Pearl, now approaching her ninth birthday, gives an admiring and detailed recounting of the life story of her “Mama Betty” to begin this narrative. Then, we witness yet another move to Oklahoma. This time the method of travel is quite unusual for Pearl and Billy. We end the chapter with crossing the Red River bridge in the horse drawn wagon. Enjoy. RAN

  Pearl’s narration continues:

  EXTRAORDINARY ORIGINS OF EVERYDAY THINGs

Handwriting was invented by the Syrians.

Buttons were once made of dung.

Buttons were in use 300 years before buttonholes (12th CenturyAD).

       The first tooth brush was used by Egyptians.

     The brassiere was invented by Otto.

        Toilet tissue was invented in 1857.

      Soap pads (SOS) were first made in 1917.

       Band Aids were first used in 1921.

                                          —Charles Pananti

MAMA BETTY’S STORY

   I have said very little about Mama Betty.  So now, after a year with her, learning her Tennessee accent and queer expressions of hers; such as “Northerner” for Norther, when a cold wintry blast came through;  “Well, bless Paddy”, an exclamation she used quite frequently when a pleasant surprise came her way, we will examine her story.

  She was born in Memphis, Tennessee, on July 27, 1874, the oldest child of Thomas Newton and Tessie or “Tet” (Baggett) Savage.  When she was seven they moved to middle Tennessee, twenty miles north of Nashville, near Greenbriar.  The Ceif Jones Store was near their home and was referred to frequently, perhaps less than a mile away.  Two country churches graced their countryside: a Mt. Pleasant Methodist Church one and one-half miles from the Savage home, of which Tessie was a member and a Bethlehem Baptist Church, only a mile away where the family attended a greater part of the time.

 The Bethlehem Baptish Church was organized as early as 1838, some 42 years after Tennessee joined the Union.  This church, it seems, was a center for all the youth to gather in Betty’s young life.  I recall that both churches doubled as schools; if so, Bethlehem was the school that the Savage children attended.  No doubt Betty played a part in the many activities, being quite popular among the younger set.  She was so small, she said, that she wore her black hair in shoulder length curls until she was 16 years old.  She attended parties, square dances, had many admirers, a few beaus, but apparently no serious suitors in her 36 years she lived at home in Tennessee.

Mary Elizabeth (Betty) was four when brother John was born.  Two years later her brother Noel was born.  A couple of years later another brother, Thomas Monroe joined the Savage family.  Following an eight year span without babies, another little brother came along whom they named Augustus, but always known as “Gus”.  After another two years Christopher was born, nicknamed “Chris”.  When Chris was two, Ruth was born, and now, Betty had a sister, after waiting twenty years for this blessed event.  Ruth was two years of age when Melvin was born, and that ended Thomas Newton’s and Tet’s child bearing.  They were addressed by their children as “Pap” and “Ma’am”.

   Mama Betty was second mother to the four youngest children, even though her mother remained in good health.  There was much to be done in this large family: growing gardens, orchards, soap making, sewing for the family, even the men, using home spun cloth for their every day wear.  Tobacco was the principal crop, so Mama Betty planted tobacco plants and wormed the plants by hand when they became infected.  Ma’am Savage did no field work, but was always described as a strong, robust woman, compared with Betty, who was small, weighing about 100 pounds!  Tom, the father, was a small man, subject to migraine headaches, was an avid reader, sitting up late nights to read after the rest were sound asleep.  He kept abreast with the political issues of the day, reading the Chicago Tribune and other newspapers.  To distinguish him from other Savages in the area, he was called “pig” which also indicated his small stature.

An abundance of pure, soft spring water flowed freely in the region and just down the hill from the Savage home one of these springs provided the family’s household supply of water.  Of course, carrying it uphill from the spring house where they kept their milk and butter was a task.  This was long before the era of refrigeration.  From the way Mama described the task, the large pails of water must have weighed almost as much as she!  Some winters, steps leading down to the water supply would become slippery with a film of ice, and she related that on one occasion Mama almost slipped into the icy water!  Once in a great while a headrise would come down on the creek, carrying away the pails and crocks of milk and butter stored there.  But these events were quite infrequent happenings that never caused serious problems for the family.  Oh, by the way, after Betty carrying pails of water uphill for some twenty-five years, they drilled a well right beside the kitchen door. 

This was the year before Mama Betty came to Oklahoma. Noel Savage and wife, Vesta (Baggett) Savage and children, Versie, five and Chester, one year, lived near Hedley, Texas, a small town some ten miles away from Clarendon, the county seat of Donley County, Texas.  In the summer of 1910, this family made a visit back to Tennessee, bringing Betty back with them.  It was probably prearranged because of Betty’s frail health for the past 10 – 11 years caused from about with Whooping Cough at the advanced age of 25!  The Noel Savage family believed that the high, dry Texas and Oklahoma atmosphere would be good for her health and perhaps they were right.  She spent much time in the cotton fields, learning to pick cotton, but by handling the cotton so carefully that not a speck of trash was left on each beautiful white lock, her total pounds-per-day was extremely small compared to the average picker.

Ed. note: If interested, this 2013 medical report summary describes Whooping Cough’s effect on a person, a woman especially, throughout their lives following this infection. They are weaker and often die younger.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2013/06/130618101612.htm

 

Of course, Betty missed the home and family back in Tennessee, but kept busy helping Vesta around the house besides going to the field with her brother Noel.  Her oldest brother, John, also lived in Sunset, Texas, some 50 miles northwest of Dallas, far from Hedley, Texas which was located in the Texas Panhandle.  John and his wife, Annie had Mable and Hubert, near the ages of Noel’s and Vesta’s children.

 The next year the Noel Savages were drawn to the Jackson County, Oklahoma, area less than a hundred miles from the home in Hedley, Texas.  Here he was also engaged in farming, residing in the South Greer community, some three to four miles from where Will Ware lived, near to the home of Pete Thornton and his family.  As Papa and the Savages were all Baptists they soon met and became acquainted, later becoming close friends.

 Perhaps, this story of Mama Betty will tie in with Pete’s and Betty’s courtship and marriage.  So now, “Back to Oklahoma”.

 

BACK TO OKLAHOMA, AGAIN

It was Thanksgiving Day, 1913; moreover, it was moving day.  Extensive preparations which had been going on for days, now had culminated in a well fitted wagon made comfortable for our journey.  This trip was to be a lengthy one, some 165 miles, winding through the country on dirt roads.  A team of horses and wagon could travel some 30 miles per day by starting early and borrowing some of the night in the shortening days of late November, but on a long trip such as this we could not hope for more than 25 miles per day barring any inclement weather.

    The preparations were very interesting and exciting to Billy and me.  Papa had outlined his plans with Mama some half dozen times; plans which would make the wagon comfortable and efficient for traveling for eight to ten days.  First, there must be an extension built on either side of the wagon called “over-jets” providing enough width to accommodate our mattresses, the beds on which we would sleep during our trip.  Over-jets was a new term to Billy and me, and we felt very important strutting about, telling our cousins and my school friends how Papa was going to put over-jets on our wagon.

  Then there was the chuck box or food box built into the back end of the wagon.  This box was so constructed that when closed, the door sloped from the top of the wagon bed at 90 degree angle, and when opened out, being hinged at the bottom, provided a table from which to prepare and serve the food.  Legs made from narrow boards resting on the ground supported this double duty table and chuck box door.  Inside the box, when closed, there was plenty of room to store food supplies and cooking and eating utensils.

