One Man's Journey - Part XIII

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Friends

There were two families that were particular friends of our family besides Uncle Andy and Aunt Ellen and the boys. The Connells, who lived in the Central Cove area about ten miles northwest of our place. These people were the parents of Pearl Stocker and so were Mack Stocker’s in-laws. The Connells had three other children – Roy, Ellis and Cleo. Both Roy and Ellis were in the late teen-age group. Cleo is about three years older than I am. Colonel and I always liked to visit the Connells because they gave us the run of the place. Their house had a wide veranda all the way around and a lot of shade trees, so it was almost like a picnic. They had a lot of horses which we were allowed to ride. Both Roy and Ellis had worked as cowboys on their Pendleton ranch, so they had all the trappings, including saddles, ropes, sheepskin chaps and guns. So, these two could keep two little boys entertained all day. Roy considered himself quite a rider, but managed to get himself dumped every time he got on a bucker. Our usual stay at their place was one day. Roy and Ellis had a couple of greyhound-type dogs that Colonel and I admired. One time on our way home, these dogs followed us. About five miles from our house I spotted a coyote standing along side of the road. (That guy sure liked to live dangerously.) Colonel and I both started to yell for the dogs. They came and they went after that coyote. We watched them for a long way, since the country is flat, but we never did find out if they caught up with the coyote. (Maybe I’ll have more about Roy later.)

The William Weicks were also special friends of the family. They were from Germany, so had heavy German accents. They had three children, two girls and a boy, Walter, who had drowned in an irrigation ditch. These people had taken their loss pretty hard, as did our parents on the death of Mildred. Perhaps that is why they were close friends. We didn’t visit them too often since it was a good two-day trip. Colonel and I liked to visit them mainly, I think, because of the food. Mrs. Weick really knew how to cook German-style food. We also got to sleep in feather beds, which we liked very much. I’ll never be able to describe to you the pleasure of sleeping in such a bed, especially after a hard day of traveling.

1910 Census: Caldwell Ward 1, Canyon County, Idaho

Bill Weick had served his term in the German army and apparently was not happy about the experience, but he seemed to retain a lot of love for Kaiser Wilhelm; and as the war in Europe continued and got closer to us, Bill couldn’t contain himself and spoke out vehemently in favor of Germany. That was the wrong thing to do and it wasn’t but a short time and Weick family was bound for Nebraska where they ended their years in semi-isolation.

Mack and Roy

I told you above that Mack Stocker didn’t want anything to do with his daughter, Vivian. Mama took care of the baby for about two months. Finally, Mack decided it wasn’t the baby’s fault, so he made a deal with his mother-in-law, Mrs. Connell, to take care of Vivian. That relieved Mama of a lot of work.

Mack wouldn’t stay in the house where Pearl had died, so decided to tear it down and rebuild it about 200’ closer to the river on a little knoll. To help him in this endeavor, he got Roy Connell. While this work was in progress, they lived in a tent close to the river and near the horse corrals. Colonel and I liked to visit them and eat in the tent. Of course, we both cared very much for both men, as they told us stories of cattle, horses, cowboys and Indians. One time, Roy tore the seat out of his pants. When he came to our place, he would enter the back door and then sidle around with his back to the wall to a bench or chair and would repeat the performance upon leaving. One morning, Mack got up early and fetched Roy’s pants over to Mama to patch up. There was a flour made that had a large red rooster on the sack. She cut that portion out of the sack and sewed it into the seat of Roy’s pants. Roy continued to wear the pants several months in that condition, receiving a lot of kidding. He wore the pants everywhere since it was the only pair he had.

The Meyers

via Wikimedia Commons

The Meyers had two boys, Ray and Homer. I think Ray might have been somewhat older than Homer and we didn’t know him as well. I believe Homer may have been 15-16 years old. He used to visit us quite often, tilt his chair up against the kitchen wall and roll a cigarette out of Bull Durham tobacco. Homer’s mother didn’t want him to smoke, or would not allow him to smoke at home. In any event, Homer was there almost every day and Colonel and I watched in bug-eyed wonder the process of manufacturing a cigarette with Bull Durham. As far as I know, Homer never went to school, although he did show up there once in a while since he had an ongoing feud with one of the older students. They usually staged the fisticuffs back of the school woodshed.

