Though I most frequently talk about the amusing things our family experienced, of course there was another side. Mother is a lovely lady, cheerful, fun-loving, and totally centered on her family, still at ninety six. She is and always was, scatterbrained, a trait she generously shared with her children. It provided comic relief in otherwise hard times. I know now Daddy was bipolar, though he never went off the deep end. As a young man, he was a binge drinker and gambler, though he gave it up to save his marriage. Before setting out to establish a farm in his early forties he was always hunting or hanging with his cronies. When I was a small child, Billy and I frequently got to tag along. It was heaven! Upon he return from work we rushed joyously rushing to meet him shrieking, “Daddy’s home! Daddy’s home.” Then we’d likely be off for an adventure. Unfortunately, for his girls, Daddy made a point of establishing an emotional and physical distance from his older two girls as we approached puberty. He wanted no hint of inappropriate behavior in his family. God only knows how he was influenced by his early life.
About the time Daddy was nine, his sick father had moved into the home of his own mother. Suffering with a brain tumor, he was abed, unable to do anything for his poor family. That grandma wanted nothing to do with her daughter-in-law and the starving children. The third of seven, Daddy, along with his two older brother’s, took any work they could get, often for nothing more than the chance to put their feet under some else’s table. Daddy said one day he chopped bushes all day for a bag of meal.
None of his father’s family wanted to be saddled with their ravenous appetites, either. They were all struggling. Daddy told of helping his uncle with the harvest one late fall day. The three barefoot boys got there before daylight, hoping for breakfast. Their shoeless condition was not slovenliness. They’d have gladly worn shoes had they had them. Sadly, his aunt was plunging the breakfast dishes in hot water as they shuffled up to the back door. She’d had no intention of feeding them, shooing them out to the field with Uncle Robert and their cousins. At noon, Annie Mae sent one of her girls to the field with a bag of biscuits slathered with cold gravy and a jug of water. The biscuits were bland but filling, but the boys had been hoping for milk, and maybe a cookie or a pear
The weather turned about four that afternoon, a cold sleety rain. The hungry boys followed their uncle to the house, looking forward to a hot supper and a cozy bed for the night. Their mother wouldn’t be worried, knowing they were at Uncle Robert’s. Surely, Uncle Robert would hitch up the wagon and bring them home in the morning. They didn’t have shoes or coats! In the days before their Daddy got sick, they’d often stayed at Uncle Robert’s with their cousins.
Again, the heartless Annie Mae met them at the door. “You boys git on home before it gits any worse. Your Mama’s gonna be worried about you.” Aunt Annie made it clear they and their appetites had no welcome at her table. Uncle Robert gave them each a quarter and a tow sack full of the corn they’d just helped harvest. He sadly watched his nephews head to their poor home, clearly having had his orders. The shoeless boys cried with misery as they gingerly stumbled the long three miles home on frozen feet. Daddy vowed then never to turn a hungry visitor away. He never did. Mother was often angered when Daddy insisted she come up with a meal for drop-in company, even hours after mealtime. It’s surprising how often Daddy’s offer was accepted, especially by ne’er do wells. Meanwhile, Mother fumed at the stove. “Nobody with any raising would expect someone to drop in and be offered a meal!” Mother never had sandwich makings or quick food so a meal meant cooking.
On a further further note, the penurious Annie Mae made each of her own children raise heir own garden contributing to the family larder. She benefitting further, selling off the excess.
Nutsrok 