I do not know how long we lived on the Ailmore place, but I do not think it was very long. My most vivid memory was one afternoon when Jake decided to work on a car that was in the front yard. Cars were simple back in those days and if you had any mechanical abilities at all and could think of the concept of a motor, you could be a mechanic. He was pretty sure that the gas line was plugged so he unhooked some line and told Donna to watch the other end and he would blow through it and she should let him know if air came through. So she had it up close to her eye and he blew and gas shot out into her eye! Oh, Lordy, there was more catawaulling going on than you could believe! And guess what Jake got? You are right! A licking! There was talk that Donna might lose her eye sight, but I guess they washed it out with something and she was fine.
Roy Keating lived very close there to us. He raised pigs and those things were huge! It seems like I was told that a pig will keep growing as long as it is alive and that is why they get so big. Does not mean that is true, just means that is what I was told. Dad was Mr. Keating's chore man which meant when Mr. Keating was not home that dad took care of the place. That meant I had to go and gather eggs while dad "slopped the hogs." Side note here...back in those days farmers kept "slop buckets" which held garbage, leftover or sour milk, and anything edible except bones. The bucket was carried out to the pigs every morning. I was scared shitless of those big pigs. And of course there was always the tale of a farmer or his child falling in the pig pen and the pigs eating the hapless person. That rather kept my paranoia fueled!
The floods, the bull frog, the Barthold sisters, Mr. Keatings giant pigs, coal oil lamps, and I never remember snow or being cold there, so we may not have wintered over at the Ailmore place. I do recall my dad taking us all to the Kansas State Fair once. Maybe not all of us, but me, Jake and probably Josephine. I recall the ride there. We parked and entered the grounds. We walked down the midway with the promise from dad that we could ride the ferris wheel later, but first he needed a beer. We were not allowed in the hall and had to set on a bench outside the door. It was hot and dusty, but ever the dutiful father, dad finally came out. He got us an ice cream cone for our one treat on the way to the car to head home. I can still taste that ice cream. It was horrible and must have been something like pineapple sherbert. When we got home mother greeted us at the door and that man got hollered at and screamed at the rest of the night for taking those innocent babies into a den of iniquity. When he explained that we sat outside in the hot sun, that was more fuel for the fire. Kansas State Fair does not hold any fond memories for me!
It was a few days later and dad was once more gone, God only knew where, but we were sure he would come home "plastered" since that was what he did. Nickerson had no beer joints so he had to go into Hutchinson which was 11 miles away. It was one of those hot, sultry days for which Central Kansas is so famous. The phone rang and Queen Josephine answered. Very quickly she ended the conversation and turned to us. "Mother is on her way home. A big storm is coming. Get the tank pumped full fast." Jake and I ran for the back door and the pump house. The sky did look terrible. Soon a car pulled into the drive and mother jumped out and ran for the house. Ed Crissman followed her. She apparently had started for home and he picked her up. The wind was picking up and it was a sure thing that no one was going anywhere until this was over. Mother called us inside and just as we reached the safety of the house, the pump house collapsed.
We covered the windows with blankets in case the hail broke the windows. We all huddled in the center of the house while the wind blew, the rain fell, and we prayed that the house did not lift up off the foundation. I do not know how long the storm took, but it finally subsided. Like little forest creatures we opened the door and peered outside. Ed's car was still there, but had lots of hail damage. The haystack was gone. All the buildings were gone. Trees were uprooted. The fences were gone and the livestock wandered the yard. Dead chickens were all over the yard. It looked like a war zone. Ed Crissman decided to walk home since the creek was now flooded. And then it was night.
Dad came home sometime in the night. It was a somber little group of people that stood in the yard the next morning wondering where to begin. There seemed to be no place to start. We had caught the livestock and tied them to a fence post where they stayed the night. But now what? The roof of the house was not going to keep out the next rain. And there was my father. The pillar of the family. Hung over, sick, sorry, and all the other things that they sing about in country western songs. And my mother, a beaten woman. She had worked all her life to feed a nest full of kids and then lost the nest. It was devastating. She still had the kids. We still needed to eat and we had to have a roof over our heads. And she looked at my father, and all she said was "Well, Rueben, I hope you have an idea, because I am done."
I found an article that mother had saved from the paper back then. They called it a cyclone. Cyclone is also described as a tornado. I didn't figure it made a lot of difference what it was called, the results were the same. Mother could have given up at that point and no one would have faulted her. But I have found since then that there is really nothing to give up to. There have been times in my life when I have felt like there just was not enough gumption left in me to take that next step. When I looked at my kids and thought this was as far as I could go. When that happened I thought back to that ragged bunch standing in that yard and heard my mother say, "Well, Rueben...." I had no Rueben, but I did have a mother and my mother had a daughter that learned her lessons of survial from a very strong woman. A woman who knew how to wring every bit of life out of the worst situations. A pioneer woman who did not give up and stuck with her husband and knew when to tell him it was his turn and he knew she meant it.
