Grandma Haas and puberty.

 I was living with the grandma's the year I started high school.  I was sent there by momma to "help take care of them."  Grandma Haas was 62 and her mother, who was my great grandma was in her late 90's.  Grandma used a walker to move from place to place, but great grandma Hatfield was as spry as a spring chicken.  She was very tall as I recall and very regal.  She had a very sharp and well-defined nose.  All of her features were well defined and the word that comes to mind when I picture her is "regal".  Grandma Haas was always happy.  And kind.  Very kind.  She smiled at me with the sweetest smile that I am sure made the angels in Heaven dance with joy.  Both of them had beautiful blue eyes.   As blue as the summer sky.

Great Grandma did all the cooking.  I do not remember what we ate for any meal except breakfast, but I am sure it was a sandwich and probably an orange.  Oranges were plentiful at the grandmas' house.  Grandma Haas owned a house on one corner and Great Grandma owned a house across the street.  Great Grandma had been married 3 times and was on her way to the alter with number 4 when he died suddenly.  At that point she gave up on men and moved in with Grandma Haas to take care of her.  Enter me.  

I started high school that fall in Plevna, Kansas.  The grandma's wanted me to come home for lunch break and since it was only one block, the principal let me.  I would step out the door and I could hear the noon stock report blasting from the old radio.  This was one of those floor models that was wood and had a dial you turned with a knob.  I was never allowed to touch the knob and the only time it was ever turned on was at noon for the stock and market reports.  While the grandmas no longer planted wheat, it was still imperative that they knew what the market was.  The world turns on the stock market, you know.

This particular day my grandma wanted to talk to me, and great grandmother busied herself in front of the Hoover, which was the cabinet which held the flour, sugar and other baking things.

"Have you started your menstrual cycle yet?"

"Huh?" 

"Have you started bleeding down there yet?"

I immediately fell into a dead panic because I knew I was going to be bleeding or at least I was supposed to and I was scared to death and no one I could ask.  The subject never came up again and when I got a little older I figured it out for myself.  Sure glad they started teaching that in school shortly after that conversation.  Well, not so much that, but the whole reproduction thing became more a matter of course then an enigma wrapped in a mystery.

I still have only the fondest memories of the grandmas.  They were from a different era and they were blessed with my being sent to "take care of them".  Sort of like the blind leading the blind.  It was a strange time in my life and the grandma's taught me a lot.  It was there I learned to crochet and do other "handwork".  We read a chapter from the Bible every night.  We never discussed it and it was just understood that if the Bible said it, it was true and I better do what it said.  Period.  End of discussion.  I still hold that philosophy to this day.  God said.  I better do it.

There is not a day of my life that goes by that I do not think of the grandma's.  Great grandma with her ramrod stiff back.  She was like a rock.  She never wavered.  I don't recall her ever laughing.  Course, she never cried either.  She was the epitome of a lady.  And my sweet grandma Haas.  She was crippled from a stroke, but she always had a smile.  Her blue eyes shone with love for me.  She may not have actually taught me the facts of life, but she alerted me to the fact that someday something would happen.

One day I came home from school and Aunt Mabel had come from Coldwater.  She was Grandma's sister.  Momma came the next day and took me home.  Grandma was put in Broadacres which was a hospital where old people went to die.  Aunt Mabel took Great grandma Hatfield home to Coldwater with her.  Grandma Haas died a couple weeks later.  Great grandma Hatfield lived to be 104 years old.  She was preceded in death by her parrot, Poly who lived to be 60 or 70 years old.

My grandma's live inside my head.  I never knew a grandfather, but I still love my grandma's and can see them in my mind's eye as clearly as they were in that two-story white house in Plevna, Kansas.  I have my own idea's about where we go after we die.  I am sure I will make a stop in Plevna to see the high school and run home for lunch with the grandma's.  And Polly will be there singing "Ater the ball is over, after the dancers have gone....."

Peace!

Plevna, Kansas, class of 1959

I woke up at 2:30 this morning thinking about my classmates in Plevna, Kansas.  It was my Freshman year and I was living with Grandma Haas and Great Grandma Hatfield.  The high school was on one end of Main Street and Grandma's house was on the other end.  Main Street was 2 blocks long.  The High School, the bank and the filling station was on one side.  On  the other side was Hinshaw's Mercantile, the phone company and Grandma Hatfield's house.  The next house was Grandma Haas's house and then then church.  Great Grandma Hatfield's house was empty since she had moved next door to take care of Grandma Haas.

