WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Final Chapter

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Final Chapter:                          Final Chapter Lottie became ill and sent Grover and me to her sister, Nellie’s, house with the weekly laund...

Final Chapter

                         Final Chapter

Lottie became ill and sent Grover and me to her sister, Nellie’s, house with the weekly laundry. She lived about four miles up a dusty road. We carried the soiled clothes in a wash-tub, Grover on one side, me on the other.

When the laundry was washed and dried, we began our trip home. We passed the time singing songs and making bird calls as we carried our load. We were about a mile and a half from home when all of a sudden we stopped in our tracks. Spread out neatly in the middle of the road was a pair of bloomers.

Now these were not just any pair of bloomers, but hand-made from a dark grey-wine outing flannel. Long legs to the knee with rubber in the legs were stretched out in the dust -- they were Lottie’s!

Grover and I had no idea how they got out of the wash-tub, had no idea who had stretched them neatly across the road … we did know we would never tell Lottie!

                             *

When Grover and I worked, we worked like the adults … long and hard hours, long and hard days. When we played we put as much into it as we did when working.

One of our favorite times was when the spring rains would come. As large rain drops cascaded down in straight sheets, we would quickly take off our clothes. Running buck-naked under the eaves, Grover would be on one side of the house, me on the other. Our innocent laughter and joyous squeals muted by the steady fall of the rain filled the little holler as the cool water caressed our naked bodies. Grover and I held a strong trust of one another, neither daring to steal a peek.

There were times when all the work was caught up on the farm, that Eph and Lottie would take us to White River for a picnic. I would stand at the edge of the river bank and watch Grover and Eph swimming. I busied myself catching minnows, tadpoles and frogs as I couldn’t swim too well.

Lottie was busy laying out our meal. She had brought home-canned sausage, fried potatoes with green onions, fresh baked bread and fried chicken. The day never seemed to be long enough; we always had such a good time.

I remember one week-end several people from the neighboring farms got together on the creek bank for an afternoon of making ice cream. Huge blocks of ice were hauled by wagon from the Ice House in Rogers. Wash-tubs were filled with the ice after it had been broken into pieces. The ice cream mixture was poured into gallon buckets then set down onto the ice. Rock salt was poured around the buckets, over the ice to hold the cold. Turns were taken as the buckets, held by the bail were turned back and forth until the ice cream was firm.

Eating home-made ice cream is an experience. The rich golden vanilla was wonderful; however, fresh strawberry ice cream was my favorite. I would sit next to Grover on the grass and eat as quickly as I could. My throat would seem to close off as a rush of pain filled my head. Dropping my spoon, I would rub my forehead until the ache went away then dig once again into the pink goodness.

Grover and I ate so much, we got sick. Running down to the creek, we would seek the shelter of brush and vomit before returning to our places on the grass. It’s terribly hard being a lady when faced with a bowl of home-made ice cream.

                                 *

Fall meant school and our once-a-year new shoes. Lottie would stand Grover and me on a piece of paper and carefully mark around our foot with a lead pencil. Then, she wrote our name on the back of the paper. Our shoe measurements would then be sent to Sears and Roebuck, a catalog store.

It was an exciting day when the shoes arrived. They were always the right size and both pairs identical; high-top, lace-up boy’s shoes. I was so proud of mine.

                                 *

I was ten going on eleven; tanned and tough, when the school bell rang again that fall. It was a warm Indian autumn day, the trees turning from lush greens to shades of gold, burnt orange and red. Colorful leaves played in the gentle breeze which filled the holler before laying to rest on the ground. The mountain seemed to yawn as it began the long wait between summer and spring.

Wearing an old floppy hat that belonged to one of the boys in my class, I joined everyone on the school yard, noon recess, as I recall.

We were playing “Annie-Over." Half of the class would get on one side of the house, the other half on the other. The one with the ball would throw it over the top of the school house and holler out, “Annie-Over.”

If the ball didn’t go all the way over we would holler, “Pig Tail.” Then, we would throw it again. When the ball was caught, the person would race around to the other side and hit someone with it. (Usually the best player) and then he had to go over to their side till all the players were on one side.

I had the ball in my hand and was preparing to “Annie-Over” when I glanced toward the open meadow which surrounded our school yard. In the distance, trees to their backs were three grown-ups and a girl. They were walking across the meadow.

“Looks like Sissy,” I said to Grover, “But who are those other people?”

