a sag. The wheels of the heavy means of transport sunk irretreavably into the rut. For all the cleaver heaving of the driver on the seat of his engine, it refused to leave it's track and so was propelling, pelmel toward the ditch. With another fervent and earnest heave to the left the Indian simply lay down on its owner as they speed northward on a dirt road of disaster. They finally came to a stop.
Daddy dragged himself out from under the motor cycle to survey the damage. All was well..with the cycle, that is. But he had been rolled and ground into the dirt. To add insult to ingury, every button of his shirt had been popped off. He was too near the goal to turn back now. With the Indian upright, he eased it out of the rut and rode on. With an approach well anounced, he arrived in something less than dapper attire. He brushed the dirt off his jeans and shoes, took off the shirt and shook it out. While his future Mother-in-law began sewing new buttons onto his shirt, he borrowed the wash pan and cleaned up a little. His pride was the most wounded part of all.
Not to be out done, he took the horse next time. She was famous for shaking her rope knot loose. But Daddy knew what to do. He tied her securely to a misquite tree. I really don't know if they walked around the farm, ate supper, sat in the corner of the living room whispering, or what. Anyway the courting of the evening finally came to a close. The fine young dandy went out to mount his riding mare, but......... she was not there. He felt around in the tree, but the rope was not knoted where he had left it. Nothing to do but walk the 5 miles home in the dark. Moon light would have helped. But there was no moon that night. After walking a while, he heard his horse. She was grazing along the side of the road. He spoke to her in a soft and coksing voice. She moved on. He began feeling for the rope dragging on the ground. After a long while, he was finally able to grasp the rope. He climbed in the saddle. I think the story ended with the moon finally coming up a little before he got home.
And by the way, I've tried to respond to some of your comments. But I'm not sure they're ever leaving my computer. Or they maybe just falling into the Grand Canyon.
I should explain. On the north side of the Shumaker farm, the Santa Fe Rail Road track ran along parallel to the highway from Eldorado to Olustee. That may have been the scene of the dating, to which Karla refers.
We may not get moved this trip either. There are still tales of amazement in the air. In his teens, Daddy bought an "Indian" motor cycle. (There's a great movie on DVD about one. It's called "The Fastest Indian on Earth.") When I was young it was rusting out by the trench silo west of Papa's barn. They, the Indians, are very heavy and the wheel base is rather long.
On a late Saturday afternoon, Daddy was riding his Indian on his way to "court" Mother. There had been a rain earlier in the week. Someone had been driving their car on the road in the mile that runs north to south along the side of the Shumaker farm. Because of the wet muddy conditions the car wheel ruts slid along from side to side of the road as the vehicle progressed in it's journey. By the time Daddy and his Indian came rolling along the path to courtship, the road had dried. He drove along the right side, as the ruts were taking up the left half of the path to future plans. But alas, the earlier car had begun to slide toward the right and came very near the bar ditch. The rider in wisdom told the Indian to leap the rut and take the path between the two ruts. No sooner was the thought conveyed to the machine than it made the manuver. However, what was supposed to have been a leap became something of a sag. The wheels of the heavy means of transport sunk irretreavably into the rut. For all the cleaver heaving of the driver on the seat of his engine, it refused to leave it's track and so was propelling, pelmel toward the ditch. With another fervent and earnest heave to the left the Indian simply lay down on its owner as they speed northward on a dirt road of disaster. They finally came to a stop.
Daddy dragged himself out from under the motor cycle to survey the damage. All was well..with the cycle, that is. But he had been rolled and ground into the dirt. To add insult to ingury, every button of his shirt had been popped off. He was too near the goal to turn back now. With the Indian upright, he eased it out of the rut and rode on. With an approach well anounced, he arrived in something less than dapper attire. He brushed the dirt off his jeans and shoes, took off the shirt and shook it out. While his future Mother-in-law began sewing new buttons onto his shirt, he borrowed the wash pan and cleaned up a little. His pride was the most wounded part of all.
