the life and loves of ruthie belle · told me to dig up some larkspur plants before dad plowed the...
TRANSCRIPT
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THE LIFE AND LOVES OF RUTHIE BELLE
By Esther Ruth Belle May-Brown-Immell
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INTRODUCTION
Some other members of our family have written or started on their life story. I
hope they will all try to write something about their life. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could
sit down and read a real life story our grandparents, great-grandparents, uncles, aunts or
cousins have written in the long ago? Wouldn’t it be nice to know how they had lived,
loved and struggled, if they were rich or poor, happy or sad, sick or well?
Perhaps some of my distant relatives, not even born yet, will read my story and
know what I was like. They will probably think I had a hard life and I did. Still, I was
happy most of the time. I always had high hopes things would get better.
I will dedicate this, my life story, to all of my children and my nephew Dewey
Neufeld who encouraged me to write it and who has worked so hard and given so much
of his time in helping us to find out so much about our ancestors.
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The Life Story of Ruth Belle May/Brown/Immell
This story is written by myself. It covers the period from the time I can remember
until the present time (1981). What I am writing is the true facts, as I remember them or
as told to me by my mother.
I was born January 26, 1905, somewhere near Oak Hill, Missouri. My parents
were William Logan May and Minnie Agnes May nee Muskat. My Grandma Muskat
(Emily Shoemaker Muskat) lived with my parents from the time they were married until
she died, with the flu, at Hesston, Kansas, in 1918. Granny’s husband (John Muskat) and
one son Earnest mortgaged her farm and went to the gold mines in Colorado. After a few
letters home, nothing more was ever heard from them. Granny had no way of making a
living for herself after Mom got married. Her several children all died young except Ben,
the oldest and Minnie, the youngest. Life must have been really hard for them after my
grandfather left. Ben provided for the family until all were gone and Mom was old
enough to work out as a hired girl. The farm was lost because there was no money to pay
off the mortgage.
My first memory is living in a house in the country. This could very well be the
place where I was born. I remember a big yard and a gate we went through to walk up a
lane to where there was a field, which had been cleared and grew up with sprouts. Dad,
Mom and I went to this field. Mom spread something on the ground for me to sit on
while Dad cut sprouts. There was woods all around the field. I found my first hard-
shelled turtle there. Mom called them terrapins. I was fascinated by it, but Mom warned
me it would bite and wouldn’t let go “till it thundered”.
At this same house, I gave Mom and Granny quite a scare. They had a rack,
which was made with four legs, a low shelf and a high top shelf. The rack was used to
store quilts and blankets in during the summer. There was some sort of curtain around the
outside. I crawled in on top of the folded bedding and went to sleep. Mom and Granny
said they were really scared when they couldn’t find me. I’m sure there was great relief
and happiness when they did find me. There were a lot of woods, snakes and wolves,
which could harm a small child.
I was always a restless and active person as long as I can remember although, I
can’t remember ever running off. Mom said I fell in a tub of wash water when I was little
and nearly drowned. This may account for my being afraid of water all my life.
We lived in Tea, Missouri for a time. Dad worked for Mr. Lee Robinson who
owned a farm near Tea. Mom said she would send me down to the store when she needed
something. If I was big enough to send to the store alone, I really should remember
something about living there but I don’t.
Mom said Granny went to visit a neighbor who had a child sick with the measles.
She always wore big aprons, which covered most of the long dresses they wore a long
time ago. Some of the aprons had wide hems and were embroidered. When Granny or
Mom visited, they just put on a clean apron. When Granny came home, she took the
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apron off and spread it over a bush in the yard. They thought germs could be carried on
clothing. She told Mom what she had done and, of course, I was all ears. When they
noticed I wasn’t with them and went looking for me, they found me out in the yard
looking over the apron trying to find some measles. I didn’t find any or take the measles
until years later when we lived in Owensville. I remember the big aprons they wore, the
long dresses with long sleeves and high necks and the petticoats. I’m glad I never had to
dress like that.
However, the aprons were very handy. They carried anything in them, which
needed to be carried. They gathered eggs, picked aprons full of vegetables or fruit,
brought in chips or dry corncobs to start a quick fire in the stove in the morning. The
aprons were used to wipe wet hands, hold hot pot handles and wipe kids’ runny noses.
Who needed hankies when there was the corner of an apron handy? Those were the good
old days?
Mom had typhoid fever when we lived in Tea. The doctor rode a horse all the way
from Owensville to see her. Knowing Dad, as I did in later years, I am sure the doctors
were never paid a penny for coming. In those early years doctors weren’t called when a
baby was born. Midwives or experienced neighbors did the job.
Mom said they moved to Tea when I was a big baby. It was winter and it was
very cold. I was covered up but kept wanting to look out. I caught a bad cold and my eyes
swelled shut. I wonder why they had to move in the midst of winter?
My next memories are when we lived on the Logan Farris farm near Oak Hill. I
don’t remember the move or how long we lived there. I wish now we had started all this
while Mom was still living so we could have asked her about all these things. It was a
happy time of my life even though I got spanked quite often. I was probably a spoiled
little brat since I was the first child. They said I was sassy and this was not allowed.
Granny said, “I had to be conquered while I was young”. I was with Mom in nearly
everything she did and I think she wanted it that way. Granny was a live-in baby sitter,
which left Mom and I free to do lots of outside things we couldn’t have done otherwise.
Granny was a big help to Mom in lots of ways and I believe they got along well at this
time in their lives. Whatever Mom was doing, she took time to teach me and explain
about what she was doing. I was quick to learn. She had an old sewing machine, which
probably was Granny’s. I was always nearby when she sewed and I begged for a needle
and thread so I could sew also. She would pull a “raveling” from the edge of the calico
material and thread the needle for me. She would cut out some little squares of cloth so I
could make a “four patch” quilt block. I was cautioned not to lose the needle. We were so
poor and thread and needles cost money.
I think, by letting me do all the things she did when I was small, Mom helped me
to become the “jack of all trades” I became in later life. She let me help in the garden
would give me a few seeds and a little place in the corner to plant them. When I was
older, she showed me how to set out plants and hoe the right way so they would grow. In
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later years, I was taught to make quilts, crochet, make clothes and cook. I still love to
garden, sew, cook and just work.
One time, Granny stood me on a chair and showed me how to iron hankies and
dish wiping rags. The irons were heavy iron with an iron handle, which had to be held
with a thick pad. The irons were heated on the cook stove. When one got cool, it was put
back on the stove and a hot one was used. There were three irons in a set. It was
dangerous for a child, but Granny stood by me and I think I only did it this one time. I
also did dishes a time or two. I don’t remember where Golda was born, but Virgil was
born at the Farris place. Earl was born in Owensville. Golda wasn’t big enough to play
with me very much. I think she was slow in growing and also in learning. One time Mom
told me to dig up some larkspur plants before Dad plowed the garden. Golda was helping.
When I started to dig, she stooped over in front of me and the hoe hit her head. She
wasn’t hurt much, but it caused some excitement for awhile.
The house had a long front bedroom facing the road. The kitchen and porch were
to the back of the house. There was a small cellar, which was used to store vegetables or
canned fruit. We had a cow and Mom carried the crock of milk down there to keep it cool
till the cream came to the top. The cream was then skimmed off and made into butter. We
never drank whole milk. I loved fresh, warm milk and sometimes I would get a sip, but
not often. They didn’t know about nutrition in those days.
One evening I went to running down the cellar steps, which went down in the
kitchen. A black snake was hanging over one of the steps. I stepped right over it without
seeing it. Mom soon had it killed. No snake ever had a chance when she was around.
There was a big shed just back of the house. A lot of weeds grew along the back wall and
Mom was out there chopping them down with a hoe. A big rattlesnake was coiled up in
the weeds. Again, there was a lot of excitement, but Mom came on strong with the hoe
and another snake bit the dust. The old-time hoes were very heavy. I have killed several
snakes in my time and a hoe is a good weapon. One good chop and they don’t have a
chance. A few days later, she killed another rattlesnake and she said she thought they
were mates.
Mom and Dad raised their own garden and grew such plants as tomatoes,
cabbage, peppers and tobacco. Mom raised tobacco because Granny and Dad smoked.
That is the only time I’ve ever seen it growing. Mom planted the tobacco seeds in a place
where a brush pile had been burned. After cutting down trees for wood, the small limbs
were piled up and burned. I don’t know why the tobacco seeds were planted there unless
it was because no weeds or grass came up. This seedbed was across the road and down a
path. We were going to see how the plants were growing. I was loping along in front, in
my bare feet, as usual and leaped right over a big rattler stretched across the path. Not
being able to see the best and not looking, I didn’t see it. Mom yelled at me to keep
going—don’t turn back and I went. Again, another snake was promptly killed.
Dad killed a big barn snake with the pitchfork. The snake had swallowed one of
our baby ducks and they thought it had eaten eggs. Dad carried the snake up in the yard
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where he was burning a pile of brush and threw it on the fire. We know now, harmless
snakes should not be killed as they eat insects and rodents. I think, I had a guardian angel
or I would have been bitten because I was always on the go.
There was a big apple orchard back of the house and some apple trees across the
back of the horse lot in front of the barn. In front of the house, there was a row of grapes,
which stretched down to the road. Mom was afraid for me to eat grapes. She said the seed
would get in my appendix and kill me. What few I did eat, I had to spit out the seeds.
There was a tree of early summer apples across the barn lot and they were so pretty with
a yellow and red blush on one side. I wanted one of the summer apples so bad, but Mom
told me not to go over there. Well, when they were busy in the house, I went over there
and got me one apple. I hurried back and sat down at the edge of the porch where they
couldn’t see me and I ate the apple. I, never in my life, told her what I had done.
There were two beds in the front room. Granny and I slept in one at one end of the
room and Mom and Dad slept in the other bed at the other end of the room. Granny slept
between homemade, woven wool blankets and they scratched. I guess I moved around a
lot. She would scare me so I would lay still. She would tell me a big dog would come and
get me or old raw head and bloody bones would get me. You can’t imagine the things,
which went through my little mind when she would say those things. There was a man
who came to our house to visit. It was night and he told one ghost story after another. I
listened to every word and believed it all. All of my life, I’ve had scary dreams and until I
was grown, I was afraid to go from one room to another in the dark. I have always been
afraid to climb on high places. We used those scratchy blankets until I was grown and I
still hate wool next to my skin.
We lived near Grandma May’s home—about a half mile I think. I know Mom and
I walked down there a few times. One time Dad went with us. I loved to play with the
kids. George and Mary were a little older than I was. Sometimes, they came to our house
to play. Once Mom and I went over to pick gooseberries and another time I was taken to
see my Great-Grandma (Sarah Jane May), who was sick in bed. She had a bench, which
sat over the bed to put her plate and cup on so she could eat.
I liked my Uncle Jim (James Martin May). He gave me a box of crayolas, but
Mom would only let me use them now and then. It is the only gift or present I can
remember when I was small. If I had a doll or toy, I cannot remember it. I had a pet lamb
until it grew up and Dad sold it. We had a little dog too. I didn’t like Uncle Jesse (Jesse
Earl May) because he kissed me a lot. My Mom never kissed me ever, all my life, until I
was old and she came down here to visit.
Some man shot a wolf not far from our house and hung it by the hind feet on a
tree limb. Mom and I went down and looked at it. We went walking in the woods another
time and saw a big sinkhole. It looked like an empty pond, but much deeper. I wonder
what made it?
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There was a small pond in the pasture back of the apple orchard. A peach tree
came up from a seed on the edge of the pond. One summer it was loaded with big yellow
peaches and mom was going to pick them when they got a little riper. One night,
someone came and picked them all. Mom always said it was Mabel (Mabel Francis May).
They canned peaches in tin cans and syrup buckets and sealed the lids with melted
sealing wax. She made pickled green beans in a big jar with salt—kind of like kraut.
They didn’t know how to can vegetables then and probably didn’t have jars. We hunted
the first greens that came up in the spring and Mom showed me the ones, which were
good to eat. If she said something was poison, I wouldn’t touch it. We ate wild onions,
too. One really needed something fresh after a long dry winter. Mom always cooked poke
leaves but Grandpa May (Thomas Walton May) said they were poison and wouldn’t eat
any. He always asked Mom if there were any cooked and she would say no, even if she
had put some in the greens. She told me the berries were poison. I never ate one in my
life, but my kids said they did when they were growing up.
I was getting old enough to be in school, but it was so far to walk and I had to go
through the woods. Mom wouldn’t send me. She did buy a primmer and taught Golda
and me our ABCs and how to read. We could read every word in the book. Many a time,
I would get tired and not pay attention to what she was saying and would get slapped. I
really am thankful to her, for getting me started in school. I may have grown up without
knowing how to read. That’s something else I would rather do now than eat and I do love
to eat. I can sit up half the night to finish a book I have started. Mom loved to read,
especially love stories; she could spell good and had good penmanship ability. I have
always scribbled. I guess one is born with a nice writing ability.
Sometime before we moved to Owensville, Grandpa moved his family to Oak
Hill, Missouri. They lived in a little house on a hill at the edge of Oak Hill while
Granddad built a cement house for them to live in. This house is still standing and the
walls are in good shape. We walked to Oak Hill to visit them in both houses. Mom,
Granny and us kids went and stayed all night. It’s the only two times I remember Granny
going anywhere. Mom said it was three miles. I was happy to go somewhere and I liked
to play with the kids.
Although my mother had a dislocated hip, she was always on the go and doing
something. I have always been a lot like her in that respect. It seems I am always busy at
something. One day, when our cow didn’t come home, Mom and I went to look for her.