   Everything was in readiness for the move, now.  Uncle Clint, Aunt Bee and their children, one, a year older than I and one a year younger than I and some little ones all came to help us load the wagon.  We had three beds, a cook stove, a table, some cane bottomed chairs, Grandma’s rocking chair and pie safe, the stand table, our three trunks, clothing and supplies, plus a large, wooden quilt box.  I must tell you about this quilt box.  Mama Betty wrote a letter to Green Briar, Tennessee, telling the family there that she was now in her own home in need of her quilts she had made through the years at home.  Before many days had passed Papa came home from Ector, our nearest town, with this large box in the wagon.  In the fourth grade now, I began to read the addresses on the box:  From T. N. Savage, Greenbriar, Tennessee:  To P. H. Thornton, Ector, Texas.  Shipping tags were placed about on the box, making sure it would be delivered to the right destination without being lost along the way.  Another interesting notation on another side of the box was:  To Cief Jones Store, Greenbriar, Tennessee, which told us that Mama Betty’s father had picked up the large box at the country store which had been used for shipping merchandise.  We would hear the name of this country store over and over again through the ensuing years.

 With the furnishings in place, our mattresses fitted securely into the over-jets on the wagon bed.  Mama and Papa would occupy the spring seat in the front of the wagon but Billy and I were to spend most of our time on the high bed in the back part of the wagon; a riding place which would become very boring before very lo

  After all was loaded, Uncle Clint and Aunt Bee welcomed us into their home for the night.  It began to rain, so darkness came early on that November evening; furthermore, there were some last minute checking to make everything secure from the team’s harness to the rearranging of supplies in the chuck box.  Papa had a nice kerosene lantern with a bulls eye in the chimney.  It was very useful on dark nights, traveling or at home to inspect the animals or to locate prowling varmints.  It was sprinkling rain by now and the men were about finished so they told Harry, now past ten, to take the lantern in out of the rain so the chimney would not be likely to crack.  Harry disobeyed; he went in with the lantern, told a different story, came back out and sure enough, the rain broke the chimney!  This was rather disgusting to Papa, just starting on the trip, needing a lantern to see to the stock in the evening, and now a new chimney to buy.  But Papa had seen through Harry’s trick; he had taken the lantern out on purpose so the rain would break the glass chimney because he wanted the bull’s-eye out of it!  My father chuckled many times about the way young Harry’s plans went awry, because, you see, Papa didn’t let him have the bull’s-eye after all!  Just on purpose!

      Thanksgiving morning arrived at last and we were on our way.  Clouds hung heavy and threatening, but only a mist was falling.  We had said our loving good-byes to Aunt Bee and Uncle Clint and the children, knowing full well that the 160 plus miles that lay between us would prevent our seeing each other for many months, or maybe years.  Another wagon would be traveling with us; Mr. Nelson, riding alone, whose destination was Cordell, Oklahoma, some 120 miles farther than our new home would be.  It was a boon, indeed, for Mr. Nelson to have the company of another wagon going his way for the greater half of his journey.

    The teams moved briskly along the first day, for they were fresh and we were all alert and filled with anticipation of what lay ahead.  Clouds remained dark and lowering but very little rain fell that day.  As we passed along unfamiliar roads to Billy and me; roads lined with post oak and black jack and other timber, with open clearing now and then.  The end of this day would find us some twenty-five miles away from our former home, 25 miles closer to a new and better home for us.

 When night began to fall, and it became dark early that day, we stopped on the grounds of a country church and made camp for the night.  The wagon covers had been treated with linseed oil to help in shedding the rainwater, as they were stretched tightly across the bows.  We were thankful, if somewhat dubious, that we had this protective cover for our bedding and supplies.  The steady rain that began just as we had finished our evening meal, was a true test as to how well the wagon sheets would turn the water.

That first meal on the road was quite an experience for Billy and me.  We had heard Papa and Mama extolling the blessings of having an iron skillet-‘n’-lid to cook biscuits on an open fire.  When they learned that our fellow traveler, Mr. Nelson owned one of these wonderful inventions, they were delighted.  And so Mama made biscuits, and after the fire had burned the dead wood to a bank of ashes the “skillet…” was put in the ashes, practically buried there, and lo and behold, the biscuits did cook!  We were not to enjoy this luxury for many meals, however, as the rain wouldn’t cease for very long, making dry firewood difficult to find.  Everyone was disappointed, and I have never heard since that time so much complaining about having to eat “light” bread or loaf bread which we had to buy along our way!

    As there is little to relate on the next two days of our journey which took us some forty miles farther on, except rain and more rain, mud and more East Texas mud, it seems an excellent space to reminisce over the events of the past year.  Billy and I had met and enjoyed a new set of cousins; we had been present as Ernest had received injury to and the loss of his eye; we attended church and learned songs that we had never heard before; we had attended a burial, Billy’s first; we had met Uncle Bud and Aunt Ellie Ware, Great Uncle and Aunt, and visited in their home; also, we had met and visited the McPherson family when I “claimed” my first boyfriend, and the family had given Billy a small dog, “Cricket”, who was accompanying us to Oklahoma, walking part of the way, but sleeping in the wagon most of the time.

 The topics Papa and Mama discussed were some that Billy and I didn’t understand very well, or at least, didn’t touch our lives.  They remembered that Great Uncle Jap who lived with Will and Maggie Ware passed away in 1913; either early in the year, or later.  Also, Lela, four year old daughter of Will and Maggie died of diphtheria in 1913.  If these deaths came early in the year, the parents didn’t bother us with the sorrow.  Maggie Gillis Ware, “walking family history book” related to me at age 93 that she recalled that both Uncle Jap and Lela died in 1913.  She reflected on the events and concluded that Uncle Jap died first because she recalled that they “laid Lela out” on Uncle Jap’s bed in his bedroom: an unoccupied bed now that Uncle Jap had gone on.  The Wares’ neighbors had “washed and dressed” the small child for burial, not making use of the services of an undertaker.  I am aware of Grandma being away much of the year we spent at Ector, Fannin County, Texas.  She was probably in Oklahoma with some of the family there.

       This travel took us to St. Jo, Texas some 18 to 20 miles west of Gainesville, Texas.  Its was Saturday night, and Papa and Mr. Nelson sought a wagon yard where the teams could be sheltered, and find a much needed rest.  I’m sure that we all welcomed the use of kitchen accommodations provided for us there, too.  The next day would be Sunday, so Papa and Mama, and I’m sure Mr. Nelson joined them in deciding to send Mama, Billy and me on ahead by train, leaving the men with the teams and wagons to battle the rain and mud the rest of the way.

        Uncle Charley Thornton lived near Burkburnett, in Texas, across Red River from Aunt Dove’s and Uncle Elias’ place.  Papa decided that was the place to go and wait until Papa and Mr. Nelson arrived with the wagons.  So our family boarded a train at St. Jo, Texas, bound for Burkburnett, that Sunday, November 30, 1913.

