The Farm in Elijah, Missouri
(The following is taken from e-mail correspondence between Kathi Hill and her cousin, Eddie Hansford, Fall 2012 as they thought back on their childhood memories of their Grandpa and Grandma’s farm in Elijah, Missouri)
(Eddie) Elliot, 8 years of age, told me one day when he was feeling low about the divorce, “Daddy, I would like things to be like they were in the old days with you and Mom.” I often think about what he said: “The old days…” That is an issue for any of us and it is important that we try to capture something of the old days whenever we can. Memories fade even if it was only 4 years ago when Elliot's world changed forever. We don't need to dwell in the past but it is dear to us, and sometimes we just want a glimpse, a tear, a sweet moment to remind us.
Gary Hansford on Front Porch of Farm
The Old Farmhouse in Elijah, Missouri(above); the Old Barn (below left)
( Eddie) Our shared experiences are hidden and separated by years and distance. There are so many things that I want to remember. You are helping to bring them back to life in my mind. I have heard that the old farmhouse burned down several years ago and nothing remains. The two-story barn across the road had huge oaken timbers and thick cut gray wood siding. It should still be there. I can’t believe that it too is gone. 
In one corner of the large drive by the road, there was a hay scythe that was long ago abandoned for newer equipment. We used to sit on it when we played there during the summers. It was a horse drawn farm implement and seemed to have been parked at the end of the same day that the power cutter arrived. It had become a hidden statue to harder times and nobody wanted to bother with it once it was no longer needed. It was a “let’s move on” attitude that felt right when land was plentiful and work was essential and easier times on the horizon.
A yellow jacket nest grew up somewhere in or on the mower one year. The nest was fairly large and one or two of the wasps stung Gary and me the day we ran out to play on it. We would sit on the seat and play like we were driving. We were not aware that horses had formerly pulled it. We thought the motor was missing or that a tractor pulled it. Limited experience causes one to think up reasons and causes, which are probably very funny to those that sat on the same large metal seat under the hot sun day after day following the horses all day long.
We ran to the porch and told Grandpa about the nest. He laughed and told us to get up on the porch and stay there. We followed him anyway at a distance as he picked up a white tarp and went over and wrapped it around the nest and pulled it away. He walked slowly towards the barn across the road, in a Walter Brennan-style walk, like he had a limp or his feet hurt. Actually, he wore leather house slippers with holes cut in the sides for his bunions or corns; we never knew for sure which. I didn’t know the difference about that as well, as with so many things. I asked him about the wasps and his answer was, “if you hold your breath, you won’t feel the sting.” Years later, I tried out his secret and it didn’t work. I am guessing that he simply ignored the pain, which is a type of holding your breath. His humor would strike, sometimes, years afterward, like a small land mine exploding under the feet of the weary and unsuspecting traveler trying to get to point "B". 
(Kathi) I remember arriving at night in the wide driveway that spread across the whole front of their home with Grandma and Grandpa sitting on their porch of rockers and chairs in my “Fireflies” poem. This is what I said: “We arrived at night, Grandpa keeping vigil on wood-weathered porch chairs until headlights could be seen glaring down the winding road. He greeted us with whiskered kisses while Grandma overflowed with neighborhood happenings like an unstopped decanter of well-shaken news.”
(Eddie) One morning my brothers and I had been out front playing in Grandpa's big yard under the huge oak tree, the one with the swing with long hanging ropes with a board to sit on. We had been playing chase around the yard while Grandpa sat on the wide porch with the old chairs in various need of repair, watching. About thirty yards away from the porch was a five foot wire fence that separated the yard from the “parking area” that wasn't smallish but wide and stretched the entire length of the lot. Parking at Grandpa's was more of a beacon call, an expectation for the arrival of those that were wanted to visit. I have not seen that again but it was useful, especially, when family arrived and we had "a-plenty" of that. The main gate was big with an iron arbor over it. Various climbing plants had grown up and wound their way through the length of the fence. There was also a tree near the gate that had grown and was stuck in the wire but looked like it belonged. Grandpa had found some plastic red roses someplace and had wired them into the tree limbs. He told us how beautiful the flowers were no matter what time of the year. It was his kind of humor, quiet and funny when you thought about it. A rock pathway with brown rocks set into the ground, not too smooth, gently brought one to the front porch through the lawn and around the big tree.