We walked through the woods and brush. I was right behind Mom. She was pushing the
brush out of the way in front of her. Since I was short, a limb flew back and struck me in
the eye. It really hurt and I saw stars.
In the fall of 1912, my mother decided to move to Owensville so I could go to
school. She told Dad she was going and he could go along if he wanted. They loaded up
two wagons and moved to town. The family rode on the wagons, too. It was quite an
experience for me. I doubt if Mom had ever been to Owensville before either. We moved
into some rooms in a big, old building on main street downtown. It was called the
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“Gottenstroeter Building”. It had probably been used for business at one time. There was
also another family living there.
School had already started when we got there, but as soon as we were settled, I
started to school. This was just before I was eight years old in January. There was a
Stevenson family living in town, who were cousins of our family. They had two boys,
Andrew—the oldest and John—who was a little older than me. Mom sent me to school
with him (John), my first day and I was scared to death. I think it was the hardest thing I
ever did in my life, mentally. I walked as far behind him as I could. The only people I had
ever been with were my own relatives. Mom went across the street to a little grocery
store and bought a big red apple for me to take to school to eat at recess. I did live
through it, but when recess came, I took one bite of apple and threw the rest away. I
simple could not eat in front of the other people. I went through the primmer and first
reader that winter. After the first few days, it wasn’t so bad, but I never made friends easy
when I was young.
Dad worked at odd jobs or whatever he could find to do. He even cleaned out
toilets at night. My dad was never lazy. Wages were very small and work was scarce. I
wonder how we ever lived with a new baby every two or three years? They always
bought groceries on credit and I bet Dad never paid any house rent. We were always
moving. I know we lived in three and maybe even four different houses in Owensville.
We lived there three years before moving to Kansas.
Grandpa May moved his family to Owensville sometime after we moved. Jerry
(Geraldine E. May-Reed) said when we left there they went back to Oak Hill. Later, they
too moved to Kansas. I think we didn’t stay long at the first house we lived in. At the
next house we lived in, we could see the train passing across the field from where we
lived. I had never seen a train before. Mom told Golda and I we should never go over
there—it would run over us.
I did well in school and liked to go after I learned the ropes and got acquainted. I
told Mom I wanted to be a teacher. I couldn’t see the words or numbers the teacher would
write on the blackboard. I never told anyone I couldn’t see good. They probably thought I
was stupid. I didn’t even know my eyes were different from other kids.
One time when I was in the third grade, a line of us kids were standing up in front
of the room spelling. When we missed a word, we went to the foot of the class. Without
even knowing what was happening, I fainted. When I got over it, the teacher sent me
home. Another time this happened was early one morning. Granny was out of tobacco
and Mom sent me down to the store with Dad who was on his way to work. He bought
the little bag of tobacco for me to take home. When I got home, I sat down on a cot
behind the stove and promptly passed out. I have fainted a number of times in my life,
usually when I get hurt or am sick and try to walk around. Mom had the weakness of
fainting too and my son Alvin does the same thing.
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I remember more about the last house we lived in at Owensville, than the others.
It was a two-story frame house, which had two rooms downstairs, and two upstairs. A
grove of trees was across the street and in front of the house.
In the meantime, Grandmama’s family had moved to town and that is where
Mabel died. She had the black typhoid. They said her fever was terribly high and her
tongue swelled out of her mouth. We children weren’t allowed in to see her, as typhoid is
very contagious. She was a beautiful, tall, slender, dark-haired young girl. I can’t
remember her ever coming to our house. My mother did not like her. My Mom was a
jealous person. Carrie (Sarah Caroline May/Thomas) came home on the train. Mom and I
went to meet her. I had never been to the depot before or close to the train. When it
pulled in puffing out great puffs of black smoke and throwing sparks I was so scared. I
backed up as close to the depot as I could and, as far as I was concerned, I was still too
close. Carrie had come home for the funeral. Mom and Dad went, but I was grown before
I ever went to a funeral or saw a dead person.
Mom had a big loom in one of the room upstairs. She wove carpeting for other
people. They tore up old clothes in strips and sewed the ends together. The strips were
wound up in balls. The loom was strung with cord in different colors. The rag strips were
wound on a wooden shuttle, which was passed back and forth between the strings. The
strips were about a yard wide and very long. Later they were hand-sewn together and laid
over straw and papers. Mom only did the weaving. I’m sure woolen blankets were made
in this same way, but I can’t remember us making them. Mom also did washings for
people. She went to their homes and it was all done by hand on the washboard. She
would get fifty or seventy-five cents a washing. Mom would come home from doing a
wash and hurry to the store to buy something to fix us to eat. Quite often, some of their
country friends would come to town in a wagon and the women would stop at our house.
They never brought us anything from the farm and we could have used almost anything
such as a piece of home-cured meat, some homegrown vegetables or a chicken.
The cistern was under the back porch at this house. It needed cleaning out and
Dad decided to let me down on a rope to dip out the dirt and water and to wash the
bottom of the well. Again, I was scared to death, but it never entered my mind to refuse
to do it. I just knew I had to do what I was told. Jerry said she was there when this
happened and she was scared too.
It was in Owensville when Granny and Mom quarreled so much. Maybe Granny
wasn’t happy in town and maybe Mom changed too. Us kids were growing up and it’s
not easy for an older person to live with a house full of noisy brats. Mom was always
nagging Granny about her smoking, which was the only pleasure in life that she had. Her
eyes were going bad and all she could do was help with the housework. I think she did
her share. Again, I say Mom was lucky to have a live-in kid sitter. It left her free to go
whenever she felt like it, but Granny never had a chance to get away from it all. I really
don’t think Mom appreciated all Granny did for her room and board.
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Mom went to a tent revival meeting and got “saved” as they used to say. She later
joined the Baptist church. One day they had a quarrel and Granny called Mom a
“sanctified devil”. Mom said, “You’re another”! They would call each other “liars” and
they really got loud. I think they got along better in Kansas. Dad went to Kansas, to work
in the wheat harvest the last two summers we lived in Owensville.
The last summer, he started a shoe repair shop out in Hesston. Again, Mom
decided to move—this time to Kansas. It was in the fall. I had started school in the fourth
grade and was nearly eleven years old. Earl was a big baby, about two and a half years
old. We never did have much furniture—just enough to get by. Mom shipped most of it
out there on the train. I had a pet rabbit and gave it away. Dad had brought two home, but
one rabbit had died. We sold or gave away what we couldn’t take along. I had been on
the train once before when Mom had taken me and Golda up to Bland one Sunday. It was
quite a thrill. It was probably her first ride too. It was a long and tiresome ride to Kansas.
They fixed a big box of food to eat on the way. I had to open my window. Coal smoke
came in the car and I had a terrific headache. We went through a long tunnel, which was
scary to me.
Mom only had enough money to buy tickets to Kansas City and Dad was to meet
us there with more money to go the rest of the way. He did meet us, but Mom and I
walked around quite awhile before we found him. That is a big station in Kansas City.
We would have been in big trouble if he had not come. We had no money to go on or to
go back. We changed trains in Kansas City and again in Newton to go on to Hesston.
Kansas seemed so desolate and I was so homesick I could hardly stand it.
We had no money to buy schoolbooks so we couldn’t start to school for awhile.
We moved into a four-room house about a half block off Main Street. It was owned by a
family named Rapp. They lived in a big house on Main Street, which had been a hotel or
maybe a house for ladies of the evening. It was very fancy inside. Mr. Rapp owned a
bank and his two daughters helped him. Their names were Daisy and Mae. Mae was the
youngest and was my Sunday school teacher for several years. It was an all girls class
and we stayed in the same class as long as we lived there. Later, after we moved to the
country, this big house burned down one night. It had been a real landmark.
The first house where we lived had a shed-like room on the back of the house. It
was three steps lower than the kitchen and had a cement floor. A small cellar was under
part of the shed. The cellar was small, but had cement steps, walls and floor. It was nice,
but had water in it. The following spring Mom had Virgil and I bail out the water. We put
buckets on ropes and pulled it up. The deep well was under this room floor too and it had
a cement box with a drainpipe in the bottom, which drained outside through the wall.
This was under the well where the water came out so it drained away. We poured the
cellar water in this box as we brought it up. We thought it was fun. However, we both
took typhoid fever. I had it real bad, but Virgil had what they called “walking typhoid”. I
think that was a mild case of it. I was very sick and it lasted several weeks.
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Granny was sick at the same time. They said she had bronchitis. She coughed a
lot and had to sleep propped up on a lot of pillows so she could breathe. Mom was
pregnant again so this was quite a load for her, but she always managed some way. No
one could come in to sit up with us or help out because typhoid was so contagious. There
are many deaths caused from this disease. I remember the day it started. Mom had fried
rabbit for supper and begged me to eat some. I was so sick I couldn’t eat a bite. I lived on
beef broth and sometimes buttermilk all through my illness. They bought dimes’ worth of
beef each day. Someone told Mom if she had some carrots to boil with the beef it would
taste better. The store didn’t have fresh vegetables in those days, but a family near
Hesston had some home grown ones, which had been buried for the winter, and they
offered them to us. The broth really did taste better although, I could not have a bite of
solid food. The doctor said there was more to the nursing of this disease than the
medicine. I only had one small pill to take.
I was thin to start with and I was just bones after I got well. I could only eat a few
bites at a time because my stomach had shrunk so small. My hair was dead white and
mom bobbed it off so new hair would grow out. I felt awful with short hair and was glad
when it grew out again. Nearly everyone had German measles while we lived in Hesston
and I was included. They weren’t very bad. I didn’t even have to go to bed. Some kids
broke out in school and were sent home.
There was a fence around this house and a nice yard in back. There was also a
small barn from the days when most folks had a horse. There was a room for wood, a
back house or toilet and a chicken house all connected together across the back end of the
lot. There was another lot along side, which was also fenced in and planted in alfalfa.
This was a chicken pen. We played many hours in the barn. At the end of the barn was a
woodpile. One day, near noon, we kids were standing on this wood pile watching a small
herd of cattle being driven down the road about a half block away. They called us to
come to dinner, but we were so interested in the cattle we didn’t come. In a little while,
Dad slipped up behind me with the razor strap and hit me across my bare legs. It drew the
blood as wide as the strap. I screamed. Mom just looked at it. She didn’t seem to care.
I’ve thought about this since I got older and there was no reason we had to come in that
very minute to eat. They didn’t have to wait for us. We wouldn’t have cared if the food
had cooled a little. We were at the age of learning, being interested in everything, and we
were in no danger.
Soon after we moved there, someone from each church came to invite us to
Sunday school. There was a Methodist, Evangelical and Mennonite Church. There was
also a Mennonite College (Bethel) with dormitories for students to live in. Young folks
came from all over the country to attend. We went, one Sunday, to their Sunday school.
They had no music except singing in their church and no flowers for funerals. They
didn’t wear bright colored dresses. Their clothes were only black, gray, brown or dark
blue. The women wore a white net cap with long strings on their hair at all times and
wore a black bonnet for outdoors. If one of their church members did a wrong, they had
to stand in front of the congregation, confess and ask to be forgiven. The Rapp family
belonged to the Evangelical church so we went there. Golda and I went to Sunday school
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and Mom sometimes also went to Sunday night services. When Golda and I were old
enough, we studied the catechism, were baptized and joined the church.
We lived next door to a family named Tatro. There was a girl, older than me,
named Augustine; a girl younger named Delia and a boy who was a brat. Golda was
always overweight and he named her “slop-bucket”. All the boys in school called her
that. All of the boys in town had nicknames, but Golda was the only girl. Mom kept us
clean for school so she didn’t deserve such a name. My entire family wasn’t popular. We
were so poor and also Missourians or newcomers. Grandpa Tatro lived with his family at
least part of the time. When I was sick, he brought me a beautiful doll with a china head,
kidskin body and china hands. It was the first doll I ever had and the only once except
later when I had a very small doll, which came from the dime store. It came in a shoebox
and I was so proud of the doll Grandpa Tatro gave me. Mom made me let Golda play
with it and she broke the head. I kept the body for years, but eventually, it disappeared.
Golda was always so destructive and careless with her possessions. She didn't take care
of her clothes or anything. I was completely different from her in every way. Needless to
say, as we grew older we didn’t get along at all. She was really jealous of me. Virgil and I
were more alike. We did more things together, after he got bigger, than I did with Golda.
We moved from this first house to another several blocks away. It was across
from the school playground. We lived there when Grandmama May and her family
moved to Hesston. They rented a little house not far from where we lived. Jerry and I
became good friends and remained such until I moved to Missouri.
It was in this house that Earl started the fire. There were two bedrooms upstairs. A
stand table with a cloth over it and a lamp was just inside the door. The one wall sloped
down and our clothes were hung on a line on this side of the room. The bed was on the
other side. He lit a match and started a fire on the cloth over the stand table. Earl got
frightened, ran out and shut the door. The fire only burned the tablecloth and made a lot
of smoke, which blackened everything. The room was closed so the fire didn’t spread
because of the lack of oxygen. When we noticed the smoke, Mom went into action.
Golda, Virgil and I grabbed buckets and pumped water. Mom soon had the fire out; the
neighbors did not help. It was all over very quickly; Mom didn’t fool around. Nothing
was ruined. The clothes all had to be washed and we did that the same day. I missed
school one day because of not having a clean dress.
The war was now on and the older men had to sign up. Dad did sign up, but there
wasn’t much danger he would have to go because he had such a big family to support.
We were patriotic in school at this time and the flu was spreading. I came home from
school one day, and told mom about the influenza going around. She said there was no
such word. They really did call it that and it was going around. My Granny (Emily
Shoemaker Muskat) got it and died. With her other chest ailments, she didn’t have a
chance. Ida had been born and Alma was on the way at this time. Mom and Dad sold two
fat hogs they had planned to butcher to get the money to take Granny’s body back to
Missouri to be buried. Granny always said she didn’t want to be buried in Kansas,
because the wind would blow the dirt off her grave. Mom took the flu while they were in
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Missouri and she said she believed all that saved her was a little bottle of whiskey Dad
bought and she drank.
