My Dad
written by: Anna Mary Kessler Gawthrop
Your article in last week’s paper took me right back to my childhood. I could just see Mother’s jars on the palings, then I took a look into her cellar and wondered where she had all the empties stored. When they were full, her shelves were always bulging. My mother loved to can and was famous for her preserves and apple butter. Our smoke house was always hung full of huge sugar cured hams and every fall a large hind quarter of beef was added.
My father was a country Doctor and we lived in a small town not too distant from Richwood. Getting back to those jars on the fence – we didn’t have any ravenous eaters in our family but we rarely ever sat at the table alone. Dad’s office was in the corner of our big yard. Mother usually had an errand in that area before she started a meal, for if she didn’t count heads early, she was liable to end up with a shortage of food. In those days, my folks wouldn’t think of sending someone who lived far out in the country, back home hungry ¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬–¬¬¬¬¬ so we always had to be prepared.
My father was one of the most civic minded persons I have ever known. He always was the first in getting new things for our town. Many folks thought Dr. D.P. too eager in talking up good roads and a High School but Dad was never discouraged. When he believed in a thing, he worked ‘till he saw it through. Cars were coming into use and what was the good of a car if there were no roads to drive it on. Our town, through Dad’s efforts, had the first High School in the central part of the state.
Now, that brings me back to the glass jars again. As soon as our High School opened, my father became interested in the young people who lived too far out in the country and didn’t have the finances to board in town. He invited several young folks H.S. age to live with us and go to school. Each had to help in any way they could with house or barn work. Dad did his practice on horseback and there were always two or three riding horses to curry and feed and Jersey cows to milk. Our house was fairly large and by setting up extra beds, we could accommodate several guests. Poor Mother, I wonder yet how she stood so many around, for of course it tripled her work. Now, that’s where her bulging cellar and smoke house came in handy. We had a large table but all three and four leaves were in use every meal. Our table looked like the big tables one sees in the log camps today. Talking at the table was encouraged, for it was in those conversations that our grammatical errors were corrected. Dad was a stickler for good English and not many left our home in the spring saying “have saw,” “I seen” or using double negatives. He was a great reader and committed to memory many beautiful poems, Bible verses and Shakespeare. I have never heard anyone who could make a Bible story so interesting. He all but acted out every part. We all attended Sunday School every Sunday in the summer. I was sent (horse back), two miles, to bring children in to S.S., while some other members of the family went to get others. My father was Sunday School Superintendent.
Dad loved Shakespeare works and could recite several whole plays. When we were small, Dad read aloud so often. Many nights I’ve gone to sleep hearing him read Julius Caesar or Romeo & Juliet aloud to Mother.
A Doctor’s life in those days was very different than today. One never got out of a sick bed to go to see the doctor for treatment. If there was no phone in the patient’s house, he got to the nearest phone and called the Doctor to come. My Dad took his medical oath too seriously. Many times he went when he was feeling worst than the patient. In those days there was much typhoid, and my father was a whiz with that dreaded disease. Many times a whole family would come down at one time. I remember when I was around sixteen years old, Dad asked me to go into a home to nurse the family. They lived in sight of our house and when I wanted a drink of water, I would hang a white cloth out. Mother kept an eye on the house and it wouldn’t be long ‘till she sent a younger brother or sister with the water. There was no shade to shelter their house from the hot sun. Dad took some men to a nearby woods and cut trees to lean against the house for shade. Every day he would have men take water from their old typhoid infested well and use the water to cool the low roof. That way he got the water purified by the time they were well again. All five pulled through. Dad’s practice reached for miles in every direction. Sometimes he left home early in the morning to cover all the calls. There were two women in his entourage that thought they were extra clever. Every Thursday they came into town on the eleven o’clock train to do their shopping at the company store. Their husbands worked for a job run by the company. Both women were in the pink of health but they never missed a week coming to the Dr’s office for pills. They always managed to be there around meal time. Of course, our well water was the best thing they ever tasted, so they would come up to the house for a good cold drink. They would seat themselves to talk until Mother would announce dinner. Well, that was an every week occurrence, until one day my father came home from down in their vicinity hopping mad. He was riding past their homes on horseback and before the woman saw him, she called her family, a little distance away – that dinner was ready. Dad said he never smelled boiled cabbage and fried potatoes that smelled so good – but she didn’t invite him in. Well, by the time he rode six miles home he was famished. We always knew when Dad was boiling mad. He never swore an oath in his life, but he could say “Consarnit” so strong that we thought it was the worst swearing. We all loved and respected our Dad like the king he was, and when we heard how that woman had treated him, I decided to get revenge. The next day I had a plan in mind. I told Mother, since we ate breakfast so early, around seven, that we would have a much longer afternoon if we ate at 11:00 instead of twelve. Mother agreed, and we were pretty well established in the new dinner hour before Thursday rolled around. I was very excited on Thursday and made several trips through the hall to see if I could see the women approaching. Luckily, as usual, they stopped at the company store to do their shopping before coming to the office to relate their miseries. I don’t think dishes were ever put away faster, so by 11:45 when they arrived, we were sitting out on the porch swing taking it easy. They, of course, thought we were waiting for Dad to finish with his patients in the office. They were very talkative for awhile, then one just had to have a drink to get back in the kitchen area to see what was for dinner. Needless to say they went back to the store and ate a cheese sandwich. Mother liked the early lunch. It gave her along afternoon and until she passed away, the lunch hour was eleven o’clock and supper at 5:00.