Great Grandma was a legend in her time.  She was born Helen Gagnebein.  She had married Frank Miller and had 3 children, Lou, Mable, and Grandma Josie.  When he passed she married a man named Hatfield who had a son named Steven.  I always liked Uncle Steven because he had a very round face and always seemed to be happy. Rumor had it that she was headed to the alter with #3 when he suddenly died.  She declared that she had buried 2 husband and the love of her life and was now done.   So she moved across the street to take care of her daughter, my grandmother.  All this has absolutely nothing to do with my Freshman year!

The point is that Grandma had suffered a stroke and could no longer live alone and take care of herself.  Great Grandma needed help and I was the chosen one.  Thus when I left Nickerson Grade School, I was thrown into High School at Plevna, Kansas.  As I recall there were 30 kids in the whole high school.  The Freshman class had like 8 or 9 kids.  When I was laying in bed before I started this missive I could remember 6 of them and clearly see their faces, but as soon as my fingers hit the keys, my brain went south.  I remember Norma Daily, Janet Pastier, the twins Dean and Dale Hinshaw and that is all.  Seems like there were 8 or 9.  I do remember the principal was named Mr. Miller.

They did have a girls basketball team, but I was not allowed to do that because it entailed wearing pants and neither of the grandma's approved of that!  So while the basketball season was on I played ping pong in a room above the stage in the auditorium.  I was not very good at that either.  Everyone brought their lunch except me and I had to run home and check to see if the grandma's needed anything.  Great Grandma would have an orange peeled for me.  When I left the school I could hear Great Grandma's old stand up radio blaring the noon market report.  While we had not farmed for years there were relation who did and the market report kept Great Grandma apprised of the price of wheat, cattle, corn and pork bellies.  I never really gave a shit, but it was important to them!  I would then dash back to school before the bell rang.

Now the most thriving business was the Hinshaw Mercantile.  Dean and Dale would some day fall heir to that!  They were twins, but you would never have guessed it.  Dale was the one who must have gotten to the table first because he was a pudgy, red hair and freckles, pale skinned, mean spirited creature (for want of a better description) fellow.  He never had a nice thing to say to anyone and I sincerely hope he grew out of that!  Dean was a skinny, tanned, dark haired little fellow with a very beautiful smile.  They were as different as night and day.  Needless to say, I thought often about how maybe someday, Dean might hold my hand.  (It never happened.)

The grandma's were united in their way of raising me. The only reading material allowed in the house was the Holy Bible.  No newspaper, no magazine except for the Workbasket which was a crochet magazine that was treasured beyond all else.  I was taught to crochet and that was my past time.  My Grandma Haas and her sister Mabel married brothers.  Aunt Mable would come for a visit from Coldwater, Kansas with her husband  Uncle Goll.  Once she brought her textile paints with the intent of teaching me how to do something besides crochet.  We went to the Hinshaw store and she bought me a white bath towel to paint a design on.  Sadly it was shop worn and the brown outline of where it had lain never faded, but I did paint a water lily on it and she made me feel like I was 10 feet tall.  Damn!  How I miss those days!  I gave the towel to my mother and you would have thought I had handed her the moon!  Things like that used to matter.

If I live to be 200 years old, I will always cherish the memories that were made in that little house there on the end of main street in Plevna, Kansas.  I will always remember the round oak table with the crocheted table cloth and the two grandma's I lived with for a time.  I learned to crochet by the light of a kerosene lamp because, though they had electricity, they did not use it very often because they did not want to wear it out!

I can still see the 2 little white heads bent over their needlework and how occasionally one would look up and smile at me.  They both had the most beautiful blue eyes in the world.  I have often wondered if I really was any help to them or if they were helping me.  I do know, if I were able to go back in time that I would not change one minute of my time spent in that house.  Well, maybe I would.  I would listen next time.  And when we read the Bible (which we did every night)  I would read an extra chapter.  Living with those two women was the best part of my whole entire life.  I just pray that they know what an impact they made on my life all those years ago.

Thank you God for the gift of Grandmothers.

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It used to be a more user friendly world.

Back in Nickerson in the late 1940's life was so simple.  We did not lock our doors.  Oh, we could lock them, we just did not.  We had a key called a skeleton key.  Our key fit every other lock on every other door in town.  The lock was not so much to keep anyone out as it was to keep the door from blowing open while we were gone.  Do not think we were gone very often, because we were not.  Nor was anyone else, so the "key to the front door" was more a symbol of status then actually meaning anything.  If, perchance , the key was misplaced one could simply go to the local hardware store and purchase another one for just a few cents.  I do not know at what point in time someone came up with the idea to have a lock with a special key, but it was some time after life on Strong Street.