When word came the war was over, people shot off guns and made noises. We
kids, at school, were given little flags and paraded up the streets. It was a happy time!
Sometime after this we moved to a farmhouse in the country about a mile and a
half north of town (Hesston). Dad had quit the shoe shop some time before and was
working for this man who owned the farmhouse. He lived a mile from us and his name
was Bob McFarland. The McFarlands had four little girls. Dad still worked in the wheat
fields and became a separator man at thrashing time. A big steam engine was used to run
the separator, which set back away from the engine and was driven by a long belt. Dad’s
job was to keep everything oiled. He crawled all over the big machine, squirting every
hole with oil. Sometimes, if the bundles were thrown in to fast, it would choke up. It was
also his job to get this loosened up. I know, now, it was a dangerous job, but he loved it.
Just one slip and it would have been all over. Even the long belt was dangerous. If it
would have broken or slipped off the wheel it rolled on, it would have been a deadly
weapon.
We had a good walk to school from here, but I didn’t mind. There was nearly a
half-mile of railroad track we used as a short cut most of the time. Someone said that if
we would walk seven rails without stepping off and make a wish it would come true. I
walked a lot of them and made the same wish. It did come true. No, I’m not going to tell
you what I wished.
Us kids were growing up and we had to help a lot with the housework. I have
always liked to work, but Golda was lazy. She wouldn’t do anything she didn’t have to.
She would say, “Make Ruth do it”. Since it was easier to get me to do it, I did a lot of her
jobs. It just didn’t occur to me to say “no”, but as I got older, I did resent it very much.
When Golda did do anything, she did it so slow and sloppy. We quarreled a lot and, I
guess we made life miserable for Mom lots of times.
We had a cow and a horse at this place which was nice. We also had chickens and
a garden.
One evening, Mom, Dad and the babies got in the buggy and went to visit the
Clinton family. All of us kids played until it was dark. I was afraid to go in the dark
house to light the lamp, so we all sat at the side of the driveway until they came home
much later. Of course, they wanted to know why we were all sitting outside in the dark.
There was a deep well close to the back door, but it as alkali water and we
couldn’t use it for the house. The livestock drank it. Mom tried to use it for wash water,
but the soap would not make suds—it curdled. There was another well down in the
pasture, which was good water. I carried many a bucket of water from there to the house.
We carried all of our wash water, too. Can you imagine how much water it took for our
big family? Alma was born at this house.
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It was at this house that I got my eye hurt. Each of you has a different version of
it, but I know the real story, because it happened to me. It happened in the summer after I
had finished the seventh grade of school. I was fourteen years old. The screen door on the
kitchen door had an old-fashioned shoe button hook put on the door to hold it shut. It was
at my eye level, probably put up high, so the small children couldn’t unlock it. Instead of
it dropping down against the doorframe like a regular door hook would do, it stuck
straight out with the hook part up. Mom was cooking a meal, supper I think, and sent me
to the garden for an onion or something. I went on the run and my eye hit the hook. It
went under my upper eyelid and I jerked and screamed. It tore the lid. The doctor came,
stitched it together and told her to keep cold, wet cloths over my eye. We did and it didn’t
get infected. After the wound healed, the eye seemed weak and if I did much close work,
it would get red and water. It wasn’t strong enough to start school in the fall, so I stayed
home until after Christmas. I started and went to school three days, but had to quit. My
eyes were so red and the tears ran until I couldn’t study, so I quit.
Golda was always a year behind me in school and before this happened, she had
said, “I wish to God that something would happen to Ruth so I could graduate when she
did”. Well, she went through the seventh grade that winter while I stayed at home. The
next school year, after I was fifteen, we both started school in the eighth grade. Before
school started, I had a small ulcer to come on my eye. Doctor Weedel gave us a tube of
black salve to put in my eye. This happened two or three more times. The doctor said one
day I would get an ulcer, which would not go away. Several years later, this happened.
I think we moved to a house north of Hesston that summer. We had become
friends with a family named Clinton. They had lived in the house we moved into. The
Clintons had moved a few miles west of there. Some time before this, Albert (Brown)
had come to Kansas. He had planned to go on to California, to his brother Jesse, but for
some reason, he stayed with us. I like to think it was me, who kept him there or maybe it
was FATE. We all liked him a lot. The Clintons had a girl named Ella, who was older
than I and a boy, about my age, named John. We all had lots of good times together. One
time we went to Hutchinson to the state fair. Albert and Ella paired up and John and I.
Golda went along, too. Another time we went to something at Newton. I can’t remember
what it was, but we did go to a show that night and stayed all night in a hotel. Ella and I
had a room and John and Albert had one. This is the only time, in my life, I have ever
stayed in a hotel.
One time Mrs. Clinton got sick and Mom sent me over there to take care of her
and do the work. Ella was gone somewhere and Mrs. Clinton had two small children.
They were relatives she was caring for. She had the smallpox and when I came home, I
took them. About the time I was over the smallpox, the rest of the family took them. We
were pretty sick, but got over them okay.
Jim May visited us here and, at another time, Jesse and Hilda may came to visit
us.
15
Dad and Albert worked at cutting down hedge fences for farmers who didn’t want
them anymore. Dad made fence posts out of every part, which was big enough and sold
them. He shipped them out by the boxcar load. We used every scrap that was left for
wood. The name of this tree was “Osage orange”. The inside of the wood was an orange
color and the fruit was similar in looks to a green orange. The balls were full of seeds and
very bitter. If a cow ate them, and they always did, the milk would be so bitter it couldn’t
be used. The early settlers had planted these hedges, because they made a tight fence,
which nothing could go through. The hedge trees had big thorns. The fences, especially
those running east and west, would catch the snow and the roads would drift full. Cars
were coming into use more and more and I guess there was more money to buy barbed
wire, so the hedges were being cut down.
Dad taught me to pull a cross cut saw when we lived in Hesston. He and another
man had been cutting wood and he said I pulled the saw better than the other man did.
There were a lot of cottonwood trees around this house and they grew really big. The
wood was soft and spongy. It burned up fast and didn’t make much heat, but in Kansas
one didn’t have much choice. I wonder if Dad ever longed for Missouri, with all of the
oak and hickory trees? I wonder why oaks didn’t grow out there in Kansas? I’ve helped
him saw off many a big block of wood from a cottonwood log. A cross cut saw was a
long saw, which was higher in the middle and tapering off on both ends. It was heavy and
had a wooden handle on each end. One person held on to each end of the saw and pulled
it back and forth across the log. The weight of the saw was enough to do the cutting. My
arms were a lot weaker than Dad’s was, and I would start letting the weight of my arms
push down on the saw. He would yell at me “to stop riding the saw”. We never rested
until the block was sawed off. The blocks were then split, either with an axe or wedges
and sledge hammer, so they could be put in the stove.
Dad loved to hunt rabbits and squirrels and we ate them. We didn’t have much
meat in our diet and this helped out. I always had to hold the legs while Dad pulled off
the skins and took out the guts. It was a messy job, but I had to do it. Golda was plenty
big enough to have helped sometimes, but he always asked me. Needless to say I never
had a weight problem when I was young.
It was here, Dad gave Virgil an awful beating. It was in the kitchen and we all
stood around and watched. He used the razor strap and hit him on the back as hard as he
could a lot of times. I thought Dad would kill Virgil. We were too scared to say a word
and Mom watched too and didn’t say a word. I bet Virgil had a bloody back, but I didn’t
think about looking. I can’t remember what he had done, but it couldn’t have been that
bad. Dad had a quick, violent temper and Mom wasn’t much better. If anyone would have
beat one of my children like that, I would have knocked hell out of him! It’s true my kids
got spankings when they needed it. I think kids do need to be punished when needed, but
in a humane way. I will describe a razor strap for those of you who have never seen one.
It was made of two pieces of heavy leather fastened together on both ends. One end had a
handle to hold and the other end had a ring to hang over something to hold the strap tight
while the old-time razor was whetted back and forth to sharpen it. Mom whipped a lot but
she never used the strap; Dad always did.
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Mom always said I was Dad’s favorite, but he had an odd way of showing it. He
teased me all the time, until I got mad and sassed or cried. He would grab me and say,
“Love I hun – cause I does – Buff I den”! Then he would kiss me. I always got mad.
Golda and I went through the eighth grade the last winter we lived there. I
graduated, but she failed. The teacher told Mom Golda didn’t study. I swear I didn’t wish
her any home. I had passed sixteen years old when I graduated. Albert gave me a gold
wristwatch when I was sixteen, asked me to marry him and go to California. I was too
immature to say yes. I didn’t come to womanhood until after I was sixteen. I didn’t tell
Mom he had asked me to marry him. She wouldn’t have let me go any way.
One time during this period, Mom made a wish on me, which came true. I always
had to help take care of the little kids and I disliked it very much. One day I was trying to
make them mind, she got mad at me and wished I would have a lot of children when I got
married. Now I know babies don’t come from wishes, but do you think it may have
helped things along?
Albert bought an old Motel T Ford car during this time. There still weren’t very
many cars. I wanted to drive and Albert showed me how. It was hard to drive and I never
got very good at it. The cars were hard to start. They had a lever to set the gas and one for
the spark. Then an iron crank was inserted in the front and wound up. If the spark was set
too far, the crank would fly back and break your arm—if you didn’t get out of the way
quick enough.
Albert, Dad, Mom and the two babies, Ida and Alma made a trip in this car to
Oklahoma, (Bartlesville) to visit Mom’s uncle, Mr. James Shoemaker. We older kids
stayed at home.
It was Albert who started calling Alma “Shortie”. It was later shortened to “Short”
and she has been called that all her life. I was called ‘Bones” sometimes, because I was
skinny.
We had an old pump organ when we lived there. I learned to play some, but never
had any lessons. I was too restless or busy to sit and practice.
Dad always got up very early and he got every kid up too. If we didn’t hop out
when he called, he came in our room and jerked off the covers. They had to make fires in
both stoves and Mom always made biscuits for breakfast. Lots of times I had to churn
butter before breakfast, so we would have some butter to eat. After we ate, we would sit
around waiting for daylight, so Dad could go to work and we kids could go to school. I
hated to get up so early, but what Dad said, we did. I was always a little bit afraid of him.
I think maybe he wanted it that way.
Albert and Dad decided to start farming, so after school was out, we moved south
of Newton, Kansas. Dad rented a farm near McLain and Albert rented a quarter section
17
four miles from us on Highway 81. It was the Eli Lagree farm. Albert’s mother came out
from Missouri, to keep house for him. She never dreamed he planned to get married, but I
will tell you more about this later.
We got settled in our new home. Golda finished her last year of schooling at a
country school and graduated. She had gained more and more weight, as she grew older
and continued to do so until she died at about forty years of age with diabetes and heart
failure.
I helped a lot in the house and helped Dad on the farm. I even chopped wood and
sawed some with a bucksaw. If we needed it, I milked the cow and did most of the
washing. Mom was pregnant, again, with Myrtle. Dad borrowed money from Albert to
buy horses and machinery for farming. He only paid Albert one fifty-dollar payment on
the loan. Dad never paid bills if he could possibly help it. He left grocery bills wherever
we lived. My parents always sent me to the store. I was to say, “Dad will pay you when
he gets some money”. I got so ashamed of buying this way; I came to hate owing anyone.
I would rather do without than buy on time.
I helped Dad put hay in the barn. He would pitch it in the barn loft from the hay
wagon. I had to throw it to the back of the barn. Of course, I couldn’t keep up with him
and he nearly covered me up then laughed about it. Golda and I cut a field of Kaffir corn
heads and put them in a wagon. Dad tried to teach me to run a two-row corn cultivator,
but I cut down a few corn stalks. He got mad and did it himself. I would have got on to it,
if he had had a little patience. One time I took a wagonload of corn to the man who
owned the farm. It was several miles and he wasn’t at home. I waited a while and then
raked the corn out on the ground and went home. It was part of our rent.
I went to Newton to visit my Aunt Mary Brainard and Grandmama (Ellen
Vandora Wonders/May). I asked my aunt to cut my hair and she did. Boy, did that stir up
a hornet’s nest when I got home! Albert didn’t like it a bit either. The cut or bobbed hair
was spreading like wildfire, but the old-timers thought it was a sin. I didn’t get it cut
again until after I was married.
One time in the spring or summer before I was married, it had been along, rainy
Sunday. Us kids had been cooped up in the house with nothing to do so we all went for a
walk down through the pasture to where there was a windmill, tank and to where a large
puddle of water had collected from the rain. It wasn’t on our farm, but was nearby. We
were just standing there talking, when Dad came down to us as “mad as a wet hen”. He
had a switch and switched my bare legs all the way to the house. I was so mad, I hated
him! I was seventeen and a half. There was no reason in the world we shouldn’t have
taken a walk and I was old enough to take care of the smaller ones. I remember a few
things about Dad, which were good. He always brought home over ripe bananas. In those
days, they were hung in a bunch in the store and sold by the dozen. They were pulled off
the bunch as they were sold. The ones he brought home had been taken off the bunch and
put in an empty orange crate. They were too ripe to sell, but we kids really gobbled them
up. I still like them very ripe.
