Reclaimed Memories

ow for a short summary of my reminiscences with my sisters. We talked at length about the things I have already written, but since I am the oldest of the living siblings I probably told them many things they could not remember. Beulah seemed to remember more of the words of some of the old ballads Mother sang than I did. She, like Mother, used to sing a lot as she worked and probably sang some of the same songs.

Ruth told of one of her memories which amused to all. While we were on the farm she remembered cracking black walnuts and taking the kernels in a cup to Dad and Gotthart working in one of the fields. Her memory was that she cracked the entire cupful herself, but she was hardly six when we left the farm, so could not have cracked black walnuts alone. They have to dry out for a period of time before they are cracked, so she could not have been more than four or five years old and evidently was made to feel that she had really done the job by herself. With much pride she presented the cup of kernels to Dad. I imagine he bragged on her. She remembers that he said, “Now for that I am going to give you the first penny I find rolling up a hill.” She was pleased for she thought of the large stick of candy or the chocolate covered teddy-bear a penny would buy. But on the way back home her reasoning took over and she said to herself, “He is not going to find a penny rolling up a hill," and her dreams of a sweet reward vanished.

Elma said that when we reached the hotel in Parkersburg that she thought it was the end of the trip and we had reached the farm. She was very disappointed. A very large building did not fulfill her dreams of what a big farm would be like. She was much happier when the riverboat deposited us on Fairfax land.

We talked again of the little embarrassing or cute things which are usually retold when families get together. Ruby told at a reunion at Ted's that when he was small and Mother was setting plants in the garden that he wanted a plant of his own and she gave him one. After he had planted it she said, "Now you must water it," and that Ted promptly peed on it. It was really Wilber that this happened to she told us later, but at the time we had a good laugh on Ted.

At the hotel we had our first experience of food being served in individual dishes. Ruth, who was three years old at that time, had never seen butter in little pats and after she had eaten most of her food she picked up the butter and announced that she was going to eat her soap.

When I was a small child the older children used to tease me about carrying Elma's dirty diapers to the diaper pail. Mother would fix them so I could hold them by the doubled edges and with my other hand I would hold my nose and say, "Pewey. Amy, Pewey, Amy." I was only sixteen months older than Elma. I imagine the older ones, along with our parents, thought it was cute, but it made me angry to be reminded of it.

One Christmas program Beulah was supposed to give a little recitation about making her doll a dress. She started out bravely, “I want a piece of calico to make my doll a dress. It doesn't have to be a big piece. A yard will do, I guess.” Just as she got that out old Santa appeared at the door with his pack and she started to cry and ran back to Mother.

Ruth remembered her entire recitation for one Christmas program.

How old is Santa Clause and where does he keep?
And why does he come when I asleep?
His hair is so white in the pictures I know
He must be as much as most twenty years old.

Beulah remembered all the words to one of the old ballads Mother sang and wrote them down for me. I had a lot of these in an old scrapbook at the Glen, as well as some of the songs Troy's Dad used to sing, but I must have discarded it when we moved. The name of this one was, “The Letter Edged In Black."

I was standing at my window yesterday morning,
Without a thought of worry or of care
When I saw the postman walking up my pathway
With such a pleasant face and jaunty air.
He rang the bell and whistled as he waited,
And then he said "Good morning, to you Jack."
But he little knew the sorrow that he brought me,
When he handed me the letter edged in black.
With trembling hand I took the letter from him.
I broke the seal and this is what it said,
"Come home my boy, your poor old Father needs you.
Come home my boy; your dear old Mother's dead."
I bent my head in sorrow and in sadness.
The sunshine of my life - it all has fled,
Since the postman brought to me the letter saying,
Come home my boy your dear old Mother's dead.

Ruth and her husband are not church minded at all, so almost never attend unless they hear of some special service somewhere. But both Sundays we were there we went to the closest church, which was a Lutheran one. They had just held the Vacation Bible School for the children and this Sunday was a sort of celebration of that event. The attendance was poor and the last thing on the program was a form of the party game, "Gossip." The pastor made a little speech about gossip then whispered the words, "Jesus is Savior,' to the first person on each side of the isle in front. We had arrived early and were the three first people on the left side of the church, but we were a third of the way back in the big church. Beulah sat next to me and she passed the gossip words on as 'Jesus is president." She decided that she had not heard correctly. and tried to change it to, "Jesus is present," but it was too late.

There was no gossip spread on the other side of the church. It ended as started, but our side caused a little mirth. When played at parties we always whispered so low that it always ended up with no resemblance to the statement which started around. Another thing that Ruth remembered about Mother was that she often illustrated some fact by one of the old proverbs. Once when spider webs were left, after the cleaning had been done, Mother said, "Beaus don't go where cobwebs grow."

I received a letter from Elma today. (September 9, 1991) We had talked over the phone earlier and I asked her to write any early memories she had of our childhood. She reminded me of some things that I had forgotten about. I do remember the swing Dad put up in the woods for us, but I do not remember the shelf she says he put up on a tree. She recalls that he said he wanted to keep that cleared place in the woods for the children to play.

She told of her reactions to the picture taking of the three of us, when Opal was just a little over a year old. I wrote earlier of that experience and part of her reaction to Opal's crying. But she really believed that a little bird would fly out, as the photographer said and was very disappointed that she missed seeing it. She wished he would take another picture so she could watch more carefully. She thought that when another baby came, the older child, no matter how young, should suddenly mature. She said she could not understand why I treated Beulah like a baby, when we had a real baby. She thinks it was because she was told, when Opal came, that she wasn't a baby any longer.