  Papa and Mr. Nelson were nearly a week making the 75 miles between the two towns.  Mama experienced many anxious moments and hours, apologizing over and over again for being so much trouble to Aunt Kate and Uncle Charley, in spite of their generous hospitality extended to us.  Mama was “turned around” in her directions at the place where their home was located.  By being turned around, is getting directions mixed!  About Monday or Tuesday morning we awoke to a clear sky and bright sunlight.  But to Mama, the morning sun arose in the West!  She was very distracted, and no matter how Aunt Kate tried to set her straight, the sun came across the autumn sky to set in the east!  After this day of frustration, I, too, became turned around!  Mama and I were ready to move on and get our directions straight!  But there would be a few more days of anxious waiting for us

      Upon leaving Uncle Charley’s home near Burkburnett, Texas, we crossed the Texas-Oklahoma bridge which spanned the Red River, built in 1910.  Before the bridge was constructed the only means of passage across the river was by fording it with team and wagon or other vehicle, and on horseback.  There was considerable traffic as Burkburnett, Texas was the principal town for farmers living on the Oklahoma side of Red River.

      An incident occurred at some point shortly before the construction of the bridge which was an attraction for numerous travelers passing by this way.  Apparently, a family was fording the river with team and wagon, transporting their household belongings from one home to another on the other side.  While only a short distance from the Texas bank of the river, the wagon began to sink into quicksand.  

Other teams with their drivers were summoned to help dislodge the vehicle, but to no avail.  The teams then were quickly led away, lest they too, would be victims of the treacherous quicksand.  The family in the beleaguered wagon was quickly transported to safety.  The belongings and home furnishings were transferred to other wagons on a more solid footing, but a sad end to the story was that the parlor organ in the wagon was impossible to move out.  The ornate top of the organ could be seen quite clearly a short distance from the north side of the bridge, but the wagon itself was sunken in the sand.  We saw the sight many times as, despite head rises and flooding on the river, the majestic organ held a silent vigil in its place in the wagon bed for many years!

     As we crossed into Oklahoma that crisp, December morning, while Mama and Papa sat on the spring seat in the covered wagon with Billy between them, I stood behind them looking straight down the road over the backs of the horses, taking in the free breeze, the sunshine, and the blue, blue sky….  I still recall the exhilaration I experienced as I anticipated the new home!  I don’t recall Mama’s and Papa’s expression of their delight to be there on the plains of Oklahoma; I only remember the beautiful, new feeling I had as I entered a new era in my young life!

“Out where the hand clasp’s a little stronger,

Out where the smile dwells a little longer,

That’s where the West begins.”

                                                                          Arthur Chapman

The adventure of moving for children is charming and Pearl captures some of the excitement of new discoveries. Next chapter will find Pearl’s family settling into a nice home and farm and wonderful school experience. Stay tuned. RAN

This somewhat longer narrative invites the reader to live as this seven year old girl without her mother in early, underdeveloped rural southwestern Oklahoma. Beginning with a sad reality, this narrative is rich in interactions between children and with aunts of Pearl. Aunt Lou Thornton, wife of Uncle Jim Thornton, seems to be a solid “parent figure” for Pearl in this difficult time. The large gatherings for meals and helping one another is quite enriching. Enjoy discovering some new elements shaping the young Pearl and things belonging to this 1912 era. RAN

 Pearl’s narrative begins:

The summer of 1912 was quite eventful.  Papa, upon learning that Mother could never be released from the State Hospital in Austin, took a new lease on life, determined to leave the old life behind.  He also began courting.  I didn’t know about that until later, but I could see that Papa seemed much freer and happier than he had been since we lost Mother.  He left, to Laura, the task of explaining to me that Mother would not be coming back to us.  So one day she said to me that Papa had received a letter or report from the hospital that after two years of treatment and observation her condition was incurable, she would never be any better.  I recall that it fell upon my heart as a heavy blow; that final word that we would not have Mother with us again.  I don’t recall any discussion about the news between Papa and me; nor with Grandma either, Papa just kept it quiet.  I probably cried at night, sometimes, but at my age with so many people around I soon passed the news off as a matter of course.

  On a Sunday afternoon when Verna Ware was at the Will and Maggie Ware home, Papa got all dressed up and he and Verna drove to a singing session at South Greer School.  Verna was dressed very pretty too, and carried a parasol, as the buggy was of the topless variety.  Will and the others teased them as they left, warning Papa to look out for the parasol, he might get “stuck in the eye” by one of the ribs!

  Papa was a good singer and played the harmonica.  Will played the fiddle, but I don’t recall an incident of their “teaming up” for a musical session.  They did play the instruments separately, Will, the “breakdowns” and Papa, the current popular ballads such as “Red Wing”.  I remember that song was heard frequently that summer and I mark the song as my first tune to learn to sing.  Oh, I do recall the song, “Jesus, Lover of my Soul”, was sung at Jewell’s funeral, and it gave me a depressed feeling every time I heard it sung in church.

   Maggie Ware may have attended revival services with Papa at South Greer that summer.  Will, her husband, may have gone too; I only remember the day of the baptismal service, a warm Sunday afternoon, when Maggie was baptized.  Laura stayed at home with us children, so I didn’t attend, but remember her long, wet hair as she returned with the others following the service which was performed in a farm pond near by.

   There was a crowd of people at Will Ware’s home frequently that summer of 1912.  I recall meeting Jim Ware, and wife Fannie with their three children at the Ware home.  I remember that it was early morning, so they had probably spent the night there.  Fannie was a beautiful woman with large blue eyes and blonde hair.  She was most amiable and jolly and she greeted us, Papa and me, with an introduction of her youngest son Kenneth (Ken for short), saying, “This is Ken, he’s kin to everyone!”  I don’t recall meeting them again, but a couple of years later I named a blue-eyed, yellow haired china doll “Fannie”.  She looked just like Fannie Ware to me.

    Once when there were several persons for lunch (dinner to us) at Will Ware’s, many of whom were children. I believe Lavina Gillis, Maggie’s young sister, was visiting, and Golden, Uncle Jim’s daughter who lived nearby, was also present.  At any rate, when the platter of fried chicken was passed around the table that day, I looked for a wing, and the wings were all taken.  Some of the other children had chosen wings, too, to my dismay!  I was so accustomed to being served a wing, I felt that I was cheated!  So I just got up from the table and left the house and started down the hot, sandy path on my way home!  Golden and Lavina followed me and taking me by the hands they tried to persuade me to go back to the dinner table.  They even promised to give me a wing, a piece of chicken they had each chosen.  I reluctantly agreed to go back with them, but I was so embarrassed and ashamed of myself, that I settled for a drumstick that time.

   One evening Papa and Uncle Jim went fishing, taking Vernon with them.  They had no luck fishing, but brought home some bull frogs instead.  Vernon, along with Golden and Lovell were excited about having frog legs for supper, but I kept quiet, just listening.  Aunt Lou, who always took every opportunity to have a good laugh, told us children that the frog legs would move while being cooked in the pan!  I’m sure the surprised look on my face was comical, and I assured her that I would not be eating any frog legs!  I didn’t at that time nor any other time through the years.  I probably cooked them for my sons a few times, but that is one delicacy I shunned.

  Laura was such a lovable person, always laughing with us kids, spoiling us all, I’m sure.  At Maggie’s again for the noon meal there were a lot of people around.  I seemed always to be on hand because Grandma was away so much of the time.  She may have gone to visit her daughter, my Aunt Bee, in Fannin County, Texas, that summer where Grandma’s brother, Jesse Ware was very ill.  He died at some point in that time frame, maybe that summer. 

She didn’t take Brother. By then, he was three, going on four, not requiring as much care as before.  So he, to my knowledge, just added one more to the several small children, which made for a large crew when we all came together.  Due to the kindheartedness and love Aunt Lou, Maggie and Laura showed us, Brother and I just blended in with the rest. 