My father was the Dr. in Cowen for 27 years before he moved to Weston, and he was there twenty-seven years practicing medicine until a month before his death. He accepted no excuses for our missing Sunday School, and he was every broad minded about us playing on Sunday. He was a member of the Board of Education in Lewis Co. for years. He taught a class of around sixty ladies for many years, in the Baptist Church. Dad had a pulp wood contract that was really our living in the first town, for he never sent out a statement. The pulpwood contract required hours of work at the typewriter. I can hear the click of that typewriter yet. He was up at 6:00 a.m. each morning, if he hadn’t been out all night, to get his correspondence caught up.
Dad was so wonderful with children and anything a child did never irritated him. He has had to type many a page over because one of my little ones would add their signature or marks when I would be visiting there. I remember one time one of my babies put a cake of laundry soap in the commode and we had to call a plumber. Daddy wasn’t a bit cross about it. He said the plumber had to make a living too. My father wasn’t any good at mechanics. When his car had a rattle he took it to the garage. He even found changing a tire very difficult. All the grand children adored him. He taught many of them to drive a car and was always sure they were capable.
Dad had many interesting hobbies. His favorite was a boys camp on Gauley River. He felt sorry for the city boys that had no where to play – only hot city streets – so he built this camp. When he opened it in June each year, the cabins were bulging. He had several good milking Jersey cows and twenty six head of ponies for the boys to ride. It was quite an expensive thing each year and he would always go in the red with it. He always felt he was repaid, until the coal mines opened nearby and then he had to discontinue. He let the small grand children each pick a pony for their very own.
Daddy loved walking. He always felt that walking kept him physically fit so he never used his car to go to the post office. He walked very fast and would usually pass several people on the streets on his way. He was always so considerate of Mother. When he went somewhere in the car, he would always tell her where he was going and how long it would take him. I’ve never seen anyone time themselves as he did. If some unforeseen thing came up to delay him, he always called Mother so she wouldn’t be uneasy or keep office patients waiting too long.
It’s so hard to bring this to an end for so many things come to my mind – but I’ll end it by saying, I wish I could have one of Dad’s good steaks. When we had steak and Dad could find the time to cook them outside, he loved it. He had no interest in the kitchen – outside of the meats, but he loved to watch the bacon and ham and take it off the fire at just the right time.
My Dad was a wonderful Guy!
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Reunion Time!
Every year we gather to remember Grandmother's birthday and fellowship with each other and catch up! This year, like all others is the first Saturday in August (August 2). We will gather at noon so bring a favorite dish, a lawn chair and lots of hugs to give away! I'd also love to know if you're coming so we'll have enough apple dumplings for everyone who wants one so send me your RSVP! :) Can't wait to see you there!
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Childhood Remembrances of Grandmother
written by: Anna Mary Kessler Gawthrop
Grandmother's handwritten original was found at the farm by her daughters, with the first pages missing. At this point she's describing the little circus that came to Cowen each year.
…by an elephant years later, yet I'd have given anything for a piece of tobacco to try it out – but no one in our family used tobacco and I was stumped as to who to go to for it so never got to feed an elephant tobacco. We loved the little parade the small circus would give on our one main street, and for two weeks after the circus had gone I was always putting on circuses and we'd parade with any dog or cat we could find to pen in a wood box with a piece of screen over the opening. Then we would end up in our lane and put on our circus. Part or most of the show would culminate in our barn loft where two or three boys did high wire acts by walking across the rafters – and the flying trapeze was a skinning the cat act in a suit of long underwear.