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Another time he bought a big barrel of apples. These were perfect and the biggest
ones I have ever seen. These apples didn’t last long at our house either. Dad was a hard
worker, but made very little money. Mom always said he was a poor manager. I think she
was a poor manager, also. Anyway, with such a big family, there just wasn’t enough of
anything to go around. We never had Christmas presents and a lot of our clothes were
hand-me-downs. We ate a simple diet of bread and potatoes. Dad made us eat bread with
everything else we ate. Flour and cornmeal were cheap and bread was filling. He would
see a kid not eating bread and would say, “Eat bread with it”! We had cornbread and milk
quite often for supper.
Mom and Granny were both superstitious. Here are some of the dos and don’ts,
which were told to us kids:
We must not open an umbrella in the house.
We must not bring a hoe in the house, walk under a ladder
or crawl through a window.
It was bad luck if a black cat crossed your path.
Friday the 13th
was an unlucky day.
If you laid a broom across the door and a witch came to
your house, she would not step over it.
If a dog came to your house and you wanted it to stay, you
cut some hair off his tail and put it under the doorstep.
If you put a hair from a horse’s tail in the water tank, it
would turn into a snake.
That’s all I can remember now. I never had much faith in these things then and it
wasn’t long before I quit believing any of them.
Albert and I wrote letters often and saw each other occasionally, but not often. We
didn’t have a phone then and his mother didn’t know what we were planning. One time
he walked the four miles to our house to see me. We sat in the kitchen and talked. Dad
griped, because we used his wood to keep the cook stove going so we could keep warm.
The folks always went to bed early. Albert stayed quite awhile and we made plans to be
married in January. He had to walk home. I think he had a car, but don’t remember why
he walked. We were very much in love! We did get married on January 11, 1923 a few
days before I was eighteen years old. He was forty-two.
The morning before we were married in the afternoon, he told his mother he was
going to get married. She was sick, but threw a fit. She told me later, she tried to die that
day, but couldn’t. Golda was staying with her to do the housework. Albert’s mother
thought he would dedicate his entire life to her and he did. He said he had a girl he cared
for when he was young, but he had to stay and work for his parents. His dad wasn’t well
either and I think he died young. I am glad Albert had a few happy years of married life.
19
We were married on January 11, 1923 at the courthouse in Newton by the judge.
The judge was also a Methodist preacher. It was a nice, sunny day. Mom and Short went
with us. We had supper at home then went back to Albert’s home. Golda was staying
with his mother while she was sick. Albert took Golda home the next morning. Albert
had an old Buick touring car. His mother got better after awhile and in the early summer,
made a trip back to Owensville, Missouri, to visit her son George Brown and his family.
We enjoyed this time alone together. It was as near a honeymoon as we ever had. We
were both happy and life was so different than it had been at home.
I didn’t get back to visit very often and don’t know much of what happened after I
left home. Myrtle and Velma were born at McLain and sometime afterward the family
moved to Newton. Alvin was born February 13, 1924, thirteen months after we were
married. I was nineteen years old. Grandma Brown was good to the new baby and I think
she loved him. She wasn’t one to show affection to anyone and probably never said, “I
love you”, in her whole life. I think she learned to like me. Before she died, she asked
Albert and I to forgive her—she didn’t say what for. I never held any grudge or ill
feelings against her. If I hadn’t been so shy myself, I could have shown her a little more
love and friendship. We got along okay. She did say I was a better housekeeper than she
expected of me. I don’t know why she thought I might not be a good housekeeper—I had
a lot of practice at home! She also said my legs were the prettiest thing about me and that
was a lot coming from her. However, I wasn’t ugly. I was tall and slim. My eyes were all
right at that time.
Grandma Brown died September 25, 1925. She had been sick nearly all summer.
Albert talked to me about getting a doctor to come out to see her. He said if she died
without a doctor seeing her, they would have an inquest. She was a Pentecost and they
did not believe in taking any kind of medicine. They all got together and prayed real loud.
Their church was really radical at this time. She had become a Pentecost while living in
Missouri. While down there, the church had split over some differences. One side
wouldn’t sit at the same table with the others—even if they were relatives. I went to
church in Newton with her one time. The group was small. When they prayed, they all
talked at the same time. Later, they did have a church and Mom went there for a time.
Albert did call the doctor. He examined her and said it was heart trouble. He left a
bottle of big brown pills. She cried and asked him if there was a law that said she had to
take them. He said no—only just common horse sense. Later, she said the doctor told her
she didn’t have horse sense. She never took even one of the pills. She had us call the
church group out to pray for her and they came. We lived four miles from Newton. Albert
and I stayed out near the barn while they had their meeting. They really got loud! When
they were through and came out to us, they said they thought the Lord was calling her
home. I thought they didn’t have much faith in their prayers; they never came back to see
her.
I was pregnant with Betty and I think I carried her ten months. Grandma Brown
said she wished she could live to see that Ruth had this time. The morning she died, she
20
told the lady who was taking care of her, it was her last day. Betty was born on October
12, 1925, about two weeks afterward.
Albert was raising wheat. He had some cattle, hogs and chickens. There was a
small pasture and a field of alfalfa for hay. After the wheat was harvested, the cattle were
let out on the wheat field to graze. After the field was plowed, planted and the wheat was
up, the cattle were again let out to graze. They didn’t want the young wheat to grow too
tall in the fall. We had four horses to pull the machinery. Later we bought a tractor. The
first summer I rode the hayrake and winrowed the hay—first in long rows and then in
bunches. Albert and a boy who was helping him put the hay on the hayrack, hauled it to
the barn and put it in the hayloft. It was my first time on a rake, but it was easy and fun.
On February 4, 1927, Verna was born. She was just sixteen months younger than
Betty. My sister Velma was born four months after Verna. Mom’s wish for me was
coming true—fast. The next spring we had to move. Our landlord, Mr. Lagree, was
planning to build a new house and move back to the farm himself. The house was very
old and shabby. We rented a farm two miles southwest of there, which was owned by a
woman named Mrs. C. E. W. Davis. She lived in California. It was 160 acres or a quarter
section. Again, it was a very old house with two rooms downstairs, a set on lean-too
kitchen and two rooms upstairs. It was on a higher place and not a tree around. It had a
little screened-in porch and a small cellar, which went down from the porch. We raised a
big box of potatoes that summer and they all froze in the basement. I wonder how we
ever kept warm in that house? There was no insulation or storm windows in those days.
We had a big iron-heating stove and cook stove. Most of the time, we bought coal to
burn. We lived there several years, until we quit farming during the depression.
Albert raised some wheat here as well as a field of corn and also some oats for
feed. There was no hayfield on this farm, but a fair sized pasture with a deep well,
windmill and water tank. We also had a well in front of the back door. Pushing a long
iron handle up and down drew up the water. The fresh pumped water was nice and cold.
Of course, there was no electricity in the country then. We had a nice herd of cattle by
now—several of them were milk cows. We milked by hand and I helped most of the
time. The kids went along to the barn and I had a box to put the baby in. The cows were
put in the shed side of the barn and tied up and fed so they would stand still. Milking was
one job I didn’t like very much. We had a hand-turned cream separator and sold the
cream. Cream and eggs was our only source of income. Later we sold milk for awhile.
I raised a lot of young chickens too. We bought a twelve dozen-egg incubator and
hatched our own chicks. It was heated with a kerosene burner and the tray had to be taken
out and the eggs turned every day. Keeping the eggs the exact temperature was a little
tricky. If they got too hot, it would kill the chicks and too cool wouldn’t work either. We
set it about three times each spring. We had a bunch of broilers to sell and kept the pullets
to lay eggs. I also raised some turkeys and had a few guineas and ducks. One summer the
crows started to catch our young chicks. The chicks ran loose over the yard. Albert got
his gun, shot one of the crows and hung it on the up-raised mower blade. We weren’t
bothered with crows any more.
21
I always tried to raise a garden and did raise some, but it gets so dry in Kansas, in
the summer when the hot winds blow. Vegetables don’t have much of a chance. One fall
I helped pick a field of corn. We had a little, two-wheel trailer. Albert tied it behind the
wagon and kids rode or jumped off and played while we picked corn. We just snapped
off the ears, left one the shucks and threw them in the wagon. I have always been a little
afraid of horses, but we had one very gentle, old, white mare and I worked on the side of
the wagon she was on. One summer Albert and I shocked our entire wheat crop. He was
so kind and gentle to work with. He never yelled or gripped about anything. If I didn’t
know how to do something, he showed me. Also, he was so good with the kids and they
loved him so much. Why couldn’t he have lived with us a lot longer? I was the one with
the temper and lots of times it got the better of me, but he never quarreled back at me.
Albert loved animals and dogs. He treated them very good. He always had two
dogs. One was good with the cows and would go to the pasture to drive them up to the
barn. Albert saw his dogs catch a rabbit. One dog would chase it around and other dog
would catch it. They took it to the water tank, dropped it in to cool it off and then share it
between them. They never fought. There were also jackrabbits. The jackrabbits got very
big and could really run fast. If a dog would chase one, the rabbit ran just fast enough to
stay clear of the dog, until the dog was tired, then the rabbit would run away. A dog could
not run fast enough to catch a grown jackrabbit. Albert wasn’t a rabbit hunter like dad
was. He could sit down and relax. Albert worked in a slower way, but always got the job
done. Mom said Albert was lazy, but that just wasn’t true. I was the restless one in the
family.
Dale was born here on June 12, 1930, and Elmer on March 31, 1932. All of my
children were born at home. We always had a doctor and a student nurse came with him.
Mom was always there too, except, one time, when Myrtle had scarlet fever. That was
when Elmer was born. She always made me stay in bed nine days. It wasn’t so bad. It
was the only time I ever got any rest.
While we were living there our landlord, Mrs. Davis, decided to have a test oil
well drilled on her farm. There weren’t any other wells around Newton, so it wasn’t a
surprise when it turned out to be a dry hole. Farther east, around El Dorado, there are lots
of oil wells, but water is hard to find. We had lots of water around Newton. The well was
across the pasture and field from the house. There was nothing in between and we could
see the men working. The derrick was built of pinewood and wasn’t awfully big. We
didn’t go where they were working. Albert may have gone a time or two, but we did a lot
of watching from the house. When it was all over, they tore the rig down and told us we
could have everything for wood. We hitched the little trailer to the car and picked up
every scrap of wood and hauled it to the house to use in the stoves. There were several
trailers full. Folks who have lived in Missouri all their lives, where trees are everywhere,
can’t appreciate having so much fuel for the cutting. It was a hard struggle to find
something to burn in Kansas. One could buy coal, but money was so scarce for us poor
folks and with a growing family we had to make do in every way we could. I did my own
sewing for the kids. We only had what furniture we needed and never bought on time
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(credit). Albert paid his bills! I’m not complaining we were happy—anyway, I was.
Albert never said much about anything, but one time, he said he always wanted a nice
home.
The depression was on us. Wheat sold for twenty-five cents a bushel and that year
there was smut in ours so they docked a little for that. Cattle prices went way down. We
sold one cow for fifteen dollars. I don’t remember how the other cattle and horses sold,
but it was not very much. I was too young and thoughtless to know what Albert was
going through. He had no home of his own. All he knew was farming and the bottom had
dropped out of everything. He was too old to start all over and a big family to support. It
must have been a great load on his mind and he couldn’t let it out or talk about it. Now
we know stress, mental worries and anguish are a cause of a lot of physical illness. I
believe this is what led to his early death. He had been a very healthy man, with good
eyes and teeth and no other problems. He was a big man, who stood nearly six feet tall
and a little heavy. My oldest son, Alvin, reminds me of Albert in so many ways.
We rented a four-room house in North Newton, near Bethel College and moved
from the farm. It had electric lights, a sink, which drained out on the ground and an
outside toilet. The rooms were big and the house had a front and back porch. There was
also a small cellar. We paid six dollars a month rent. Albert got a job on a farm for one
dollar a day. Banks had closed and so many people were out of work. They had started a
government works program to give men work. They were cleaning out the creek, which
ran through Newton. Albert wouldn’t go and apply for work. If he had owned his farm,
we could have made it, but no one could pay farm rent and live too.
Jesse Brown and a man friend drove out from California, to visit us when we were
on the farm. They stayed a few days. He visited once more, when Pop (Lafe) Immell and
I were married. He stopped in Kansas, and brought Mom along. When we lived at the
first farm, his sister, Fannie came to see us. Also, his sister, Cora, visited when Albert’s
mother was sick.
We lived in this house until Albert died on April 29, 1934. Alberta was born one
week later on May 6th
. The doctor suggested we name her Alberta. I said yes and since it
was the month of May and my maiden name was May, I quickly added the second name
Mae. Albert would not agree to naming one of the boys after him; he didn’t like his
name. Albert’s death was the most tragic thing that could have ever happened to me. He
was only sick a week and at that time, doctors knew so little about the inside of a person.
It was all over before anyone knew what was happening. I was lost! At that time, I would
have gladly given one of the children instead of him. I hope when they read this, it won’t
make them feel badly toward me. He was my whole life and the kids took second place.
Now, no one except God could separate me from my family! They are my whole life and
the very best children anyone could ask for. I love them very much! I think this was all
fated to happen. I believe there is a reason for everything, which happens, but I don’t
pretend to know why it happens. We have to accept the things that come our way and try
to make the best of them.
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We had an old 1927 Chrysler car Albert had bought, when we lived on the farm.
It was really big and I knew exactly how to drive it, but had never got behind the wheel.
After he was gone, Dad came out one day and rode with me while I drove to town. I was
very nervous and he gave me courage. I needed to drive with the small children or stay at
home; I had six kids in ten years. We moved to another small house across the river from
the park and not too far from where my folks lived. Life had to go on. I became a pretty
good driver, I think.