She also reminded me of the merry-go-round Dad made for us down by the creek, and Ted pushed us so fast on it. I think she remembers the swing so well because it was a traumatic experience for her. Our big sister, Ruby, pushed her so high in it and she was afraid, but would not let on. She was so relieved when Ruby got tired and stopped pushing her.

She remembered the church as being across the creek from our play area. It was across the creek from the house in Bakers Run and there were a lot of apple trees near it. There were no regular services in the church, especially in the winter time, but there was Sunday School in the summers and I remember that there was someone who came and preached occasionally. She mentioned the books we got for Sunday School attendance and that I was sick one Sunday and did not get as nice a book as she and Opal got. but that I had mine longer.

Today I remembered another experience I had in the house where Ruth was born. I had pneumonia. I think I must have been quite ill, for I recall that there were lots of people who came to see me and someone brought me a little gold mesh purse. Other people would put pennies in it. I was on the double bed in the sitting room. Elma had a short sickness at the same time, but it only lasted a few days. She must have been running a high fever one night. She was on a cot in the same room. I remember her saying, 'The cot is kicking up its heels." Dad sat down on the foot of the cot, telling her he would hold it down. She seemed satisfied then.

I had another "Do you remember” letter from Elma today, 9-14-1991. Guess I have started her on the road of recall. also. She started to school after her 6th birthday, January 9, 1915. She wrote that there was a little girl in school who rubbed snuff. Such a girl would be looked on with disfavor from us. Our parents never used tobacco in any form. Rubbing snuff or chewing tobacco was abhorrent to us. We were taught that they were such dirty habits.

This "snuff-rubber" brought a pretty piece of rubber to school and said she had overshoes of all colors of rubber at home. She very generously offered to bring each of us a pair of overshoes the next day. Emma asked for red ones and I asked for blue. From my lofty age of seven years, four months, as we walked home from school that afternoon, I informed Elma that Belva did not have those overshoes. She was just a story teller! We were allowed to call each other and others, story tellers, but we would not have dared to say. 'You are a liar.' Lie and liar were forbidden words, as was darn. I would have been afraid to even think the word, "damn."

Anyway, my credulous little sister, Mary Elma, was quite disappointed when she did not get the promised red overshoes. Belva had forgotten them! She continued to forget to bring them, until even Elma ceased to expect to receive them.

Elma, also, reminded me of the spelling headmarks we received in school. They were simply little strips of paper with our name and the name of our teacher written on them. Her name was Rosetta B. Jones. The reason I remember her name so well is because I have seen it in the front of the book I got for getting the most headmarks for the grade I was in. Ted also won the gift for this accomplishment, in his grade. The name of my book was, "Merry Girls of England." Ted's book was "Beautiful Joe." It was about a dog. As usual, for everything I got as a child, I still have my book. Elma came in second in her class, but she should have had a gift also, for she did not enter school until January. There probably were not more than three or four in each grade, so these were not high honors. They meant a lot to us as young children.

We lived at Bakers Run when the above events she mentioned occurred, but she keeps reminding me of something she declares happened on the Fairfax Farm. Beulah and I have always questioned it, but she has a memory like an elephant, so I guess it really happened. Anyway, children of a tender age can't be held responsible for trying to get out of work in any way possible, especially when we knew nothing of the rules of sanitation. Here is the story she tells. I was washing dishes and Beulah was drying them. She carried in her plate, which she had licked clean and showed it to me. I said, "That is so clean we will not have to wash it." Of course, Tattle-tale Elma, told Mother, and we had to wash it.

Quote from her letter: "I knew our mother favored you, but I was never jealous, because you were always good to me. You always bossed me, but you did it in a nice constructive way."

Thank you, Sister Elma! But I think it is just in your mind that Mother favored me.

I recall distinctly the first moving pictures we ever saw. We had been hearing tales of that marvelous invention, so when the news was circulated that the movie, 'Ten Nights In a Bar Room," was to be shown in Industry, which was a small settlement across the river from the Fairfax Farm, our entire family went to see it. Mother had read the book to the family, as she did any book that came into our possession. The entertainer had set up a tent and provided several rows of seats, by placing boards on kegs. The screen was, I believe, a sheet hung in the front of the tent. We were enthralled as those flickering characters moved around in that sinful barroom. In one scene a man came dashing up on a horse. For a few seconds it looked as though he was going to ride over the assembled people. One of the younger children became scared and started to cry.

Industry had a post office and a store, but we usually went to Creston for our needs. It was a little farther, but we could ride the horses there. Because it was across the river we walked when we went to Industry. I see in my zip code directory that there is a post office at Industrial. I wonder if it is what we knew as Industry.

One day at Elizabeth I asked Mother to give me the words to the ballad she sang, about the tragic deaths of three young women. I wrote them down as she gave them to me. I must have been very easily touched, for I was embarrassed when I started to cry as I wrote. She must have been surprised, but she did not say a word about my tears. She just kept dictating the words, as I was able to write them. I was fourteen when we moved to Elizabeth, so I was not a small child.

The Brady Trilogy  I  Reclaimed Memories - (1991)  I  Pop Troy's Anthology - ( 1992)  I  Kinfolk - (1994)