Anyway, we were all eating again at noon.  The long dining table seated eight or ten persons at once, was not sufficient to seat us at the same time.  Some had to wait until “second table”, an expression commonly in use then.  Laura was visiting, along with Maggie so some of us kids waited with the women.  After the first table of diners finished and left the table, Maggie began to wash plates for us to use.  But what did Laura do?  Instead of washing a plate, she proceeded to turn one upside down and begin putting food on the bottom.  We looked at her in astonishment and then discovered that this plate was not a regular dinner plate, but a decorative plate, with a rim on the bottom that extended up sufficiently to accommodate a serving of food.  We all had a good laugh, with Laura leading in the fun.

    There was another activity in the Ware household that impressed me for some reason, and that was wash day.  I suppose that Grandma, and my mother before her, and aunts had heated the water for laundering in some type of container such as a dish pan or a wash boiler which they placed on top of the kitchen stove.  But Will and Maggie built the fire for heating wash water around a huge, black, iron pot.  Trees close by afforded plenty of wood for fuel, so this was a convenient and economical method to heat water for washing.  I still smell the fire or smoke to this day, which I learned later was from the burning pasteboard boxes used as kindling for the fire.  Many years later when we burned the household trash in a 50 gallon metal drum, we disposed of old fruit jar cases that had deteriorated in the dampness down cellar and were no longer fit to store our canned fruit.  This same odor was wafted on the breeze, bringing back memories of laundry day at the home of Will and Maggie Ware.

  Wise mother as Aunt Lou was, she required of her children to rest and sleep; a nap in the long summer afternoons.  I, alone, while Papa worked in the field and Grandma and Brother away vacationing, was lonely on those afternoons.  I would wander across to Aunt Lou’s house only to find that the kids couldn’t come out to play, and her admonishing me to go back home and rest.  But I could never sleep in the daytime, so I would go home and wait until I saw or heard them outside playing, then I would go and play with them.  I felt very neglected by them – it seemed that they were kept in purposely to keep us apart – now, I understand the discipline of a considerate mother!  They would promise to come to my house, and occasionally they did.  One afternoon I was expecting them and watching through the window I saw Vernon and Golden leave their house.  Because they were always asleep, I decided to be “asleep” when they knocked on the door, which I kept closed when alone.  A few quilts were stacked on a trunk under the window, so I curled up on the improvised cot, and pretended to be asleep while watching with one eye on the path between our two homes.  I waited until they knocked on my door, then quickly opened it to them!  I’m sure I didn’t look very sleepy, I was not a good pretender!

 I wasn’t always free to play with my cousins as I would go with Papa to the cotton patch down by the river.  The road led past Uncle Jim’s house, down a hill, a short distance below, to our field.  I was barefoot, but Papa and I would leave the house before the sun was high, and I still recall the cool “squishy” sand between my toes, and how careful I was to keep off the grass burrs that might have scattered off into the sandy path.  An interesting phenomenon awaited us once in the early morning sun, when madam spider had decided to build a home across our path, reaching from one tall clump of weeds and grass over to another.  It was beautiful in its perfect symmetric design: dew sparkled as it caught the sun’s rays, forming sparkling diamonds.  A few flies and other insects were trapped in the web, but the spider was nowhere to be seen.  I stood in awe at the spectacle until Papa calmly swept the web away with his hand and we went on our way to the cotton patch.

   Leaving in the early morning for a day’s work, carrying our lunch in a syrup bucket with a tight lid, to prevent ants creeping into it, we picked up our hoes, mine with a short handle, ready to cut the weeds from the rows of cotton.  Our lunch consisted of Vienna sausage and crackers, sometimes, with cheese, but generally slices of fried salt pork, biscuits, and fried potatoes.  The potatoes were cold and “chokey” by noon.  I remember Papa taking his knife from his pocket and using it to open the tight lid of the bucket.  I could carry the dinner bucket, but our water jug was much too heavy for me.  It was a white stone jug with a brown top, with a tow-sack wrapped about it, sewn with heavy twine.  After filling with water, the outer covering was soaked with water too, and a cork tightly fitted into the neck of the jug from which jutted a round handle by which a man’s finger could carry it.  Papa usually tied a heavy twine or a piece of small rope onto it for a more convenient handle on the jug, however.

  The sand was not cool now, so it was necessary that I walk near the cotton stalks in the opposite row which shaded the ground from the burning sun.  We would work until nearly sundown and by then, the sand had cooled some.  Also, another way of keeping out of the sand was to walk on flat weeds along the path, some of which were as large as small throw rugs.  This was purslane, but we called it “pursley” which was a species of milkweed, providing a cool refuge to our bare feet!

    An incident which frightened all the family, and especially me, occurred that summer of 1912.  Our family, along with Uncle Jim’s family, Will Ware’s family, Laura and George all went to the river for a picnic.  The major attraction was splashing in the few holes of water still found on the dry sand bar.  To be nearer the water, we all loaded in the wagon and drove across the sand.  After our fun of swimming and playing in the water, we all loaded in the wagon again to be off, on our way home.  The grown-ups had told us all to sit down on the quilts in the bed of the wagon, but I hadn’t quite found a place; moreover, I was standing at the very back of the wagon, with no end-gate in place.  I’m sure the men all thought they had us all seated, when the team suddenly started to move out, which caught me off balance and I fell flat on my back on the firm sand bar!  The team and wagon was stopped quickly, Papa ran to me, along with several others.  The breath was forced from by body, so it was a few seconds before my breathing was normal again.  No damage was done, I received a severe scolding and our summer picnic ended on a solemn note, to be sure.

    The small house where we had lived for more than a year was on Uncle Jim’s place, so when cotton harvest began to loom in the distance, Uncle Jim realized he would need our house to settle some family to pick his cotton.  Papa then proceeded to build us a new little house down on our land.  With all the men, and probably neighbors, too, pitched in their help, we soon had a two room house with a small porch off the living room – bedroom approximately sixteen by fourteen feet, and a small kitchen – dining area about ten by eight feet.  The large room provided enough space for our two beds, the stand table and our three trunks, and the kitchen was large enough for our small stove, the “pie” safe and our table and chairs.  Possibly, Papa built shelves in a corner for storage space.

      There were not many pictures on the walls of our new home, but one outstanding one was an enlarged photograph of Grandmother Watts in its massive frame.  It hung in a prominent place on the north wall of our larger room, and the window on the west let in the afternoon sun which enhanced the beauty of the picture as it fell upon the beautiful, but strong face of a woman with a severe coiffure of black hair, parted in the center and drawn back to the nape of the neck.  The blue-gray steady eyes looked directly at the viewer above the blue and black blouse with windowpane checks.  A close fitting wide black collar with a narrow bow was tied in front.  The photograph had been enlarged in the year 1910, or earlier, but the original picture was taken in 1892.  Obviously, the colors were painted in when the enlargement was made.  I can see the large picture yet in my memory as that low western sun fell in bold relief on the blue blouse with the black window pane checks.

       A family with two girls and a small boy moved into our little one room home.  They were there to gather cotton for Uncle Jim, and on Sunday afternoons we would visit them sometimes.  An amazing and interesting practice of this thrifty family was that they bought “Post Toasties” by the carton.  This large carton containing several boxes of the cereal was large enough for two or three six and seven year olds to get into and sit down!  What fun to visit their children and enjoy playing this unusual game!

