CHAPTER 1
My Little Red Boots
When I was about seven years old, I loved doing things with my daddy on the farm. I was what you would call a tomboy. Whenever I was with my dad, I would have to wear my little red boots.
Believe it or not, I always enjoyed helping my dad load manure onto the manure spreader. I had a little pitchfork just like my dad's big pitchfork. I would do my part in scooping up the manure from where the cows, hogs, cattle, or whatever had made the mess and toss it in the manure spreader.
Yes, I did get some up and over into the spreader now and then. It was a little difficult for a seven-year-old little girl to do, but I had fun. I thought I was big stuff and really helping my father. I found out in later years that my dad got quite a kick out of me wanting to be with him and having my help. Ha!
The fun part was riding on the spreader and spreading all that manure over the fields. I'm sure some of it landed on me at times, but it didn't seem to bother me at that age. Now I can't imagine enjoying being around that sort of thing, but times do change with age.
I have great memories of spending that quality time with my daddy.
Lake Erie Vacations
My father loved to fish, and we would go to Lake Erie on vacations sometimes. He would fish, and the family could spend time on the beach.
We would rent a cabin right on the beach where we could swim and enjoy the water. We would take a huge tractor tire tube that we could blow up, and the whole family would enjoy playing on it together.
At that time, I was very young, maybe eight years old. I remember playing on it with the family. We were laughing and jumping the waves, and all of a sudden, I lost hold and fell away from the tube. Not knowing how to swim and not being able to touch the bottom, I went under. It seemed like an eternity before they finally missed me on the tube. My older brother grabbed me and pulled me up out of the water. I was spitting and sputtering forever, it seemed.
After that happened, I never seemed to enjoy the water. I finally took swimming lessons when I was an adult from a neighbor lady in our subdivision. However, I never really learned to be comfortable in the water. When she required us to dive off the diving board and swim clear to the other end of the pool to pass our swimming tests, I dived in and swam clear to the other end of the pool without coming up for air. I was still scared of not being able to touch the bottom and had never learned the art of treading water.
To this day, I think that experience at Lake Erie affected my love of being in the water. I am much happier with my two feet on the ground.
A few years ago, we went to a water park with our children and grandchildren. They told me that if I went down the slide on a tube, I wouldn't go under the water and I wouldn't get my hair wet. That is another reason I don't like the water. Wrong! I went under, my hair got soaked, my glasses flew off, and I wasn't able to touch the bottom of the pool. I finally made it to the side of the pool, but I was not a very happy camper!
They apologized and said their other grandmother had done it and hadn't gone under. Of course I forgave them and laughed about it.
If I get into a pool, I just stay in the shallow end and stay cool. I prefer everyone to just let me do my thing while they do theirs. That will keep Grammy happy!
Brother in the Service
I was in the third grade when my brother went into the army to serve his country. I loved my brother very much, and he loved to throw me up in the air and play and tease me. We were very close for being so many years apart. When I was eight years old, he was around twenty years old.
He was stationed in Mississippi, and my folks and I traveled there to see him before he left to go to New Guinea. We were staying in a hotel, and he came and met us in our room. Usually when I saw him, I would run to him and jump into his arms. For some unknown reason, that time I wanted nothing to do with him. My parents were so disappointed in me. The only thing anyone could come up with was that his army uniform made me very afraid of him.
I guess I was just young enough that I wasn't familiar with the uniform, hat, and haircut. It really caused me to be afraid. It also had been some time since I had seen him. I still remember this because it was a very emotional time for me, and our emotions have a lot to do with our memories.
My parents were pretty upset because they had taken me so he could see me. I knew I was doing something wrong, but I couldn't help myself. We don't understand how change can really affect the feelings of a child. Hearing the news and talk at that time about the war could have been part of it also.
I remember Mom sending him boxes of goodies. She would make homemade caramels, and the other kids did not get one piece. It all went to my brother. She would also make him angel food cake and pack it in popcorn. All the boxes looked so good, and I almost wished I were in the army.
My brother was a radioman in New Guinea, and it was a very tough time for him. He lost many of his buddies during the war. It took him some time when he returned home to become like his old self. We really don't appreciate our servicemen and servicewomen like we should or show them that we do.
Favorite Fourth Grade Teacher
When I was in the fourth grade, Miss Hill was my favorite teacher. She was very pretty too. I remember little things like how she would hold her book when she was reading a story to us. I would try to hold my book the same way. I tried doing many things just like she did them.
