The Old Folks Home

[Pozees]

I agree. I was enjoying the story and then it just...

Yes! Funny, when you said your Dad was the youngest of thirteen children, I thought of Glen Campbell, who is the thirteenth son of the thirteenth son (weird how crazy bits of trivia stick in my head, while necessary facts go on their merry way).

Please continue ...

 

[Highcotton]

I agree. I was enjoying the story and then it just...

I too was enjoying the story. Though things were easier in the fifties I could relate. My grandfather lived a day and a half wagon ride from Eufala Alabama and he and my dad told me several stories about sleeping at the "Wagon Yard".

 

[Wisher1000]

My Dad has so many wonderful stories of his life, growing up like that with all his brothers and sisters. I know it was hard, and there was also heartache, but I know that it is what carved his character and made him the man I admire most in the world.

One of my favorite stories is about when he and his closest brother, Jobe and some other boys were out stealing peaches off of Taylor Keene's peach tree. Afterward, they had gone down to the local store/service station to sit out front with the old men that hung out there, when Old Man Keene came looking for them. They were all scared but were trying not to show it. Jobe was doing the best job of it, leaned back in a chair, picking his teeth. Mr. Keene asked my Dad, shaking his cane while accusing, "GENE, did you take peaches off my tree?" "No sir, Mr. Keene, I didn't touch them." he lied. "Melvin, did you?" "No, sir, I wouldn't do that." Then he turned to Jobe, "JOBE, did you eat my peaches?" Jobe looked at him, then at the other boys and said, "Yes sir, I did, I just had a hankerin' for some fresh peaches." Old Man Keene, according to Dad, chased the other boys off with his cane, landing a few blows to show them he was serious, then turned around and bought Jobe a coke.

 

[superchemicalgirl]

Anyone with a Kindle I'd recommend downloading the free book "Letters of a woman homesteader" - filled with lovely stories similar to this. Sleeping under pine trees when it was snowing...

I think the only thing I wouldn't want to deal with from that time is the lack of indoor plumbing. I love indoor plumbing. Give me disease and hardship, but give me plumbing.

 

[chickisoup]

yes, yes, please continue!!! when I rambled about the chicks and the warm bricks, that actually happened in the mid 70's. I had moved my children back to the farm for a few years to learn the lessons of what is truly a necessity and what is really a luxury and what is really important. The lessons that I was taught by my grandmas. One was still on the family dairy farm in Michigan in the early 60's where she had lived since she and my grandpa had fled from Germany after WWI. The other had moved to WI after marrying a young lumberjack from Ireland when the family had seen the opportunity for the girls (there were 7) to get summer work in the northern logging camps as cooks, etc. but they kept the homestead in the Pine Mountains of Kentucky where I would spend summers drawing water from the spring in front of the house to cool off after working in the tobacco patch. I was determined that the lessons of self reliance, hard work and the importance of staying rooted to creation were not lost.

I love to hear stories like yours. It takes me back to sitting at my granny's kitchen table, doing my best to drink her awful logging camp coffee, and listening to the stories of heroes and heartbreak and a simpler life.

 

[chickisoup]

Anyone with a Kindle I'd recommend downloading the free book "Letters of a woman homesteader" - filled with lovely stories similar to this. Sleeping under pine trees when it was snowing...

I think the only thing I wouldn't want to deal with from that time is the lack of indoor plumbing. I love indoor plumbing. Give me disease and hardship, but give me plumbing.

thank you! going to grab it now

(BTW done the "running water" plumbing thing-run and get some water- and I much prefer the modern luxury!)

 

[Wisher1000]

Jobe was a character up until the day he died. I have wonderful memories of him, myself. He and Dad were often together and were very close throughout their lives. Jobe and my dad married sisters (Mom and my Aunt Teal.) so I actually have double first cousins - no Alabama inbreeding jokes needed, I've heard them all.

Dad said that if they were given a day off, which wasn't often, they would go to the creek and seine for minnows. If they could get enough, they would take them to the store and sell them. The man at the store would buy anything he could turn around and sell and the children in the family were always trying to get money. If they could manage to get their hands on .15c they would walk to town. It was about four miles if they took the back way, through some woods, fields, and yards, and about five and a half if they went along the road. In town, there were several options. Mostly, they would go to the drugstore, which had a lunch counter. For .15c they could get a bowl of chili and a coke to share. Dad said they would sit at the counter if they were clean enough, and would use a whole box of free soda crackers and a bottle of ketchup to make it last longer. They would put a clean spoon in the coke and take turns sipping a spoonful until it was gone. Then they would look around a little while before they started back home. It cost a nickel to ride the bus from town to the road they lived on, but they couldn't often scrounge up an additional dime for that luxury.

