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.