   The small porch on the northeast corner of the house that Papa built proved to be a haven for houseflies as the nook provided a shade from the sun plus a protection from the wind.  So Papa contrived a device to catch the flies gathering there.  Despite all they could do with a screen door, flies still crawled into the house from the porch.  This fly trap that Papa constructed was made of screen wire formed into a cylindrical shape, some 10 – 12 inches across the length of a roll of the wire.  Inside this cylinder he fitted a conical shape of this wire, securely at the base to one end of the cylinder.  The smaller end of the cone, with a small opening pointed to the opposite end of the cylinder which was covered neatly and securely with a piece of the screen wire.  The completed trap was then placed in a strategic spot on the porch, with a sprinkling of sugar or maybe molasses to bait the unwary flies.  By entering the wide open end of the cone, and traveling the length to the small opening, they were trapped into an area from which there was no escape.  Papa then retrieved the cylinder of wire filled with swarming flies, held it over a blaze to destroy the flies.  It was a successful method of catching flies, but one morning Papa went out to inspect his trap and, “lo and behold” there was a vinegaroon, about six inches in length in the area with the flies!  This small varmint, a species of the scorpion, was thought to be extremely venomous so we had quite an excitement around our house at that unfortunate catch!  They acquired their name from the odor that they emit when disturbed, a scent akin to that of vinegar.  Papa left the vinegaroon in the trap for awhile for members of the families of Uncle Jim Thornton and Will Ware to view.  Some had seen the scorpion before, some of the younger set had not seen one up close, until then.

  The summer and fall wore on and at last it was school time again.  Golden started to school that fall, so the three of us. Vernon, Golden and I trudged to school about one and one-half miles by the road.  One morning we stopped by the McPherson home on our way to school to see if the kids wanted to walk with us.  The McPhersons, Buck and Maisie, had two boys and one girl, Elsie, a few years my senior.  Maisie was a cousin of Papa, Uncle Jim and Will Ware and Laura Pearce.  She was the eldest daughter of Grandma’s brother, Uncle Bud and Aunt Ellie whom we have met earlier in this writing.  Maisie was ill much of the time while we lived by them, which required Elsie’s missing many days of school to help Maisie about the house.  The McPherson boys had already gone to school, about one-half mile from their home by the road, about a quarter of a mile across the cow pasture.  Vernon proceeded to lead us across the pasture.  Golden and I encountered some trouble at the pasture fence as we held the strands of barbed wire apart while we each climbed through.  Vernon went on ahead yelling to us to hurry.  That day is as vivid as any in my entire memory!  Golden and I started across that pasture, running to catch up to Vernon, but the cows grazing peacefully there began to appear larger and larger to me!  Vernon yelled all the more for us to come on and Golden ran – she would follow her brother anywhere – but I ran back the other way and somehow made it through the barbed wire fence.  I went to the McPherson home, deciding to stay with them and catch Vernon and Golden on the way home.  I asked them not to tell Papa because I was sure he would punish me, but I got the lesson assignments from Vernon, and went on home with them.  I didn’t tell Papa, which proved an unwise decision, because after a few days, Aunt Lou told him, and did I catch it!  He whipped me with a horse whip, called a “black snake” but I suppose he hit me only three or four times, it scared me more than it hurt me, as I don’t remember any welts from the whipping.  If I had gone home and told him that I was afraid of the cows, and couldn’t cross the pasture, he would have scolded me, but he would have understood.  So the punishment was really for deceiving him, which, to Papa, constituted a lie!

   

Grandma was away for the beginning of that school year; probably at Aunt Bee’s, as Grandma’s brother, Uncle Jesse lived there and as I have assumed, he passed away during the year of 1912.  They never bothered me with the sad news, but I suppose we children all knew about it; however, as we were not directly concerned, the event caused no permanent memory.  I’m not sure where Brother was, whether Grandma took him with her or perhaps Maggie and Laura cared for him for a few weeks.  Aunt Lou had the care of me.  I lived at home with Papa in our little house on the river, but I would go be Aunt Lou’s on my way to school each morning in time for her to comb my long, heavy, dark brown hair, and to see that my neck and ears were clean.  She joked about combing my hair.  She said I never cried when she combed it as I did when Grandma did it, because I was afraid to cry!  But that was not the reason at all!  Aunt Lou was used to combing her little girls hair and so she knew just how to hold the strands of hair while she pulled the comb through them.  Grandma, on the other hand, was unused to taking care of children plus the fact that she had to hurry through the process of getting me ready for school on time.  Aunt Lou, with her sense of humor, always found a way to make fun of unpleasant experiences!

We end this narrative in the Fall to Winter of 1912. A major move comes in the next chapter with an important new person joining Pearl’s little family. Stay tuned! RAN

The year 1911, left me with many “firsts” in my memories:  I recall how strange Papa’s shirt looked without his collar buttoned onto it.  Perhaps, to this point, he had worn only shirts with attached collars.  These collarless shirts were equipped with separate collars which were starched and ironed very stiff.  The collar was buttoned on the shirt collar band at the back and the two thicknesses of the stiff collar plus the two buttonholes in the shirt front required a strange looking button with a flat side to fit next to the neck with the other mound like side pushed through all of the thicknesses of buttonholes.   Whew!  Many an appointment was made late on the gentleman’s part if he happened to drop, or otherwise lose, his collar button!  But the gentleman’s trouble is not over; at least Papa’s was not.  The four-in-hand tie must be tied around the collar before it is turned down and smoothly fitted around the neck.  Both husbands and wives were thankful when soft shirt collars came into vogue!

  I lost my first teeth in 1911.  My two lower front teeth had become loose and Papa had helped them out with his big thumb and forefinger, but something happened to break the enamel on my right upper front tooth causing a small hole to appear right in the center of that tooth.  It must have been a source or irritation to me, as I was always conscious of the hole being there.  I discovered or maybe someone else suggested, that I could put a pin through the tooth, so I went around poking the pin through the tooth for my amusement and to my father’s dismay.  Finally, he decided, as it wasn’t loose yet, to take me to see a doctor and have it extracted.  A brush arbor revival meeting was in progress at Hess, our small town three miles away.  Papa decided to attend the meeting one morning, taking me along.  Grandma and Brother were away, but that was really no reason for my going; he probably had the plan in mind to see the “Doc” at the meeting if not in his office. I don’t recall the doctor’s name that practiced out of Hess, Oklahoma, who made house calls, delivered the babies in the community and always had a little black bag close at hand.  Papa spied “Doc” as we sat in the preaching services that morning and as soon as they closed, we made our way to the west edge of the arbor where we found the doctor standing, talking with someone.  Papa soon got a chance to speak to him, asking his advice on the condition of my tooth.  The doctor looked at it, pressed his fingers upon it and recommended that it be taken out. 

He didn’t even say, come over to my office – Papa didn’t wait for that, I suppose – he just asked “Doc” if he had his “pullikens” (colloquial) with him.  “Doc” nodded, pointing to his bag.  Extraction of a tooth was referred to as “pulling” it, hence the colloquial expression.  So there, under the brush arbor at the site of a revival service, I lost my front tooth with the hole in it!  I don’t remember an excess of bleeding – Papa probably took care of that with his pocket handkerchief – and we were all on our ways!  I don’t know whether I kept the tooth or not.  I should think I would have kept it as a keepsake!  A souvenir?