Not to be out done, he took the horse next time. She was famous for shaking her rope knot loose. But Daddy knew what to do. He tied her securely to a misquite tree. I really don't know if they walked around the farm, ate supper, sat in the corner of the living room whispering, or what. Anyway the courting of the evening finally came to a close. The fine young dandy went out to mount his riding mare, but......... she was not there. He felt around in the tree, but the rope was not knoted where he had left it. Nothing to do but walk the 5 miles home in the dark. Moon light would have helped. But there was no moon that night. After walking a while, he heard his horse. She was grazing along the side of the road. He spoke to her in a soft and coksing voice. She moved on. He began feeling for the rope dragging on the ground. After a long while, he was finally able to grasp the rope. He climbed in the saddle. I think the story ended with the moon finally coming up a little before he got home.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
DONNIE IS BORN
The "Poor Little Chickie's" story most probably happened in the spring of 1939. I think the "Visit to Aunt Lou" story was later that year. I only remember a few times Arnold Ray and his family coming. It seems the Mother and sister were there more than the Daddy. There are faint thoughts that others of our parents families were there, but I'm not sure who they might have been.
During the years at the "Two-Roomer" and "The Morgan Place" there are stories I remember being told after the fact. Those years were still in the Great Depression, The Dust Bowl Years. When the dust storms begin to blow in, Mother dipped sheets and blankets in a tub of water and hung them on nails over the windows and doors, to keep out some of the sand and dirt. When morning came one could see the imprint of each persons head on the pillow, surrounded by dust. Those storms of wind and dirt did not come just in the night. They sometimes blew for two or three days without letup. The dirt came in through every crack in walls, windows, doors and roofs.
The walls, both exterior and interior, were generally made of one inch by twelve inch boards standing on end, nailed at top and bottom to a two by four inch plate. Up and down studs to support the plate were two by fours at corners and each side of each door and window. The cracks between the exterior boards were covered with a two inch wide strip nailed in place. That style of wall was called "board and batten". As people were able financially they bought rolls of felt paper and tacked that to the inside. It helped keep out some of the air. If they got a news paper, after it was read, they glued it to the felt paper with a thin mixture of flour and water. Later they applied wall paper.
Daddy said the house walls shook so hard at times during those winds, they thought the house would collapse. They often pushed furniture against the walls hoping to stabilize the structure. But more often the shaking of walls and floors, jiggled the furniture out into the room.
Water was scarce and had to be drawn from a cistern or halled from somewhere. So to conserve, Mother often left her dish water from the breakfast dishes to use again for the dinner (noon lunch) dishes. On Christmas Day we unwrapped our gifts. Out of a nicely wrapped little cardboard box I retrived a little cast iron truck. I drove it into the other room, then came back and played with the box the rest of the day. When dinner time came, Mother went into the kitchen to prepare the food and found the dish water had frozen in the pan.
Time and thoughts began to lap over into 1940. I remember seeing Daddy out on the tractor at the Morgan Place plowing the field. I remember going to visit Grand Pa Easley. He was bedfast. His bed was to the west of the double windows looking out to the south and his old barn down the hill. A mile south was the Red River he had crossed in wagons pulled by teams of horses with his family in 1900 when they moved to Oklahoma Territory. On that day of our visit I don't remember seeing Aunt Pearl and Uncle Everett who took care of him and farmed his land. His farm was about 5 miles southeast of the Morgan Place.
I remember one morning when we got up, Mother was not at home. Daddy got me dressed in a pair of little brown riding britches Mother had made for me. We stood outside the house ready to get in the car. He looked me over to see that my hair was combed and everything else was in place. He said, "We have a new little sister at Dr. Crow's. Let's go see her." That seemed fine with me. The next remembering after climbing the staris to the doctor's clinic, was going into the room where Mother lay in bed, and there in the cruck of her arm was a little baby sister, "Donnie Carolyn Easley". Wow! What a fine feeling that was, to have my very own sister. It was September 7, 1940. So far as I knew, all was fine with the world...how little did I know!