Another thing that was in every yard was a pump for water.  Ours was a "pitcher pump" which held its prime which meant we did not have to pour water in it to get it started.  There were 2 things that were always located on the nearest fence post and those were a can of water just in case the pump did lose it's prime and  a tin cup.  The tin cup was for drinking the water that came from the pump.  If we were playing and got thirsty, we simply went to the nearest pump and got a drink from the pump.  It was the neighborly thing to do and back in the day the house that did not let you drink from their pump was avoided at any cost.  Water was free and everyone was a neighbor.  Oh, there were a few houses that had dogs and sometimes the dogs were not so friendly, but usually the lady of the house would holler at the dog and then you could get a drink and be on your way.  I do know that the water that was pumped up from deep in the earth was so sweet and cool that it must have been the elixir of the Gods. 

I did not know about hoboes growing up, but I had heard of such things from my brother, Jake.  He was friends with a man who lived down on the Arkansas River when we were on the Stroh place.  Seems his name was Blackie Joe or something like that.  He worked with silver and turquoise and sold his wares around town.  Mother did not like Jake hanging out with anyone who lived on the river, but Jake was always one to sneak off and not tell her where he went.  I saw Blackie on the bridge once and he was scary.  His clothes were black and his face was very weathered.  I did not get close!  He was not on the river in the winter and Jake said he "went south" and that he had family down south.

When I started high school I had to walk down main street to school and then back up main street to go home.  The railroad tracks ran right through the middle of town and sometimes the trains would block the way.  This was back in the early 1950's and the box car doors were open and we could see  the men "riding the rails."  Mother always cautioned  us about these men and I was scared to death of them, but secretly I sometimes thought how much fun that might be to just go where ever the train took me.

Another thing that mother was always adamant about was the eating business.  We had a big round oak table.  Of course I think that is all that anyone had back then.  If we were eating, we were eating at the table.  Homework was done at the table.  Sometimes she would make us hot chocolate and that was drunk at the table.  On Sundays we sometimes went to Plevna to Great Grandma's house and had fried chicken dinner at her big round table.  She lived with my grandma Haas who had a stroke and could not walk without a walker.  I lived with them my freshman year of high school until grandma died and great grandma moved to Coldwater.  That was the best year of my whole life.

Well, I am rambling.  The cat is rolling a marble around my feet.  It is 4:00 AM and the rest of the world is asleep.  And yet here I set, thinking of how my mother would come to my house and set at my big round oak table and reminisce of the time all decisions were made at the table and how the table symbolizes the center of the home.  She was right. 

Course, my momma was always right!  RIP my sweet mother. 

The beautiful Colorado sky!

Every morning without fail, I leave my back door and head out back to the goose house.  When I built it, it was a duck house.  An influx of foxes changed all that.  At the height of my goose/duck raising , I had 37 ducks and 17 geese.  I also had a very big pond which was lined with heavy plastic.  It was about 35 feet long, 30 feet wide and 5 feet deep.  They loved it and swam in it all day long.  I still have pictures of it some where, but that is history and I do not like to live in the past.  Very slowly the foxes began to sneak in and carry off a duck now and then.  When I realized what was going on, it was too late and the houses behind my empty field prevented use of a gun.  One of the neighbors who lived down there, told my step daughter that he had shot over 10 foxes in one week.  But that is history.  I now have 8 geese and no ducks.  None of this is relevant, however.

This morning as I stood in my back acre, I reveled at the beauty of the blue Colorado sky.  Not a cloud in sight.  It was not cold, just a little cool, which is to be expected this time of year.  It was just that the beauty of the Colorado sky struck me as the hand of God at work.   It is so wonderful to live here in the center of the United States of America that I could not help but thank God above for delivering me to this place!  I fully intend to live out my remaining days right here on South Road, but can I?

I watch the news.  I know that south of here, children are locked in cages because their parents are trying to escape the drug lords in South America.  North of here, the Indigenous people who lived on this land since before Columbus or whoever came and they were eventually pushed back to reservations.  The government has penetrated into every aspect of our lives so that we are no longer allowed the security of our own planet.  In lands across the sea, bombs and war are an every day occurrence.  Running water, heated homes, electric lights at our fingertips are not givens over there.  I do have a radio in my bedroom that will bring me messages if the depot ever implodes.  It will also let me know if a tornado is on the horizon.  It was installed in my home over 30 years ago by the government.  They have changed the battery twice.  It is tested every Wednesday at noon.  I also get a calendar every year from the same place that furnishes the radio.  I am sure that it has some purpose, but I really do not know what it is.  Perhaps it is the government spying on me.  If so, somebody is pretty hard up for someone to spy on!  There is very little outside activity in my home and the bedroom is pretty well a "dead zone."

