Until I reached second grade we lived to the best of my knowledge, on the Stroh place. That is where my memories of life began. I do not know where Donna and Mary came into being, but I remember momma laying in bed with baby Dorothy beside her. I hated her! She made momma stay in bed and I could not be held by momma because of her. She cried and momma cuddled her. My cuddling days were over at that point. When harvest came momma even took her in the truck with her to haul the grain to the elevator. She left us home with Josephine who must have been about 10 or 11 at the time. I am sure someone older actually ran herd over all of us, but I do not remember because the seventy some years of life that followed fairly well erased my memories of that time!
I do recall the move to the Ailmore place. It was on the hayrack, straight down the road, across the highway pulled by the two big horses that were my dad's pride and joy. " A matched pair, Chris! Look at that! Gotta have a matched pair. Won't work any other way." Of course, all a matched pair meant to me was that I was going to wear the same coat to school that I wore last year and the first 2 months of school there would be no shoes on my feet, or on Jakes either. Josephine was big so she had to have shoes.
The house was 2 bedrooms, a front room and dining room combined. The front bedroom was big enough for all of us. Josephine, Donna, Mary and myself slept in one bed and Jake made a pallet on the floor. Dorothy was still nursing so she slept with mom and dad. There was a light that hung in the front room and one in the kitchen. Since electric lights were still a novelty to my dad we used kerosene lamps and did not mess with that new fangled stuff.
I am sure I have writtten about the bullfrog incident somewhere and also about Jake blowing on the gas tank and spraying gas in Donna's eyes. Across the road lived the Barthold sisters. They were old maid schoolteachers. We used to hide in their forest and spy on them drinking tea in the flower garden. While we were sure that we were well hidden, momma did give us a licking because they told on us. We swore they were lying, but we got a licking anyway!
It was during this time that Nickerson had a cyclone. Dad had gone to Hutchinson for one of his drinking trips. John Britan knew this and knew we were in for bad weather and came by to check on us. While he was there the storm hit. I remember the lights went out and we only had one lamp burning. I think that a cyclone rotates one direction, and a tornado goes in the other. Not sure what happened, but I do recall it being very scary. Maybe a cyclone is a straight wind. One thing is for sure, when you are a little kid and the wind is blowing so hard the all the buildings in sight are destroyed and lumber is flying past the window, you get a quick lesson in how to pray and mean it! In due time the storm "blew itself out" and we went outside.
The haystack was gone. The pump house was gone. The tree that stood in the corner of the yard and served as cemetary marker for the small animals that passed in our care was still there, standing sentinel over the tiny bodies. The old milk cow stood beside the water tank and looked very forlorn. Chickens and ducks wandered around where the chicken house used to be. About the only thing that survived with little or no damage was the house.
And then dad drove into the yard in his rattle trap old car. Even in his inebreated state he was amazed at the damage. He thanked Mr. Britan for being there in his absence. My dad worked as a hired hand for Mr. Britan for many years, so he knew dad pretty well and accepted that dad had a drink occasionally. Mostly he drank "hot toddies" for his colds. Not a social drinker, just medicine. Of course, in hind sight it appears that my dad had a drinking problem. The upshot was that one day he quit drinking completely and with that he quit having colds necessitating his need for the toddies. As a little kid we learned to adjust.
We left the Ailmore place a couple years later and moved to 709 Strong Street which would be our home for the rest of my grade school and into high school. I drove past the Ailmore place several years ago. It is gone, of course. Roy Keatings farm is still there and the Rumble house was starting to fall into Bull Creek. The Barthold house still stands, but the Schultz property is bare.
Ah, but in my mind I still wade in Bull Creek and seine for crawdads. I still sing "Buttons and Bows" for Mr. Rumble. Mrs. Rumble still gives me a cookie.
Who says you can't go home again?
Peace!
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