We had one act that almost didn't come off as we ran into trouble finding an actress in our group that would stand for the knife throwing, but luckily my little sister, too young to realize the danger, was persuaded since we had a paper crown to enhance her looks. We stood her against the barn door and with her little legs far apart and fingers spread a half a dozen of us were lined up; dying to get our turn throwing the butcher knife at her. Two or three entirely missed the door but alas one good thrower in the bunch landed the knife between her fingers but taking a small chunk out of her finger. Right here I'm wondering whether any of us were all there.
I was one of those kids that was always organizing clubs – and since the Odd Fellows hall was right across the street, and a secret order, I'd spend lots of my evenings on lodge night hiding behind our garden fence trying to see what was going on up in that second floor that I could use in my lodge or club – of course there had to be an initiation; but I always ended up having to use my own ideas.
One stunt I well remember was suggested by a minister with a great sense of humor – yet after his suggestion I always doubted whether he should be in the pulpit. His suggestion was – get a chamber pot, leave it in sight with some coffee water in it til the candidate couldn't miss seeing it, then blindfold her (our clubs only included girls) – then three or four in the group go through all the motions of really using the pot, then ask her to wash her hands in the magic water to bind her to secrecy.
There was always a soft biscuit roll dropped in the water and when she dipped her hand in the water she'd realize at once the wash basin was the pot and the feel of that soaked biscuit would throw her into shock enough to get her blindfold off in a rage. Then until we could convince her that it was only a biscuit in coffee water, she would be ready to fight the whole bunch. That stunt had to be abandoned in a hurry as our members were all about annihilated by one husky candidate that wasn't a bit ladylike, but as I said before, I was a mean little kid.
Our pasture field was probably more than a half a mile away and I always thought if I could ride the cows to and from – going and coming for them – would make the trip easy. So one evening I asked my chum to drive the cows through the gate while I stood on top of the gate posts to drop on a cow as she passed thru – Well, she drove the cows both under me but for the life of me I couldn't get either foot to go first so I had to give that idea up and walk as before.
When I was a child every summer there would be an Assyrian Peddler, and how we loved seeing all the pretty materials – beads, tablecloths, pins, needles and notions and just about everything one could think of was in those large telescope containers. The tables and bed would be covered with his wares and Mother never failed to buy some of it.
Then once a year a man would walk in by the railroad track with a pet bear or two, of course muzzled, but when we kids saw the bears, we'd run all over town yelling, "Come to the Depot and see the bears." The bear man would have the bears do some tricks – then end by climbing a telephone pole. He would pass a hat and the men would put in a little change – poor way to make a living, I'd say, for the towns weren't close together. But oh, how we loved it.
Our parents were always interested in us having a good time playing at home. We were allowed to have lots of kids in to play at our house. Daddy bought a small mining truck and had a wood track built for it to run on for several summers that was great fun. At that time everything was shipped in wood boxes and we'd salvage large pine boxes out behind the company store before they'd burn them, which we'd use for houses along the track. We always had homemade merry go-rounds, seesaws and swings.
Our daily paper was the Cincinnati Post. Of course we got it late for it had to come by mail.
Daddy and Uncle Joe built a Hospital, the first one in our part of the State; so the patients came from several counties around. The operating room was on the first floor, and often many men watched the operations, thronging the windows from the front porch. I so well remember the x-ray machines; there was no electricity so the machine had to be powered by turning a big crank very fast – We children would get a sharp shock by touching the patient sitting on the chair placed on a glass short legged table. There were usually three trained nurses on duty, and my Uncle Joe lived in one end of the hospital and his wife was also a trained nurse.
As I grew older, my tastes changed for fun and relaxation – I loved horseback riding and my father usually had at least two good riding horses in the barn and he didn't mind my riding fast as long as I didn’t overdo it. Old Daisy, my father's main riding horse, was safe yet fast, and Clyde had a horse, "Baron Bell", that I loved riding. Baron Bell was part racehorse and he could really travel but he was a bit skittish too, and one must always be on the alert, for sometimes a paper moving in the wind would cause Baron Bell to jump sideways across the road. At home we were allowed to ride stride, but Mother always rode side saddle, and if Ada and I were going to visit Grandfather and Grandmother Hill, we rode the side saddles, for our grandmother had an idea that any girl regardless of age (who rode stride) was nothing short of a "hussy" – her word.