I stopped playing and for a moment stood staring at the oncoming group. Then, I began to slowly walk toward the strangers. By now, Grover was at my side. As the people got closer, I yelled out, “It is Sissy!” and began to run, the old floppy hat falling to the wayside. Grover picked up pace and ran, matching my stride.

My dear sweet Sissy was also running, her arms out-stretched, a smile on her face. We met in the middle of the meadow and began to hug one another. The wind seemed to stop, the birds took flight, and not even a leaf dared move as she spoke to me.

“Do you know who this is?” she asked.

I hesitated before answering. When I heard my voice it sounded like someone far off had spoken. Faintly, I said, “Is it Mama?”

“Yes! Yes!” Sissy cried out.

A voice from my memory, a ghost of my past said, “Yes, Edith, it’s Mama. I’ve come to take you home with me.”

“Me? What about Sissy?” I felt my faint heart rise up within my chest, “I won’t go if she can’t go.” I proclaimed.

Then the voice again spoke, “Both of my girls are coming with me.”

The other two strangers, Aunt Maude and Uncle Jack returned to the car at the end of the field. Mama, Sissy, Grover and I went to the school house. It wasn’t a problem leaving school. We gathered our things as Mama had a short discussion with the teacher. Grover joined us as we started our walk across the meadow toward the car.

The ride home to Lottie’s seemed to fly by as the car bounced over the ruts in the lane. When we arrived I stood between Grover and Sissy near the front yard gate while Mama spoke with Lottie and Eph.

Lottie became terribly upset, waving her arms around in the air, laying claim to me as her own true daughter. Grover began to cry as he begged me not to leave.

My heart was torn in two as I listened to the lady who had been so good to me, the young boy who had been a brother to me, and the woman who had given birth to me.

When Lottie realized my Mama wasn’t backing down, she slowly turned and walked inside the house. I stood, feeling like a stranger outside my home.

Lottie reappeared in the doorway her eyes now red-rimmed, tear tracks down her freshly scrubbed cheeks.  In her hand was a bundle which held all my worldly possessions. Eph stood stoic behind her, his arms crossed over his chest.

I slowly walked up the front porch steps and reached for my bundle. Lottie put her arms around me and held me close as she gently kissed my forehead, then cheeks.

“Be good, Edith. Remember Lottie.” She said.

“I will,” I promised. I kissed Eph good-bye and gave him a hug.

Grover had stepped aside and stood with his head lowered. His frame shook as he cried. I wanted to kiss him good-bye but he wouldn’t let me. He grabbed hold of my hand and held it tightly until we got to the car.

Inside the car, I sat in the back seat between Sissy and Mama. I turned in the seat and waved and called out, “Good-bye” to the three people who had been my family for so long. I waved until we were up the hill, and they were long out of sight.

Over the top of the hill and heading west, we were on our way. I snuggled close to Sissy and holding her hand began to smile ...

              Breathe deep, Dear Mountain,

              Beneath the winter stars, 
                             sleep.

              The dreams of a child now 
                           fulfilled,

              No longer need you weep.

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Chapter Eight

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Chapter Eight:             Chapter Eight Times were happy with Eph, Lottie and Grover, yet there was one thing missing which kept my life from be...

Chapter Eight

 

          Chapter Eight

Times were happy with Eph, Lottie and Grover, yet there was one thing missing which kept my life from being perfect. I missed Sissy more and more every day. I didn’t know where she was living. It had been years; or so it seemed, since I had last seen her.

Then, God must have heard my prayers for I heard she was staying with some people in War Eagle, Arkansas. I also had heard she was working for room-and-board.

Lottie was making Christmas candy when I cautiously asked her for permission to visit with Sissy. I was overjoyed when she answered – yes.  

With a bag of Lottie’s Christmas goodies in hand, Eph took me by wagon to War Eagle. For two days I listened with mixed feelings as Sissy talked. I was so happy to see her, to hold her hand, yet saddened to hear of the painful existence she was enduring. She related to me how the people she lived with, the England’s, were so mean to her.

Sissy had to do all the work; cooking, taking care of the kids, washing clothes on a wash-board. When she washed the clothes she had to stand outside on the back porch. It was so cold her hands nearly froze. She told me of a time when as she hung clothes to dry, they froze before she got them on the line.

If Mrs. England decided something wasn’t hung up as neatly as it should be, she made Sissy take them all down and re-hang them. 'Such an ole witch', I thought. I wondered if she was related in any way to Gooby.