Mr. Meyers liked his beer. I guess Mrs. Meyers didn’t like it, so he hid the supply in the barn. Ray and Homer also liked the stuff, so they would drink part of a bottle, brew some tea and fill the bottle back up. Colonel and I both witnessed this covert operation. I could never really understand how they got away with it. Surely Mr. Meyers could taste the difference. {James A. Myers, his wife Mollie and their two sons, Homer and Ray, lived just north of the Aitchison family.}

Winter sheep

Nearly every winter, Dad allowed a herd of sheep or cattle to winter over on the place. They were nearly always tended by Basque sheep herders who lived in a covered wagon, usually near where the sheep bedded down for the night. When the pasturage ran low, the herders purchased alfalfa hay from Dad and other local farmers. The last year we ran sheep, an early freeze occurred and the small potatoes left on the ground after harvest froze. The herd was driven across this ground and they attempted to eat the potatoes. As you know, like other kine, sheep swallow their food and later chew a cud. Well, the potatoes stuck in their throats and choked 15 to 20 to death. Lesson, never feed a sheep a frozen potato.

From this point on, Dad only ran cattle on the place in the winter. In this manner, he got rid of a lot of surplus hay as well as some beef and pork to feed the crews that lived with the cattle. These men were always housed in a tent. Their bathroom was the great outdoors and a bunch of bawling cattle to help them sleep. I can’t recall the owner’s name (of the cattle), but his son was retarded and since Colonel and I had never seen anyone before with this affliction, we spent a lot of time visiting the tent trying to get the boy to learn to read, etc. It was, at the time, a mystifying experience. The cowboy who handled the operation probably had never gone to school either, but he did know how to handle horses and cattle.

There is one thing that I shall always remember, this may seem crude, is the smell of a horse barn. I don’t know why I enjoy such an odor. Maybe it’s a primitive feeling, something from a distant past, but the smell of horse, harness, hay, and yes, manure, always brings back many memories.

The Bacons

Before I go much farther, I must say something about these people. As mentioned above, Giles and
Edmund were special friends of Colonel and me, and I could write reams on the things we did, but not on the things we shouldn’t have done. ??!!

Mr. Bacon was a short man and always went around with a smile on his face. Very quiet, I never heard him raise his voice at anyone or anything. I think these people had some access to money other than that which they could derive from their farming activities since they had things we could dream about, like the best of machinery, wagons, buggies and fancy harness as well as a bunk house where the hired hands stayed on occasion.

Mrs. Bacon was the matriarch and I’m guessing controlled the purse strings as well as members of the family to the nth degree. She was great on giving parties for the children on birthdays, Easter, etc. I remember one Easter in particular. She had colored up a lot of eggs which we had “found” and were invited in to partake of the feast. Of course, Colonel and I had been coached pretty well on table manners, etc., but we were not totally prepared for the ritual that we experienced. Mrs. Bacon sat at the head of the table while the rest of us took seats at various places around the table, Kathleen, the only girl present. We did not talk, only when spoken to by Mrs. Bacon. She would ask the questions and then we were expected to give our dissertations in answer. This went on until all those present were allowed to say their piece. And of course, all the edibles had disappeared, but we all seemed to like the arrangement since we were asked back many, many times. Robin was not included in these parties. He must have been quite a bit older than the other three children and took an interest in and did most of the operation of the farm. As far as I know, Robin never did attend the local school.

Giles was about my age, although he was a year ahead of me in school. I believe he’d had some schooling before they moved to the valley. Eddie was about Colonel’s age and they were in the same grade at school.

_And Kathleen_

I’m going to leave the Bacons here and come back to them later since there is a lot to write about the boys and our adventures.

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to be continued ...

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Family History Center Open House - Poulsbo, Washington

We're on to our third open house! Please share this info with your friends in the North Kitsap area.

(last month's post)

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One Man's Journey - Part XII

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Games

I mentioned above a note on the sand dunes that covered about 40 to 60 acres north of the school. These dunes moved around. One day they would be ten to twelve feet high and the next day they would be down to three to six feet high. These dunes were a favorite place for us guys to play and dig. It’s a wonder that someone didn’t get buried. Fox and Hound was one of the usual games played in the dunes.