One time I went with Mother and Aunt Minta to Grandmother's to spend a weekend. It was 20 miles across 3 big mountains and it took us about all day to make the trip.
Late the same evening after supper Grandfather motioned to me to go with him, he wanted me to help him take the horses to the creek for watering our three horses and his two – I jumped on one stride and he on another, each of us leading another horse, Grandfather's nearest neighbor was at least ½ mile away and at that time in evening no one ever passed. But on our way back to the barn, Grandmother saw me riding stride and in all my life I have never been so ridiculed – she called me a dirty hussy and everything else she dared, for she was enraged to the point of insanity.
Mamma and Aunt Minta were stunned at her performance and decided to return home as soon as morning dawned. So instead of making a visit we left early next morning. Grandfather was very embarrassed but thought too, she needed a lesson.
Grandmother had a lot of funny notions – a girl must never cross her legs, and to whistle or laugh loud was out. Yet Grandmother had some dirty words that to this day, and I'm past 73, I've never said and wouldn't think of.
Ada and I came to Grandfather's almost every summer to help in the hayfield – I hauled hay shocks and Ada carried drinking water to hay harvest hands.
At 14 I met Frank here on Muddlety (1910). His father had a sawmill up the creek two miles. We had gone up to the schoolhouse to Sunday School with our grandfather – and Frank sat on the seat behind Ada and me – he had seen us down in the meadow driving in grandmother's turkey hens with their chicks – and he asked me if he could walk home with me and help bring in the turkeys – I said yes, so that was the beginning of a friendship that hung on for six years before we were married.
I saw Frank once a year after we met and he and Ford came to Cowen for the 4th of July. Our first year's correspondence was 2 or 3 picture postcards – second and third years I'd get letters, maybe once a weekend once or twice a year I'd see him as they were then living in Fayette Co. and it was quite a long drive in a buggy.
The next two years I heard from him by letter at least 3 times a week, he was in Huntington then, the last year a letter a day from Cincinnati where he was studying telegraphy and bookkeeping.
Our real love affair started after we were married. I'd been taught never to let a boy pet, and it really took, for I was scared even of a hand on me, let alone a kiss. Frank respected me and behaved well. Actually we didn’t know each other too well since he never came more than twice a year.
My father was so interested in all young people getting an education that he worked very hard at getting a High School for Cowen, our little town – and for some time he worked alone for it seemed everyone was against it, thinking taxes would be too high, but one by one he won influential men over and Cowen got her H. School around 1908. Daddy's practice reached far out in the county all directions and when he'd visit a home – with a boy or girl H.S. age, he'd invite them to come stay with us and go to school – so our table was always full and extra beds set up – Mother had only 3 or 4 paying boarders in all those years.
How she washed all those beds on the washboard and cooked for that crowd, I'll never understand. We always had lots of hogs to kill and beef in the smokehouse, and from our garden Mother would can hundreds of cans of green beans and corn. Dad's office was down in the corner of our big yard and anyone who wanted a free meal would drop in the office at mealtime – our family never ate alone.
There were two women that came every Thursday on the 11 o'clock train – really to shop at the company store, but they'd always come to our house pretending a headache or to get medicine for one of their family, any excuse to get a good hot dinner before the afternoon train that took them home at 2:30. Anyway, they came week after week. Then one day one of them called my father to see one of their family who was really sick. Well, it was 5 mi. down there and Daddy was at the sick bed right at mealtime and he could smell the cooking but he wasn't asked to eat, so rode the five miles back on horseback before he could eat. Well I've a mean streak, so talked Mother into changing our lunch hour to eleven instead of twelve – Mother agreed and next week when the two old hens came, we were sitting out on the porch; dinner all over. The women came, sat on the porch a while then got so curious to learn how near dinner was ready that they had to have a drink. Well ever after that Mother's dinner hour was eleven and it really got rid of the spongers, and Daddy was spared furnishing free medicine too.
In my young years, typhoid fever was a real threat to life all through the summer months. My father was very successful with it but he was worked very hard as there would always be so many cases – sometimes one in a family, sometimes the whole family.