George Brown and Golda came out to Albert’s funeral. He asked me to come to
Missouri, to live. He had a farm he said we could live on. I thought about this for nearly a
year and decided to move to Missouri. Albert had $2,000 life insurance, so we had
something to live on for awhile. Food was cheap then. One time I bought four pounds of
hamburger for twenty-five cents. However, property was still rather high priced. I think
Mom hated to see us leave Kansas, but she never tried to talk me out of it. I wasn’t happy
living in Newton. We made plans to move and I wrote George to tell him we were
coming to Missouri. I had a lot more nerve than I have now, to start out on a trip with a
car full of young children and no experience of any kind, when it came to traveling. We
got a map and Alvin helped me stay on the right road. He was eleven years old and
Alberta was nearly one. We moved in late April, almost a year after Albert died. We
packed the car full of as much stuff as it would hold. There was a lot of room between the
front and back seats. We shipped several things by train, but left our beds and springs and
mattresses and our old dog. Staley said he would take care of the dog.
When we got to George Brown’s, he had let another family have his farm so he
started looking for another place for us. I think we were there for about a month. He did
eventually find the forty-acre farm we bought. It was seven miles south of Gerald,
Missouri. The Tappmeyer Bank of Gerald had loaned the owner $1,100 on it before the
depression and he couldn’t pay the loan so the bank took the farm. We could buy it for
the loan. I told him I could only pay $550 and he said, “sold”! The house was small. It
had three rooms and a back porch, which had been boarded up, but we had always lived
in slum houses, so we didn’t mind. We had a home! There were plenty of trees for wood
and several peach trees and one apple tree. There was also lots of wild blackberries and
the renters had left a nice started garden. I was so happy and proud of our farm and the
kids seemed happy too. It was a much better place to raise the children than in town. It
was a mile to school and several other kids lived not too far away.
In the summer Mom, Dad, Virgil and some of the kids loaded up a trailer and
brought some of my things down to me. When he went to get our dog, Staley said it
howled so much he had shot it. I wished we could have had Dad make a crate for him and
we could have tied it on the car fender to bring him with us. My moving down here
probably gave dad the urge to come back to Missouri. He did after a time, but couldn’t
make it and moved back to Kansas, where he died on August 16, 1957. We bought
stoves, tables, chairs and some things we had to have. Later we added more things I
bought at auction sales. We bought a cow and a few chickens. The kids started school in
the fall.
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We all liked Missouri. I especially loved the trees and still do. We could grow a
good garden, because there was more rainfall during the summer. What was hard to get
used to was the humidity. The yellow clay soil was so different from the rich, dark soil of
Kansas. We had some good neighbors and Mrs. Jim Rowland who was Albert’s second
or third cousin lived close. What social life we had we made ourselves. There were
programs at school and always a last day of school dinner. We took part in PTA (Parent
Teachers Association) and once I was president of the PTA we gave plays and I always
took part in them and enjoyed myself. At threshing time several neighbors gathered to
help. The men worked in the field and the women in the kitchen. It was like a big party.
When the boys got a little older, they trapped and sold furs hunted and fished with
their friends. They tried to see who would be the first to go swimming in the spring.
When Alvin was old enough, he got a job during the summer, with our neighbor Joe
Pollock, on his farm. I think he got three dollars a week the first summer. He had to learn
everything. He worked several summers there with an increase in wages every summer.
He bought a .22 caliber rifle and learned to hunt. He often brought rabbits and squirrels
home to eat. Later he bought a guitar and learned to play some on it.
After grade school, Alvin bought his own clothes, books and went to high school.
He went the full four years and graduated. Verna also went through high school. Betty
went one year and then quit school. Dale went nearly one year of school and quit. They
had to go to Sullivan to school, which was several miles away. When Alvin was through
school, he had to go in the Navy, as we were at war again—this time with Japan. Thank
God, he made it okay and came home safe!
Now I will go back to when we first came down here. This part of my life I would
like to erase, but since I can’t and it happened, I am going to tell it like it was. I expect
everyone makes a mistake or two they are not proud of as their life is lived. When we
turn to God, he forgets and forgives our sins but people never forget them.
This one neighbor, Alma Brandt, had a brother-in-law who was a bachelor. She
was determined I should meet him. We did meet and he seemed to be a nice enough man.
I later learned he was an alcoholic and very weak-willed. His name was Otto Brandt. In
the spring he proposed to me and wanted to get married right away, but I wanted to wait
until fall. I wasn’t too sure about it all. We got along okay. He said he couldn’t have
children, because he had been hurt when riding a horse. I think he really believed this. I
got pregnant in September. His folks knew about our plans and told him they would
disinherit him if we married. We were too poor to suit them. I didn’t try to push him into
marriage and I have been thankful a hundred times over that I didn’t. Opal was born on
June 25, 1937. Well, life went on; not as good as before, but it got better.
We finally used up what money we had, and the neighbors helped us get aid for
dependent children. It wasn’t much, but it kept us going. I made over clothes for the kids
and myself, canned fruit, berries and vegetables, made all of our bread and the kids were
growing up.
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When Opal was about two years old I joined the New Friendship Baptist Church
and was baptized. It was at least two miles from our house and we walked to church.
Quite often we would catch a ride with one of the members. Before this our car had
broken down. It was a little hard to get along without a car, but we had some good
neighbors who brought out groceries for us. Sometimes I would go along to town. We
didn’t have a telephone, but the mail carrier went past the house.
I bought a saw and axe. Alvin and I cut down trees for our winter wood. We had
to hire it hauled up to the house and sawed with a buzz saw. There weren’t any small
power saws then. Anyway, we probably couldn’t have afforded to buy one. Alvin said I
used too much wood. He was then, and always has been, a very good boy and man. Dale
and Elmer looked up to him in the way they would have looked up to a father. I’m sure
they all missed having a dad who had been with them for so short a time. I talked to them
a lot about being honest, truthful and being kind to animals. We always had a couple of
dogs and some cats. I told them, if an animal had to be killed, to do it quick and as
painless as possible.
We lived there ten years, before I married Lafe Immell on April 1, 1945. Lafe was
a retired railroad section foreman. His wife had died and he lived with his small
granddaughter in his home. He said he couldn’t stand it so he bought out a package
drugstore in Gerald. The store had gone down, till there was very little to sell, when Lafe
bought it. Not having much money to invest, he slowly started to build it up. Lafe sold his
home and moved in the upstairs rooms above the store. It was in the building where
Finley has his drugstore now. It was in Lafe’s store where I met him for the first time.
When I had been in a few times, he started talking to me and acting friendly.
One Sunday afternoon, he drove out to the farm and asked me to go car riding
with him. I refused. He had the valves ground on the car and was afraid that if he killed
the motor it wouldn’t start. He went on, but another time he asked me if he would bring
out a beef roast, would I cook supper for him. I said yes. Lafe kept the store open till
noon on Sundays and we went to church on Sunday morning. Lafe came and brought a
nice big roast. He asked if I could make biscuits; I did. I also fixed some vegetables to go
with it. We ate a huge dinner and he said, “Girl, you sure can cook”! I think he was
hooked from then on. We went to the show in Owensville several times and I cooked
Sunday supper a lot of times. He always brought a roast. He didn’t come when the
weather was bad, so we wrote letters. We saw each other for eighteen months before we
were married. Betty had gone to Doniphan, Missouri, where Mom and Dad lived and met
John Tillman, whom she married. Alvin was in the Navy.
Lafe gave me a ring before Christmas. We were married at New Friendship
Church on Sunday evening, after service, in a very simple ceremony. It had rained off
and on all day. He was seventy years old and I was forty. He bought a big block building
on Main Street for us to live in. There had been a store downstairs, but had closed. There
were six big rooms upstairs with a seven-foot hall. There were three rooms on each side
and the steps went down from the hall. It wasn’t a mansion, but it was the best house we
had ever lived in and the biggest. For the first time we had plenty of room. Pop’s (Lafe)
26
furniture was much better than ours was, but we did need some of mine—especially the
beds.
Dale had a job, but was young and needed a guiding hand. Elmer had one more
year of grade school. Alberta and Opal were still small; Opal was eight years old.
Pop bought his building for $3,500, which was cheap enough. However, there was
no water, bathroom or furnace in the house. There were electric lights and a cistern on the
back porch. There was an outhouse toilet and garage. We had water put in along with a
bathroom, bathroom sink, septic tank and furnace.
He rented the downstairs to man from Chicago, who put in a small factory making
baby shoes and booties. Two months after we were married, I started working. I am not
sure how long the factory was in his building—about four years, I think. The man said he
needed more room, so Pop talked the town people into putting up money to build a new
building. They put up the money and Pop put in a thousand dollars. Mr. Delehanty moved
from our place to the new building. He stayed there about two years before the business
went into bankruptcy.
In the meantime, the cap factory from Bourbon had started a branch factory in
Gerald located in a building next to ours. After the shoe factory left, the cap factory
owners took over the new building and moved in there. They bought the building and
paid off all the stockholders with interest over a period of years. This factory is still going
strong and has given a lot of people work. I worked two years in a shoe factory in
Rosebud and two years in the cap factory in Gerald.
During this time, the building where Pop’s store was located was sold to Charles
Finley who started another drug and liquor store. Pop had to move his store to the new
building Paul Borror had just built. After the shoe factory moved from our building, we
again moved the store into our building. We kept the store open until 1960, when Pop
sold out and we built a new house where I now live. Pop sold beer, whiskey and wine.
This is where he made his money. He could not sell pharmaceutical drugs; just over the
counter packaged drugs. He also sold cosmetics, paper goods, candy, cigarettes, cigars,
magazines, soda, ice cream, sprays and animal remedies.
He also rented the downstairs side rooms to Doctor Schmidt. He had to do a lot of
remodeling to get this ready for the doctor. Doctor Schmidt stayed there for several years,
until his business out grew the room there. The doctor built a new clinic of his own. He
spent his entire doctoring life here in Gerald and only retired this past year in 1980. We
miss him.
Now back to the start of our married life and the more personal things, which
happened to our family. Dale was working at the hatchery, but later quit and worked in
the shoe factory. Elmer finished his last year of school in the eighth grade. Alberta and
Opal were in grade school. This marriage wasn’t nearly as good as the first one. I guess
27
my family was too much for a man as old as Pop; however, he asked for it. He didn’t
have to get married and I didn’t run after him.
I told him I would not give up my children or my church for any man. I said this
before he ever asked me to be his wife. We did have some nice times together. He liked
to go to church suppers and we made them all. For about a dollar you could eat as much
as you wanted. He really liked to eat. One good thing I can say, he always acted like he
was proud of me. He would get mad at the kids ever so often. Mostly, he would get mad
at the boys and act and talk awful to them. I talked right back. All of our quarrels were
about the kids. They were pretty darn good kids and I wasn’t about to see them
mistreated. One time he got mad at little Elmer and told him to leave and go back out to
the farm. There wasn’t a thing to eat out there, but Elmer went out the door and down the
steps without saying a word. I went out right behind him. When he got outside, I said,
“Elmer you are not going. If you have to go, we will all go with you”. He came back
upstairs and the old man never said another word. He found out I wasn’t the “softie” he
thought I was. He had a lot of mad spells and we had a lot of quarrels. I thought of
leaving him several times, but stuck it out and took good care of him to the end.
I made my part of the living and I paid, with my own earnings, for the kids’ food
and clothes. He was very tight with money for the family, but if Pop could do something
big for the town, it was okay with him. It made Pop look good and generous.
When we were married, Verna was working in Owensville. Verna and Roy
Schweer were married in 1945 and lived on his parent’s farm for a few years, until they
moved to town. They have two daughters and five grandchildren. Roy Schweer runs a
road grader for Franklin County and Verna works in the cap factory. They live two
blocks away from me.
Dale and Ruth Walters were married in 1949. Dale manages a cap factory and
lives in Van Buren, Missouri. He also has built a house and remodeled a number of others
in his spare time. He says it is his hobby. He could have been a good carpenter too, if he
had chosen. Dale and Ruth have four children—two boys and two girls. All have been
married, but two are divorced. They have five grandchildren.
Alvin came home from his stint in the Navy and went to work in St. Louis where
he met his wife to be. Alvin and Loretta Crabtree were married in 1954. They have a
happy marriage but no children.
Elmer went in the Army and served two years in Korea—he came home safe to
us! Elmer and Lenora Crews were married in 1954. Elmer is a very good carpenter. He
built his home and another one he rents out. They have one son, daughter and grandson.
Alberta went through high school in Union and was married after graduation. She
and Henry Moravek were married in 1952. Alberta and Henry were divorced in 1974.
Alberta remarried the same year to Donald Shanks. They have one little girl and live in
Union, Missouri. Alberta is a schoolteacher and Don works in the police department.
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Betty divorced John Tillman and married a man from Colorado. His name was
Buck Sherman. She had three Tillman children and three Sherman children. One baby
was born dead. Betty is now divorced, living alone and making her own living. Betty’s
family is all grown and married. She has ten grandchildren. She and her family still live
in Colorado.
Opal went to work in St. Louis, when she was sixteen. She refused to go to high
school. Later Opal went to Colorado, and was married to a man named George Dirks.
They had one little girl named Pamela. This marriage didn’t work out for them. Opal
came back to Gerald, where she got a divorce. I kept the baby for eighteen months. Opal
got a job in St. Louis, again where she met her present husband. Opal and Kenneth Narsh
were married in 1959. They have two grown children and it has been a good marriage.
Kenneth is a barber. Pam is married. Linda is nineteen and single. Kenney Wayne is
married and has a small daughter. Opal took some more schooling after she was married.
She learned to type and do office work. She has a good job.
All of my children own their own homes, except Betty. They have all worked and
made their own way. I’m proud of them! I think they are the very best families a mother
could ever have. They are so good to me and the in-laws are just like my own.