    We also attended church services at the school house, South Greer, where I began my formal schooling in early 1912.  I remember our attending on Sunday mornings, and on two separate occasions Papa and I were invited home with members of the church.  I don’t remember the family’s name who lived in the half dugout but Papa warned me as we drove west of the school house some one to one and one-half miles, that the home was partly underground.  I had never seen a home such as that; consequently on going down the steps I was quite apprehensive as to what we would encounter.  Surprisingly enough, it was a neat home where a father, a mother and three or four children resided.  In the dining area a table was set with a delicious meal, so I finally felt very secure about the visit in the home underground.

    On the other occasion, we were invited to the home of Ed and Myrtle Jones who lived about a mile east of the school.  They had no children, so after lunch, as Papa and Ed talked, Myrtle tried to entertain me by searching out discarded face powder boxes, bits of fragrant soap and other niceties, which really weren’t very entertaining to a six year old going on seven!  But she was trying to keep me happy as best she could.

  The high point of this Sunday, however, was the way in which I was dressed; moreover, both Papa and I were oblivious of the circumstance!  The dress was red dotted Swiss, with white dots, very sheer material.  Maggie and Laura had advised Papa that I had outgrown my dresses, so he brought home a length of material for them to make me a new dress.  It was very pretty, also, very sheer!  Papa, not being aware of the need of a slip, or under skirt as they were known in those days, put the dress on with clean panties, shoes and stocking, assuming I was correctly dressed.  I don’t know at what point Papa and I were made aware of his error in dressing his daughter, but I was so embarrassed that it remains with me to this day!  It seems that as we dropped by the Ware’s that afternoon on our way home, Maggie and Laura laughingly asked where my underskirt was?!  I was never to forget that faux-pas.

   Laura’s son visited a few days at Vernon, Texas with his granddad’s family.  One evening as I was spending the night with Laura, she said that we would sleep together in hers and George’s bed – he was eleven but in our crowded homes it was not uncommon for large boys to sleep with their mothers.  Laura said that I could sleep on George’s pillow, which smelled of hair tonic, very fragrant and manly smelling!  That fragrant, heavenly hair tonic remained in my memory for days and even weeks!  I believe there was another bed in Laura’s and George’s room, perhaps Uncle Jap’s bed, as that was Uncle Jap’s room.  I don’t remember seeing him often, but I know how he looked – tall, thin, wearing dark clothes, a straight brimmed black or brown hat, using a walking cane.  He must have spent some time with his youngest brother Denford at Vernon, in those years.

    In January, 1912, Vernon, Golden and I began school at South Greer School, about one and a quarter miles away.  Vernon had attended school at Pleasant Valley #255 in Tillman County, the area where they formerly lived, but this was my first school.  Our teacher was Mrs. Pole.  She was blind in one eye, which widely gazed at us at all times.  She may have suffered a facial stroke in that side of her face, also, as it appeared slightly disfigured.  Poor Mrs. Pole!  (Why can’t all elementary school teachers be young and pleasant?!)  Mrs. Pole had a daughter about my age whom all of the students said was spoiled.  She would have attained that title anywhere, however, as she was the “teacher’s kid”!

  I had a dislike for Mrs. Pole and her daughter, too. This was probably because I was expected to dislike her, by the other students. But I can’t really complain about my first teacher because she was very good to me.  At home to amuse myself, I would peruse our newspaper.  Papa read, so I wanted to read.  The newspaper was The Semi Weekly Farm News, published in Dallas, Texas.  The “Cousins Page” of particular interest to me, was a collection of short letters contributed by young children.  I would spell the words to Grandma while she, in turn, pronounced them for me.  It was a slow process, but it paid off for me.  I recall Grandma’s encouragement; this, however, to keep me busy, from asking her so many questions.  I likely progressed well in my writing, also, as I got Grandma’s and Pap’s letters from the Aunts and traced over the words in those years, too.

    So it was that on a cold, winter day, I came to Mrs. Pole’s classroom, sitting close around the heating stove with the other children, she gave me a book to read.  It was called The Primer.  As she asked me to read the first simple sentences of two words, then three or four, Mrs. Pole soon discovered I was farther advanced in my reading than a Primer.

I am not sure how rapidly I progressed, but when I had read through the Primer, I think the first day, Mrs. Pole provided me a First Reader.  I had very few obstacles in that class, also, so she didn’t hold me back.  I moved to the Second Reader within  a short period of time, now in the class with Vernon.  School was a broad new life that I entered into as the three of us, Golden, Vernon and me, walked to school together, eagerly engaged in the learning process as days and weeks went by.

   I remember that winter, Papa brought home a package of coffee – I don’t know the brand – but inside the package was a small, red cellophane bear.  It was encased in an envelope on which the instructions were written.  By laying out the small bear in the palm of the hand, it would turn somersaults, roll and unroll itself, doing all such tricks.  It would not perform just lying on the table, for instance, but only in the atmosphere of the warm, damp palm of the hand!  Very fascinating!

So ends some wonderful experiences of six and seven year old Pearl, which adult Pearl recalls with joy. She has family nearby. She has cousins her age that bring much enjoyment. We do not hear about Billy or Grandma very much. And Vinie is not discussed yet. That will come in the Summer of 1912. I will publish it very soon. RAN

“Frequent moves” is a theme of Pearl’s early life. Now, early January, 1911, they move to Jackson County, in western Oklahoma, which earned statehood only 4 years before. The most prominent feature in these next three chapters is Grandma Thornton’s family. “Grandma” is Lasiphene Ware Thornton. Her father, Merritt R. Ware, born in 1814, has moved from Missouri to north Texas to farm and ranch. His oldest son, Jasper, called Uncle Jap, also came west, homesteading 160 acres in western Oklahoma Territory in 1905, now Greer County, just west of Jackson County. Jesse Ware also obtained a homestead in the same area. But, due to illness, he was forced to sell it, and move to Texas. Denford Ware, two years younger brother to Lasiphene, and the youngest son of Merritt has moved to Texas with his father. You will meet Denford’s three children, Will, Laura and Gus. Will and Laura are pretty central to this section of Pearl’s next two to three years. Note that Maggie Ware is Will’s wife, but Aunt Mag Powell, whom we encounter at the outset, is a Thornton, Lasiphene’s daughter and Peter’s younger sister living in Frederick, married with a child. Aunt Bee, mentioned at the end, is Grandma’s daughter in Texas. Take a careful look at the insert below to see the relationships in the Ware family we will meet.

This map shows Devol, Oklahoma in the southeast corner, which is a few miles west of Randlett, where Peter’s brothers live. Far west, about 40 miles, find Hess in Jackson County near where they make their home, close to the North Fork River, a tributary of the Red River. Enjoy! RAN

Pearl’s narrative begins:

With ginning season over in Burkburnett, Papa began looking around for other work and another place to move.  We went to the home of Will and Maggie Ware in Jackson County, Oklahoma, three miles south of the small town of Hess.  Maggie and Will’s sister, Laura who also lived in the home, took Brother in hand, giving him small bits of soft food that he could swallow and digest.  With their patient care of him, his condition showed improvement soon.  I’m sure Grandma helped with Brother, but Maggie and Laura were not willing to hand him back to Papa and Grandma for awhile as his condition had become so delicate.