Our play was just before lunch or "dinner" because that was the main meal of the day. Mom and Grandma were in the kitchen baking those big fluffy dinner rolls, the ones that died with Grandma, not to be shared again. You could tear one of those rolls apart and smear a heaping slice from one of the rounds of cow's butter made in the last day and have dessert and meal all at once. It was not like the usual kind of eating but an experience, something to behold. The table was always full of food, vegetables, chicken or rabbit, whatever had recently been shot, caught, plunked or skinned. Nobody else showed that morning. There always seemed to be an expectation of new arrivals.
It became cloudy and the rain came down on us as we ran around the yard getting soaked. Mom called us inside so we went around back and into what I thought of as the “bridal room.” It was next to the kitchen where guests stayed overnight when visiting. Only special ones, especially adults, got to sleep in there. It seemed like it had a lower ceiling but with a big bed which was very soft and cozy. I think it must have been a feather mattress, one made by my grand-parents years before. All three of us boys pulled our wet clothing off and Mom let us run back out into yard around to the front. The adults watched and laughed while we ran naked around the yard yelling and laughing for the longest time. I sat in the swing and tried to make it move with rain pouring down. I began getting cold and wanted to go back inside. Finally, we ran back in and dried off. Putting on some dry clothes, we sat down to dinner. Waiting on us were Grandma's rolls that smelled really good.
(Kathi) Those rolls ... yes! I remember them! And that table always filled to the brim, with food and cooking going on in the kitchen in a seemingly endless procession. And Grandpa's sense of humor, i.e., “quiet and funny when you thought about it.” Yes, that is it exactly! My dad had that and my brother John has carried on the tradition. I try to have it, but I don't. People don't catch on and they think I am being unkind or rude or simply don't make sense. But Grandpa and Dad did that “quiet and funny when you thought about it” humor to perfection. 
John told me another story about the farm. The RES (Rural Electrification Administration) had a raffle drawing for a big floodlight. Do you remember that light he got that lit up the entire front parking area? Anyway, John was there when Grandpa went to the drawing. They got Grandpa's ticket and as they read off the numbers one by one, John got more and more excited. Then the final number came and Grandpa's ticket was the winning ticket! John still fondly remembers how as they drove back to the farm Grandpa kept telling him that John had brought him good luck ... he had never ever won anything before. 
I remember there was an old Hudson automobile sitting out back in a weedy area. John loved to get into it and pretend to drive. John said that someone took the hood to use on their boat and never paid Grandpa for it. He regretted letting them do that since he was never able to find another one to replace it.
Both sides of the back of the farmhouse were originally porches. The one was made into the “bridal room” (as you have named it) and the other was made into the bathroom. When I first went down to the farm they had a wringer washer, so washing clothes was a major event. They had a big barrel that gathered rain water and they used that for washing clothes. I love to rummage through the attic that for years was filled with old clothes that should have been thrown out earlier, old canning bottles filled with molded produce, books, papers and other things leftover from the youth of our parents. I was able to find a few books that had belonged to my dad that I could keep, and I still have them. They had a big “pit” in the backyard where they burned things.
I remember there was a huge field that I walked through and I'm pretty sure one day Grandpa took me out to show me where they did their shooting and we had to travel through that field. I need to ask John if he remembers that and was there with me. I know that I went walking down those old, dusty country roads that surrounded the house, sometimes with someone and sometimes alone. Remember the creek that would fill up with water that you had to drive though just past the little town of Elijah? Cleaning the Attic & Outdoor Plumbing
(Kathi) I have many fond memories of the farm. In some ways it was hard for me as well. I remember the years when they didn't have inside plumbing. To make it even worse, I was scared of the outhouse (I thought there were snakes in those holes) and the smell made me sick at my stomach. And they had those awful magazines for toilet paper. I remember how hard it was going through the night when you didn't want to get out of the warm covers to go to the bathroom, but finally you had to do it! And they had a bowl or chamber pot or something that wasn't my cup of tea either. The floors were just as you described them. I remember when they cleaned out the attic and I wanted to keep many items. John and I were there and we gathered together a bunch of items and built a little "fort" out in the back someplace. But I think we took some stuff we thought was junk out there, but it wasn't and Grandma wasn't real happy with us! 