During the years at the "Two-Roomer" and "The Morgan Place" there are stories I remember being told after the fact. Those years were still in the Great Depression, The Dust Bowl Years. When the dust storms begin to blow in, Mother dipped sheets and blankets in a tub of water and hung them on nails over the windows and doors, to keep out some of the sand and dirt. When morning came one could see the imprint of each persons head on the pillow, surrounded by dust. Those storms of wind and dirt did not come just in the night. They sometimes blew for two or three days without letup. The dirt came in through every crack in walls, windows, doors and roofs.
The walls, both exterior and interior, were generally made of one inch by twelve inch boards standing on end, nailed at top and bottom to a two by four inch plate. Up and down studs to support the plate were two by fours at corners and each side of each door and window. The cracks between the exterior boards were covered with a two inch wide strip nailed in place. That style of wall was called "board and batten". As people were able financially they bought rolls of felt paper and tacked that to the inside. It helped keep out some of the air. If they got a news paper, after it was read, they glued it to the felt paper with a thin mixture of flour and water. Later they applied wall paper.
Daddy said the house walls shook so hard at times during those winds, they thought the house would collapse. They often pushed furniture against the walls hoping to stabilize the structure. But more often the shaking of walls and floors, jiggled the furniture out into the room.
Water was scarce and had to be drawn from a cistern or halled from somewhere. So to conserve, Mother often left her dish water from the breakfast dishes to use again for the dinner (noon lunch) dishes. On Christmas Day we unwrapped our gifts. Out of a nicely wrapped little cardboard box I retrived a little cast iron truck. I drove it into the other room, then came back and played with the box the rest of the day. When dinner time came, Mother went into the kitchen to prepare the food and found the dish water had frozen in the pan.
Time and thoughts began to lap over into 1940. I remember seeing Daddy out on the tractor at the Morgan Place plowing the field. I remember going to visit Grand Pa Easley. He was bedfast. His bed was to the west of the double windows looking out to the south and his old barn down the hill. A mile south was the Red River he had crossed in wagons pulled by teams of horses with his family in 1900 when they moved to Oklahoma Territory. On that day of our visit I don't remember seeing Aunt Pearl and Uncle Everett who took care of him and farmed his land. His farm was about 5 miles southeast of the Morgan Place.
I remember one morning when we got up, Mother was not at home. Daddy got me dressed in a pair of little brown riding britches Mother had made for me. We stood outside the house ready to get in the car. He looked me over to see that my hair was combed and everything else was in place. He said, "We have a new little sister at Dr. Crow's. Let's go see her." That seemed fine with me. The next remembering after climbing the staris to the doctor's clinic, was going into the room where Mother lay in bed, and there in the cruck of her arm was a little baby sister, "Donnie Carolyn Easley". Wow! What a fine feeling that was, to have my very own sister. It was September 7, 1940. So far as I knew, all was fine with the world...how little did I know!
Monday, January 25, 2010
WE PREPARE TO MOVE
At some point in 1939 or 1940 Mother and Daddy had decided to buy Grand Pa Easley's farm. You know they had been dating since Mother was 14. (Well, I don't know if it was dating as it is done now, (2010 - 1931 = 79 yrs. later), definately not like now! This may be a little more than you ever thought you wanted to know, so shut your eyes and stop your ears, until you've read and heard past this place. Only a few years before Daddy died, I heard him say to a group of us, "We never knew each other or anybody else, sexually, until our marriage night."
You may open your eyes and ears. They had planned to be married in November 1936, but about that time, Grand Ma Easley died. They felt it was best to postpone a few weeks, hence the date, December 19, 1936. I also heard Daddy say a couple of times in their latter years (you may keep open) that around the time they were engaged, he had a pray with God. I don't know if he meant a vow. That he would do all he knew to walk as close to God as he knew. What ever family they had, he would dedicate to God, they might be a God loving and righteous family.