One family I remember especially, all down except one little boy – and Daddy sent me to do for them every morning – I wasn't allowed to take a drink from their well and every time after bathing their faces and hands or touching them in any way I had to wash in carbolic acid water. They all pulled through.
Mother had Typhoid once when Kent was a baby and Aunt Minta came and took him to her house a mile away. We children were so scared that Mother would die and so jealous of our cousins for having our baby. Kent was just learning to stand and we missed having him home.
Mother was subject to sick headaches and they came about once a month and how well I remember the white band tied very tight around her head – on those days I spent lots of time praying that she wouldn't die; and how relieved I'd be when that white band was removed, for I knew then that she was safe again.
If I could write a book consisting of my memoirs, I'd call it "Ain't we got Fun." Of course, not every day was perfect, but it's the imperfections that make the sunny days so much happier.
It's funny now when I look back on our first years on the farm, I had the idea that nothing must go to waste. If I ended a season without a hundred quarts of canned half runner beans or fifty quarts of blackberries (which we hardly ever ate) and fifty bushels of potatoes, apple sauce, tomatoes, sweet potatoes and lots of other things, I thought that we'd starve, and really Frank always worked at the lumber business either for himself or managing for someone else, but that didn't solve my worries. Even now I have the greatest feeling of security when my winter coal is in.
For years we butchered our hogs and I loved sugar curing my hams and sometimes shoulders. All other parts of our hogs went into mason jars – pork chops – backbone and spare ribs – and then all those jars of good sausage, and of course all the fat was ground and rendered for lard. Usually there'd be a big shelf filled with delicious meats and canned chickens.
Until recent years, although it seems so long ago – chickens weren't bought dressed. When one had chicken, it came from the roost, and I've cut the head off so many chickens. I scalded and pulled the feathers off. For some reason, those chickens were so much better than the ones I buy today all cut up and packaged so that the choice pieces are on top.
Now you'll say mother is getting old, living in the good old days, but that isn't so – I love the carefree present days too. I love the days when I'm real busy. Being tired doesn't bother me; I know the cure – two aspirin tablets do wonders for me, and it's good to go to bed knowing I've done a big day's work.
Grandmother's handwritten original was found at the farm by her daughters, with the first pages missing. At this point she's describing the little circus that came to Cowen each year.
…by an elephant years later, yet I'd have given anything for a piece of tobacco to try it out – but no one in our family used tobacco and I was stumped as to who to go to for it so never got to feed an elephant tobacco. We loved the little parade the small circus would give on our one main street, and for two weeks after the circus had gone I was always putting on circuses and we'd parade with any dog or cat we could find to pen in a wood box with a piece of screen over the opening. Then we would end up in our lane and put on our circus. Part or most of the show would culminate in our barn loft where two or three boys did high wire acts by walking across the rafters – and the flying trapeze was a skinning the cat act in a suit of long underwear.
We had one act that almost didn't come off as we ran into trouble finding an actress in our group that would stand for the knife throwing, but luckily my little sister, too young to realize the danger, was persuaded since we had a paper crown to enhance her looks. We stood her against the barn door and with her little legs far apart and fingers spread a half a dozen of us were lined up; dying to get our turn throwing the butcher knife at her. Two or three entirely missed the door but alas one good thrower in the bunch landed the knife between her fingers but taking a small chunk out of her finger. Right here I'm wondering whether any of us were all there.
I was one of those kids that was always organizing clubs – and since the Odd Fellows hall was right across the street, and a secret order, I'd spend lots of my evenings on lodge night hiding behind our garden fence trying to see what was going on up in that second floor that I could use in my lodge or club – of course there had to be an initiation; but I always ended up having to use my own ideas.
One stunt I well remember was suggested by a minister with a great sense of humor – yet after his suggestion I always doubted whether he should be in the pulpit. His suggestion was – get a chamber pot, leave it in sight with some coffee water in it til the candidate couldn't miss seeing it, then blindfold her (our clubs only included girls) – then three or four in the group go through all the motions of really using the pot, then ask her to wash her hands in the magic water to bind her to secrecy.
There was always a soft biscuit roll dropped in the water and when she dipped her hand in the water she'd realize at once the wash basin was the pot and the feel of that soaked biscuit would throw her into shock enough to get her blindfold off in a rage. Then until we could convince her that it was only a biscuit in coffee water, she would be ready to fight the whole bunch. That stunt had to be abandoned in a hurry as our members were all about annihilated by one husky candidate that wasn't a bit ladylike, but as I said before, I was a mean little kid.