(Eddie) I spent a morning in Grandma’s attic. I say this because my first thoughts were that it was Grandpa’s attic. It was a mistake and it blocked my view as to what I saw. I didn’t think about it at the time but after she had her stroke, it took away her ability to walk and her duties along with it. To get up to the attic one had to climb a narrow passage of stairs going straight up without a flat to rest. I never once thought about it because it was not a barrier to me. As a youth with self-focus, I hadn’t realized the consequence of what had happened. Both things died in place and on that same date all was kept in place and there it remained in the attic where I visited that day. Her children had slept there, grown up there; she stored her produce there; she put things away to be thought about and brought out on rainy days. I was only a young visitor but it felt like I was an archeologist as well. I found a book that had airplanes in it. They were from World War II. It was a guide for spotting enemy aircraft and identifying and contrasting them with our planes. I thought at first it was Grandpa’s but later realized Grandma was probably trying to do her duty the best she could. I found jars of tomatoes, years too old even for canned produce. Later, I asked and someone laughed as if Grandma was behind on her duties. I was uncertain as to the whole idea of her being in a wheelchair, struggling to get around and yet, cooking and exerting all her effort just to make it day by day. She smoked or chewed or dipped, I was not certain but I found and treasured some of her empty bags of snuff or tobacco and put some of my marbles in them, perfect. There was an air of disdain for her habit, as if losing her legs and probably killing her sexual self wasn’t enough. With women sometimes, it is never enough and then they jump on themselves to boot. She made the best yeast rolls anywhere I have ever eaten. None of her daughters could make them, nor cared, as far as I knew or maybe Grandma felt that she should keep them as recompense, so that we would have to someday visit our own attics and reminisce about a few of her qualities and quietly weep. 
(Kathi)I remember that room, too. The “bridal room” as you named it. That is a perfect description. I never thought of it, but it was reserved, usually for my parents even when other adults were there. I think they gave preferential treatment to my dad who was their oldest and only remaining son. I loved the cupboard in the corner and when they sold the farm, I wished that our family had been given that. Mom said it wasn't as wonderful as I remembered it and there really wasn't any way for us to easily cart it home to New Jersey where we lived then. Instead we got some old glass canning jars as well as a Rayo and an Aladdin lamp. I think we still have them somewhere around here. Dad restored one of the Rayo lamps for me and it was on my piano for many years, a remembrance of the farm and of my dad.
Grandma smoked a corn cob pipe, I think, and moved up to rolling her own cigarettes. She also had chewing tobacco on hand. Am I remembering that correctly? My mom smoked for many years until the missionaries came to our door. It was hard for her to give up smoking but she wanted to be baptized more than she wanted to smoke. For years she had dreams about sneaking off and smoking! I was glad she quit smoking because it made me very nauseated, especially when we were traveling. I wished it didn't because I didn't want to hurt her feelings, but it did!
For many years the Browns sold milk and then later sold cream plus eggs to get money to buy regular groceries. They didn't attend any church although they were very religious in the best sense of the word. They would go by wagon over to Vidette to visit their Grandma and Grandpa Brown, and their Grandma would get upset because all of them would immediately run over to Artie and Dave's place where there was kids to play with. Aunt Peggy said she was 15 years old before she ever went to West Plains. She remembers my dad was always teasing her.
(Eddie ) The past is pouring out and some of it I wanted buried because my feelings of sadness are connected and it hurts. Remember Saturdays at Grandma's, the Country Western, Blue Grass, Gospel music, songs and shows she listened to? Heard throughout the house, it was like having the bands visit for an evening even though it played through a small greenish electric radio with one tiny speaker. We sat on the porch, couch or swing and listened, talked and visited. It always felt different from being at our respective homes but we were all still “at home” for a spell because it was like a spell cast over the lot of us.