It may be possible that while he was still a youth, in his teens, that he conceived the hope that he could some day own Grand Pa's place. The first time he and Lawton stay there all night, I think Grand Ma and Grand Pa never did even light the lamp. As it grew dark they went to bed. Daddy and Lawton twisted and turned on their pallets as long as they could take it, but when they knew the Old Grands were sleeping, they slipped out the door, off the porch, and high tailed it for home.
Just before Daddy hit his mid-teens, he had two old pockets from one or another of his uncles. The took them apart, selected the best of each and rebuilt one good watch. Grand Pa had bought a mantle clock in 1885, he kept it oiled by dipping a turkey tail feather in kerosene and poking it up into the works. As he wiggled the feather around, he hoped he had oiled all the important parts. Over the years it had finally stopped running. Grand Pa knew about Daddy's success with the watches.
When the clock was 30 years old in 1930, Daddy was 15 years old. He ask Daddy to see if he could get it going again. As he took it apart, he kept finding all these bits of turkey tail feathers and dust from the dust bowl stuck to the gears coated with very aged kerosene. He washed all the parts with gasoline, put it back together and it ran like a clock for years. He also learned how to oil it with a little oil can.
It may have been some or more of times like those that planted the spark to own the farm. [We're still coming around to moving. But I gota go sleep before we can get the deal made. So until next time. Good Night and Sweet Dreams!]
You may open your eyes and ears. They had planned to be married in November 1936, but about that time, Grand Ma Easley died. They felt it was best to postpone a few weeks, hence the date, December 19, 1936. I also heard Daddy say a couple of times in their latter years (you may keep open) that around the time they were engaged, he had a pray with God. I don't know if he meant a vow. That he would do all he knew to walk as close to God as he knew. What ever family they had, he would dedicate to God, they might be a God loving and righteous family.
It may be possible that while he was still a youth, in his teens, that he conceived the hope that he could some day own Grand Pa's place. The first time he and Lawton stay there all night, I think Grand Ma and Grand Pa never did even light the lamp. As it grew dark they went to bed. Daddy and Lawton twisted and turned on their pallets as long as they could take it, but when they knew the Old Grands were sleeping, they slipped out the door, off the porch, and high tailed it for home.
Just before Daddy hit his mid-teens, he had two old pockets from one or another of his uncles. The took them apart, selected the best of each and rebuilt one good watch. Grand Pa had bought a mantle clock in 1885, he kept it oiled by dipping a turkey tail feather in kerosene and poking it up into the works. As he wiggled the feather around, he hoped he had oiled all the important parts. Over the years it had finally stopped running. Grand Pa knew about Daddy's success with the watches.
When the clock was 30 years old in 1930, Daddy was 15 years old. He ask Daddy to see if he could get it going again. As he took it apart, he kept finding all these bits of turkey tail feathers and dust from the dust bowl stuck to the gears coated with very aged kerosene. He washed all the parts with gasoline, put it back together and it ran like a clock for years. He also learned how to oil it with a little oil can.
It may have been some or more of times like those that planted the spark to own the farm. [We're still coming around to moving. But I gota go sleep before we can get the deal made. So until next time. Good Night and Sweet Dreams!]
Saturday, January 23, 2010
WE VISIT AUNT LOU
It might be good for you to know, that the roads in that part of Oklahoma were laid out in a one mile grid. Each square mile (one mile long on each side) contains 640 acres of land. The roads ran strait east-west or north-south every one mile apart, unless intercepted by a canyon, uncrossable river or creek, an impossible hill or a very large land holding by one owner. You might consider that you are looking at a checker board. Each square mile is called a section containing (as I have said) 640 acres of land. Each of those could be divided into half sections of 320 acres or into 4 quarter sections of 160 acres. [If you would just come over here, I could draw you a diagram much more quickly that I can type this explanation.] Each quarter of 160 could be sub-divided into two 80’s, or four 40’s and on down to 20, 10, and 5 acres or less. Now with all that under your hat band, let’s take a walk.
