(Randy’s note: The following are recollections of my Mother coming to Runnels County for the very first time. She was from the Boston area and newly married in 1940. My Dad had sent her to Texas while he finished up a security job in Boston. His plan was to make enough money to come back to Runnels and open a café in Winters. Of course, they had no idea that war was looming, which changed everything and everybody. These are her first impressions of life on the farm, which was located between Wilmeth and Wingate. Pictured L to R: Harriette Atkins, LaNell Atkins, Ida Ann Atkins, Bobbie Atkins & Dickie Holder (child). The old farmhouse is in the background) I never in all my married life called her “Ida”. To me she was always Mrs. Atkins, the mother of my husband who I dearly loved. More than likely, in speaking to her directly I would call her “Mother Atkins”. She had my utmost love and respect. She took me into her arms and heart the first time I ever met her--which, by the way, was alone. Don wanted me to meet his family after our marriage. He had a job that wouldn’t give him a vacation at that time, but I knew he would follow me to Texas soon. The train I was on made its final stop in Abilene, some forty miles from the farm home in Wilmeth. There was a store with gas pumps, and the owner was versatile as she taught piano lessons. Many years later I bought her old upright piano. Donna later took lessons in Ballinger, and still later the piano was given to a church in need of one. Anyhow, I remember that first visit this way. The Rats Grandma had a rat problem not uncommon to farm people. But in her house she had the “GRAND SOLUTION”. Because the rats had gnawed their way through the floor, she had to cope with holes, and tin can tops was the answer. She nailed strips of tin over the holes and once in a while, after finding further damage, she would remove the tin. But, there was a reason, her dogs, who hated rats, and were ready and eager. She left the kerosene lamp on in the kitchen and the rats cautiously appeared but the dogs silently waited. I never heard such a ruckus, squeals, barks, slides, scratching and bumps into the wall. The war between the rats and dogs was on. You know who won. The next morning, before anyone arose, Grandma cleaned up the carnage. Breakfast, as usual, was waiting for us. Coal Oil Lamps and Tin Bath Tubs Grandma had no electricity in the old farm house, so the oil lamp did well and I guess was better than candles. On my first visit with her, I realized after a hard busy working day in the field she dearly loved to read “Ranch Romances,” a paperback bought on her weekly visits to the big town of Winters to sell eggs and buy groceries from her sale of milk and other produce. She also had a great love for peppermint candy sticks. Those were her only splurges for herself. Those Ranch Romances were all takes of the old west, much loved by all the old settlers. Although I did meet one neighbor who swore his “Bible” was Readers Digest. The glass chimneys of those lamps darkened quickly from the soot burned from a wick into the kerosene. I helped clean them and it was a dirty job. At night, lying beside her in that lamp lit bedroom, I realized reading her periodical was sheer pleasure. There was no TV at that time or even a radio. The once a week bath in a square galvanized metal tub was not only a pleasure, but the only way. Grandma would fire up the kitchen stove, a black monstrosity that burned wood. She would put kettles of water atop and wait for hot water. You have to also realize there were no pipes into the house from the windmill-run water. Each pail of water was dipped from a cement trough which contained the water and also was there for the cows to drink. Oh yes, farm life was never easy, everything was obtained the hard way. But once the water was heated and all doors firmly latched from unexpected passers-through, the bath was a serene and blissful luxury. And all you had to do to empty the tub was open the back door and tilt. That water splashed onto and over the porch, out into the yard, and wonderfully watered the grass. The Ancient Maytag Washer Well, as I said, there was no electricity there and I’m speaking of 1940. But, Grandma had a washing machine sitting in the back yard powered by a gasoline engine. It even gave off smoke and sounded like “chuga-chuga”. Any neighbor could have heard it, but that was almost a mile away, and anyhow, they had the same kind of washer. Because the well water was so full of minerals, it barely made suds when soap was added. Grandma made her own soap, a lye and lard soap, without any fragrance. I made it one time and it was a dreary job. A huge iron pot in the yard was filled with water. Intestines and inedibles from newly slaughtered hogs were added, a can of lye poured in, a fire started under the pot, and then you paddled. Yes, you stood there by that hot pot and stirred it with what looked like a short handled oar. Stir, stir, all day. Add wood to the fire, and stir after the sun set. The mixture would then cool and then you could cut it brick size. That’s it! We Were “Big Business” The idea was to buy up