Our pasture field was probably more than a half a mile away and I always thought if I could ride the cows to and from – going and coming for them – would make the trip easy. So one evening I asked my chum to drive the cows through the gate while I stood on top of the gate posts to drop on a cow as she passed thru – Well, she drove the cows both under me but for the life of me I couldn't get either foot to go first so I had to give that idea up and walk as before.
When I was a child every summer there would be an Assyrian Peddler, and how we loved seeing all the pretty materials – beads, tablecloths, pins, needles and notions and just about everything one could think of was in those large telescope containers. The tables and bed would be covered with his wares and Mother never failed to buy some of it.
Then once a year a man would walk in by the railroad track with a pet bear or two, of course muzzled, but when we kids saw the bears, we'd run all over town yelling, "Come to the Depot and see the bears." The bear man would have the bears do some tricks – then end by climbing a telephone pole. He would pass a hat and the men would put in a little change – poor way to make a living, I'd say, for the towns weren't close together. But oh, how we loved it.
Our parents were always interested in us having a good time playing at home. We were allowed to have lots of kids in to play at our house. Daddy bought a small mining truck and had a wood track built for it to run on for several summers that was great fun. At that time everything was shipped in wood boxes and we'd salvage large pine boxes out behind the company store before they'd burn them, which we'd use for houses along the track. We always had homemade merry go-rounds, seesaws and swings.
Our daily paper was the Cincinnati Post. Of course we got it late for it had to come by mail.
Daddy and Uncle Joe built a Hospital, the first one in our part of the State; so the patients came from several counties around. The operating room was on the first floor, and often many men watched the operations, thronging the windows from the front porch. I so well remember the x-ray machines; there was no electricity so the machine had to be powered by turning a big crank very fast – We children would get a sharp shock by touching the patient sitting on the chair placed on a glass short legged table. There were usually three trained nurses on duty, and my Uncle Joe lived in one end of the hospital and his wife was also a trained nurse.
As I grew older, my tastes changed for fun and relaxation – I loved horseback riding and my father usually had at least two good riding horses in the barn and he didn't mind my riding fast as long as I didn’t overdo it. Old Daisy, my father's main riding horse, was safe yet fast, and Clyde had a horse, "Baron Bell", that I loved riding. Baron Bell was part racehorse and he could really travel but he was a bit skittish too, and one must always be on the alert, for sometimes a paper moving in the wind would cause Baron Bell to jump sideways across the road. At home we were allowed to ride stride, but Mother always rode side saddle, and if Ada and I were going to visit Grandfather and Grandmother Hill, we rode the side saddles, for our grandmother had an idea that any girl regardless of age (who rode stride) was nothing short of a "hussy" – her word.
One time I went with Mother and Aunt Minta to Grandmother's to spend a weekend. It was 20 miles across 3 big mountains and it took us about all day to make the trip.
Late the same evening after supper Grandfather motioned to me to go with him, he wanted me to help him take the horses to the creek for watering our three horses and his two – I jumped on one stride and he on another, each of us leading another horse, Grandfather's nearest neighbor was at least ½ mile away and at that time in evening no one ever passed. But on our way back to the barn, Grandmother saw me riding stride and in all my life I have never been so ridiculed – she called me a dirty hussy and everything else she dared, for she was enraged to the point of insanity.
Mamma and Aunt Minta were stunned at her performance and decided to return home as soon as morning dawned. So instead of making a visit we left early next morning. Grandfather was very embarrassed but thought too, she needed a lesson.
Grandmother had a lot of funny notions – a girl must never cross her legs, and to whistle or laugh loud was out. Yet Grandmother had some dirty words that to this day, and I'm past 73, I've never said and wouldn't think of.
Ada and I came to Grandfather's almost every summer to help in the hayfield – I hauled hay shocks and Ada carried drinking water to hay harvest hands.
At 14 I met Frank here on Muddlety (1910). His father had a sawmill up the creek two miles. We had gone up to the schoolhouse to Sunday School with our grandfather – and Frank sat on the seat behind Ada and me – he had seen us down in the meadow driving in grandmother's turkey hens with their chicks – and he asked me if he could walk home with me and help bring in the turkeys – I said yes, so that was the beginning of a friendship that hung on for six years before we were married.