When my older brother arrived home from serving in the army, he met Miss Hill in her father's grocery store. The next thing I found out was that he was dating my favorite teacher. I was so excited and proud. I was telling all my classmates at school that my brother was dating Miss Hill. He would show up at school now and then to see her, and I would be so proud and feel so special.
It wasn't too long before they got married, and by that time, I had moved on to the sixth grade. My sixth grade teacher was the sister of my new sister-in-law. I again made sure that all my classmates knew this. She was very nice and was my second-favorite teacher in grade school.
Odd Development
Did you ever hear of someone buying a new house and not noticing that a very important item was missing until after he or she had moved in?
Since this was an older couple, we will give them an excuse for not noticing.
While moving in, Louise needed to use the bathroom. She looked all around and realized that what she needed right then was missing. She shouted for her husband. He came running as fast as he could at his age, and she said, "Jim, you are not going to believe this. Do you see something missing that I need right now?" She quickly made arrangements for her situation.
After talking the problem over, they agreed they needed to write a letter to the man who had sold them this house. Jim was so upset that he insisted his wife write the letter. She thought and thought about how to explain the missing problem to the seller. People didn't use the word toilet back then. After putting some more thought to it, the word bathroom commode came to her mind. That would work perfectly. She could use the initials BC, and he would understand what she was talking about.
The seller received the letter, and knowing these people were Christians, he knew that BC meant Baptist church.
Dear Mrs. Holder:
To answer your question to the missing problem, the BC is only five miles down the road from your home. It is quite large, seating around 185 people. If you go regularly, you need to know a large number of people like to take their lunch and make a day of it, visiting with other people while seated there. This really pains me not to go more regularly, especially in the very cold weather. I hope this answers your question about the missing item. I also hope to see you there and see more of you at that time.
Yours truly,
The Seller
Memories of Grandparents
A good memory when I was eleven years old was having the blessing of my grandparents living just across the road from us. We were farmers and lived in the country. I loved my grandparents, as most grandchildren do, and I spent as much time with them as I was allowed. My parents didn't want me to make a nuisance of myself.
Being farmers, my father worked in the fields until it got dark. We didn't have supper until around seven. My grandparents always ate early, around five. When I could, I would walk over to their house at their suppertime. It was fun to watch them eat and see what they were having. They had their main meal at lunchtime and leftovers or "make do" for supper.
Many times, my grandpa would be eating a bowl of bread and milk with salt and pepper sprinkled over it. He would also eat a big onion. He would either cut large slices or just take a big bite out of the onion like an apple. Yuck. It looked pretty gross to me, but he sure seemed to enjoy it. As I got older, I found out that a big bowl of toasted bread, sugar, and milk made a great after-school snack.
I also noticed how he used his knife a lot, especially if he was eating peas. He would scoop them up with his knife instead of using his spoon as most people do. I was fascinated by how he could keep those peas on his knife without them rolling off.
My grandma would make delicious, thick maple syrup to put on our biscuits. I could take a big spoonful of it, and it wouldn't run all over the place. While I was visiting with them and watching them eat, she would always fix me a biscuit with some of that delicious syrup on it. She wouldn't feed me too much because she didn't want to spoil my supper, knowing that we would be eating later.
Another memory I enjoyed when visiting them was they would have a card table set up with a jigsaw puzzle in the making. I enjoyed sitting there while Grandpa found pieces to fit. He always bragged on me when I did, which we sometimes forget to do as parents and grandparents. Little things are so important to children.
Grandpa always had a special candy dish in a special place that he offered us kids. It was always full of the kind we especially liked. It was just a little thing that was special for us.
I have found the importance of showing your children and grandchildren love in small ways. It doesn't always have to be a big special event. We remember the small things.
Easter Sunrise Morning
When we were kids, we always enjoyed getting up early and getting dressed up in our new Easter clothes, and going to the Easter sunrise service. Our parents didn't go because they had to do the chores that needed to be done on the farm: milking the cows, feeding the chickens, and caring for all the other animals. They would, however, always go to church later with my brother and me. My older brother and sisters were married and had their own homes.
When we would come home from the sunrise service, we always had a few hours to kill before it was time to go to church.
My brother and I both played the piano, and that morning, we decided at the same moment to play the piano. We both headed for it, knowing what was in our minds.
He slid in on one end, and I sat on the other end of the piano bench. He shoved me, and I shoved him. We ended up in a real battle about who was going to win out in the end. It went from shoving each other to actually pushing and hitting.