all the non-laying old hens in the surrounding country. Mostly farmers sold them to a representative of Campbell’s Soup, but we managed to get a couple of hundred live hens, and carted them to the farm. We figured to slaughter, clean, ice down, and sell locally as fresh fowl in the townships nearby. Guy, Don’s brother, would kill, Don would de-feather, and I would gut. Now I ask you, wo had the worst job? I knew I did, but it became routine and I adjusted my city ways to conform to the cavity of a hen’s body. Occasionally, I found an unlaid egg and it made me think, “old lady, if you had laid that sooner, you might have been spared.” But, of course, that’s wishful thinking on my part because all of those hens were the same age and past bearing eggs. The “Great Idea” was a bust and never attempted again. No fortune was achieved but the experiences added to all our lives. I have always loved chickens from the time I received my first Easter chick at the age of five. I know chickens from Plymouth Rocks, to Rhode Island Reds, to Leghorns. I even had Bantam chickens in Ballinger that laid the smallest, most perfect eggs. But, this is about Mrs. Atkins’ farm. She used to buy 200 chicks at a time from a nursery and as they grew, she caught and prepared them as broilers or fryers after they matured, usually the cocks. There were several small hen houses fitted with individual nests lined with straw. But, there was also a 20 acre field with nothing on it. Well, I mean it was not under cultivation. There was an occasional chassis of a Model T, remains of an ancient harvester, and old pots and pans. Those laying hens adored those 20 acres. My job was to gather the eggs every day. I poked around every bush, pail, bucket, chassis, or any place a hen would lay. I began to think like a hen and my eye would choose that most likely spot. You bet, the eggs were there. Baby That was the name of Grandma’s pet bull. When I got to the farm, she had already had him awhile but he was still young. She petted him, fed him left over biscuits from the breakfast table, and talked lovingly to him. But a farm is a business, and Baby, being a thoroughbred Jersey bull meant he was up for hire. I can still see those trailers hauling cows in heat to his pen. There was a good crew of men who would attend and attest to the fact that the performance took place. Grandma made her daily trip one morning to visit Baby with an apron full of biscuits. That was a bad day as he turned on her, knocked her down and went through the motions of goring her. Fortunately, he was de-horned. I was terrified. I saw a pet turn into a menace. He was sold to someone else who never thought of him as a pet. Road Ruts There was a rainy season at the farm. Days of pouring rain and fields left sodden, only to be worked after they had time to dry up. The farmers had to make their own amusement and playing dominoes was high on the list. But first you had to get to the neighboring farm to meet with other water-logged players. Each was an expert, each with an innate knowledge of the game. Most of the farmers had an old Model T Ford, built with a high chassis and solid rubber tires. The farm roads were muddy and the first traveler left a rut for others to follow. Those ruts looked like a snake’s path, deep and curving. But, if you dared to get out of that first worn rut, you might get mired down and not able to move. I played many a game and learned to play canasta during that rainy season. That was a fun game and great as a change from--you guessed it--dominoes. Grandma had lived all her life on that 200 acre farm in Wilmeth from the time she married Mr. Atkins. I never knew him as when I married, he was long passed away. I did meet some of the brothers, Uncle Lem and Uncle John. But, being the greenhorn Easterner, I had no idea of grass roots. That is planting yourself in a special place, cultivating the land and producing the food that others need for sustenance. Grandma loved every inch of that soil and she saw to it that it was well kept. Her hoe hit the dirt everyday to eliminate weeds that dared to encroach. When the outside chores were done, she worked on her quilts and old treadle sewing machine by her bed that pieced together remnants of old clothes or the printed bags that feed came in. Actually, those bags were colorful and she made many a shirt from them. A yard of cloth was not to be discarded, even if all you did was make dish dryers from them. But aprons and shirts were all born because of old feed bags. Grandma had a large eight by ten foot stretcher made of wood that she could lower from the ceiling that held her quilt in progress. So, after all the piecing together on the sewing machine she would contain it on the frame and after adding the cotton filling from the farm, she would hand stitch it all together. Whatever pattern pleased her was sewn one stitch at a time. Every one of her children received six quilts when they married. All laboriously pieced together the same way. I would cherish that old quilting frame if I had it today.
Posted on: Sat, 08 Nov 2014 11:49:19 +0000
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