I have reached a new plateau in my morning thought process. Usually I wake up and remember what day it is and then begin to remember what all I have planned for the day. Well today was just a little different. I woke up and tried to remember how far back I could actually remember. I remember when Dorothy was born. Mother had to stay in bed 10 days. Seems like it was harvest and dad was pretty upset that he actually had to hire someone to drive the grain truck into town. We lived on the Stroh place at that time. That would have meant I was 5 years old. Oh, I bet I was so cute! Not sure because I do not ever remember anyone saying, "Oh, what a cute little girl!" I remember them asking Momma, "Wow! How many kids do you have?" I was named after my Paternal Grandmother, who I never met. Or at least, I do not remember if I did.
I remember an aunt and uncle coming for a visit and they were rich because they had a car! I also remember when it came time for them to leave that the uncle sat at the steering wheel with the aunt in the passenger seat and dad "cranked" the motor to get it to fire. I often wondered just how that worked if there was no one to turn the crank. Did Auntie in her finery and feathery hat do it? A mystery indeed.
I can vaguely remember the day my dad brought home a Shetland pony named Star. That horse came out of the trailer kicking and I do not think he ever stopped. I was terrified of that damned horse. He was brown and white and I could see him watching me and I knew if I got close he would send me flying. My dad had been in the Cavalry and had been bitten on his upper arm by a horse and carried the scar his entire life. To this day I live in mortal terror that a horse will bite me if I get too close. Ito was the one exception.
I do not remember being flogged by the geese when I wandered into thier pen. Mother did. I do not remember Jake whacking me on the head with a turnip, but she did. I do remember when the cow died and dad had to pull it down to the pasture, cover it with some sort of fuel and light it on fire because there was an epidemic of anthrax and "you just never know and it is better to be safe then sorry." The government told us that.
I remember Momma getting out the stamp books when she went to the store because the government only allowed us to buy so much sugar, gasoline and other thing that were "rationed". I do not remember having a Christmas in the Stroh house, but we must have. I remember my step brother, Gene Bartholomew coming for a visit once. He came with someone in a fancy car that did not need cranked. He was just out of the Army and he was very handsome and smelled very good. He only stayed a little while and then I remember talk of "prison", "forgery", and a "damn long stretch ahead of him." He remained in my memory and in my life for the next 10 years. He wrote me from prison and I answered all his letters. He wrote in Calligraphy which I guess made him a very good at forgery. I saw him once when I was about 16. He left to hitch hike to Oregon, was arrested in Nebraska for "vagrancy", given a ride to the outskirts of some little town and disappeared off the face of the earth. Some loose ends we just never get to tie up.
I have to interject here about my father and how he ended up with kids we never knew. My dad was much older then my Mother. He had been married before and they had 5 children. A son and daughter had died during the great depression leaving them with 3 sons. William Eugene Bartholomew, Richard Bartholomew, and Earl Bartholomew. For whatever reason his wife died. He put the boys in an orphange because he could not care for them and had no family members that could help. Richard and Earl were adopted. Gene was not. Richard and Gene were both in World War II and both were "shell shocked" when they got out. Richard was more affected then Gene, but neither of them were ever productive members of society. I do know Gene married and had a son. As I recall the son's name was Billy. I expect it was William Eugene Bartholomew. He may have children, but who knows and I do not know how to find out.
Well, I got a little side tracked there. Some other things I remember about the Stroh place years are good memories. Like herding the old cow along the road so she could eat grass and then when it was time to bring her home I would grab her tail and she would run for the barn. Of course I got in trouble because she would not "let her milk down" after that little jaunt.
I remember Donna poking her finger in a turtles mouth and the turtle would not let go and if dad cut the head off the turtle it still would not let go "until the sun goes down." Poor Donna!
I remember the old yellow tomcat bringing a baby chicken to mother and I remember my horrified mother demanding Jake take that cat into the woods and kill it for killing her chicken. Wonder how I slept that night?
I remember playing in a mud puddle by the house and how much fun it was when the water tried up and left little crunchy dried pieces of mud where it used to be. Those were fun to walk on barefooted.
I remember mom holding me under her arm and washing my hair under the pump on the back porch. Josephine pumped as fast as she could and I recall that water was so damn cold!
I remember "haircutting day" when some lady would come and set us on a chair, put a bowl over my head and cut whatever was below the bowl off and that was a "bowl haircut."
I remember being in first grade and we surely lived there then, but I do not remember walking to school. I remember walking to the store alone the first time from that house.
I remember Jake hanging out down on the river with a guy named "Blackie Joe" (?) and I remember the beautiful silver bracelet Jake gave me that he helped make, but I do not remember what I did with it.
