Mother's Story, Chapter 2

　

Chapter 2

Willie Mae’s father, Sid, traded farms often. He moved the family to a new place in Memphis, Texas, in Hall county, in 1913. They stayed there only a year because Susie didn’t like the bad-tasting water. They called it gyp water.

He traded again for a half-section of land with a house on it, 10 miles south of Claude, in Armstrong County. Sid and Susie’s last child, Ina Rae, was born there on December 8, 1914. Their first child, Felicia, married Lee Rogers at home two weeks later.

This was the best house the family had lived in, up to then. There was no indoor bathroom or water supply. A coal stove heated the living room and coal range served in the kitchen. Kerosene lamps were used for light.

Willie Mae was only 17 months old when her little sister was born. Ina Rae was charismatic from the beginning, and Willie Mae sometimes found it difficult to get her share of attention.

Sid made good cotton crops on this farm, but in 1915, dirt and tickle grass got into the cotton. Prices were so low that he left the crop in the field and moved back to Floyd county after trading farms.

* * *

Susie Cummings was a remarkably energetic and hard-working wife and mother. Besides keeping the house and cooking, she raised a vegetable garden, raised laying hens and chickens for frying, helped with the milking and churned butter. On Mondays, she heated water in a big cast iron pot over a wood fire behind the farmhouse and did the laundry for the week. She made her daughters’ and her own clothes from patterns she created. She struggled with the harsh wind and weather of the Texas plains. Awaking one windy spring morning, Susie went to check on her newly hatched chicks and found several tiny fluffy yellow bodies stuck in the chicken wire, blown there by the night wind. She tried to raise flowers, but the wind often whipped them to pieces as soon as the blossoms emerged.

Willie Mae loved the time after dinner, when the family sat in the parlor. Susie told stories and sang in her sweet, high voice. Willie Mae loved to sing and learned many songs from her mother, her brothers and at church. Sometimes she went to bed feeling quite sad about the tragedies of the children in her mother’s melodramatic songs, such as this one:
Mother, oh why did you leave me alone,

* * *

When the first Monday in September, 1918, arrived, Willie Mae was awake early, excited about her first day at school. Aileene, now 13 years old, helped her dress. “Be still, Bill, so I can brush your hair.” Perhaps with so many older brothers and sisters, it was inevitable that Willie Mae would be called Bill.
Giggling, she jumped up and down. “I can’t be still. I’m too excited. Finally, I get to go in the buggy with you and Elma and A.D. to school.” She stopped and her face turned somber. “I wish Ennis and Clyde still went to Roseland.”

Aileene smiled at her little sister. “Silly. You know they’re too old. Roseland School only goes to ninth grade.”

After graduating from Roseland, children in the district went to Sunset for another year. Clyde had graduated from Sunset, and then to Draghan’s Business College in Abilene.
“Isn’t it exciting that Clyde has a job in a bank in Abilene? I can hardly imagine living that far away from the family.” Aileene sighed.

Willie Mae stuck out her lower lip. “I miss him. And why are Mama and Dad mad at Ennis?”

“They wanted him to finish school, but he just wants to marry Jewell Newman and start farming. Hold still so I can tie your sash. Ennis says he’s going way out west of here to farmstead in Parmer County. Dad says he’s too young, but he’s saving money from his farmhand job to buy a car and go. I think it’s very romantic.” Aileene sighed, then lowered her voice to a whisper, looking around to make sure they were alone. “Last night after church, I heard him singing to Jewell around the side of the building.” She sang:
“With someone like you, a pal good and true,
I’d like to leave it all behind and go and find
A place that’s known to God alone,
Just a spot to call our own.
We’ll find perfect peace where joys never cease
Somewhere beneath the starry sky.
We’ll build a sweet little nest somewhere in the west
And let the rest of the world go by.”
Willie Mae sighed with appreciation for the romance and Aileen’s sweet soprano voice, laughing clapping with delight. A second later, a frown formed on her chubby face. “I hated it when Dad yelled at Ennis and kicked him in the seat of the pants.”
“I did too, Honey. Dad was mad because Ennis quit school. It’ll be okay. They’ll both get over being mad at each other. Now, let’s go eat breakfast. Mama made biscuits and gravy for us. I’ll have to hurry to fix our lunches and then help the boys hitch the buggy.” Giving Willie Mae a hug, she said, “You’re starting to school today, in Miss Alta Lee’s class!”