While Papa was scouting the area around Hess for work and a place to live, and the good practical nurses were doing so well with Brother, Papa left me at Aunt Mag Powell’s home in Frederick, Oklahoma, just across the North Fork River from the Ware place, some ten miles away.  This family consisted of Aunt Mag, Uncle Carthel Powell and their son, Ralph, who was some six weeks younger than Brother.  Uncle Carthel worked for the Peoples Ice Company, delivering ice from the “ice wagon”, a light one horse vehicle, to the households in Frederick.  He was a nice looking man with dark eyes and hair, nearly always in a jovial mood, as I remember him.  Aunt Mag was a dressmaker.  When Grandma Thornton finished housekeeping, she gave Aunt Mag her sewing machine.  Some years later as my Aunt continued to make dresses for the public, Uncle Carthel jokingly threatened to take the machine out and chop it to pieces if she didn’t stop dressmaking.  Aunt Mag countered this threat by laughingly saying, “No you won’t, it belongs to Mama!”

        Aunt Mag kept a neat, beautiful house.  The items that took my attention and pleased me most were the teacups with cherries as they hung in her kitchen cabinet.  I hoped to have some cups and saucers just like them sometime!  I was so lonely at this particular time, I’m sure I remained very quiet and seemingly, unhappy, but Aunt Mag became my “favorite” Aunt in the years to come.

    Will Ware was Uncle Denford Ware’s oldest son.  The Denford Wares were at home in the Vernon, Texas area on a farm and ranch.  Will, visiting Uncle Jap Ware in Greer County, found his future bride in Maggie Gillis in that community. After they were married Uncle Jap offered them a home with him.  At some point in time, Uncle Jap and Will and Maggie made an agreement for the exchange of the farm to the young couple for the care of Uncle Jap who was in his declining years.

    Laura Pearce and son, George, had cared for her grandfather, Merritt R. Ware, near Vernon, Texas, as long as he lived. Upon his death, they moved to the home of her brother, Will and wife, Maggie, across the Red River from Vernon.

   Papa found a small house in Jackson County, a couple of miles west of Holcomb’s Crossing, about two miles from Will Ware’s home.  After Papa had gotten the household goods, together with Grandma and me, all located, he went back to Frederick for supplies.  Brother was still with the Wares.  Our house furnishing consisted of a bachelor stove, also known as a “monkey stove”, to be used for cooking and warming the house.  This type of stove, fueled by wood or coal did not have a built in oven, but had a light weight drum type oven that fitted in between two lengths of stove pipe, which allowed the heat to circulate around the oven to bake the bread inside.  This little round oven had a tight fitting round door that could accommodate small pans of bread to bake.  

Grandma had a “pie safe” which served as a cabinet to store dishes plus staple groceries such as sugar, flour, coffee, and beans.  A water shelf for wash pan and water bucket, built onto the wall by the north door, and a dining table with a few chairs completed the kitchen furniture.  In the other room there were two beds and Grandma’s, Papa’s and Mother’s trunks, which held our clothes and other items.  In this room also, was Grandma’s stand table with glass marble claw feet.  This was our lamp table as we used kerosene for lighting.  

          It was a cold, cloudy, windy day when we moved to the small house, and there was no fuel to build a fire.  Papa would be back from Frederick as soon as he could in a wagon, but Grandma and I couldn’t wait.  Away from the house there were some tall dry stalks of  weeds which we gathered to kindle a fire in the stove.  The place had been occupied for the year before, perhaps, and Grandma and I found the place where the occupants had emptied their ashes and cinders from their fires.  Grandma took a small box and we picked up handful after handful of those cinders until we had enough to make a small fire.  Grandma broke the dry stalks into small pieces, lighted them with a match, then put the cinders on top.  The dry stalks soon caught fire, then the cinders caught on and soon we had a small fire to warm our hands and our toes.

   Papa returned from town with potatoes, salt pork, coffee, and oatmeal or other cereal.  We could obtain milk and eggs from the Wares who had both milk cows and chickens.  Papa also brought a sack of coal to add to the small fire in our stove.  Papa brought something else which was a delight to all children growing up in my era, in our culture: a new table cover of oil cloth!  Generally, grandmas and mamas would buy white oilcloth for the table, but Papa bought one with a bright floral design and when Grandma sat us down to salt pork, fried potatoes, gravy and biscuits, no meal ever tasted so good as that one did off the fragrant, new tablecloth!

   There was a vacant house close by the Ware’s to which we soon removed.  It was a one room structure some 16 feet by 18 feet, providing room enough for our household furnishings.  Uncle Jim Thornton moved next door to our little house in a larger house.  He was living at the time, some 30 miles away in the Big Pasture area near Grandfield, Oklahoma.  He drove over, on a cold day, to inspect the house, clean up the place a bit and do some repair.  He brought his son, Vernon, with him, who was one year my senior.  Papa was helping Uncle Jim around the house while Vernon carried away old buckets, cans and bottles to a dump ground down near the river. 

 I was over meeting my Uncle Jim and my cousin for the first time, but I became engaged immediately in helping carry the trash away.  After all was cleared away, Vernon, who had a very creative mind for a seven year old, quickly eyed the old bottles.  There were several of them, some were green, others brown, some clear glass.  These bottles held small amounts of colored substances, obviously not poisonous.  Vernon, talking all the while as he explained his ideas of creating different other colors by mixing certain proportions, using water we had carried to the dumping ground in the lee of the sandy bluff.  Remember, we were six and seven year olds about that time in January, 1911, and not very experienced.  But from that first acquaintance of Vernon Thornton, at that young age, I have always admired the many qualities of his analytical mind; his ability to take thoughts stored in his “memory bank” and to put them in proper perspective, making tremendous uses of this knowledge.  I learned many facts from Vernon through the years, actually, many of which I had learned and forgotten!  I received inspiration from his overview of history, both general history and family history.  And so, in some containers on this cold, wintry day in the lee of this sandy bluff on Red River, we mixed colors in bottles, named chemicals and concoctions, some never heard of before nor since, and knew within our childish minds we had had a profitable day; and then, our Papas called us!

            On another cold day that same winter, while living in the one room house, Laura was with Brother and me (I can’t explain where Grandma was, maybe at Aunt Mag’s for some dressmaking) and another child, maybe Lavina Gillis, Maggie’s, young sister.  It was a snowy day, but Papa had gone to town for supplies, maybe some coal.  Laura and we kids were playing games – she was exhausting her supply of ideas, I’m sure, when she called our attention to the north window and said, “Here comes my oldest brother!”  She repeated this phrase over and over as we watched the man, wrapped from head to toe, protected from the cold wind and snow.  We kids waited quietly with mounting apprehension, just wondering whether he would knock at our door!  And he did!  Laura was chuckling all the while in her own inimitable way, (she shook all over as she chuckled), as she opened the door.  To believe the man was her brother, was farthest from our thoughts!  There he stood, unrecognizable to us.  Laura, laughingly invited him in, and as he shook the snow off and began to unwrap, we recognized his face!  Gus Ware, Laura’s brother, not the very oldest brother but the oldest half-brother, son of Laura’s father who lived across the river in Texas.  That thrill was a pleasant break in our otherwise dreary day!

