I always dreaded going to her musty old house full of Yakima Indian relics because she would squeeze my cheek with a gnarled fist of “iron” and request I sing her a special solo —“Oh Come All Ye Faithful.” I was the singer in our family and Bertha Davis said about the only two things worth a “hill-of-beans” in this world was a good Hereford bull and my boy-soprano voice singing that carol.
By Polly Mazariegos nee Wagaman
When I was very young, I remember how excited I was to spend either Thanksgiving and/or Christmas at Nanny's house. We called our grandparents Nanny and Pappy. Nanny was Emma Wike nee Feaster and Pappy was Charles Wike.
Snow gently fell outside the window as my husband poured over our finances. "Well," he rubbed his eyes; "we have forty dollars for Christmas." He shrugged. "It's better than nothing."
I glanced out the window. "The kids need to know." Our children needed winter boots, and many other necessities. "I'll tell them." Our eleven and nine-year-old accepted the disappointment like battle weary troopers.
I had been hunting with Pa using just the pellet rifle, and had been lucky enough to get my first rabbit, that was a very good day, one that I'll never forget, but in order to get off the porch and run with the big dogs I'd need a real hunting gun.
My grandfather Ellis built a log cabin. He cut the shingles for the roof out of oak. The first thing they did when he got back was to put those shingles on the roof. Of course, those oak shingles had cured and they were very hard to drive a nail into. He did mash his finger many times and Grandma had to carry the hammer back to him, after he kept throwing it away every time he would hit his fingers.
The pickle jar as far back as I can remember sat on the floor beside the dresser in my parents' bedroom. When he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets and toss his coins into the jar. As a small boy I was always fascinated at the sounds the coins made as they were dropped into the jar.
Near the Appalachian Mountains, Daniel Boone's natural passage, in South Eastern Kentucky, an area around Cumberland Gap, between Pineville and Middlesboro is Calmer, Kentucky, my Grandpa "Walter Smith Sr." and Grandma "Mattie Cox Smith" (Granny) raised ten children of their own and myself "Judie Gudger." My sister, "Nila Gudger" spent a great deal of time at their house also.
On the long ride home, R.C. eagerly announced to his bride that he had a "big surprise" for her, but despite her pleadings, he wouldn't reveal his secret. She was hoping for a puppy because her mother had never allowed her to get one.
Few men have had experiences as harrowing as that of being dragged out of bed by a mob intent on "stringing up" someone, yet that very thing happened to Henry Enlow who lived between Uniontown and St. Croix in Perry County, Indiana.
It was a large dwelling, obviously added onto many times, with high ceilings and creaking floorboards. I counted five fireplaces, two still in apparent working order and the other three boarded over. I knelt down and removed a handful of old photographs, mostly 8 x 10's, and all black and white. The remarkably clear images revealed scenes from what appeared to be the 1940s.