Maybe my second marriage wasn’t the happiest, but we did live better and didn’t
have to worry about where our next meal was coming from. Also, the kids got to meet
new people with a better chance of finding the right wife or husband. Most of them go to
church at least part of the time, now.
When Pop was eighty years old, he took arthritis. He also had been taking
‘Doan’s pills” for years. He had chewed tobacco nearly all his life and after he got the
store, he started using liquor. He was indulging pretty heavy, when he got sick. Pop took
medicine and did everything he could to shake it off. He just couldn’t believe he would
not live forever. He still ran the store, but now it was hard for him to go up and down the
stairs. I was still working in the factory, but helped some in the evening. I did all my own
housework too, in the evenings. I decided we would move downstairs to the rooms the
doctor had vacated. The kids were all gone, except Elmer. This was a lot easier for Pop to
get to the store and he wasn’t about to sell out. Finally, his friend, Oscar Meyer, talked
him into going to a clinic in Excelsor Springs, Missouri, for treatment. Oscar took him up
there and he stayed a month. They took away all meat except a little chicken soup on
Sunday. They thought meat formed acid in the stomach and caused arthritis. He had put
on quite a bit of fat and they took it all off in a month’s time. When he came home, he
was so thin and weak he had to be helped into the house.
While he was away, we locked up the store, because I was still working. He tried
to run the store, but got worse and went to bed. I quit and stayed home to take care of
him. This was December 1954. I never worked away from the home afterwards. I had
worked nine years. We got Doctor Schmidt to come back and treat him. We found out
Pop had anemia real bad. He started taking iron tablets and eating liver. Eventually, he
29
got better. He could walk around and sometimes we could go out and drive around. We
even went on a picnic a time or two.
Pop wanted me to run the store, but the Baptist Church doesn’t believe in drinking
or selling whiskey. I told him, if he would get rid of the liquor, I would try to run it. He
said, we wouldn’t make any money without the liquor, but he would get rid of it. We
didn’t have much business after that. I came to hate the store and living on Main Street. I
did a lot of crocheting and sold hundreds of doilies in the store.
We had a stoker-type coal furnace, which caused a lot of trouble. I was always
afraid of fire at night. My nerves got so bad, I nearly went under. My faith was all that
saved my mental health. I wished so many times Pop would sell out, but I never bugged
him about it. Then, in 1960, we went to a fourth of July picnic. I always carried a folding
chair for him to sit on. He got to talking to Paul Borror, who was now in the real estate
business. Pop decided to let Paul sell our building. When we got home, he asked if it was
okay with me. I said, “Sure, but are you sure it is what you want?” He said it was. Paul
Garlock had a variety store across the street in an old building and needed more room. I
suggested to Paul Borror he to talk to Garlock about buying us out. We sold and another
wish came true.
Dale used to own the house where Roy and Verna live now. I had loaned Dale
some money and told him I would like to have this corner of land. It was three-quarters of
an acre. I had owned it for five years and here is where we built our new house. It was
built in the fall of 1960. We moved into our house in December. When the house was
completed enough to be closed up, we moved furniture into the basement and went to
stay with Dale and Ruth Brown. We stayed there a month, until our new house was
finished.
Pop had several bouts with uremic poisoning. The day before we planned to
move, he had another one. We had to get the ambulance to take him out to Dale’s house.
When Pop got these spells, he always got mixed up in his mind. Pop was awful bad this
time and even the doctor didn’t think he would make it. We took good care of him and
finally gave him glucose, which helped a lot. He gradually got better and before we left to
come to our new home, he was up in a wheelchair. He was as proud of our new home as I
was. I thought it was the most beautiful house in the world. We had a gas furnace, which
wasn’t one bit of trouble. We could have sold out and built so many years before. It
would have been a lot better for us both, but he just would not quit the store. He loved
our new house, but only lived two years over here. When he could, Pop went to church
with me. I took him out for car rides. He loved to go out in the country. One Sunday, his
daughter and son-in-law came out from the city. They had a Volkswagen and Pop wanted
to ride in it, so the son-in-law took him for a nice long ride. He loved it. One time Roy
and Verna took us out riding over part of our county where we had never been. We
enjoyed it very much.
Pop died June 14, 1962; he was nearly eighty-eight years old. He had been worse
all spring and started losing blood internally. They couldn’t stop the bleeding. His heart
30
also started failing. I think cancer was what caused the leakage, but the doctor wouldn’t
say so. He was also very deaf; I missed him. It was the first time in my life I had ever
lived alone. It did take getting used to. I was fifty-seven and probably could have got
back my job at the cap factory, but my nerves were so bad, I was afraid to try. I wish,
now, I would have tried. I did some babysitting for a time and then started ironing. I
made more money ironing and it was easier on my nerves. I did this several years.
Pop left very little money. We used all of the money we got from selling the old
building for building the new house and garage. His railroad pension and social security
were small and it took it all for living expenses. He was under a doctor’s care for eight
years and I was also taking medicine. He had a small insurance policy, which was just a
little more than enough for funeral expenses.
Well, life went on. At first it was hard to go places alone in public, but I have
become used to that as well as a lot of other things. Living alone does have some
compensation. I can go and come without explaining why I wish to go. I can watch the
television show I want or turn the TV off. I eat what I want or don’t cook if I feel like it. I
can go to bed when I like and get up as late as I wish. You see it’s not half bad. I think
I’m more contented now, than I have ever been in my life. I am happy to be alive and as
well as I am. I do take medicine for high blood pressure. I love to read and do a lot of it. I
get a number of magazines and have a bookcase full of books. I still crochet some, but
the last several years, I have been piecing and quilting quilts. I love to do this and I give
them to my children and grandchildren. I hope to do this for many more years, if I keep
my health. The family loves my quilts.
We have a family gathering every year. All we need is a little excuse to have one.
Last fall, 1980, we got together and my two sisters, Myrtle and Alma drove down from
Kansas. My only living aunt, Jerry Reed and her husband Cliff, came from Arizona. We
had a lovely time together and a lot of pictures were taken. This year, we are planning a
much larger one in June with relatives coming from California, Texas, Kansas, and
besides my own, big personal family. I know we will have the best time ever.
I am now the oldest member of our big family of relatives. My Aunt Jerry Reed is
next in line. She is four years younger than I. My dad was the oldest of twelve children
and Aunt Jerry is the youngest. I am the second oldest in my Dad’s family; the oldest
baby died at birth. There were eight of us living children and now three of us have passed
one. My mother died ten years ago in 1970; she was eight-eight years old.
I am now seventy-six years young. I keep active and have a lot of things to do. I
make a big garden each summer and can and freeze vegetables and fruit. A small garden
tiller helps a lot in caring for my garden. There are a lot of leaves for me to take each
spring as I have about twenty big oak trees on my ground. I have a lot of outdoor flowers
and some houseplants. I also do my own mowing and drive my car. I have always
enjoyed working. I also have several cats and three dogs. The animals are a lot of
company to me and they love me. The dogs understand a lot of things I say too. They
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never talk back, but give me the warmest welcome ever when I return from being gone
awhile. I love them very much.
I think keeping active and not feeling sorry for oneself is a great factor in keeping
well and staying young. I have to tell you about my bottle collection. There are at least
2,000 of them and a few are old. Several are Avon bottles. They came in all sizes from
very tiny to huge whiskey bottles. No, I didn’t drink the whiskey. Some came from the
dump and a lot were given to me. I buy some at yard sales. I think it is an interesting
hobby. I also collect vases and have a bunch of them as well.
I belong to the Senior Citizens Club. We meet once a month with a carry-in
dinner at noon and play Pinochle cards and dominoes after noon. I enjoy this club very
much. I also like to go on picnics.
I now have seventeen grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.
The town of Gerald, Missouri, where I have lived near and in for so long is a
lively, nice place to live. There are five churches and three factories—a cap factory, tube
factory and a spice factory. The town has built up in every way in the last thirty years.
There is a new school, new telephone office and new post office. We have a fire
department and ambulance service as well as three parks. I enjoy living here. It’s a small
town, and for me, it is the best. We have larger towns nearby. My children come to see
me quite often and I’m always glad to see them. I used to pray I would live until they
were all grown and they could take care of themselves. Thank you, God, for answering
my prayers. A strong faith in God has been a big help in our daily lives. We can’t expect
all of our prayers to be answered. Some of them wouldn’t be good for us.
Naturally, a lot of things happened I haven’t written about, but I have touched on
most of the high points of my life. I shall try to write a page or two each year from now
on as long as I am able to add to this story. I am so thankful the Lord has let me live this
long and I will make the most of the rest of the time I have.
Thank you, Nephew Dewey, for getting me started in writing my life story. Some
of the others have written or started on their stories. I hope they will all try to write
something about their life. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could sit down and read a real life
story our grandparents, great-grandparents, uncles, aunts or cousins had written in the
long ago? Wouldn’t it be nice to know how they lived, loved and struggled, if they were
rich or poor, happy or sad, sick or well? Perhaps, some of my distant relatives not yet
born will read this story of mine and know what I was like. They will probably think I
had a hard life and I did, but most of the time I was happy. I always had hope things
would get better.
I will dedicate this, my life story, to all of my children and to my nephew, Dewey
Neufeld, who encouraged me to write it and who has worked so hard and given so much
of his time in helping to find out so much about our ancestors and making copies for all
of us.
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Thank you again, Dewey and may God bless you.
Ruth Immell
THINGS IN MY LIFE WHICH HAPPENED IN 1981
This has been a good year for me. In some ways it has been super. We will start
from the first of the year. Of course, it's always very cold and snowy during the winter in
Missouri and this year was no exception. However, we natives get use to it.
On January 23, 1981, my good friend and constant companion of fourteen years
died. Penny was my dog and was born October 1, 1966. She was fourteen years and four
months old and we had been together since she was five weeks old. She was only a
“mutt,” but we loved each other very much. She had the dreaded cancer, which we all
fear so much. Penny I miss you, but I won’t forget you! Here is a poem that I wrote on
October 11, 1981, which describes our life together:
Ode To My Dog Penny
I brought you home when just a pup,
You left your mom without a cry.
The day was cold, you snuggled up
Beneath my coat. I wonder why?
You were so very small and cute
And very shy and lonesome too.
I know you missed your family so,
For you were only five weeks old.
You had a toy dog for play,
It was your pal at nap time too,
And so we lived from day to day
And you grew up as all dogs do.
Your love for me and mine for you
Grew stronger daily as we played,
You went with me where ere I went
And never from my side you strayed.
You helped me when I mowed the grass
Or in the garden I did work,
And when I had to rake the leaves
You thought I did it for a lark.
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You dug up moles all o’er my lawn
You thought that was your mission here.
You chased the birds and rabbits too,
You barked a lot and had no fear.
Sometimes I had to go away
I’d say goodbye and you would cry.
You’d lay and wait till I came back,
Then, welcome me with all your heart.
Your lovely hair was soft and long.
‘Twas brown and with an golden hue.
Your waving tail was quite a sight
Your soft brown eyes so kind and true.
At night you slept upon my bed,
I felt so safe and free from harm.
You understood the words I said
You didn’t know you were a dog.
The years went by and you grew old.
Your lovely hair was growing thin.
Some gray was showing in the gold
You could not hear me when I called.
Upon your leg a cancer grew.
You slowly failed from day to day.
I knew that soon my friend would die,
And then one eve you passed away.
Then, I cried.
On January 26th
, I had my seventy-sixth birthday. Some of my family was here
and I received a number of presents. The one I was most thrilled with was a small camera
from Verna and Roy Schweer. I had wanted a new one for a long time, but had just
neglected getting it. I have loved taking pictures for a very long time and now have
several albums full of them. I can no longer get film for my old camera.
I stay home most of the time in the winter and quilt, sew, crochet, read, work
crossword puzzles and watch television. I enjoy the quiet life most of the time, but I think
we all have times when we get lonesome and long for our lost companionship of long
ago. We wish sometimes that we could live our life over again and try to do a better job
of it all. Oh well, that’s only wishful thinking. When I was young, it seemed that life
would be so very long—almost forever. Then, before I hardly knew what was happening,
I was old and it is nearly over. When I think of these things now, I feel sad and cry a
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little. However, one must not linger over what has been and cannot be changed. We have
to be content with the way things are now.
I am now the oldest living member of our very large family.
I have a lot to be thankful for. My health is fairly good and I have an income to
live comfortably on. I have a good home and my very dear children are a comfort. My
three dogs are a lot of company to me and the children come to visit as often as their busy
lives permit.
I enjoy writing and getting letters from the distant family. Since the reunion last
summer, I have become closer to my sisters and brother and nephews and nieces—some
of them I had not even met before. We will talk more about that a little later in this story.
In April I had a bad fall on the basement floor. I stumbled over a cat. I could
hardly walk for about three weeks and my back was weak much longer. It could have
been worse—I might have broken my hip.
For months, Dewey and I had been writing about having a big family reunion here
in Missouri. It had been in his mind for years and just needed someone to set the date. I
suggested that we have it here this year, as I was not getting any younger. The idea
started growing and plans were being tentatively made between us. As others in the
family heard about it, they agreed it was a swell idea and more enthusiasm was generated
until we were all quite excited.
Now going back a few months to the year before as this is part of our story. The
first of September 1980, my Uncle Cliff and Aunt Jerry Reed from Yuma, Arizona, came
to spend a month in Gerald with my family. They brought their travel trailer and parked
in our city trailer court. Jerry is my aunt and is four years younger than I am. We had a
very nice visit and had made plans to have my children and grandchildren come for a
family get together on September 14, 1980.