Our two roomed house on the Morgan Place was located near the west edge of the southeast quarter of that section. So we lived between a quarter or half mile west of the southeast corner. On a bright sunny morning Mother got her sewing box. It was a boot box in which Daddy had bought some cowboy boots. She sewed clothes on the sewing machine. But her needle work was crochet and embroidery, mostly embroidery. I don’t remember that she brought anything else, than the box.
We went out our driveway, turned east at the mailbox and walked down the road to the corner of our section. We turned south and walked several yards, then we climbed through the barbed wire fence on the east side of the road. (One mile south down the road we were on, at the southeast corner of that intersection is a farm that years later belonged to Aunt Kathryn and Uncle Perry Freeman.) So that was a whole new section of land. We were in the west half section (320 acres). In the middle was a house. Papa had a cousin, Ina and Tommy Braker, whose son and family lived there. We often visited them and they us. But that day we angled from our entrance to the plowed ground in a southeasterly direction to hit their driveway a little south of their house. The driveway was about a half-mile long, and we were crossing a quarter mile of plowed dirt.
We had climbed through the fence onto freshly plowed ground. That was tough going even for an adult. I became really tired very fast. Mother squatted down, had me climb onto her back and hold around her shoulders. Then she stood up and held the boot box behind her with both hands so I could sit there holding on. Wow! What a relief to a two-year-something boy. But I've always envisioned that scene in my minds eye, as a very courageous women, in a labor of love lugging a heavy load, not because she had to, but it was her choice.
When we got to the end of Braker's driveway, we turned east on the road south of that section(The house Daddy built for Kathryn and Perry was later just to the west of where we entered the road.) So we were a quarter mile east of the west corner of the section, and we still had at least a quarter mile or a little more to walk uphill to Aunt Lou Walker's house on the south side of the road. Aunt Lou's was always a fun place to go. She was the youngest of the five Maberry sisters. They had one brother who lived, Uncle Homer. Mother Shumaker was the eldest of those girls. Aunt Lou was married to Uncle Lloyd Walker, his brother Uncle Jess was married to their sister, Aunt Alta (they pronounced it, Alti), and the Walker brothers had a sister, Thelma Walker, who married Uncle Homer Maberry. It was their brother, Roy Walker and Amy, who lived across from us at the Two-Roomer. (There were a lot of those Walker brothers and sisters.)Wow! If you've kept up with all that, you've walked fast and are a smart guy or gal to boot. Thanks for coming along.
It seems there were some other women at Aunt Lou's that day. There was a noon meal a little while after we arrived. In the mean time I was busy playing on the enclosed side porch and the yard. On the side porch, Aunt Lou had a chalk deer, in a laying position.l I always thought it was neat to look at. I don't remember touching it or playing with it. It would have been about 18 inches long and maybe 10 inches at the top of its ears. I still remember they had it later when they moved to another farm. I think the farm to which we walked might have been called the "Sunny Thurman place". I believe Daddy picked us up later, so we didn't need to walk about 2 miles back home. I think it is such a grand thing that Daddy would do that for us ... no doubt it was mostly for Mother, me being so much smaller.
Our two roomed house on the Morgan Place was located near the west edge of the southeast quarter of that section. So we lived between a quarter or half mile west of the southeast corner. On a bright sunny morning Mother got her sewing box. It was a boot box in which Daddy had bought some cowboy boots. She sewed clothes on the sewing machine. But her needle work was crochet and embroidery, mostly embroidery. I don’t remember that she brought anything else, than the box.
We went out our driveway, turned east at the mailbox and walked down the road to the corner of our section. We turned south and walked several yards, then we climbed through the barbed wire fence on the east side of the road. (One mile south down the road we were on, at the southeast corner of that intersection is a farm that years later belonged to Aunt Kathryn and Uncle Perry Freeman.) So that was a whole new section of land. We were in the west half section (320 acres). In the middle was a house. Papa had a cousin, Ina and Tommy Braker, whose son and family lived there. We often visited them and they us. But that day we angled from our entrance to the plowed ground in a southeasterly direction to hit their driveway a little south of their house. The driveway was about a half-mile long, and we were crossing a quarter mile of plowed dirt.