* * *

In the buggy on the way to school, Elma tried to scare Willie Mae by telling her there were German soldiers behind the hedge planted beside the road as a windbreak. “They have long knives on their guns and they kill everyone in their path.”
Willie Mae’s eyes grew large and she moved closer to Aileene, who spoke sharply. “Stop that, Elma. You know the war is all the way across the ocean.”
“But I had a bad dream about it last night. Maybe they will come here.” Elma didn’t give up easily.
“Just because you’re afraid doesn’t mean you should scare your little sister. Don’t worry, Bill. They wouldn’t come here.”

* * *

On November first, Clyde gave up his job in Abilene. He’d received orders to report to the U.S. Army on November 15, so he returned home to see the family before leaving. The Armistice was signed on November 11, so he was released from his orders. He got a job with the Farmers Exchange Grocery Store in Floydada.

* * *

In 1920, when Willie Mae was eight, there was a guest at school from Plainview, Texas, a larger town in the adjoining county. The young man landed a small plane in a field near the school. The whole school went out to watch the plane take off, fly around the vicinity and land. It was the first time most of the children had seen a plane.

The younger children were kept back from the landing field. The older students were being treated to a short flight above Roseland. Willie Mae was transfixed in horror as she watched her adored sister Aileen putting on ear muffs, goggles, a leather jacket. A man was helping her into the plane. Willie Mae started crying loudly.
Her teacher hurried over. “What’s the matter, child?”
“My sister is going in the plane. I may never see her again. What if it falls?” she wailed.
“No, it’s not going to fall. You’ve seen it take off and land several times. Don’t worry, Willie Mae. Your sister will be all right.”
For the full 25 minutes of Aileene’s flight, Willie Mae was a nervous wreck. When the plane landed and the ecstatic Aileene emerged, her little sister felt weak with relief.

* * *

After A.D. graduated from Roseland, Elma, the youngest boy, liked to ride his horse to school. Aileene, Willie Mae and Ina Rae went and returned in the buggy, which was drawn by Old Nellie, their mare. One day, they were happily riding toward home at the end of the school day. They passed a number of students who lived nearby, walking home. One boy yelled at them, waving a shiny syrup-bucket-turned-lunch pail in the bright sunshine. The movement and flash scared Old Nellie. The mare neighed in alarm, shied away from the boy and started running as fast as she could.
Aileene was handling the reins of the harness. “Whoa, Nellie, it’s all right.” As she talked, trying to calm the horse, she pulled hard on the reins to slow her. The right rein snapped in two, which caused the horse to turn left. They sped down the fence row, the wheels of the buggy hitting every post and demolishing the two left wheels. When the buggy turned over, Old Nellie broke out of the shafts and ran home. Aileene and Ina Rae jumped up, suffering only minor wounds. Willie Mae was unconscious on the ground.
When Willie Mae regained consciousness, she was at home in bed. She said, “What happened?” She looked around, surprised to see her teacher, Miss Anna Sims, sitting by the bed holding her hand. Mama was standing behind Miss Sims looking worried and holding Ina Rae, who was crying. When Willie Mae noticed a bandage on Ina Rae’s arm, she also started to cry. “Are you all right, little sister?”
Miss Sims patted her hand. “Oh, Willie Mae, I’m so glad you’re awake. I found you and your sisters by the wrecked buggy as I was driving home from school in my car. Aileene and Ina Rae got some scratches and cuts, but were mostly scared and worried about you. You fell across the wheel and bumped your head, I think.”
Ina Rae bent over and held out her arms toward the bed. Mama put her beside Willie Mae, and the two girls cuddled and comforted each other, each using the other’s nickname.
“Are you all right, Bill?” Ina Rae patted Willie Mae’s cheek, inhaling raggedly.
Willie Mae fingered the compress on her forehead gingerly. “My head hurts, and it hurts when I breathe in, but I think I’m all right. Are you hurt, Shorty?”
Ina Rae nodded and showed all her scrapes and lifted the corner of the bandage to show a deep abrasion on her upper arm. Seeing it, she started whimpering again.
Willie Mae made sympathetic sounds and kissed Ina Rae’s cheek. Then looking around, she asked, “Where is Aileene? Is she hurt?”
“She hardly had a scratch.” Mama sat on the side of the bed, touched by the girls’ sympathy for each other and relieved that Willie Mae was awake and talking. “The Smitherman boy, Jack, caught Old Nellie and got her settled down and brought her home. After we put merthiolate on Aileene’s scratches, she went out to the barn, to talk to Jack and Dad about how to get the buggy home. I think she is quite taken with Jack.”
She turned to the teacher. “Thank you so much for your help.”
“Not at all. I’m so glad no one was seriously hurt.” Miss Sims smiled, then her expression turned serious. “I have to talk to the children who walk about being careful not to startle the horses on the road.”