Sissy told me re-hanging clothes was a minor problem compared to the trials she went through with Mr. England. He had a hunger for her which kept her fighting him off constantly.

“Kill him, I will, before he lays a dirty hand on me,” Sissy said, her voice low and harsh. I began to cry. She put her arm around me holding me close as she gently wiped away my tears. I thought of the many times along the trail when she rubbed my frozen feet until warmth returned. I loved her more than anyone or anything in all the world.

Not too terribly long after Christmas the England's moved to another place and took Sissy along with them. She endured all she could from them before running away in the middle of the night.

She was taken in by the Phillips family. Sissy was just barely fourteen, not even a woman, yet experienced well beyond her years.

The Phillips had a boy older than Sissy by ten to twenty years named Glen who became my brother-in-law. He was a mean, selfish man who beat Sissy if she refused to have sex with him. 

One night after getting himself all liquored up, he approached Sissy. She began to cry and beg him to leave her alone. Being a typical illiterate farmer; more brawn than sense, he refused to back away from her. He grabbed Sissy by the hair and flung her onto the bed before falling atop her. Sissy began to scream. Glen raised his hand to strike her but was stopped by a big granite dish pan against his head.

“I don’t ever want to see you touch that child again, or the next time, it will be worse!” His mother stood over him, the large pot on her hand. She was poised to strike again. Glen took her at her word and left. Sissy never heard or saw him again.  Sissy made her home for a spell with Mrs. Phillips and for the first time in a long time experienced peace and someone who cared for her.

                                      

                                     *

It was so quiet and peaceful with Eph and Lottie. There were no cars or noise of a city. Sometimes, especially in the winter you could hear the freight train whistle as it passed through Rogers, or hear a plane go over. Mostly, the noise was welcome night sounds as the birds and animals tuned up for midnight serenades.

The Whipper-wills would sit on the soft ground in the road that came down the long hill to our house. Oh, how I loved to hear their ‘whip,whip-whippoorwill’ call. Then, the owls would tune up.

The Screech owls would let out eerie screeches, sending shivers up and down my spine. The deep ‘who, who, whoahh’s’ of the Great Horned owl would resound from a big white Oak.

The fields came alive with red and grey Fox. They would come up close to the fence at the back of the house and ‘yap-yap-yap’ till Grover’s dog chased them away.

There was an old dead hollow tree behind the yard and a family of flying squirrels lived in it. It really amazed us how they seemed to fly. Actually, they didn’t … they would glide through the air.

One winter day, we decided we were going ‘possum hunting’ that night. By the time it got dark we were ready. With our lantern and Big Dog, we were on our way.

The moon was so bright we didn’t really need the lantern. Eph’s land was 40 acres of cleared land, the rest of the area deep woods and hollows. Once you reached the darkness of the woods, it was terribly spooky.

In the center of the clearing stood a big dead Oak tree. We got as far as the old tree and sat down just as close as we possibly could. We sat there about thirty minutes and becoming scared from the night sounds debated whether to call off, or continue our hunting trip.

Then we heard the most blood curdling ‘who,who,who, whowhoaaah!' coming from the top of the tree we were sitting under. The Great Horned owl had done it again … scared me half to death. We tore out of there a fast as we could, not stopping until breathless we finally reached our front yard. The possums’ were safe and sound that night, thanks to the Great watch dog!

Grover and I didn’t have toys like most other kids our age, but we had Big Dog, goats, and baby goats, or ‘kids’ as they were called. We’d carry them around just like a puppy or kitten until the mama goat let us know we had played with her children long enough. Then she would come, call to them and stand patiently until they joined her.

Sometimes watching the goats was one of our chores. We were to keep them from Lottie’s vegetable garden. One day we got to playing and neglected to watch the goats. The first chance they got, over the fence they went. When Eph came home we really got it. We couldn’t sit down for quite a spell.

Other fun things we did was pull black snakes out of hollow logs. One day we were alone and being kids, with time on our hands decided to entertain ourselves. We knew where this old log was that had a big black snake in it. Sometimes before snakes shed their skins they will get into a quiet space.

We reached into that log and grabbed onto the snakes’ tail. We pulled and pulled. When we finally got him out of the log, we saw he was almost six feet long.

We played with him until we grew tired; then being honrey kids like any other kid I suppose, we smashed in his head. I don’t recall who came up with our next move, but both of us thought it was a brilliant ides.

We carried him to our front yard and carefully placed him just inside the gate. We knew when Lottie came through the gate she would step on him. Sure enough, she came, stepped on him, screamed and then jumped about three feet in the air. She also set our butts on fire with a green switch.