Next time I show up here we are going to be on the move again!! Get ready world, the Bartholomew family is about to be land owners!
Roy Keating lived very close there to us. He raised pigs and those things were huge! It seems like I was told that a pig will keep growing as long as it is alive and that is why they get so big. Does not mean that is true, just means that is what I was told. Dad was Mr. Keating's chore man which meant when Mr. Keating was not home that dad took care of the place. That meant I had to go and gather eggs while dad "slopped the hogs." Side note here...back in those days farmers kept "slop buckets" which held garbage, leftover or sour milk, and anything edible except bones. The bucket was carried out to the pigs every morning. I was scared shitless of those big pigs. And of course there was always the tale of a farmer or his child falling in the pig pen and the pigs eating the hapless person. That rather kept my paranoia fueled!
The floods, the bull frog, the Barthold sisters, Mr. Keatings giant pigs, coal oil lamps, and I never remember snow or being cold there, so we may not have wintered over at the Ailmore place. I do recall my dad taking us all to the Kansas State Fair once. Maybe not all of us, but me, Jake and probably Josephine. I recall the ride there. We parked and entered the grounds. We walked down the midway with the promise from dad that we could ride the ferris wheel later, but first he needed a beer. We were not allowed in the hall and had to set on a bench outside the door. It was hot and dusty, but ever the dutiful father, dad finally came out. He got us an ice cream cone for our one treat on the way to the car to head home. I can still taste that ice cream. It was horrible and must have been something like pineapple sherbert. When we got home mother greeted us at the door and that man got hollered at and screamed at the rest of the night for taking those innocent babies into a den of iniquity. When he explained that we sat outside in the hot sun, that was more fuel for the fire. Kansas State Fair does not hold any fond memories for me!
It was a few days later and dad was once more gone, God only knew where, but we were sure he would come home "plastered" since that was what he did. Nickerson had no beer joints so he had to go into Hutchinson which was 11 miles away. It was one of those hot, sultry days for which Central Kansas is so famous. The phone rang and Queen Josephine answered. Very quickly she ended the conversation and turned to us. "Mother is on her way home. A big storm is coming. Get the tank pumped full fast." Jake and I ran for the back door and the pump house. The sky did look terrible. Soon a car pulled into the drive and mother jumped out and ran for the house. Ed Crissman followed her. She apparently had started for home and he picked her up. The wind was picking up and it was a sure thing that no one was going anywhere until this was over. Mother called us inside and just as we reached the safety of the house, the pump house collapsed.
We covered the windows with blankets in case the hail broke the windows. We all huddled in the center of the house while the wind blew, the rain fell, and we prayed that the house did not lift up off the foundation. I do not know how long the storm took, but it finally subsided. Like little forest creatures we opened the door and peered outside. Ed's car was still there, but had lots of hail damage. The haystack was gone. All the buildings were gone. Trees were uprooted. The fences were gone and the livestock wandered the yard. Dead chickens were all over the yard. It looked like a war zone. Ed Crissman decided to walk home since the creek was now flooded. And then it was night.
Dad came home sometime in the night. It was a somber little group of people that stood in the yard the next morning wondering where to begin. There seemed to be no place to start. We had caught the livestock and tied them to a fence post where they stayed the night. But now what? The roof of the house was not going to keep out the next rain. And there was my father. The pillar of the family. Hung over, sick, sorry, and all the other things that they sing about in country western songs. And my mother, a beaten woman. She had worked all her life to feed a nest full of kids and then lost the nest. It was devastating. She still had the kids. We still needed to eat and we had to have a roof over our heads. And she looked at my father, and all she said was "Well, Rueben, I hope you have an idea, because I am done."
I found an article that mother had saved from the paper back then. They called it a cyclone. Cyclone is also described as a tornado. I didn't figure it made a lot of difference what it was called, the results were the same. Mother could have given up at that point and no one would have faulted her. But I have found since then that there is really nothing to give up to. There have been times in my life when I have felt like there just was not enough gumption left in me to take that next step. When I looked at my kids and thought this was as far as I could go. When that happened I thought back to that ragged bunch standing in that yard and heard my mother say, "Well, Rueben...." I had no Rueben, but I did have a mother and my mother had a daughter that learned her lessons of survial from a very strong woman. A woman who knew how to wring every bit of life out of the worst situations. A pioneer woman who did not give up and stuck with her husband and knew when to tell him it was his turn and he knew she meant it.
Next time I show up here we are going to be on the move again!! Get ready world, the Bartholomew family is about to be land owners!
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