We had climbed through the fence onto freshly plowed ground. That was tough going even for an adult. I became really tired very fast. Mother squatted down, had me climb onto her back and hold around her shoulders. Then she stood up and held the boot box behind her with both hands so I could sit there holding on. Wow! What a relief to a two-year-something boy. But I've always envisioned that scene in my minds eye, as a very courageous women, in a labor of love lugging a heavy load, not because she had to, but it was her choice.
When we got to the end of Braker's driveway, we turned east on the road south of that section(The house Daddy built for Kathryn and Perry was later just to the west of where we entered the road.) So we were a quarter mile east of the west corner of the section, and we still had at least a quarter mile or a little more to walk uphill to Aunt Lou Walker's house on the south side of the road. Aunt Lou's was always a fun place to go. She was the youngest of the five Maberry sisters. They had one brother who lived, Uncle Homer. Mother Shumaker was the eldest of those girls. Aunt Lou was married to Uncle Lloyd Walker, his brother Uncle Jess was married to their sister, Aunt Alta (they pronounced it, Alti), and the Walker brothers had a sister, Thelma Walker, who married Uncle Homer Maberry. It was their brother, Roy Walker and Amy, who lived across from us at the Two-Roomer. (There were a lot of those Walker brothers and sisters.)Wow! If you've kept up with all that, you've walked fast and are a smart guy or gal to boot. Thanks for coming along.
It seems there were some other women at Aunt Lou's that day. There was a noon meal a little while after we arrived. In the mean time I was busy playing on the enclosed side porch and the yard. On the side porch, Aunt Lou had a chalk deer, in a laying position.l I always thought it was neat to look at. I don't remember touching it or playing with it. It would have been about 18 inches long and maybe 10 inches at the top of its ears. I still remember they had it later when they moved to another farm. I think the farm to which we walked might have been called the "Sunny Thurman place". I believe Daddy picked us up later, so we didn't need to walk about 2 miles back home. I think it is such a grand thing that Daddy would do that for us ... no doubt it was mostly for Mother, me being so much smaller.
POOR LITTLE CHICKIES
I am pretty sure we were living at the Morgan place when Mother and Daddy ordered 25 little chicks from a mail order hatchery. They had the brooder house cleaned out and every thing ready for the new babies. One day the mail man honked his car horn. Mother went out and found that he had brought the box (about 12 or 14 inches square with air holes punched in the sides and in the top of the lid, and an excelsior pad lay in the bottom) full of 25 peeping, cheeping chicks.
Mother was excited as she came form the mail box with the whole next year’s supply of both laying hens and frying roosters. With box under one arm and leading me with the other she took us all to the chicken house. She set the box of living peeps and cheeps on the floor and removed the top. She was about to show each little ball of fuzz where the feed and water was, when she suddenly remembered that she had left the burner of the kerosene cook stove going under our noon meal.
She told me to look carefully after the new little orphans, and away she went with confidence that her blooming little sprout could handle the job. I did. When she returned, she found how well! I had given each innocent, curious young life the most heartwarming hug and squeeze he or she would ever get. She probably wasn’t gone more than 5 minutes. Every little chick lay dead. That entire story is one I definitely do not remember! But I’m certain it is true, for I’ve heard it told over and over without a word of it missing.
Mother was excited as she came form the mail box with the whole next year’s supply of both laying hens and frying roosters. With box under one arm and leading me with the other she took us all to the chicken house. She set the box of living peeps and cheeps on the floor and removed the top. She was about to show each little ball of fuzz where the feed and water was, when she suddenly remembered that she had left the burner of the kerosene cook stove going under our noon meal.
She told me to look carefully after the new little orphans, and away she went with confidence that her blooming little sprout could handle the job. I did. When she returned, she found how well! I had given each innocent, curious young life the most heartwarming hug and squeeze he or she would ever get. She probably wasn’t gone more than 5 minutes. Every little chick lay dead. That entire story is one I definitely do not remember! But I’m certain it is true, for I’ve heard it told over and over without a word of it missing.
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