I saw Frank once a year after we met and he and Ford came to Cowen for the 4th of July. Our first year's correspondence was 2 or 3 picture postcards – second and third years I'd get letters, maybe once a weekend once or twice a year I'd see him as they were then living in Fayette Co. and it was quite a long drive in a buggy.
The next two years I heard from him by letter at least 3 times a week, he was in Huntington then, the last year a letter a day from Cincinnati where he was studying telegraphy and bookkeeping.
Our real love affair started after we were married. I'd been taught never to let a boy pet, and it really took, for I was scared even of a hand on me, let alone a kiss. Frank respected me and behaved well. Actually we didn’t know each other too well since he never came more than twice a year.
My father was so interested in all young people getting an education that he worked very hard at getting a High School for Cowen, our little town – and for some time he worked alone for it seemed everyone was against it, thinking taxes would be too high, but one by one he won influential men over and Cowen got her H. School around 1908. Daddy's practice reached far out in the county all directions and when he'd visit a home – with a boy or girl H.S. age, he'd invite them to come stay with us and go to school – so our table was always full and extra beds set up – Mother had only 3 or 4 paying boarders in all those years.
How she washed all those beds on the washboard and cooked for that crowd, I'll never understand. We always had lots of hogs to kill and beef in the smokehouse, and from our garden Mother would can hundreds of cans of green beans and corn. Dad's office was down in the corner of our big yard and anyone who wanted a free meal would drop in the office at mealtime – our family never ate alone.
There were two women that came every Thursday on the 11 o'clock train – really to shop at the company store, but they'd always come to our house pretending a headache or to get medicine for one of their family, any excuse to get a good hot dinner before the afternoon train that took them home at 2:30. Anyway, they came week after week. Then one day one of them called my father to see one of their family who was really sick. Well, it was 5 mi. down there and Daddy was at the sick bed right at mealtime and he could smell the cooking but he wasn't asked to eat, so rode the five miles back on horseback before he could eat. Well I've a mean streak, so talked Mother into changing our lunch hour to eleven instead of twelve – Mother agreed and next week when the two old hens came, we were sitting out on the porch; dinner all over. The women came, sat on the porch a while then got so curious to learn how near dinner was ready that they had to have a drink. Well ever after that Mother's dinner hour was eleven and it really got rid of the spongers, and Daddy was spared furnishing free medicine too.
In my young years, typhoid fever was a real threat to life all through the summer months. My father was very successful with it but he was worked very hard as there would always be so many cases – sometimes one in a family, sometimes the whole family.
One family I remember especially, all down except one little boy – and Daddy sent me to do for them every morning – I wasn't allowed to take a drink from their well and every time after bathing their faces and hands or touching them in any way I had to wash in carbolic acid water. They all pulled through.
Mother had Typhoid once when Kent was a baby and Aunt Minta came and took him to her house a mile away. We children were so scared that Mother would die and so jealous of our cousins for having our baby. Kent was just learning to stand and we missed having him home.
Mother was subject to sick headaches and they came about once a month and how well I remember the white band tied very tight around her head – on those days I spent lots of time praying that she wouldn't die; and how relieved I'd be when that white band was removed, for I knew then that she was safe again.
If I could write a book consisting of my memoirs, I'd call it "Ain't we got Fun." Of course, not every day was perfect, but it's the imperfections that make the sunny days so much happier.
It's funny now when I look back on our first years on the farm, I had the idea that nothing must go to waste. If I ended a season without a hundred quarts of canned half runner beans or fifty quarts of blackberries (which we hardly ever ate) and fifty bushels of potatoes, apple sauce, tomatoes, sweet potatoes and lots of other things, I thought that we'd starve, and really Frank always worked at the lumber business either for himself or managing for someone else, but that didn't solve my worries. Even now I have the greatest feeling of security when my winter coal is in.
For years we butchered our hogs and I loved sugar curing my hams and sometimes shoulders. All other parts of our hogs went into mason jars – pork chops – backbone and spare ribs – and then all those jars of good sausage, and of course all the fat was ground and rendered for lard. Usually there'd be a big shelf filled with delicious meats and canned chickens.
Until recent years, although it seems so long ago – chickens weren't bought dressed. When one had chicken, it came from the roost, and I've cut the head off so many chickens. I scalded and pulled the feathers off. For some reason, those chickens were so much better than the ones I buy today all cut up and packaged so that the choice pieces are on top.