(Kathi)I remember Grandpa Brown and how warm and wonderful he was. Every morning if we got up early with him he would make us this magical coffee which was mostly cream and sugar. We loved it! And he would take us with him wherever he went if we wanted to go. He would visit widows in the area sometimes but mostly he would take us to the store with him and buy us bottled pop or treats. I remember Grandma Brown complaining about lots of stuff. Mom told me she had been crippled and not well most of her life, so that made her a little grumpy. Both of them seemed to love it when we came. And my wonderful dad; I loved him with all my heart. Just thinking of him makes me well up with tears. I miss him so! I think the only times I ever saw my dad cry were every time we left the farm. He was so tenderhearted and sentimental when it came to the farm and his family, although he usually never acted like he was.
I remember that my folks and others would go down to the creek close to Elijah to bathe. John said that there was an old pump house and they also used to wash off under a shower of sorts there.
You were right when you said that Grandpa Brown walked in a Walter Brennan style way! I had never thought of that! You notice so much detail!
Dr. Samuelson, John's ankylosing spondilitis doctor for many years, wondered who all in our family had John's disease because it is genetic. John showed him a photo of Grandpa Brown with his curved back and he said that definitely Grandpa Brown had the disease. Betty Jean's son, Scott, has the disease, too. Just about everyone who has ankylosing spondylitis also has Crohn's Disease. This probably accounts for the way he walked and also for the old chair you mentioned at the barn that he used as a toilet for when he couldn’t make it back to the house. (Pictured above: Grandpa Brown with John at his left in his small vegetable garden.)
(Eddie) The picture of Grandpa on his front porch is good. His glasses were magnifiers from the dime store and the chair he was sitting on was later held together with bailing wire, note the chair's splayed legs. The wire was looped around both legs and then tightened in the middle. He did it fairly quickly but it held. The posts on the front porch also had that small amount of green paint on the edges to match the trim, which was always interesting to me and for some reason, funny. He was practical mechanically. He wasn't fancy but strong and didn't make things a science. That would have brought a laugh from him, out-loud and derisive. 
There were three of us digging up the large pole that held the gate in the fence that was behind their house. The gate was used often; through that portal lay the outhouse, the smokehouse and the chicken coop. That particular pole looked more like a beam and I thought it would last forever. It had begun to rot and Grandpa wanted it replaced. I believe that it was Gary, Kenny and me chosen for this task. We had dug for an hour and made a large pit all around the post with a high pile of dirt beside it. We tried pushing on the post but it wouldn't budge. We kept on digging and laughing and talking. Grandpa finally came out and walked up to the worksite and stood and looked. We stopped work as he had a look of disgust on his face for our efforts. He then smirked and gripped the big old oaken post and tugged on it. He wiggled it first and then as he pulled it out of the ground with his great arms wrapped tightly around, he said, "You boys have been playing with your dicks too much." Job done.
(Kathi ) I have the military records for Grandpa Brown. When my mom first went to the farm with my dad before they were married, she said something about not wanting to marry into a family with mental illness. I will have to see if John can remember the wording, so Grandpa immediately told her, "Well, cousin so and so is crazy as a coot." (Again, I can't remember which relative it was and exactly what he said.) Then Frona said, "Now Ira, you know that isn't true. Tell her the truth about that." So he explained that one of their relatives had shell shock from WWI and never recovered from it. Then Grandpa Brown would tell everyone, "You need to meet Lish's girlfriend, Phyllis. She just comes up to my nabal (not navel ... that's what he said I'm pretty sure ... nabal.)
John remembered another story about Grandpa Brown. One day in the early days of his marriage or else when he was courting Frona, six friends of theirs (guys) were at their place in a Model T. When they went to leave, Ira went behind their car while they were still talking to Frona and others, and he turned around and lifted up the Model T with all six of them in it. They tried to back up and their wheels spun but they couldn't and then they tried to pull forward and their wheels spun and they couldn't. They saw him and tried again to move the vehicle away from him but couldn't. Finally he said, "If you keep doing that, and I drop the car down, it will ruin your gears. Just stop trying and I will set you back down." So they stopped and he put the car back down. (John thought of this when I told him the story about you and the others trying to pull out the post. He couldn't believe what Grandpa said to you but his eyes were twinkling at the thought! He said, "Are you sure he said dicks and not asses?"