The teachers supplied us with a volley ball, which they must have paid for out of their own pocket, and sent my friend Giles Bacon and me down to the river to get a couple of poles to hang the net on. The river is about 1-1/2 miles due south of the school and about one mile south of the Bacon farm. We asked Giles’ dad for a couple of horses and so outfitted we proceeded to the river and cut a couple of poles about six to eight inches diameter and about ten to twelve feet long I don’t know who dug the holes, but I know we didn’t. The following spring, the poles started to sprout and eventually grew into sizable trees.

When we had only one school building, we played Anti over. In winter, it was Fox and Hen and/or Turkey. Turkey was played by having one guy stoop over with his back toward the group. When someone hit him in the backside, he was supposed to guess who threw the snowball.

Giles and the horse

During this period, the teacher was in need of a shovel, so she asked Giles and me to go to the Bacon place and get one. We borrowed a horse from one of the students that regularly rode to school for the trip. One the way down, it was agreed that Giles would ride in the saddle and coming back, I would get the saddle and Giles would ride behind carrying the shovel. About half way to the school, we crossed an irrigation ditch which was about four feet across and running full of water. About the time we got onto the small bridge, Giles wondered what the horse would do if he nudged him in the flank with the top of the shovel. Well, the results were immediate. The first jump caused Giles to land in the ditch with the shovel. I grabbed for the saddle horn and hung on for dear life. I thought that horse would never stop bucking all over the place. Giles go himself out of the ditch and stood there laughing. I finally got the horse quieted down and we proceeded the rest of the way to school without incident. How Giles got dried out I can’t remember. It was springtime, so I assumed nature took a hand and dried him out automatically. Maybe more on Giles and horses later.

There were so many things happening during this period, three to four years. It was a growing up period as well as a learning period. As stated above, we were still partly living in the 19^th century. I just doubt that things had changed much in the past 50 years. We got a newspaper once a week, but we did have some books and these were read and reread, and book reviews was probably one of the best things that happened. We were still using text books that my mother had used in her schooling. There was a small book case in the corner of the schoolroom containing six to ten volumes and a few geographic magazines. I think most of the material was there during the entire eight years.

Superstitions

Maybe superstitions is not the word, but at this point I’m thinking of “Asafetida.” My World Book Encyclopedia describes asafetida as follows:

“A gum-like drug with a strong disagreeable odor, was used in medicine as a sedative, also worn as an amulet about the neck to prevent contagious diseases, this proven to be superstition. Drugs made from it had an odor stronger than garlic.”

In view of the fact that our toilet facilities were the most primitive kind, with no washing possible or required, since we didn’t have anything to wash in or soap or towels, and everybody drank out of the same bucket with the same dipper (I mentioned this somewhere above), we were expected to wear the stinking stuff around our necks to prevent contagion. Those seated close to the pot-bellied stove in the center of the room were the biggest offenders, but they couldn’t help the situation since they were doomed to be martyrs for the sake of science and future generations. How we all managed to get by the age of 12 years is hard to understand; many didn’t.

[I’ve written quite a bit about school and our activities. There is more to come later, but for now, I must get back to the farm.]

As mentioned above, Colonel and I had chores to do, but Dad did not let us do real heavy work. During haying times, we drove derrick horse. On page 54 {One Man’s Journey – Part X, paragraph 19}, I mentioned our derrick. When haying, racks were placed on the wagons to contain as much hay (alfalfa) as possible. Men in the field pitched the shocked hay onto these racks and it was arranged on the rack by the team driver. When the load arrived at the stacking area, the team driver would position the four-tined Jackson in the load so about 25% of the hay was lifted from the wagon each time to the top of the stack where it was positioned by the stacker. Since we used a Jackson fork, only one horse was used to pull up the loaded fork to the top of the stack, so the derrick horse driver drove the horse out, stopped and held the load until positioned by the stacker. The man on the wagon would then trip the fork load. The derrick horse driver would then back up the horse so another load cold be taken aloft. There wasn’t much rest to the job since another wagon from the field would be standing by, ready to be unloaded. A young boy had his job cut out for him since the single tree and the cable had to be controlled on the way back to the starting point. He also had the responsibility to other persons, particularly to the man on the wagon since if the fork was lowered too far, some danger to the man existed.