Now you'll say mother is getting old, living in the good old days, but that isn't so – I love the carefree present days too. I love the days when I'm real busy. Being tired doesn't bother me; I know the cure – two aspirin tablets do wonders for me, and it's good to go to bed knowing I've done a big day's work.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Kessler origins
Submitted by Nancy Norman Hopkins
The History of Nicholas County, West Virginia
By William Griffee Brown, 1954
KESSLER, KESTLER, KETTLERS, (Kettle-makers) German.
The Kesslers came from Hesse-Darmstadt, Germany. There were also soldiers of than name in the Hessian Army who were given grants of land, and settled in Maryland. In the early history of the county Jacob Kessler, and brother Frederick, settled in what is now Mountain Cove District in Fayette County. Frederick purchased 250 acres of land from Joseph Malcolm in 1827. In 1850 his widow and heirs conveyed to John R. McCutcheon, who had married Sally Kessler, the tract since know as the John R. McCutcheon farm.
Fred Kessler, Junior, married Mary Groves and located in Kentucky District. In 1853 he and John R. Vaughan established a store at the intersection of two county roads passing the John Hamilton farm. The post office located there was named Kesslers Cross Lanes. Descendants of these pioneers settled in Nicholas and Fayette counties.
In 1795 Christopher Kessler came to Philadelphia from Germany and eventually located in Botetourt County, Virginia. He had two children, Archie and Elizabeth. Archie married Catherine Peck in 1853, and as he was opposed to slavery he was compelled to leave there in 1860. He and his wife and two children, after many hardships, reached the "Promised Land" in Kentucky District and resided there until after the end of the Civil War, when he moved to Greenbrier County and spent the remainder of his life there. He had a family of twelve children, of whom four were doctors. Dr. Dan, Dr. Kent and Dr. Mart Kessler were born in Nicholas County; Dr. Joe was born in Greenbrier County, and are credited with performing the first major surgical operation in this county by removing a large tumor from a man named Spencer at his home where Richwood is now located.
James Kessler, a brother of the doctors, maintained a jeweler's shop in Richwood for many years. His son, Joseph Kessler, is prominent in the business life of Richwood, and another son, Herschel S. Kessler who lives in Elkins is a teacher. Many of our older citizens remember Archie Kessler when he lived in Nicholas County.
© 2002 Rhonda Smith
The History of Nicholas County, West Virginia
By William Griffee Brown, 1954
KESSLER, KESTLER, KETTLERS, (Kettle-makers) German.
The Kesslers came from Hesse-Darmstadt, Germany. There were also soldiers of than name in the Hessian Army who were given grants of land, and settled in Maryland. In the early history of the county Jacob Kessler, and brother Frederick, settled in what is now Mountain Cove District in Fayette County. Frederick purchased 250 acres of land from Joseph Malcolm in 1827. In 1850 his widow and heirs conveyed to John R. McCutcheon, who had married Sally Kessler, the tract since know as the John R. McCutcheon farm.
Fred Kessler, Junior, married Mary Groves and located in Kentucky District. In 1853 he and John R. Vaughan established a store at the intersection of two county roads passing the John Hamilton farm. The post office located there was named Kesslers Cross Lanes. Descendants of these pioneers settled in Nicholas and Fayette counties.
In 1795 Christopher Kessler came to Philadelphia from Germany and eventually located in Botetourt County, Virginia. He had two children, Archie and Elizabeth. Archie married Catherine Peck in 1853, and as he was opposed to slavery he was compelled to leave there in 1860. He and his wife and two children, after many hardships, reached the "Promised Land" in Kentucky District and resided there until after the end of the Civil War, when he moved to Greenbrier County and spent the remainder of his life there. He had a family of twelve children, of whom four were doctors. Dr. Dan, Dr. Kent and Dr. Mart Kessler were born in Nicholas County; Dr. Joe was born in Greenbrier County, and are credited with performing the first major surgical operation in this county by removing a large tumor from a man named Spencer at his home where Richwood is now located.
James Kessler, a brother of the doctors, maintained a jeweler's shop in Richwood for many years. His son, Joseph Kessler, is prominent in the business life of Richwood, and another son, Herschel S. Kessler who lives in Elkins is a teacher. Many of our older citizens remember Archie Kessler when he lived in Nicholas County.
© 2002 Rhonda Smith
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