Then out of the blue, my sister Alma Partridge called me from Towanda, Kansas,
and said she and my sister, Myrtle, were coming down to visit me for a few days. I had
not heard from either of them for ages, so this was quite a happy surprise. I told Alma of
our plans and she said she would make arrangements to get her vacation set ahead, so
they could be at our reunion. Alma is a registered nurse at a very busy hospital in
Wichita, Kansas.
Alma and Myrtle arrived on Friday, September 12, in the late afternoon. Aunt
Jerry and Uncle Cliff came over and we had a big evening visiting and getting
reacquainted. I had married, when they were very young, and we were so busy leading
our separate lives that we just drifted apart. After I moved back to Missouri, from Kansas,
we just drifted farther apart with our busy lives and raising our children. With not much
money for traveling we did not get together very often and became almost like strangers.
When we were young, we did not feel the strong need of kinship, which we feel now, as
35
we grow older. I know it was that way with me. I feel that some of the family resented it,
when I left the family circle to move back to Missouri, but something kept pulling me
back. I was so unhappy after Albert died and I felt there was nothing more there for me.
Maybe this was my destiny. One wanders about these things and why certain things
happen or cause us to do the things we do. I am not sorry I made the move down here
even though life was really hard for a number of years.
I believe we should not let the pressures of life crowd out the more important
things, such as the love of our families. Now as we come to the end of our life we realize
these things more fully. I know this is the way I feel and I am glad that my love for my
family has come to life again. May God bless you all!
Getting back to our dinner on September 14, 1980, all of my children and their
families, Aunt Jerry and Uncle Cliff, Short and Myrtle were here. It was sad that Betty’s
families all live in Colorado and could not come to be with us. We enjoyed a big dinner, a
lot of pictures were taken and much visiting was enjoyed by all of us. In the afternoon,
Fred and Ruth Ann Hartung and their daughter, Carol played and sang songs. Some of
the others joined in. A very lovely day was had by all.
On Saturday the thirteenth, Alma, Myrtle, Jerry and I took a drive. We first went
to Walbert Cemetery where several of our ancestors are buried. Then on past my old farm
to Tea, Missouri. They were sure I was lost, but I have been over that road a lot of times.
We then came back through Rosebud, stopping to explore some old houses, which
interested my sisters. We came on home to have a lunch of hamburgers, chips and coffee
and much catching up on our talking. It was a hot day, but we enjoyed it anyway. Later,
we went to Jerry’s camper where she told our fortune with cards.
On Monday the fifteenth, Myrtle, Short, Verna and myself went to Oak Hill
where we met Fred and Ruth Ann. Then we went on to the Collier Cemetery where my
mother’s family, the Muskats, are buried. A few of our family graves had headstones, but
most have only a flat rock stood on edge to mark the graves. Myrtle made rubbings of the
stones, which had inscriptions on them. To do this, she placed a large sheet of white
paper over the face of the stone and rubbed with a large black carpenter’s crayon. The
rubbings made the names and dates come off perfectly.
We took along the makings for sandwiches, coffee and ice water and had lunch
under the trees nearby. It was like a picnic.
Fred and Ruth Ann had found this cemetery sometime before. It is on private
property and far off the road and could never be found without directions. We then, went
back to Oak Hill and I found the two houses, which my grandfather Thomas Walton May
had built and lived on.
We also visited the Oak Hill Cemetery, but found none of our relatives buried
there. We were hot, getting tired and the day was nearly over so back over the beautiful
hills and woods of Missouri, and once again back home. Jerry did not make this trip with
36
us. She was sick the night before and rested all day. The family day was a little too much
for her.
Then, on Tuesday morning my two sisters left for their homes in Kansas. We all
enjoyed their visit very much and wished they could have stayed longer. I think this trip
and what Myrtle wrote about Missouri, to Dewey, was why he wanted to make the trip
down here at Thanksgiving time. He had never been to Missouri, and wanted a first-hand
look at things here and also wanted to meet me and some of my family.
When, Dewey, Don and Shirley Leonard and Myrtle were here, the idea of a
family reunion began to grow—like a snowball rolling downhill. From then on serious
plans were being made by all of us. Family members were being notified and they started
making plans too. From then on, we could not have stopped it, if we had wanted to, and
no one did want to. The closer the time came for our reunion, the slower the time seemed
to pass. But as time has always done, it did pass and the big day had really come. We had
set the time for Sunday, June 28, 1981.
On the 21st, Myrtle and her small son, David, came driving in pulling a small
camper. Her husband, Bill, had to work and came on the bus later in the week. I am glad
she came early, as we had so much talking to catch up on before the big crowd got here.
We also went to Leslie, a small town nearby, to visit our cousin, Noel Shoemaker. He is
eighty-three years old and we did not know he was our cousin, until last year. He said we
had played together when we were children.
On Monday evening, my nephew, Richard “Rick” Neufeld and his small son,
Brian, came driving in from Texas. I had not seen him, or his brother Dewey, since they
were very small children. We, too, had several talks over our morning coffee while the
others were still sleeping. He did some family tree research and also mowed my big lawn
before the others arrived.
On Thursday afternoon, Jack and Alma came driving in pulling a large travel
trailer. They parked up at Verna and Roy’s, as there was not enough room here at my
house.
Not long afterward, the others came rolling in. They had all met at Doniphan,
Missouri, which is many miles south of here. Some of our family had married in to the
Tillman family and some had just lived there. They visited cemeteries, where my sister
Golda Watkins and some of her family were buried. This group was made up of: Dewey
Neufeld from Texas; Velma Hines, her son Johnny Ray (JR) and his small daughter Tina
from California; Don and Mona Smith and Mona’s daughter Nicki from Colorado; and
Shirley Leonard and Sharon Martin from Wichita.
Dewey had car trouble in Doniphan. Velma and JR had a car breakdown at
Albuquerque, New Mexico, and were held up for a few days for repairs. Mona and Don
also had problems with the brakes on their pickup and camper on this trip. My sister,
Myrtle, experienced problems with the temperature light on her car coming on and
37
looking as if her car was overheating. The mechanical problems could not stop the
reunion and our gathering together. Eventually, all was in order and now everyone was
here at last.
It was a bit overwhelming to see so many cars and trailers in my driveway. There
were two trailers and an over-the-cab truck camper and five cars. Later in the week,
short’s two families—a son and family parked at the Schweer’s home, which is just a
block up the street. From then on things took on a very lively pace. The street between
our two houses was kept busy while they were here. Someone was always going back and
forth.
On Friday, our visitors went hunting for our roots. Some went to the courthouse at
Herman, Missouri, to go through old records; some went to Steelville courthouse to
search records and some to Oak Hill to search cemeteries. Myrtle went to Owensville, to
look through old newspapers, but the editor said no, it was too much trouble for him.
They all came back late in the afternoon very tired and hungry.
On Saturday, a car and the truck camper full of us—sixteen in all—went on
another exploring outing. We went to Walbert Cemetery, then to Tea, Missouri, and to
several cemeteries, which I had never visited before. We then, went on to Oak Hill and
visited a while with Fannie Tayloe and also went to Grandpa May’s two houses where his
family used to live. Several of us took pictures. It was an enjoyable trip, but tiring and we
were all glad to be back home again to have a hot supper.
Finally the big day came and we were all busy cooking and getting everything
ready for our dinner at noon. Dewey is as handy in the kitchen as a woman is and he
helped right up until mealtime. Everyone helped and Roy was very helpful bringing
tables and chairs and seeing that all was ready out in the yard. Most of us filled our plates
in the house and ate outside under the shade trees. Dale brought a picnic table from Van
Buren where he lives.
All of my children came bringing baskets of food and even the visitors fixed food.
Soon two tables were laden with everything one could think of to eat. Some brought big
water coolers full of lemonade and ice water and we kept a big coffeepot going all day.
We left the food on the tables all day and anyone could eat again whenever they found
some room from the big dinner.
A lot of pictures were taken, and much visiting between all of us. There was even
one table of pinochle being played.
Fred and Ruth Ann Hartung, and their daughter Carol, played guitars and sang.
Others joined in the singing. We had our picnic in my big shady front yard. It was a
beautiful sunshiny day—warm, but not too hot. To me, it seemed like everything went off
perfectly. The only things missing were Betty and her family and Aunt Jerry and Uncle
Cliff. They promise to be with us next summer, when we meet again. We had fifty-three
here for dinner. All to soon the day was over and my children had to go home. Several of
38
them said, let’s do it again next year. Now we have started plans for our next reunion in
1982. Life is too short to neglect the gathering of our families they way we have done in
the past. It is too bad that we have to grow old before we think of these important things.
How my mother would have enjoyed our big reunion. My Aunt Carrie would
have loved it too. How do we know that their spirits were not with us?
We do have Dewey to thank for it all.
On Monday, the out of state visitors started leaving and by noon Tuesday, the last
car was gone. It is always a big letdown when company leaves, but this was a bigger one
than usual because there were so many here and we had such a good time. I missed them
for several days, but life goes on and I and the dogs and cats slowly got back to normal.
Then, I took a flu-like virus and was sick for a week.
I want to say, I enjoyed every minute while my company was here. Sometimes, I
forget to tell people how I feel, but I will try to be better in the future. I do love you all—
very much!
This is mid-September as I write this, and cooler than normal temperature for this
time of year. This has been the wettest summer that I can remember. I have a big yard
and a lot of grass to mow. By the time the last plot is finished, I have to start all over
again. Now that I am old, I cannot work long hours at a time anymore. The saying is, “if
it takes longer to rest than it takes to get tired, then one is getting old.” Could that be what
is wrong with me?
As usual I put in a garden this year, but it was so wet it was the poorest garden I
have ever made. The crabgrass was the only thing, which grew good and it really took
over. I will try again next year.
There were three great-grandbabies born this year. A daughter named Melissa Jo
was born to Greg and Karen Briscoe on September 5, 1981. She is Dale and Ruth
Brown’s granddaughter. A son named Michael Shane was born to Carl and Terri
Gumbenberger on August 24, 1981. He is Elmer and Leona Brown’s grandson. A
daughter was born to Kenny and Becky Narsh on November 26, 1981. This baby is Ken
and Opal Narsh’s granddaughter.
It is now October, and Indian summer time again. This is the time, in the fall after
the first frost, when we have an unusually nice warm spell of weather. The legend says
that a long time ago the Indians got lazy and were slow getting their crops gathered in
and winter was almost come. Then the Great Spirit gave them another chance by sending
Indian summer. I wrote this little poem September 10, 1943. I think it fits in here. I hope
you like it.
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Indian Summer
Indian Summer is here again.
Air is warm and sky is hazy.
Leaves are turning red and gold,
And me I feel so lazy.
Bees are flitting here and there
To find a flower with honey.
Birds are flying south again,
Oh yes, it’s Indian Summer.
Corn shocks scattered over fields
Golden pumpkins piled between.
Smell of sorghum in the air,
It won’t be long till Halloween.
Then show flakes will fill the air,
Dry dead leaves will tumble down,
Fluttering idly here and there
To cover up the cold bare ground.
Soon the snow will cover all,
With a blanket soft and white.
Whispering softly, “Rest till spring,
You’re tucked in safely for the night”.
1981 is over and I will write a little more before closing this one-year story of
mine. Thanksgiving month was rather quiet. Only one important thing happened! Kenny
and Becky Narsh had a baby girl on Thanksgiving Day, the 26th
of November. That was
Albert Brown’s birthday and also Kenny’s sister, Linda, has a birthday on the 26th
of
November.
Opal and Ken came out in December to visit. On Friday night, the week before
Christmas, Dale and Ruth came and stayed all night and left Saturday afternoon. Alvin
and Loretta came out on Christmas Eve afternoon and stayed all night and spent
Christmas Day with me. We had a small turkey and all the trimmings. Elmer and Leona
and Carl and Terri and baby came on Saturday and visited awhile. We again took several
pictures.
Alberta came down the next week and we went shopping in Owensville. It was a
very nice holiday time and one of my presents was a tape recorder. That is something I
never expected to own.
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I will close now and hope to write another story at the end of next year. Winter
has really settled down on us now and here is another poem I wrote back in January 1944,
which seems appropriate.
Snow Scene
As I sit and watch from my window—
Great snowflakes so soft and white,
As they slowly, silently settler down,
In a great white bed so snug and tight.
Each weed and bush and every tree,
Has a lovely soft cover of white,
And they gently lean down all snug and safe,
Like a baby tucked in for the night.
All day long, from my cozy home—
I watch as the day turns to night,
And I think how cozy the earth must feel
In this thick, soft cover of white.
EVENTS CONCERNING MYSELF & MY FAMILY IN 1982
1982 is now over, and this is the story of my life for that year.
I had another birthday the 26th
of January and I am now seventy-seven years
young. Some of the family was here to help me celebrate.
It was a very cold and snowy month—below normal as well as February. I stay at
home most of the time, when the weather is bad and when I need to shop Roy and Verna
take me. I do not like to drive, when the streets are icy. It does not bother me at all to
spend a lot of time at home, because there are so many things I enjoy doing. I quilted
some the first of the year and then, again in the late summer and fall. I sewed several
dresses in the spring for hot weather wear. Also we were all planning and working for
another reunion in July.
I am always glad, when the cold winter weather is over and I can get out in the
sunshine and start my yard work. I have so many leaves to rake each year. This is one
tiresome job that I could do without. Later, there is a lot of grass to mow as I have a big
yard.
Elmer and Mike came down on the Monday after Mother’s Day and said they
were going to paint the woodwork on my house. They also cleaned out the gutters. It was
badly needed and I was so happy to have that done. Thank you fellows, very much.
Elmer found that my roof needed to be replaced, so he and the other family members got
41
together and bought the materials and put a new roof on my house. Thank you all, a very
lot. This was in June 1982. What would I do without my wonderful family?