Work – a dirty word

As we grew older, we were allowed to handle the horses, i.e. – harness and care for them, hitch them to mowers, rakes or wagons and buggies. Dad did most of the mowing, but Colonel and I both used the rake to place the hay in windrows so it could be dried before shocking. Only one team was used for this purpose. One day, I was raking hay on the north 40, as usual I was barefoot. The rake had a tripping mechanism that was tripped with the right foot, allowing the rake to dump the load when the devise returned to its working position. It smashed my right big toe. Boy, that hurt!

After the hay was dry, we went into the fields and shocked the windrows in to cone-shaped piles that could be handled by the wagon loaders later in the operation.

We didn’t do much in the irrigation department. Dad did that, but where possible or necessary, we did a lot of the cultivating and hoeing. Our cultivating was always done with a single horse and Dad would handle the cultivator. Later on, Colonel would ride and I would handle the machine. We also earned a little money by helping Mack Stocker doing the same type of work.

I nearly had a severe accident one time. I had finished the job and was riding the horse back to the place when she shied at a piece of hay alongside the road. The horse, Nell, weighed about 1800 pounds. She was as round as a barrel and sitting on her was like sitting on brother Gene’s oil tank. In any event, as she jumped to the left, I rolled to the right and my right leg hung up in the tug, and then she started to run. As I went over, I failed to grasp the hame. {hame (h m) n. One of the two curved wooden or metal pieces of a harness that fits around the neck of a draft animal and to which the traces are attached.} As a result, my head was inches from the ground and less than that from flying hooves. I did have a good hold on the right line so I could pull her head to the right, so she only ran about 100 feet and I was able to pull her into the fence. No damage done, but a scared kid.

The sheep and me

This is kind of a “funny.” As I told you earlier, we had to go about three to four miles to pick up our mail, at the point I told you about when we first entered the valley on the curve {One Man's Journey - Part VI, paragraph 4}. Whenever anyone living in the area happened to be near the mail boxes, he would bring all of the mail to his home. The rest of us would then pick it up there. On this day, Mr. Meyer had picked up the mail and I was chosen to get ours from the Meyer residence which was about a mile from our house. A corner of their field was just about across the road from our house. I went around the road going, but coming back I took a shortcut through the Meyer’s pasture, no knowing that Mr. Meyer had pastured a couple of rams in the field. It probably wouldn’t have made any difference if I had known, since being raised around animals, I didn’t have any particular fear of them.

About halfway across the field, I heard the freight train coming, and I’m telling [you], that sheep meant business. Of course, I took off at a dead gallop with the sheep gaining every second. Of course, I was hollering my head off. Dad heard. Mr. Meyer heard me and both armed with pitchforks, started in opposite directions. I really don’t know what stopped the ram. Whether it was the racket I was making or if it was the noise that Dad and Mr. Meyer were making. Anyway, he stopped a very short time before I met Dad. That sheep was a lot bigger than I was. There was one other time that I ran faster and longer and was more frightened. That experience will be told in due course.

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to be continued...

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Tombstone Tuesday - Bacon/Black

Mary (Bacon) Black

1844 - 1909

Traveling through Idaho, we stopped at the Georgetown Cemetery in Georgetown, Idaho. This headstone caught my eye, so I share it with you this week. Very dear sentiment.

Dear mother, in earth's thorny paths,
How long thy feet have trod,
To find at last the peaceful rest,
Safe in the arms of God.



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Nine-Eleven

I don't live anywhere near New York City, but 9/11 is indelibly imprinted on my mind as it is in millions of others'. Where was I? Home. Safe. Secure.

Our television was off, so I learned about the horrific attack on our nation through a frantic phone call from a friend. All feelings of safety and security fled, at least for a while. As I watched the replays, and followed the events from afar, my heart was filled with sorrow for those families who were forever impacted. I still feel sadness. Not only were their lives intimately touched, but an entire nation was changed. We pulled together, and we've carried on.

I, for one, will never forget the heroes of nine-eleven nor those whose lives were senselessly ended. We who remain, and remember, can honor them through memory and action. God Bless America!

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