Mother worked at that time cleaning houses for people in town. Mrs. Hawk, the dentist's wife, Mrs. Massey, and I forget who else. Our means of communication was a black telephone that was in a wooden box that hung on the wall. To call some one you needed to pickup up the ear piece and then turn the crank on the side. This would ring in the telephone office down town and the "operator" would put a plug, the other end of which was attached to her head piece, into the circuit which was lit up and say, "Number please." The person calling would then say the number which was usually two digits. Later it changed to three. The operator would then plug the wire that came from your number into the number you were calling. And thus a call was connected and would ring and some one would answer. I know all this because we took a tour of the phone company. You could call it a tour if you want, but that place was so small that we could only get in two or three at a time. The operator set on a little stool and could connect the whole town without having to move.
At that time there were "party lines." A party line meant something way different then than it does now. Take our phone. We were on a party line with the Rumble' s and several other people. Only rich people could afford private lines and we were far from rich. The way the calls were handled was this, each person on the party line had their own distinct ring. Ours was two longs and a short, Rumble's was one long and two shorts, and so forth. We knew when someone got a call cause it rang in all the houses on that party line. These means of communication were rather primitive, but they did work and they called for a certain etiquette. If we wanted to place a call, we picked up the receiver and first listened. If some one was talking, the line was in use, so we should hang up and try later. If the line was free and we wanted to call some one on our party line, we simply turned the crank and rang their ring. Like Rumble's. We rang one long and two shorts and Mr. Rumble would answer.
Or if you are little kids home alone and bored you could pick up the phone and "listen in" which was not only rude, but illegal. So one day we were rather at loose ends and the phone beckoned to us. Now I say "us", but I am pretty sure it was Jake and me. Donna may have been involved. So we kept picking the phone up and some one was talking to some one else. We may have tittered and they heard us. This made it more exciting. We were eavesdropping and they did not know who we were (or so we thought at the time.) or where we lived. Then we discovered that if we turned the crank the phone made a very loud noise in their ear. They were getting very upset and made threats about turning us in to the phone company. We knew there was no way the phone company could track us down. After a while they got tired of our shenanigans and just hung up. So we moved on to more exciting things like wallowing in a mud hole.
And then mother came home. So and so up the road had stopped her and told her about what her babies had been up to while she was at work and Josephine was laying around some where reading. We, of course, pointed at the younger kids. They did it, not us. They were just playing and we were doing our chores and knew nothing about that. Those kids were just trying to get us in trouble. Mother had not forgotten when we hid behind the tree and threw rocks at every car that went by and we had tried to blame them innocent babies for that too. I began at that time in my life to think that mother was clairvoyant and I resented those little kids because they were always trying, and succeeding, to get us into trouble. Had we had the mindset, we might have murdered them and hid their bodies in Bull Creek, but we were just a couple ornery kids trying to find our way in the world with very little actual guidance. Back then kids just kind of raised themselves and fathers were mainly "head of the family" by sheer virtue of having been born men.
And so I close the door on the Ailmore Place and lock it against intruders. There are things I can see that when I went back years later were not there. The long walk to town was maybe four blocks. The big bridge over Bull Creek is actually a culvert. The big beautiful home of Roy Keating, the pig farmer was just a little house with a couple of sheds out back and a couple pig stys. The Rumble's house had collapsed and where had they gone?
I think not long after the big storm, Doc Ailmore died, so we were on the move again. I remember that my dad had horses and a hay rack and a hay wagon. These were pulled by a team of horses. I was too young at the time to realize that the tractor was an up and coming thing and horses were on their way out. All of our belongings were loaded on these two conveyances with the kids thrown on last and the horses pulled us through the edge of town to the other edge and to our new home. This one my father would buy. We had not seen the house until we pulled in front of it and began to unload our precious belongings.
I had way more important things to worry about because I was in school and I had to learn my ABC's and numbers and lots of other really important stuff.
At that time there were "party lines." A party line meant something way different then than it does now. Take our phone. We were on a party line with the Rumble' s and several other people. Only rich people could afford private lines and we were far from rich. The way the calls were handled was this, each person on the party line had their own distinct ring. Ours was two longs and a short, Rumble's was one long and two shorts, and so forth. We knew when someone got a call cause it rang in all the houses on that party line. These means of communication were rather primitive, but they did work and they called for a certain etiquette. If we wanted to place a call, we picked up the receiver and first listened. If some one was talking, the line was in use, so we should hang up and try later. If the line was free and we wanted to call some one on our party line, we simply turned the crank and rang their ring. Like Rumble's. We rang one long and two shorts and Mr. Rumble would answer.
Or if you are little kids home alone and bored you could pick up the phone and "listen in" which was not only rude, but illegal. So one day we were rather at loose ends and the phone beckoned to us. Now I say "us", but I am pretty sure it was Jake and me. Donna may have been involved. So we kept picking the phone up and some one was talking to some one else. We may have tittered and they heard us. This made it more exciting. We were eavesdropping and they did not know who we were (or so we thought at the time.) or where we lived. Then we discovered that if we turned the crank the phone made a very loud noise in their ear. They were getting very upset and made threats about turning us in to the phone company. We knew there was no way the phone company could track us down. After a while they got tired of our shenanigans and just hung up. So we moved on to more exciting things like wallowing in a mud hole.
And then mother came home. So and so up the road had stopped her and told her about what her babies had been up to while she was at work and Josephine was laying around some where reading. We, of course, pointed at the younger kids. They did it, not us. They were just playing and we were doing our chores and knew nothing about that. Those kids were just trying to get us in trouble. Mother had not forgotten when we hid behind the tree and threw rocks at every car that went by and we had tried to blame them innocent babies for that too. I began at that time in my life to think that mother was clairvoyant and I resented those little kids because they were always trying, and succeeding, to get us into trouble. Had we had the mindset, we might have murdered them and hid their bodies in Bull Creek, but we were just a couple ornery kids trying to find our way in the world with very little actual guidance. Back then kids just kind of raised themselves and fathers were mainly "head of the family" by sheer virtue of having been born men.
And so I close the door on the Ailmore Place and lock it against intruders. There are things I can see that when I went back years later were not there. The long walk to town was maybe four blocks. The big bridge over Bull Creek is actually a culvert. The big beautiful home of Roy Keating, the pig farmer was just a little house with a couple of sheds out back and a couple pig stys. The Rumble's house had collapsed and where had they gone?
I think not long after the big storm, Doc Ailmore died, so we were on the move again. I remember that my dad had horses and a hay rack and a hay wagon. These were pulled by a team of horses. I was too young at the time to realize that the tractor was an up and coming thing and horses were on their way out. All of our belongings were loaded on these two conveyances with the kids thrown on last and the horses pulled us through the edge of town to the other edge and to our new home. This one my father would buy. We had not seen the house until we pulled in front of it and began to unload our precious belongings.
I had way more important things to worry about because I was in school and I had to learn my ABC's and numbers and lots of other really important stuff.