We were still dressed in our new clothes. I was wearing silk hose, a hat, and a veil. My hair and makeup were done. Well, my hose ended up with runs, my veil was torn, and my hat was cockeyed. My face was red, and my makeup was running from the tears that were falling. Oh, yes, he came out unharmed!
Right at the end of this big powwow, my sister and her husband walked in. They could definitely tell that whatever had gone on was not a good thing.
Mom came in from the barn and could also tell that we had been up to no good. We were both old enough to know better, but we were both only thinking of ourselves and what we wanted to do. We got a talking to and asked forgiveness of each other. I had to do a complete makeover before I could go to church.
I couldn't believe that happened after we had just been at the sunrise service. I guess it didn't do us much good that morning. We had to ask God's forgiveness also. Neither of us got to play the piano — so all that was for nothing. I think that was the last scuffle we ever had, and we have laughed about it many times since. I guess it is normal for siblings to do crazy things like that every once in a while.
We have always had much love for one another in our family, and it has grown over the years.
Best to Obey Parents
My parents lived in Ohio on a farm and spent a lot of their time visiting Florida. They had a small trailer they lived in while there.
My brother and I visited at Christmas and loved to go to Cocoa Beach. Many people would drive their cars on the beach, but Father specifically told us not to drive on the beach. When we arrived there, we noticed other people were driving and parking on the beach — so why not us?
We were having such a great time swimming and sunbathing that we completely forgot about the time. We saw other people leaving, but we didn't think about why. We finally noticed the tide was beginning to come in, and then we knew why people were leaving. We decided to get out of there fast. When we got to the car, we were stuck in the sand. We had parked in the soft sand instead of where it was more solid.
All of a sudden, we noticed that we were the only car left on the beach. My brother was trying to get us out, but the tires were sinking deeper and deeper. The next thing we knew, we were down to the axle. We were both getting scared, wondering what our dad was going to do if we didn't get the car out before the water came up. We should have listened, and now we know why he told us not to drive on the beach. As usual, parents know best.
I guess it was a rule that a security truck checked to see if anyone was still on the beach when the tide came in. We were so happy to see him. He pulled us out, and we headed home, thinking about what we were going to tell Dad. We knew he would see the sand on the axle, so we had to be honest and tell him we disobeyed.
He explained why it is best to obey. There is almost always a reason why parents tell you not to do something. It's not because they enjoy telling you no. It is for your own good. We never drove on the beach after that — even though many other cars were doing it. I think God had a hand in that. He was teaching us it is always best to obey your parents and God!
Bragging Can Backfire
I always loved to bake, and pies were one of my favorite desserts to eat. I almost always had a homemade pie on hand.
When I would bake pies, I would usually bake twelve pies at a time and freeze them. Some farmers close by would come over when the weather was bad or use some excuse to come over and play pinochle with my husband and me. Of course, they always expected one of those pies to come out of the freezer and find its way to the oven so they could enjoy Martha's pie.
I was known for my pie baking. I was told that my piecrusts were extra flaky, and that was one reason the pies were so good. During a Christmas break, my brother and I visited my parents in Florida. While there, they wanted me to make one of my famous pies.
I got busy and made a pie shell for an open-crust pie. When I took it out of the oven, it looked beautiful. It was a lovely shade of light brown. I thought I would break off a little piece to see how tender and flaky it was. I tried and said, "Oh my goodness." I couldn't break off a piece. I couldn't figure out what had happened. I picked it up, took it outside, and tried breaking it in two.
My brother joined me in my attempt to break it. Of course, he was dying laughing at my famous piecrust. We threw it up against a tree, but the doggone thing just wouldn't break. I went back into the house to check the ingredients I had used to put it together. I quickly realized I had baked a piece of pottery because I had forgotten the oil. Yes, I had to eat humble pie that day.
Prize Cake
When I was in high school, my mother taught me how to make angel food cake. They were not the easiest cakes to make. This cake took thirteen eggs, and I had to do everything just right when blending them with the other ingredients in order to end up with a cake that was light, tender, and had risen very high.
We had what we called a fall festival or a community conference every year in our small town. It was a little like a small fair. People would bring things they had made over the year — homemade sewing projects, quilts, canned goods, fruits and vegetables, plants, baked goods, and many other things.
One lady in the community always won the grand champion prize cake, which was an angel food cake. Mother suggested that I enter the contest as a junior in high school. The lady who usually won happened to be the aunt of the boy I had been dating. I resisted for some time, but I finally gave in and decided to give it a try. None of the things entered had names on them, so the judges never knew who made the items.