(Kathi) Another funny side note I thought of this evening on sex. Grandpa Brown used to say that sex was the thing you could get the furthest behind on and catch up on the fastest. Maybe you heard that already! :)
(Eddie) Grandpa's joke about sex being “easily caught up” is funny.
Activities at the Farm
(Kathi) I loved taking naps down at the farm with Mom and John. We would have the fan going and there were always others there, too, and we would talk and talk and then fall asleep. And then we would get a bunch of inner tubes ready and all go to the creek or else to Dawt's Mill and swim or at least get into the water. I can't remember if we did it at the farm or not, but we used to all lie outside on blankets and identify the big dipper and the small dipper and catch fireflies. 
I don't know if you remember it, but we all had some fun nights playing card games and telling stories. I remember one night your brother, Gary, was up on a high chair when he let out a big fart. Your dad told him to leave to which he responded, “I don’t know why you’re complaining. You used to line us up and have us take turns farting “Mary Had A Little Lamb.” Phil vehemently denied ever having done this, so Gary added, “You’ve been working on farting “Bridge Over the River Kwai in one afternoon.” With that Phil sprang up and chased Gary out of the house. We all laughed ourselves silly, till the tears were streaming down our faces, but your dad didn't think it was all that funny! And that made it even funnier!
I just looked up an old poem I wrote about the farm. It needs a lot of work! But I like the next to last paragraph which reads: "I miss those days of free-running affection when we caught fireflies and kissed to the music of crickets ...”
Visiting Vidette and Other Places and Relatives
(Kathi) Were you taken all over to visit everyone down there, too? Dad always took us to see Rachel and Floyd, Annie and Grover and Dave and Artie. We had to visit everyone and spend hours talking! I don't think I appreciated it all that much back then, but I now look back on those days with a fond heart towards those people that my dad loved so much.
John said that Vidette was a tiny fork in the road with about three buildings. It was much like Elijah. He said the church was kinda square and wooden. He thinks they white-washed it from time to time.
Uncle Floyd Brown
(Kathi) John thought of two other cool stories. They are both about Uncle Floyd. Whenever any kids visited his place, he would say, “Look at that horse’s head! Don’t you just want to get up there and touch it?” And then he would put them onto the horse, backwards and ask them, “Where did the head go?!” And when they didn’t know what to say, he would pick them up, turned them 360 degrees so that once again they were facing the tail end and then he would ask again, "Where did the head go?"
Dawt’s Mill (left); Salem county Arkansas (above)
(Kathi) The other story is that Uncle Floyd loved his hound dogs. He had some step-grandchildren who, when they came, had hit the dogs and been rough with them, so Floyd never let any kids near them after that. But when John came my mom assured Floyd that John would be good with the dogs. And he was. The dogs just loved him. He petted them and hugged them and talked to them. John was a very little boy at the time. Uncle Floyd said, "John has tamed the dogs again."
Johnny Lester
(Kathi) And there was Johnny Lester. Did you visit her, too? She was warm and welcoming with wonderful desserts for those who came to visit. Johnny Lester lived in Bakersfield and then she moved halfway between Bakersfield and Elijah.
Mom always liked to tell the story about when they took me to visit Johnny Lester and she had a big chocolate cake for desert. When Johnny went to serve me a piece, my mom told her that I didn’t eat chocolate cake. Johnny would hear none of that and gave me a piece anyway, and I ate every last crumb! Johnny was very outgoing and warm and I always loved it when we visited her place.
Johnny was the daughter of Artie and Dave Pemberton. I think we visited them the most of anyone, although Floyd and Rachel had to be a close second. Artie and Floyd were Grandpa Brown’s sister and brother along with a number of others that I met from time to time but didn’t get to know as well.
The Hurricane
(Kathi) New story to add to our collection: John said that when our dad was about 10 there was a typhoon or hurricane or something like that. Dad went out back to tie down a wagon that was near the chicken coops. The next thing he knew the winds had sucked him up into the air and carried him clear across the area where the house stood and deposited him in the field on the other side. Grandma saw this happening and went rushing out screaming so loud that they all said they could hear her clear in Elijah.
