The Bottom

 

                  Well, you might ask "what is the bottom?" I don't know how big our farm was as far as acres goes but I though it was pretty big. From where our house sat as far as you could see to the south was our land. And that is what we called the bottom and I remember it being pretty and green. All over the bottom is where our cows grazed and lived.  It had a really pretty creek with clear water running through it with a wide part not very deep that we liked to wade in. We had a plank across a narrower part that we could walk across also. This wide part ran on and deepened into a place deep enough to swim in and this is where my brothers learned to swim. I never swam in it and I don't think my sisters did either. It had water moccasin snakes and it's a wonder that the boys were never bitten by them. Anyway, this creek cut our land in two and we had to cross it to get to the other side. Across the creek our land went on until it reached a very high hill. We used to like to go up on this hill and see all over our property. Arrow heads could also be found on it so I reckon the Indians were there at one time. When you got to the top of this hill and a little farther on was where our property ended.

                 There were a lot of berry vines growing in the bottom and I went with my mom many times to pick berries there. We would put on long sleeve shirts to protect our arms from the briars and also hats. When I was really young I thought this was fun but not so much so when I got older. Of course, I loved the cobblers she would make from the berries.

My dad had a big pond dug in the bottom later on. I was probably a teenager by then. Randy disappeared one day and we couldn't find him. So Mama sent one of the boys to look in the bottom for him. He was on the dam of the pond sunk down in the mud and could not get out. So he was rescued. He had taken his little red wagon with him and thrown it in the pond and it was gone forever. Another time he went missing and was found in the bottom surrounded by cows. They were in a circle around him and he didn't know what to do. I don't know if the cows were mad and going to hurt him or not. It's a wonder that he lived through those years. Heavenly Father was certainly watching over him.

 

Getting The Cows Up

 

Daddy and my brothers ran the dairy. Every day, twice a day, they had to "get the cows up". That meant they had to go down into the bottom and drive the cows up to the dairy barn for milking. It was early in the morning before daylight and mid-afternoon that they had to do this. When we girls got older we helped with this sometimes although we didn't do it in the mornings, only the afternoon shift. And those cows were all over the bottom although if I remember correctly they stayed pretty much together. But it was a job driving them up to the barn. But once we got them pretty much together and going in the right direction. it wasn't so hard because they would follow each other. We just had to make sure that none of them strayed. They were turned back out into the pasture as each one got milked. On time, when I was dating age, I was taking a nap one afternoon and Mama came and woke me up and said I needed to go help get the cows up for milking. Well, I wouldn't get up and I don't know why unless I was just extra sleepy because I generally did what she asked me to do. She told me if I did not get up that she would not let me go out the following Saturday night. I still didn't get up and she stuck to what she had told me. Guess I didn't believe her but I sure found out. You people have not lived until you have gotton the cows up from the bottom.

 



Visiting Junior.  June 2013

 

Jerry and I had a good visit with my brother Wilburn, Jr. last night. He is the oldest of us siblings and I need to find out all I can about family stuff before he is no longer here. I learned a few things that I didn't know. Mom and dad moved to the community of Kelsey in 1942, a year before I was born. They lived with my Tefteller grandparents when they were first married for a short while. They then lived in two other places around the area before moving to Kelsey. A man from Dallas had bought the place with a dairy on it from somebody. He tried running a dairy but the cows all got sick and it didn't work out for him. Daddy was looking for a place to buy and he heard about this place and went and told the man that he would like to buy it. The man agreed and sold it to Daddy and the rest, as they say, is history. This place was on the south side of the road. A little bit later he bought the land across the road that had a house on it and Granny and Papa Tefteller moved into this house. They lived across the road from us almost all of my growing up years. It was fun having granny so near because she loved to play games and baked delicious cookies and fried pies. All our cousins came to her house all the time and we all played in Granny's front yard. Years later he bought a place with a house on it back of where Katherine lives now. Granny and Papa  moved into it at some point and they were living there when PaPa got cancer and died. I don't know how Daddy afforded to buy all this but he was quite an enterprising man. He built a syrup mill at this place and made syrup for awhile. He also built more chicken and turkey houses there. He also had a milk delivery route that he sold his own milk on. Sure wish I has one of his milk bottles and labels.

 

I thought daddy didn't go very far in school but Junior said he went through the 10th grade. He had two pair of pants that were worn out. They didn't have money to buy more so he didn't go back to school. They only had eleven grades at that time.

 

Anyway they moved to Kelsey in 1942 and into the small house down back in 1946 while the new house was being built. So I was three years old at the time we moved. Junior said it took a year to build the new house which included digging out the basement part and cementing it before the rest could be started. Daddy did a big part of the work himself. The little house down back had no indoor plumbing or electricity in it. Thank goodness I was too young at the time to know what we were missing.

 

Uncle Johnny

 

My mother had a brother named Johnny and I remember knowing him but can't remember much about him. I thought he had been married at one time but he was not married when I knew him. Junior told me this about him. Now it seems that Uncle Johnny was a womanizer. A certain husband came home early one day and caught Uncle Johnny with his wife and was going to kill him. With not a stitch of clothes on Johnny jumped out the window. He knew a family with young men around

his age living around there so he managed to get to their house through the backwoods without being seen. They gave him some clothes to put on. Anyway, this woman got a divorce later on and Uncle Johnny married her. She was called Barefoot Sue because she went around town barefoot selling something to get money. Junior told me what she sold but now I can't remember what it was. It wasn't long before Johnny knew he had made a mistake and they didn't stay together. Uncle Johnny made his living farming and died at about the age of forty of complications from surgery.

