A Few More Memories

After writing my silly poem about the outhouse I started thinking about a lot of other things from back in those days on Highway 81. We had some indoor plumbing before moving in. The well had been dug and there was water inside the kitchen. With 4 kids already that was necessary. There was another little house closer to the back door – the well house. It had shelves inside where Mom stored her canned goods. Those shelves were always overfilled by the end of the growing season.

We lived with our maternal grandparents while the house was being built. I think almost all of my aunts and uncles lived with the grandparents at one time or another. I slept in the room with my two aunts while two of my brothers slept in one of the other rooms that were unoccupied at the time. All the bedrooms were upstairs, except my grandparents room. They didn’t have indoor plumbing at all. There was a well where they drew the water needed for drinking and cooking, while we used rainwater, caught in barrels placed under every downspout for bathing and washing our hair. I sometimes wish I still had some of that rainwater for shampooing. It left our hair so soft and manageable, although today I seriously doubt it would work. With all of the pollution it might melt the hair off our heads.

There was a hay barn behind our house, filled with hay and belonging to the uncle who sold dad the 5 acres across the pasture from the grandparents, and at the edge of his farm. My older brother had sneaked downstairs one night while the house was being built and watched Dad showing the adults how the cinder blocks the house was being built of wouldn’t burn. He lit a match and set it on the side of the block and they watched while it went out without burning the block.

A week or so after we moved into the house my brother, who had been entrusted with a couple of matches to burn the trash with took me into the barn to show me how the blocks wouldn’t burn. Naturally he had to add a bit more to the block, so just inside the barn he stuffed the holes in the block with hay before lighting his remaining match and applying it to the block. After the inevitable happened and the fire jumped across to the loose hay in the barn he pulled me out and we hid in the chicken house. I think one of the neighbors called the fire department while others held Mom back when she tried to run into the barn looking for us. All the neighbors rushed in and formed a bucket line to attempt to save the barn, but by the time the fire trucks arrived all they could do was keep it from spreading to the house. Time has dulled the memory of what happened after we came out of the chicken house, but I can remember the usual punishments and imagine that one was the worst ever.

I can vividly remember my uncle standing in the ruins the next morning, shaking his head as he surveyed the ruins of his barn. He had quite a great sense of humor though and laughed it off but he had intended to tear it down anyway after removing the hay so maybe he saw it as saving him that trouble. I never asked and of course, being 4 years old no one ever told me since back then kids didn’t question adults — with the usual “why”? that kids today still ask.

I can remember that Dad and my uncles still living at home dug a trench across the pasture and ran water from our well to my grandparents house during our second summer there. While they still saved the rainwater they put a concrete slab across the well at that time to keep the grandkids from falling in, or more likely tossing the cats in to see if they could swim. Only one cousin did that, but we all learned that while the cat could swim it couldn’t climb the walls of that well.

Right now I’m trying to write down all of my memories of those slower times way back when. I don’t know that my children or grandchildren will ever care enough to read about a slower life style without the electronics they have grown up with. Well, the grands grew up with them. My three grew up in the country on the other side of town where we had indoor plumbing, but the old outhouse still stood, leaning with age, in the pasture behind our pre-Civil War farmhouse, complete with a buggy house that had an upstairs room, a smoke house, and a couple of barns behind it. But that’s for another time, another story.

One Liner Wednesday on Thursday

I just read Lauren’s post on LSS — and I’ve forgotten the rest. Sorry Lauren. Brain freeze I think. Anyway, it was a story about ancestors and it broke my heart to see that she didn’t get to know most of hers. I grew up around family, so rather than use her formula I’ll just talk about that and what it’s like to be one person in a family of hundreds.

First of all I have four brothers, three of whom are still living. We lost Steve two years ago. There are also two sisters, both living. I have three living children, eight grandchildren and five great-grandchildren. My parents are deceased and the family is scattered but we are still close.

My mother was from a family of thirteen children. No, that’s not a typo, she had ten brothers and two sisters and one of my aunts still lives. She will be 93 on Monday and we will celebrate on Sunday.

Altogether I had close to 75 first cousins, most of us living with a one mile radius of each other. I am including both sides of the family here. My dad had one brother and five sisters, all deceased now, and one of his sisters married one of my mothers brothers. So among these cousins, five are double first cousins.

I grew up on Highway 81, a little known area with a well known name — Rome, KY. Well, Rome is a well known name and the reaction from people if we told them we grew up in Rome was priceless. Most of my cousins lived along that stretch of highway and they were my first friends and playmates. We went to school in a four room brick building — St. Martins School. It no longer exists but the church is still there and as far as I know it’s going strong with several of my cousins still in the congregation.