The De-ticking
(Kathi)I called up Aunt Peggy. She always calls John or vice versa but I wanted to see what she remembered about the farm. She told me that they didn't have much and didn't do much. Their only transportation was by horseback. She said that Kenny and she still take drives up to the farm, but they no longer get out since one of our relatives did and got totally covered in ticks.
That reminded me of the “de-ticking” that we had to go through every night at the farm. Dad would check us all over for ticks and remove any that he found. Did you have to do that, too?
She said (like you) that the farm is gone and so is the barn. She also mentioned that the apple orchard is gone. She said that the present owners farm a small portion of the land.
Going to Elijah to Get the Mail
Kathi: You are simply the absolutely most amazing writer! I went through that same experience many times only sometimes I didn't go because he spent so long talking to everyone. But you observed and drank in every morsel of the experience. I think our book is going to be incredible! Is Phil a brother of Fred? Or is the Fred I remember the dad of Karen Sue? We always went to his station for gas or at least that is the one I remember us going to. I am totally in awe of what you do with words!
Do you remember Fred and Lenore Thompkins and their service station? Did you know Karen Sue (Atkinson)? We stopped out there a number of times to visit and to get gasoline.
Fred and Lenore Sanders Thompkins
(Eddie) Fred and Phil owned their own gas “service” stations in Elijah. Fred was more of a Baptist upper middle class type person with a slant on politics and Tom was more down to earth, appearing to be Pentecostal with a flat-top haircut. I don’t really remember their politics or religions but I did enjoy their stores. Grandpa would go to Elijah most every day “to get the mail.” He would start slowly toward the front door. He had a cowboy type straw hat that curled up at the edges. He would put it on and maybe wind the old Grandson clock that was on the shelf next to the front door on his way out. He would slowly make his way to the car. We knew what he was doing so he made like he would go without us, but we loved going. It was a fun thing for him to tease us, but he would ask and we would swarm.
He drove his old ‘40 something gray Plymouth very slowly down the dirt and rock road and over the two creeks, sometimes filled with water. His car was big and the water would come up to the floorboards if it had rained but the car didn’t leak. The creeks were fairly small and didn’t need a bridge. If the rains were too much, one could drive the back-way out to Caulfield and back down the highway into Elijah. The road was mostly tree lined and shaded much of the year. It was quiet and I don’t remember any other house that was just off the road. It was an area that had slowly developed with mostly farmers. Now that I think about it, there was one abandoned house that seemed to rise up and stare out at us.
Grandpa’s car had height and depth. All three of us boys and Grandpa wouldn’t fill it up. There was room for more. He would ask us if we wanted to go and, of course, most times we went because he would ask us if we wanted a bottle of soda. We could get one each: I always got Chocolate Soldier. If we needed a haircut, we got it at Tom’s, a community service he provided basically to extend the conversation. Both stations were stores with groceries as well as having a gas pump. Grandpa would first go to the one room mail house that had open slots for mail for all of the locals. He would get the mail and talk to the mail-person. I remember it being a woman. We would then go to Tom’s and then to Phil’s store. As we were leaving Grandpa’s sometimes, Dad would occasionally stop and get gas. It was as sentimental as he would ever get.
In those days, gas was around .25 a gallon. Both stations seemed to reflect the personality of the owner. Each had a pot-bellied stove for conversation with ladder-back chairs. Tom’s store had wooden slat flooring and Phil’s had linoleum. I always thought of Phil as having more money than Tom, which might attract a better clientele but when one is small, one has to guess at such things. Phil seemed to have a more modern feel with more supplies and shelving while Tom’s store was sparse, which made one feel like sitting a spell and talking. We would always go to both, I believe to get more gossip as much as anything.
Years later, I would take my own boys into Wal-mart to get groceries and I would have “treat day” for them. I wanted to celebrate Grandpa’s way of sharing with us as children. It didn’t work as well with my boys. We had to start with a dollar, instead of a nickel. They went from getting a candy bar to wanting a toy to wanting a bag of candy. I had to discontinue the event because when the boys were with their Mother, she resented treat-day and the boys would throw a fit. They also wanted to expand the amount and it got out of hand. Grandpa was more strict but in a loving way. He would not have gone for us wanting a candy bar too. I still remember getting my Chocolate Soldier drink and shaking it up to get all of the chocolate out of the bottom while listening to the local gossip. Grandpa would later relay it on to Grandma who was mostly confined to her wheelchair and house. It was one of my favorite memories.