On one occasion, when Dad was about 10, he went to town alone. He had been given money to buy something his Mom needed and a dime for the round trip bus fare. He rode the bus to town, did the shopping for his Mom, but when he came out of the store, there was a young hound dog digging through some trash in an alley. The dog was emaciated and mangy, but looked to my Dad like he would make a good hunting dog. Dad went back into the store and used his return-trip nickel to buy some chunks of bologna the man cut from a large bulk package. Dad used the bologna to lure the dog along. He was making his way home, with the dog, knowing that there was a chance that his Dad wouldn't let him keep it, but was hopeful as the dog showed signs of liking him more and more with each morsel of bologna. They were making better time, because the dog was willingly following Dad now but when a car passed and backfired the dog got scared. Dad decided to put his belt on the dog as a leash. As they crossed a viaduct in an area called Alberta City, a car came along with some teenagers in it and ran over the dog, killing it instantly. He thought the teenagers did it on purpose. It never occured to him that he was close enough that the car could have hit him, but he cried the rest of the way home.

ETA Details Dad gave me about this story today, some were different from how I remember the story being told, but I guess he would remember better than I would.

 

[Wisher1000]

My Uncle Willie Jack was one of the biggest bootleggers and shine runners in the state. He was about 10 years older than Dad and once he started bootlegging, he supported the family with the money. Dad and the other children started getting new overalls and a new pair of shoes at the beginning of each school year and they got to keep the pork from the pig they raised to buy those things before. Their lifestyle changed for the better and the health of the family improved. Dad's mother, we called her "Big Momma" didn't like what he did, but appreciated that she could provide her children with more with his help. She had lost three children, one was still born, one died in the first year and one died at five years old. She said that she wouldn't have lost those children if she had had the extra help she got in later years. Once the oldest boys could handle the farming, Dad's Dad, Papa, went to work in the coal mines for a while, but he developed a sore on the side of his nose and within a year, it had consumed one side of his face to the point that he lost an eye and his cheekbone, jawbone and teeth were visible through it. He died from a cancer, that today, could have been easily removed. His death left Big Momma to raise all those kids by herself. That is when Willie Jack started making whiskey, although he never drank a drop. He had a souped up Chevrolet that he used to transport the whiskey. The backseat had been removed to haul the bottles, and his hound dogs when he took them hunting. Dad and the other brothers would borrow the car when they could to go on dates. Dad said the car smelled like whiskey and coon dog but most of the girls would go, anyway, because there were few cars to be found and the Marshall boys were known for their good looks! LOL! I can't say that they were all handsome, but my Dad looked like a movie star in the 1940's, He never lacked for a date and several girls were willing to fight over him. Jobe had met and married Teal (Mom's older sister) and one day, she needed a ride home and Jobe asked Dad to take her. When they pulled up, Mom, then 16, was in the front yard and Dad, then 24 was smitten. Teal refused to introduce them, saying that he was too old and too much of a rounder to meet her sister. Dad talked Jobe into introducing them and they started seeing each other when she could get permission. They could only go places with Jobe and Teal along as chaperones. My maternal grandmother, whom we called Paw Paw (that's another story) liked Dad immensely, but Granddaddy, didn't like him at all. When Dad asked Granddaddy if he could marry Mom, Granddaddy said, "NO, she's too young!" and shut the door in his face. Paw Paw got mad and chastised him and he later consented. They got married when Mom lacked two days being 17 and Dad was 25. They were best friends for 62 years.

I really have to stop, I have things to do besides bore y'all with my family stories.

 

[Pozees]

Not at all boring, this is great reading!

 

[dsqard]

Wisher these are wonderful stories. Not only are they interesting, but you have a knack for telling them well. Please tell me you have considered (or already have) putting these stories down in a book for your family? I know some of my dad's stories of when he was young but not nearly as many as you do and I regret that I never pushed him to tell me more. He is gone now and I will never know them. I know I would treasure a book of stories from either my mom's growing up or my dad's. I think your children (and someday WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY in the future grandchildren) would cherish the family history.