* * *

Sid and Susie taught their children to behave well at all times, especially to obey teachers or others in positions of authority. The school’s rules of conduct for the students extended to their journey to and from classes. One rule was there must be no fighting.
One morning, Elma got into a fight with a neighbor boy on their way to school. When it was reported to the teacher, she ordered the boys to come to the front of the class to receive their punishment. She got out a paddle to give them a few licks on the seat of their pants. The other boy went first, and started crying loudly after the first blow. The teacher stopped hitting him immediately.
Elma walked forward for his turn. “Well, I’m not going to cry.” he muttered. The teacher started whipping him.
Willie Mae put her head on her desk, not wanting to watch. She lifted it to look through tears, wincing as each blow landed, whispering, “Cry, Elma. Cry.” She watched in horror as the hard licks kept coming. When the teacher’s count reached 12, Elma’s head dropped and tears shone in his eyes. The teacher stopped immediately, tears shining in her eyes as well.
Willie Mae was afraid Elma would get another whipping when he got home, but the teacher’s note must have said he’d been punished enough. After Susie and Sid read the note, Sid scolded Elma for fighting, but Willie Mae breathed a sigh of relief when that ended the matter.

* * *

Willie Mae liked Mr. J.B. Allen, the Principal of her school, but she was nervous around him. One day when the teacher was absent, he taught the younger grades. He seemed to take special interest in Willie Mae. He had her come and stand beside him while he read poetry to the class. She obeyed, very uneasy. He was such a good reader, making the poetry come to life. Willie Mae especially loved one poem. It was about a spelling bee. A boy misspelled a word and the girl next to him spelled it correctly, passing ahead of him. Willie Mae remembered some of the lines for more than 90 years:
I’m sorry that I spelled the word.
I hate to go above you
Because (her brown eyes lower fell)
Because, you see, I love you.
Still in memory to this gray-haired man,
That sweet girl’s face is showing.
Dear Girl, the grasses on her grave
Have forty years been growing.
He has lived and learned in life’s hard school,
How few who pass above him
Lament their triumph and his loss
Like her, because they love him.

Willie Mae memorized words easily. She took declamation lessons and remembered the pieces she recited always. Some were serious, but she loved the silly ones:

I never saw a purple cow.
I never hope to see one.
But I can tell you anyhow,
I'd rather see than be one.

And

Once upon a time, upon the deep, dark, stormy shores
of Africa, there sat a band of robbers around a campfire. One
of the robbers arose and said, “Captain, tell us a story.”
The old captain arose and said, “Once upon a time,
upon the deep, dark, stormy shores of Africa, there sat a band
of robbers around a campfire. One of the robbers arose and
said, “Captain, tell us a story.”
The old captain arose and said,
etc., etc., ad infinitum.
 Willie Mae and Ina Rae would keep this story going for a long time, giggling at the humor every time.
Eventually, Willie Mae won the speech contest at the county fair, for reciting “The Ship of State” by H. W.Longfellow. She went on to Lubbock to compete again, but only got a 3^rd place there.

After all the older siblings graduated from Roseland, Willie Mae rode her horse to school, with Ina Rae behind her in the saddle, her arms around Willie Mae’s waist. Willie Mae loved to run her pony, winning races with other children by jumping ditches and taking shortcuts. Ina Rae was terrified, hanging on for dear life and screaming for her sister to slow down. After her little sister fell off one time, Willie Mae would let Ina Rae get down before she raced, then come back and get her.