The next big event of the year was our second family reunion held on the 3rd
of
July. There were fifty-four present this year. Some of the family came a week before and
some stayed a week after, so there was no sudden let down like the year before, when
everyone left at once. We all enjoyed a big day and everyone brought some food so there
was a huge dinner. We had afternoon music by our own musicians and singing and
visiting and just being happy. A lot of pictures were also taken. Things went much
smoother this time and this made it a lot easier for me. I had made notes of my mistakes
and errors of the year before and had tried to correct them and it all helped. Here is a
poem that I wrote which describes the day best of all:
Our Reunion Day – July 3rd
, 1982
We call the family together.
They came from far and near—
The old and the young—the fat and the thin
ALL seemed so glad to be here.
There were mothers and daddies and children
And uncles and aunts quite a few.
There were sisters and brothers and cousins
And a couple of dogs – it is true.
All mingled together and were happy
With greetings of love and hugs too.
We soon were all ready for dinner
With tables loaded with food and drink too.
With food our plates over flowing
We gathered out under the trees.
On a nice summer day we sat in the shade
And ate and enjoyed the breeze.
So much talking, you couldn’t imagine.
Each telling the other the news
Of all that happened since last year
To listen, we couldn’t refuse.
We took lots of pictures of families
Our cameras were shooting like mad,
While the kids were running and playing
All happy and friendly and glad.
There were laughing and music and singing
We were all so happy and gay
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As we sat in the shade and reminisced
We agreed t’was a wonderful day.
Some of our family were ailing
And had to stay home – it was sad.
But we thought of them often and said a prayer
For their welfare and other times with us to be had.
The big day was finally over.
The families had to go home.
They reluctantly parted with a sad good-bye
With hopes that we’ll all meet again.
There’s always a feeling of sadness
When we part from our loved ones so dear
So until then, we’ll daydream and plan
For another reunion next year.
August 1982
My daughter, Betty Sherman, came from Colorado, this year and I was really glad
that she could come, as I do not get to see her very often. She was such a great help to me
in the kitchen, too. We hope she can make it again in 1983. Betty’s daughter, Connie
Miles, and Connie’s son, Jesse, came from Chicago for a few days as well. It had been
many years since I had seen her. Come back again, Connie. Our cousin, Noel Shoemaker,
and his son, John, came to be with also this year.
Several of our family was sick and we all had a heavy heart for them—but, God
willing, they will be with us in 1983. My brother, Earl May and his wife, Florence, had
bought their plane tickets to come from California, but her leg got so bad from an
infected spider bite they had to stay home and it was feared she would lose her leg.
Sharon Martin had to have an emergency operation—a cancerous thyroid—so she could
not come and some of our family stayed with her in Kansas. My daughter-in-law, Ruth
Brown, was very sick with cancer so none of her family was here. We missed each of you
sick folks and our prayers went out to and for each of you.
We were happy to have my Uncle Cliff and Aunt Jerry from Arizona, with us—
we hope you will come again next year. I think our next reunion will be July 3rd
, 1983.
You all come now—you hear? Cliff and Jerry brought a game of “Uno” with them and
we all learned to play. It was new to most of us. Someone else brought a “Password”
game so we had many happy evenings together playing games. Alma and Jack parked
their travel trailer at Roy and Verna’s house and it was so easy to trot back and forth
between our homes. Tuesday evening of the second week, Alma and her family gave a
barbecue supper for us all and we had a real nice time eating and playing games.
I wrote several poems early in the year and some more this fall. I do enjoy writing
them. I wrote one for each month of the year and I am happy with my effort. Sometimes I
43
surprise myself. Early in the year I had written a poem called “My State—Missouri”.
Mona Smith got a copy and thought it was really good. She wanted to send it to one of
our state legislators to see if they would put it in the state record. I told her I did not care
and so she sent it. I promptly forgot about it and when she got a beautiful certificate back
from them, she, Don and Dewey decided to present it to me at a surprise party. Don made
a nice frame and they wrapped it in gift paper. I was surprised! They had the Gerald
editor to come over and take my picture and he wrote up a nice article about me.
Mona made a cake and decorated it with red roses and “congratulations” written
on it. I just could not believe it all. The resolution had the Missouri State seal and was
signed by Bob Griffin—Speaker of the House of Representatives. I was on cloud nine for
awhile. I would like to share with you the nice resolution they sent me as well as the
poem, which created such a fuss:
MISSOURI HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES
RESOLUTION
WHEREAS, the members of the Missouri House of Representatives are fully
cognizant with the greatness of our State can largely be attributed to the many and varied
endeavors of countless individuals who take great pride in both their Missouri citizenship
and heritage; and
WHEREAS, it is a distinct pleasure for this body to honor one such citizen, Ruth
Belle Immell of Gerald, Missouri, a remarkable woman who has continually expressed
love, faithfulness and devotion to her native State since the beginning of her rich and
rewarding life on this earth near the community of Oak Hill back in the year of 1905; and
WHEREAS, a lifelong resident of the Show-Me State, Ruth Belle Immell has
distinguished herself as an individual whose deep appreciation for life and all of God’s
creations has always been reflected in her daily pattern of living; and
WHEREAS, Ruth Belle Immell has long been known by her family, friends and
neighbors as a loving, kind and compassionate woman whose tremendous faith in God
and her fellowman has given her the comfort and strength to persevere and meet life’s
challenges; and
WHEREAS, this charming woman of seventy-seven years has also earned
recognition for her creative talent as a writer of poetry who quietly conveys her innermost
feelings through the melodious rhymes and rhythm of numerous touching verses; and
WHEREAS, during the month of March, 1982, Ruth Belle Immell wrote a
beautiful poem about the State of Missouri in which she pours forth her love for her
native land and all the splendors it has to offer; and
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WHEREAS, it is entirely fitting and proper that this legislative body should pay
special tribute to Ruth Belle Immell and express appreciation for the joy and inspiration
she has brought to her fellow citizens by sharing with us the most beautiful verses of
“MY STATE – MISSOURI”;
NOW, THEREFORE, BE IT RESOLVED that we, the members of the Missouri
House of Representatives, eighty-first General Assembly, extend our hearty
congratulations to Ruth Belle Immell for the success she has enjoyed as a poet and as a
loyal Missourian, and further extend our best wishes for continued happiness and
fulfillment as she looks forward to many more years in her beloved native state; and
BE IT FURTHER RESOLVED that the Chief Clerk of the Missouri House of
Representatives be instructed to prepare a properly inscribed copy of this resolution for
Ruth Belle Immell, as a mark of our esteem for her.
Offered by Representative David L. Steelman
I, Bob F. Griffin, Speaker of the House of
(Seal Representatives, Eighty-first General Assembly,
Missouri second Regular Session, do certify that the above
House of is a true and correct copy of House Resolution
Representatives No. 594, adopted July 27, 1982
/s/ Bob F. Griffin, Speaker
My State – Missouri
This is my state where I was born,
So very, very long ago.
The years slipped by – the time has gone
And left me here alone and old.
I love the hills and streams and trees.
Wild flowers that grow so lush and free.
They spread o’er fields and roadside too,
In colors bright of every hue.
The oaks grow tall and thick and green,
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With chattering squirrels on business bent
With babes in nests that can’t be seen,
And storing food for winter’s needs.
There’s cedars too mixed in between
The stately hickory trees so tall.
And e’en when winter time has come
They still are clad in robes of green.
In fall the leaves from green turn bright
In every hue of yellow and red
Till icy winds say now, “tis night”.
And they fall down and go to bed.
The trees look dead, so bare and cold.
The branches shiver in the wind.
They look so hopeless and so old,
With heavy snow the cedars bend.
But spring will come with breezes warm.
The buds will swell—new leaves will grow.
Birds appear alive with song
From where they hide from winter storm.
By Ruth B. Immell – March 1982
The surprise party happened on the Sunday before Labor Day. At our next Senior
Citizens Club meeting, I got congratulations all day. None of them knew that I wrote
poems. Dewey has been typing them for me and got a loose-leaf notebook for me to keep
them in. He also encourages me to keep writing. Who knows, I may have enough for a
book some day.
I had a fairly good garden this year with a lot of cabbage and tomatoes and
zucchini squash so I wrote a poem about the zucchini. It is included with my book of
poems.
In the middle of September, Alma and Jack and Spook (their dog) came for a few
days visit with me and Don and Mona and Dewey. We had a nice visit and I am glad you
came. I hope you do it again.
About this time, I got a new puppy dog. I had almost forgotten how much trouble
a pup could be. When I leave the house, he would do everything he could think of. It was
unbelievable how the house would look when I came in. He would empty the
wastebasket and take all the cushions off chairs and divans chew the furniture and even
chewed the plug off my floor lamp. He would drag the broom in the living room and any
clothes I would leave in the bathroom would be spread all over. Plus papers torn up
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everywhere. Now when I leave he has to stay outside. I have raised three other dogs in
the last few years and none of them ever did anything like that. He has grown a lot bigger
than I thought he would be and has learned a lot so maybe there is yet hope for him.
Anyway, I wrote a poem about him. It seems like my pen has to keep busy.
Nothing really outstanding happened in October 1982. Verna and I got a bunch of
black walnuts given to us and I hulled and dried them and was nearly done cracking and
picking them out when a week before Thanksgiving my right hand got real sore and hurt
all night. It is not well yet and that was six weeks ago. I now think it is arthritis. I cannot
believe it has happened to me. I love to do these things and always have done everything
I needed to do. It is better now, so perhaps there is hope for me yet. Anyway, I am glad I
can write again even though it still hurts some.
December has come and Christmas was in the air everywhere it seemed. Stores,
streets and homes were decorated with Christmas trees put up and lots of colored lights
turned on at night. All through December, the weather was unseasonable. We had floods
and tornadoes and not a bit of snow and very mild temperatures for Missouri. One needs
some snow to really get the Christmas spirit. Because of my sore right hand, I did not do
very much baking for Christmas this year. I usually bake a mountain of cookies and make
several kinds of candy. I did not even put up a tree. I hope to do better next year.
Al and Loretta and Kenneth, Opal and Pam came out and had Christmas dinner
with me. I baked a twelve-pound turkey and all that goes with it and we had an enjoyable
day together. I had three invitations to go out on Christmas Day also. The weather was
spring-like. Dale and Stevie Brown came up from Van Buren and visited awhile on
Christmas Eve afternoon. They were on their way to Union to pick up Ruthie’s mother to
take back with them. Their family was all at home that day. Ruth is still too weak to
travel so far and I do miss them so much! They brought me a beautiful vase and a big
fruit basket. They also sent a generous check in with their Christmas card. I also collect
vases.
The floods here in Missouri were very bad—especially in low-lying areas around
St. Louis. In some places, the water was up to the eaves or nearly so. People lost all of
their furniture and belongings and I am sure the homes were badly damaged. Here in our
area, the Bourbouse and Red Oak Rivers were up to the bridge floor and higher in places.
Lots of roads were closed and entire fields covered with water. Gerald, where I live, is on
higher ground and several miles from the river. I would hate to live so close to water, as I
am very afraid of it.
My granddaughter, Linda Narsh, was married a week before Christmas. We are
happy for her.
I almost forgot to tell you about my Christmas toy. It is a real nice radio-type
cassette recorder with AM/FM stereo. I had been saving money gifts, which had been
given me since last summer and when the Western Auto Christmas catalog came out
there was the one I was looking for. I asked Verna what she thought of it and she said, “It
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sounded okay, let’s go look at it”. They had to order it and when we brought it home and
turned it on we were both really satisfied. It sounds beautiful. I only have four tapes of
the songs I especially like, but plan to add to my collection. You guessed it—I had to
write a poem about:
A Toy For Grandma
Today I got a new toy
I’m as happy as a kid,
You wouldn’t think it could happen
To an old woman—but it did.
It’s a radio and tape recorder,
With AM and FM stereo too,
Now I’m playing a beautiful tape
Of hymns that thrill me all through.
I listen to Christmas carols
On the radio all day long,
And my soul is lifted up to heaven
And on my lips is a song.
Oh, thank you “dear Lord” for my toy,
Bless the ones that gave it to me.
May their days be joyful and happy
And filled with praises for Thee.
May the good Lord bless and keep me
As I worship with carols and hymns
And may all others too get a blessing
With me at this Christmas—Amen.
Albert’s niece, Elma Brown Bennett (George and Golda Brown’s daughter), died
on December 26 at Santa Rosa, California, and was brought back to Owensville,
Missouri, for burial. She has a very retarded son and husband still living, but both were
sick and could not come to the funeral. Alberta and I went to the funeral on the last day of
December. Elma Brown was sixty-two. Afterward we went to the Wal-Mart store to go
shopping. The store was having an after-Christmas sale and we both came home with our
arms full of packages. Alberta, Verna and Roy, Al and Loretta have been so nice to ask
me to go shopping with them and quite often go out for lunch. I enjoy these little trips
very much. Thanks muchly, to all of you. Hold everything—I feel a poem coming on:
My Children
They are all just regular folks
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With hearts of purest gold –
Their kindness to me is fantastic
So much so it can never all be told.
They are all so pleasant and nice,
So loving and generous too.
With all these nice things I can’t ever find
Not one thing about them that’s not good and true.
These children of mine whom I’m speaking of
Are a gift from heaven—from One up above,
The most wondrous gift that a woman can get
Is a family of children to have and to love.
By Ruth B. Immell
That’s all Folks—I’ll write again next year!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Postscript: Esther Ruth Bell MAY/Brown/Immell died of a heart attack on March 3,
1987, at her home in Gerald, Missouri. The funeral was held on the 10th
of March and she
is buried in Walbert Cemetery.