I remember so much, but I do not remember what we ate. I do not remember ever being cold. I do not remember if we had furniture or an icebox, or what I wore for clothes.
I do remember being sad because we were leaving that house. The saddest part is, I do not know where we lived before the Stroh place. I do not know so much and the saddest part of all is there is no one I can ask. Being the oldest sure sucks sometimes.
I remember an aunt and uncle coming for a visit and they were rich because they had a car! I also remember when it came time for them to leave that the uncle sat at the steering wheel with the aunt in the passenger seat and dad "cranked" the motor to get it to fire. I often wondered just how that worked if there was no one to turn the crank. Did Auntie in her finery and feathery hat do it? A mystery indeed.
I can vaguely remember the day my dad brought home a Shetland pony named Star. That horse came out of the trailer kicking and I do not think he ever stopped. I was terrified of that damned horse. He was brown and white and I could see him watching me and I knew if I got close he would send me flying. My dad had been in the Cavalry and had been bitten on his upper arm by a horse and carried the scar his entire life. To this day I live in mortal terror that a horse will bite me if I get too close. Ito was the one exception.
I do not remember being flogged by the geese when I wandered into thier pen. Mother did. I do not remember Jake whacking me on the head with a turnip, but she did. I do remember when the cow died and dad had to pull it down to the pasture, cover it with some sort of fuel and light it on fire because there was an epidemic of anthrax and "you just never know and it is better to be safe then sorry." The government told us that.
I remember Momma getting out the stamp books when she went to the store because the government only allowed us to buy so much sugar, gasoline and other thing that were "rationed". I do not remember having a Christmas in the Stroh house, but we must have. I remember my step brother, Gene Bartholomew coming for a visit once. He came with someone in a fancy car that did not need cranked. He was just out of the Army and he was very handsome and smelled very good. He only stayed a little while and then I remember talk of "prison", "forgery", and a "damn long stretch ahead of him." He remained in my memory and in my life for the next 10 years. He wrote me from prison and I answered all his letters. He wrote in Calligraphy which I guess made him a very good at forgery. I saw him once when I was about 16. He left to hitch hike to Oregon, was arrested in Nebraska for "vagrancy", given a ride to the outskirts of some little town and disappeared off the face of the earth. Some loose ends we just never get to tie up.
I have to interject here about my father and how he ended up with kids we never knew. My dad was much older then my Mother. He had been married before and they had 5 children. A son and daughter had died during the great depression leaving them with 3 sons. William Eugene Bartholomew, Richard Bartholomew, and Earl Bartholomew. For whatever reason his wife died. He put the boys in an orphange because he could not care for them and had no family members that could help. Richard and Earl were adopted. Gene was not. Richard and Gene were both in World War II and both were "shell shocked" when they got out. Richard was more affected then Gene, but neither of them were ever productive members of society. I do know Gene married and had a son. As I recall the son's name was Billy. I expect it was William Eugene Bartholomew. He may have children, but who knows and I do not know how to find out.
Well, I got a little side tracked there. Some other things I remember about the Stroh place years are good memories. Like herding the old cow along the road so she could eat grass and then when it was time to bring her home I would grab her tail and she would run for the barn. Of course I got in trouble because she would not "let her milk down" after that little jaunt.
I remember Donna poking her finger in a turtles mouth and the turtle would not let go and if dad cut the head off the turtle it still would not let go "until the sun goes down." Poor Donna!
I remember the old yellow tomcat bringing a baby chicken to mother and I remember my horrified mother demanding Jake take that cat into the woods and kill it for killing her chicken. Wonder how I slept that night?
I remember playing in a mud puddle by the house and how much fun it was when the water tried up and left little crunchy dried pieces of mud where it used to be. Those were fun to walk on barefooted.
I remember mom holding me under her arm and washing my hair under the pump on the back porch. Josephine pumped as fast as she could and I recall that water was so damn cold!
I remember "haircutting day" when some lady would come and set us on a chair, put a bowl over my head and cut whatever was below the bowl off and that was a "bowl haircut."
I remember being in first grade and we surely lived there then, but I do not remember walking to school. I remember walking to the store alone the first time from that house.
I remember Jake hanging out down on the river with a guy named "Blackie Joe" (?) and I remember the beautiful silver bracelet Jake gave me that he helped make, but I do not remember what I did with it.
I remember so much, but I do not remember what we ate. I do not remember ever being cold. I do not remember if we had furniture or an icebox, or what I wore for clothes.
I do remember being sad because we were leaving that house. The saddest part is, I do not know where we lived before the Stroh place. I do not know so much and the saddest part of all is there is no one I can ask. Being the oldest sure sucks sometimes.