“Big Store” in Caulfield
(Kathi) I am pretty sure Grandpa took me to a store in Caulfield, too.
(Eddie) The Big Store was in Caulfield which is an unincorporated town between West Plains and Elijah. We never stopped at the Big Store, but I would wonder what it was like. Elijah is still there but they now get mail in Caulfield. The old very small post office is closed in Elijah.
West Plains and Springfield, Missouri
(Kathi) We nearly always traveled through West Plains and then Springfield on our way back home from the Farm. These cities always show up in my mind as I think of the Farm along with Elijah, Caulfield, and Gainesville. These are towns we spent time visiting in addition to towns in Arkansas which included Vidette and Mountain Home.
A trip to the farm always included at least one stop at the Platter, a restaurant in Springfield which I remember as being very special, although a stop there years later didn’t live up to the memory.
Last Days with Grandpa
(Kathi) John said that for many years Grandpa stayed in the 315 lb. range. I think he might have even weighed more than that at one time. He became diabetic and he seemed to quickly lose weight until at the end he was quite thin. John noticed that he had a huge sausage-like bologna in his fridge and asked him about it. True to form, Grandpa replied, “The doctor told me I needed to eat more red meat, and that was the reddest meat I could find.” (It was inside of a red wrapping or skin!) John said that he was serious about that, but I think it was his humor surfacing even to the last!
The Abundant Inheritance
(Eddie) It was dark as I sat in the living room in the chair by the front door; it was also the end of a long day where the tribal council had met, the spoils had been split, most of the goods had been taken, given or stolen, that which wasn’t considered worthy was being burned and lastly, I was asked, “What is it that you would like to have?”
(Kathi) I mentioned to John that you were working on a piece about when they divided up everything at the farm, and I guess that he was there then, too. Or at least he had thoughts about all of that. He said that Bobbie Jo pretty much took every single thing, even an old rifle of Grandpa's he wanted that didn't work but reminded John of times spent out in the woods with him. He thought Bobby Jo's feeling that everything belonged to her and her kids was pretty selfish. But then maybe her life required more filling in than anyone else's.
Grandma wanted each of her children to receive an "inheritance.” That was extremely important to her. I thought she should simply spend her savings for comforts for herself those last years, but that would have meant nothing to her. Since my dad was dead before she died, she left his inheritance to John and me. I took my portion and added quite a bit more to it to purchase my wonderful Yamaha professional piano. To play on those keys was like caressing softness. I loved my piano so much and moved it from place to place through many moves. Garth complained bitterly because he and his friends bore the brunt of moving it on a couple of occasions, although I usually hired piano movers just to save his back. One year while I was out here and living with John, they discovered what they thought would be a miracle cure for John. I sold my piano and my boys chipped in about $500 each, so that he could get the first round of shots. He had insurance that covered a big hunk but the shots cost him about $500 each. Eventually his doctor’s assistant found a private donor that covered everything. I play the organ every Sunday and sometimes I play the piano, even impromptu concerts for anyone who wants to skip Sunday School and stay in the chapel to listen. That helps me some. And one day if I ever feel like I am settled down, I am going to buy another piano, one that I don't ever have to move until I die. (Update: I bought a lightweight Yamaha digital piano in the summer of 2013.)
Buying the Farm
(Eddie) Did I tell you that I wanted to buy Grandpa's place as they were getting ready to sell it? I knew I would not be able to live there and I didn't have any money either, but I felt like it was a shame to let it go. It was part of all of us. I wished that I could have bought it, remodeled the house and kept it for family retreats. I could not figure the family out then or now, other than they all wanted to cut and run.
Family Photo taken at the farm about 1954
(Back: Leta holding Kenny, Peggy holding Gary, Phyllis, Betty Jean, Aunt Rachel, Unknown, Uncle Floyd, Howard, Grandpa Brown, Elisha; Front: Kathi (me), Unknown, John, Charles Lee, Unknown, Unknown, Harold Pemberton, Unknown, Eddie, Becky)