But back to the sky that is such a beautiful blue that it makes my heart ache!  If our government could spend the money on taking care of our weakest citizens that they spend on securing our borders and monitoring the rest of the world, wouldn't it be a beautiful world?  My grandfather came here 120 years ago with nothing but the clothes on his back and a hand held by my great grandfather.  I love my family history, and I love to go back to Plevna, Abbyville, Huntsville and all the places my grandparents lived.  Some of my fondest memories were made around the oak table at the little house in Plevna where I lived with my grandma and great grandma.  The school is gone now.  Last time I was there, only the gymnasium was standing.  The Hinshaw general store had burned.  That left the bank, the phone company and one gas station.  The Smith house was gone and 3 trailer houses were on that lot.  The Congregational Church still stood next door to our house.

The sky in Kansas and the sky in Colorado are different.  Colorado is a deeper blue.  Kansas sky goes on forever. The night sky in Kansas is not polluted by city lights and I can hear the coyotes yipping  across the prairie.  There are more stars then one could ever count.  The sky is total black with only diamonds sparkling against the velvet background. but it is the sky that fills my soul.

At least that is how I remember it.

Better late than never?

Well, John Tenorio pretty well opened the flood gate to let all my friends escape this life when he passed late last year.  Then went Annie, Chaz, Nancy, Shirley and lastly Jim.  Needless to say I had plans with all of these people, or meant to at least.  Annie was expected; Chaz was not.  Nancy was expected; Shirley was not.  Jim was inevitable.  I set here now waiting for the next shoe to drop.  Mother always said it was sad to watch the nursing homes especially.  When fall comes the leaves drop and the little old people go to their reward.  Then comes Spring and with new growth the little old and sick people get new life, but it is not in this world.  Mother was wise.  When I would forget to do something in a timely manner, or blow it off completely, she had these words for me.  "Better late then never."  But was it?

When the pale horse with his rider goes by, it is too late.  The final curtain has fallen, the bell has rung, and "woulda", "coulda", "shoulda" are no more.  It is over and time is no more.  There is no way I can tell grandma what an impact she had on my life.  Oh, not while I was living it, but lo these many years later I can see so clearly.  Grandma Haas was an invalid due to a stoke and Great Grandma Hatfield took care of her.  I helped as much as I could, which was not very damn much, but I do not think that was what I was there for.  I think I was there in case one of them died I could call somebody.  I can remember helping her get ready for bed and pulling her dress up over her head.  I had to be very careful because she and Grandma Hatfield both had pierced earring and it was a nightly chore to untangle the dress from the earrings on both women.  Lord only knows what they did before I came.

Grandma Hatfield was prone to shingles and it was my nightly job to check her to see if any shingles were appearing and if they were I must make sure to check very carefully and apply medicine, because if the shingles went clear around her waist and met, she would immediately die.  I lived in mortal terror that they would become active while she was asleep and she would be dead when I went in the next morning.  Apparently someone was alert because she lived to be 104.  Grandma Hatfield was tall, or so it seemed.  She was regal in her bearing.  She rarely spoke but I just figured since she was 99 years old when I lived with them, that she had probably just talked herself out.  I am not sure she really knew I was there!

Grandma Haas was a very sweet little old grandma and looked like grandma's were supposed to look.  She had beautiful blue eyes and her hair was golden rather then gray.  I still have that golden braid tucked away somewhere.  Since I was 15 years old she thought she should have "the talk" with me.  This is it in it's entirety, I swear to God.

"Have you started your menstral cycle yet."  (I had a vague idea of what that might be.)
"No".
"Ok, when you do, tell momma and she will let you stay home from school that day."

Well, there was a little something to look forward too since school was the only place I could go and escape the tedium of my life.  The only book I was allowed to read was the Bible and the only entertainment was learning to crochet.  I had to keep my shoes on at all times.  Aunt Lena sometimes let me play in the horse tank.  Television was just coming out and the Smith family had one, but I was not allowed to go over there and look at it because I would surely rot in hell!

I miss the grandma's.  I wish I could go back in time and this time I would listen.  I would listen about the aunts and uncles and the trip over from Germany.  I would learn about the herbs and tinctures that Great great grandma Gagnebien  used and how to be a midwife and how to make molasses.  But I didn't.  But you know what?  I think that sometimes those old ancestors pop into my head and tell me things because sometimes I know things that are true and there is no way I could know them.  I think my ancestors live inside me.  Course I may be nuts.

There is that!