My Dad

 

I've been thinking about my dad today on this fathers day. In my teen years we did not always get along and there were times that I thought I didn't like him. This was mostly during my dating years when Jerry and I were dating. He didn't approve of Jerry and I was forbidden for a long time to see him. When I turned 18, I told Daddy that I was going to date Jerry and I would rather he knew about it than for us to have to slip around to see each other. I was head over heels in love by then and no way was I going to not see him. I think things got better between us after that. When I had kids of my own, I finally fully understood where my Dad was coming from as some of you probably understand now where I was coming from when ya'll were teenagers.  He was only concerned for my safety and welfare. He taught us to work hard and to have high standards and morals. He always worked long and hard to provide for us. He was a great example of a father and man who loved God and Jesus and always honored his Priesthood. He spent many hours working for God as well as for us. I love him for who he was and is and am looking forward to seeing him again in a few years.

Early Childhood

 

 Our life revolved around our family and home and our religion. We were a hard working family where everyone had to do his or her part. I can't remember at what age I was expected to do chores but it was probably at a young age. Now I don't mean pre-school age but most likely in my older elementary school years. With our big family there was always a lot of work needing done. My first work was inside the house. After meals it was my two sisters and my job to clear the table, wash the dishes, and sweep the dining room and kitchen floors. We would rotate these jobs. We had what we called the slop jar where we put the leftover food from the plates. This was fed to the dogs and cats. I don't think my Dad ever bought pet food. I'm sure he couldn't afford that. Of course, we had no dishwasher then. I don't remember which job I preferred but it was probably clearing the table. The floors always had to be swept after the meals. Ya'll probably remember how my mother was about how everything had to be clean. With our brood, you can imagine how many dishes there were to wash and dry and put away. We didn't have to do it on school mornings but when we were home it was our job. Mom always cooked a big breakfast consisting of oatmeal, biscuits, gravy, and I can't remember for sure, but sometimes meat and eggs. She always had oatmeal and I loved it. Her biscuits and gravy were good too. I still can't cook as good as my mom. At least I don't think so.

We had hardwood floors all over the house and we kept them looking good. Our living room or family room was pretty big and we girls had to wax it pretty often. On our hands and knees we would put this thick wax on rags and rub it all over the floor. I hated that job. My parents believed in teaching us how to work and when I was a kid I didn't always appreciate it. But now I am glad that they had that kind of work ethic because we all know how to work and each of us has been able to take care of ourselves. Now some of you might be thinking "Mom, when have you ever had to take care of yourself ? " But you know what I mean. I have always been a hard working house wife, keeping a clean house, cooking, washing clothes, and taking care of eight kids. Oh well, I digressed there from my early childhood.

 



Going to Town

 

My mom went to town to buy groceries once a week and it was a treat to get to go with her. About the only time we went to town was for school when we turned six years old. There was also a small mom-and pop grocery store in the small community of  Enoch that she would go to occasionally to get something she was out of. About the earliest experience I can remember was when I was about four years old. She was going to the Enoch store one day and said I could go with her. So I lay down on her bed watching her get ready to go and I fell asleep. When I woke up she had gone and it was so disappointing that she had not woken me up to go with her. Now why do I remember that? When we did get to go with her to town she would buy us a banana which was a real treat because she couldn't afford to buy fruit all the time. My dad would buy us candy when he could and we would have to hug his neck before he would give it to us. Ya'll might not remember him as being affectionate but he loved to get hugs from us. I don't remember when that stopped but he wasn't that way when we were older. But he was still nice and good to us.

Growing up in Kelsey at the end of the road.

 

The earliest that I can remember is when I was probably around three or four years old. We lived in an old house that I can barely remember. There was an old much smaller house or cabin a small distance back behind us closer to the dairy barn. Daddy decided to build us a new house so we moved into the small house while he tore the other one down and built the new house. I don't know how long that took. This was when I was pre-school age and I can vaguely remember it. We were really proud of our new home. It had 3 bedrooms, a big livingroom, a kitchen, dining room, and just one bathroom. Boy, did we need more bathrooms as the family grew! It had a big back porch across the backside and also had a big basement that ran underneath the whole house. This is where the washing machine was. We had no dryer at that time. It also had a shower in one corner with a drain for the water to run out. There were two full sized beds down there and this is also where my brothers slept. Mom had shelves there for all her canned fruits and vegetables. This basement was not like those that you see in movies that have cobwebs everywhere and it's dark and scary, although I didn't like it because it had spiders in it. Maybe that's why I'm afraid of spiders today. That and the fact that my brother Junior would catch daddy longlegs and chase us with them. This was a functioning basement that we could have all lived in if necessary. There was a long set of stairs from the kitchen down to the basement. It had a door to the outside where we could take the clothes out to hang them. And that is another story.

 

Ruth Ann's Cornbread

I wrote this blog back in 2006 on another blog, and thought it would be a good first blog for me to contribute to this space, which is all about my mother, Ruth Ann.

I don't know what it is about the passing of winter, but I invariably start getting homesick with the first signs of spring, which there certainly are plenty of out in our yard. And this week its got me thinking of my mothers food. I thought I'd show y'all how to make my mother's cornbread. I don't think I've ever been home when there wasn't a skillet of this cornbread ready to be had in my mother's kitchen. Invariably, there will also be a pot of pinto beans .

And, on occasion, black eyed peas--which is what I had a hankering for this weekend. My mom's name, by the way, is Ruth Ann.

Now, my mom calls this cornbread her mother's cornbread.
My grandmother's name was Tess. She raised ten kids on a farm in East Texas (yes, that is where I am from, as opposed to "Texas") and according to my mother baked an awful lot. I wish I had experienced more of my grandmother's cooking, but alas, I have to say that in my mind this recipe will always belong to my mother. But it's sure nice to contemplate the continuity.