 Uncle Jim, Aunt Lou Ella and children soon moved into their new home.  The children were Elmer Vernon, Agnes Golden, Lonell and May.  The girls and I soon became better acquainted and loved to play together, when summertime arrived, Golden, Lovell and I had fun playing in their backyard.  Grandma was away visiting her daughters and other sons.  She took advantage of being alone, in a sense, having been a widow for a year now.  She took Brother with her that summer as Papa took them to Aunt Mag’s in Frederick.  When her visit was over there, she rode the train to Burkburnett, Texas, where she was met by some of Aunt Dove’s family or maybe Uncle Bob or Uncle Charley.  I believe Uncle Bert and Aunt Dora had moved with their children George, 16, and Martha Ellen, 13, back to Bokchito, Oklahoma by the year 1911.  After a pleasant visit among the children and families who lived there, she boarded the train again for Ector, Texas, to visit Aunt Bee and her family.  Uncle Jesse, Grandma’s ailing brother was at home there also.

    I was alone while Papa was at work, so I spent much time with Aunt Lula’s (as we called her) children.  Golden, Lovell, and I made roads in the clean sand, making houses of the damp sand following a shower.  These houses were made by digging a shallow hole in the sand, putting one foot in the hole, covering it over with the sand, then slipping our foot out carefully, letting the roof remain intact.  There was an art to that type construction and we all became quite adept at it!  For people to occupy these homes, we found finger length sticks for the grown-up people, shorter sticks for the children.  To distinguish the men and the women, the boys and the girls apart, we learned to wrap pieces of cloth around the women and the girls; scraps of percale and gingham left from sewing our dresses by Aunt Lula and Laura.

 At Uncle Jim’s place many tall jimson weeds grew around the back where we played.  They provided shade for us and sometimes we gathered the blossoms.  The jimson weed is classified poisonous, but we were not aware of this until Lovell came up with nightmares and dilated pupils after playing with the plants.  So we were cautioned never to touch them again.

(Jimson weed, also known as devil’s snare or devil’s trumpet, is native to Mexico and has been naturalized in many other regions. The scientific name for this plant is Datura stramonium. It is found in the United States from New England to Florida, and as far west as Texas. D. stramonium is part of a genus of toxic Datura plants that belong to the nightshade family. Jimson weed grows in cultivated fields, grazing lands, and empty lots. The plant is between 2 and 5 feet (0.6-1.5 meters) tall with spreading branches and large serrated leaves. The white flowers are 2-4 inches (5-10 centimeters) long and tube shaped. The seeds are contained in prickly burr-like capsules. Toxic tropane alkaloids are found in all parts of the plants and can cause fatal anticholinergic poisoning if ingested in high enough doses. D. stramonium is known for a mass poisoning that took place in colonial Jamestown in 1679, accounting for one of its many common names, Jamestown weed. RAN,ed.)

   Not far from Aunt Lula’s house was a plum thicket.  She began to talk to us about “going to the plum thicket one day” when the plums were ripe.  It sounded like good fun until that day arrived!  She had warned us the night before that we would go early to the plum patch while it was cool, before the sun was high.  Early meant sunrise, or a few minutes later, so we all went to the plum patch rubbing our eyes, at least I did!  Each of us was given a one gallon bucket and told to begin gathering the ripe fruit.  Everyone got busy except me.  I gathered a few plums and sat down, leaning back against a large tree.  I may have dropped to sleep.  Then I heard Aunt Lula’s voice, “Pearl, get busy and gather plums.”  “I’m sleepy”, I answered, getting to my feet.  I’m sure everyone’s bucket was filled before mine.  Aunt Lula never did let me forget that incident.  She possessed quite a sense of humor!

 Another day we were sent down in the concrete cellar to clean it up.  We carried brooms, buckets and whatever else we needed for equipment, and when we had it thoroughly clean, we decided to make a “play house” down there.  Vernon was assigned another job outside, like cutting weeds, but he was alone at his task, so decided to check on us girls to see what we were doing.  He was down the cellar with us, using his expertise to help arrange our “play house” when all the fun suddenly came to an end.  We looked up the cellar steps and saw Aunt Lula coming down with a switch in her hand, calling Vernon’s name.  She was coming down to punish him for leaving his job unfinished.  Aunt Lula laughed many times at the way in which I responded to her.  She said my eyes were as big as saucers, and I made a beeline for the cellar door and flew up those steps as fast as I could.  I suppose the other children kept still while the corporal punishment was being administered!

 At Will’s and Maggie’s house some of us children had a new experience some time that year.  Just who was there with me is vague in my memory, but Maggie became ill one afternoon and “Doc” came in his buggy and carrying his black bag.  They put us children out back and I can still feel the apprehension and the tension that gripped us as we played – mostly marking time, it seemed – under the hackberry tree and among the moon flower bushes.  After a period which seemed hours to us, they called us in to see a new baby boy!  He was Maggie’s and Will’s second child; Lela was three that year.  He acquired the nickname “Dobbin” which stayed with him all of his life.

 That summer I remember being in Laura’s and George’s room quite a few times.  They had an old Victor “talking machine” with a horn which was detached from the machine, upside down on the table.  The machine was not in good repair – maybe just a new needle would have fixed it – at any rate, we didn’t hear much music from it.  I loved Laura much as she was easy to talk with and would let me look at some interesting keepsakes she prized quite highly.  For a Christmas present Papa had gotten her a paper weight, a glass dome some four inches in diameter with a winter scene inside.  By turning the object upside down, then setting it upright again, a violent snowstorm ensued!  A very interesting paperweight!  Will’s and Maggie’s little daughter, Lela, would come into Laura’s room and help herself to Laura’s belonging. 

 Laura kept her bedroom door closed so Lela could not get in and prowl among her keepsakes, but sometimes, when I was in the room, Lela would come in.  She was fascinated by the phonograph horn, and I still retain her image as she tiptoed and barely reached the horn sitting upside down by the machines.  Her little fingernails screeched upon the metal surface causing chills to run up and down my spine!  I would yell at her to stop, but she would keep up the screeching, watching me closely until I quietly led her out of the room.

  Around the Ware’s homestead were various trees and bushes.  There was a lone hackberry tree from which we ate berries – more seed than berry, but very tasteful.  Then there was the beautiful night flower we called “moon flower”, large trumpet-like white blooms with large soft velvety leaves; a rapid growth plant, fragile to the touch.  Beyond the hackberry tree and moon flower bushes, began the wild plum thicket, which provided fruit for the Ware household.  The Ware family had the habit of leaving the fruit canning jars unwashed until canning time the next season.  Needless to say, the cleaning task at canning time became a bit tedious.  I do not recall helping gather the plums as I did at Aunt Lula’s house, but Maggie and Laura enlisted me in washing the jars preparatory for canning the plums, as my six year old hand became quite useful in washing the inside of the small mouthed containers.  But to me it was fun.  I don’t recall the task as continuing over an extended period.

   There were lilac bushes in front of the house where we young people would play hide-and-go-seek when others were visiting.  Will’s and Laura’s father and stepmother, Uncle Denford and Aunt Violet, and their younger children, Elmer, Annie and Earl would come to spend the night and after supper would play in the front yard among the lilacs.  I recall that Will and Laura always addressed their stepmother as “ma’am”, which is an unusual title.  I suppose they began it when their father remarried, and continued it as long as they all lived.

(We are in the Springtime of 1911, Pearl does not mention turning six on January 27. She is reveling in new cousins with whom to play. We are getting a sense of living in a southwestern Oklahoma rural setting during the first generation of white settlers. Chapter Nine will bring new adventures for Pearl, where she reviews many “firsts” in her young life in 1911.) RAN