Our house was just across a pasture from my maternal grandparents and we were in and out of their house almost as much as our own. I can remember crossing that pasture, avoiding the cows and bull when possible, and spending summer afternoons with my grandmother, watching the soap operas on the only TV in the family for a long time but only after helping her with the dinner dishes. For us dinner was the noon meal and the evening one was supper. My grandmother was also a great cook and between my mother and her plus my paternal grandmother I learned to be a pretty good cook myself. We all canned vegetables and fruit in season and enjoyed opening those jars all winter long. Grandmother and Papa had a farm and in addition the cows they had chickens and pigs, all of which ended up on our tables. We also had fresh eggs every day, and after Dad got our first cow and pig and Mother got a house full of chickens we were pretty independent as far as groceries went. I can remember churning the cream into some of the best butter ever. During the autumn season we gathered black walnuts that fell from the tree at the end of our property and produced enough each year for most of the family. Mother sold the extra eggs and butter to the neighbors and used that money for Christmas gifts for all of us. Not much extra money those days but my parents made sure none of us knew it. Since everyone else was in the same financial boat we never knew we were dirt poor. We had what we needed and some of the things we wanted.

My paternal grandparents lived a couple of miles away and had a dairy farm. I loved going out to the milking barn with Mom and Pop, the name they were known as even to strangers. Pop would hook most of the cows up to the milking machines but Mom had almost a dozen that she had raised from newborn and she refused to hook them to a machine, preferring to hand milk them twice a day every day. Dairy farmers don’t get days off, or even a morning or afternoon off. Mom also raised geese and plucked them periodically to make the feather pillows she kept her entire family well stocked with. From her I not only learned to bake bread and fruit cobblers, but also how to save every scrap of fabric to make quilts. I’m still making quilts now even though my family are already well stocked. They each still love receiving new ones once in a while.

We have a treasure trove of stories and some of my personal ones are almost unbelievable these days. I learned to walk and talk by nine months of age and then proceeded to teach my older brother my wicked ways. He soon learned some tricks of his own though and I became the follower while he was my much adored leader. If he said do it I listened. He and a neighbor boy gave me my first haircut one night when Mother was shopping and Dad was “watching” us. Not sure how it happened but Dad didn’t catch the haircutting. We caught it though when Mother got home and saw the results.

After we moved from town out to the house on Highway 81, my brother had the job of burning the trash. I should add here that the land we lived on had been bought from one of my uncles, and he still had a barn full of hay behind our house. His plan was to leave the barn there until he had used all the hay and then tear it down, giving us more space for whatever Dad decided to do. He didn’t get the chance to tear the barn down or even to use up the hay though. My brother watched Dad demonstrate how the cinder blocks our house was being built of wouldn’t burn and brother was watching as Dad lit a match and placed it on a block watching until it burned itself out without burning the block. Brother decided to show me how safe our house was but he used a little bit of imagination there, stuffing the holes in the block with some of the loose hay before lighting the match he had kept after burning the morning trash. That barn full of dry hay went up fast and brother pulled me into the hen house to hide, while they had to pull Mother away from the barn when she couldn’t see us. She kept trying to run in and save us but one of the fire fighters kept her back while others went in to look. That was the worst trouble he ever got me into, but I still followed every place he went. Even after the rest of the siblings grew big enough to play with us, big brother remained just as today, my hero!

When he started to school I did homework with him, so when my turn came to go to the big red brick school and we were both in the same room I already knew the first grade material and again did my homework with him. Only one time did one of the teachers put me in the same class with him and she told me many years later that she wanted to see if I could beat his top scores in everything. I never tried to beat him. If I had I have no doubt to this day that he would have beat me in a much different way.

We had family reunions each summer even though we lived in each others pockets all year. But to get that many people together for barbecue chicken and all the trimings was a treat in itself. Home made ice cream for dessert was the food of the gods.

Lauren mentioned going through Ancestry.com to find her family and one of my sisters did that as well. What she found was probably a lot of fairy tales, but according to that we are descended from royalty on both sides of the family. Henry VIII on Mother’s side, and Attila on Dad’s. Not too sure if I should even say that since neither of them had a claim for doing good deeds.

So many memories are coming to me now, but it would take the rest of the week to write them all down. I have been writing some of them down for my daughter since Christmas, one chapter a week and will continue doing so until I run out of life or memory, whichever comes first. My daughter used to sit at my Grandmother’s feet and listen to her stories, my granddaughter sat at my Mother’s side and did the same. I am writing my stories down in journals and online as a way to keep them alive for anyone who wants to read about their past and the wonderful people they are descended from. And I am aware that my grammar is all bad now, but it’s easier for me this way. After all, I’m closing in on 80 years and don’t have the time to worry about grammar now. I still have some quilts to finish