                                  

                                  *

Sunday was a day of rest. We walked to church which was held in the same building as our school. Sometimes after service we would have a ‘dinner’ on the ground’. Ladies would spread table cloths or sheets on the grass before spreading their offerings ... row after row of home-made food.

Pecan pies, fresh peach pies, snow-white cake with burnt sugar frosting, platters of fried chicken, and home-made bread … nothing was bought from a store. Someone would bring a hickory-smoked baked ham ... fresh corn on the cob, crisp garden vegetables and spring grown water-cress. Everything was so good. It made the four mile walk all the more worth-while.

At peace within ourselves, a full tummy and friends; a truly pleasant way to begin the new week.

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Chapter Seven

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Chapter Seven:           Chapter Seven Eph and Lottie had built their home by themselves. It was three rooms with a back porch that they late...

Chapter Seven

          Chapter Seven

Eph and Lottie had built their home by themselves. It was three rooms with a back porch that they later made into a dining room. The house was built out of hand-hewn logs. The ceilings were white sheet- rock and I thought it was so pretty; and more importantly, clean. On the north end of the house was a big fireplace made out of smooth, gray rocks. The hearth (they called it ‘harth’), was a big flat rock Eph had hauled in from the creek.

How good it felt to sleep in a real bed covered with fluffy mattresses and pillows, and no bed bugs! I will never forget Eph and Lottie for all the kindness they showed me then. They treated me no differently than they treated Grover. If we worked hard we both received a fair reward. If we did something we weren’t supposed to, we both got a whipping. They didn’t beat us, and yet we knew if we were told to do something we best do it. 

Grover and I became a set, doing everything together. I don’t recall a day or moment of being mad at one another, and never a cross word was uttered between us. No brother and sister could have been closer than we were.

Not only was Grover nice, but he was handsome. He was real fair-skinned, with blonde hair, bright blue eyes and the cutest smile I had ever seen. I knew we were a sight, me alongside with my dark hair and eyes.

Grover had a little brown and white spotted dog named, appropriately, Big Dog. He was a great hunting dog. Sometimes he would tree a squirrel and Grover, with a single shot rifle, would shoot it out of the tree. Any time Grover killed game, we skinned it, and then Lottie cooked it for the family,

Even though we were just kids, we worked right next to the grown-ups. We cleared ‘new ground’ which was a back-breaking job. This is land which has never been farmed before.

Timber had to be cut, the stumps dug or pulled out of the ground. We used cross-cut saws and double-bit axes to cut the timber because we didn’t have a chain saw.

Once while clearing timber, Eph accidently chopped his big toe off. Grover and I conducted a fine funeral for it, burying it in the corner of the yard. Grover said a few words over the newly departed toe, and then we sang, “Amazing Grace.”

                                 

                                     *

Grover and I were inseparable. If you wanted to find one, look for the other. Together we carried water daily from the spring to use for cooking and drinking. Large wooden barrels were positioned at the corners of the eaves to catch rain water. On wash day the rain water was heated in an cast-iron wash kettle which hung over a fire-pit in the yard. It was mine and Grover’s job to keep the fire burning so the water stayed boiling hot. Once the clothes had been washed on a washboard and hung to dry, Grover and I took turns bathing in the rinse water.

Spring cleaning, however, made wash day a totally different experience. After the long winter was over and the sun was warm, doors were thrown open, and the windows raised. Strong cord was stretched from the side of the house, and then secured to a nearby Oak tree. The feather beds and pillows were draped over the make-shift line to be aired out. Grover and I took brooms and beat the feather beds, turning them several times so each would be properly aired and sunned thoroughly.

This was fun work compared to the night before, which would find Grover and me filling the big black cast-iron kettle in the yard with the rain water. Once filled we had to gather and stack wood and kindling nearby. Our bones ached from the weight of the water and logs as we later eased our bodies into bed.

The sun was still hidden behind the mountains next morning when we awoke. Soon we had the kindling and wood burning under the kettle. We ate our breakfast of corn meal mush sweetened with molasses before completing our chores as the water heated to near boiling.

Lottie then carefully ladled the hot water from the kettle to an awaiting wash tub. Home-made lye soap shavings were added to the remaining water in the big kettle. The dark clothes were scrubbed on a wash board, the whites placed in the kettle and boiled. Once the whites met with Lottie’s approval which was ‘snow white clean’ they were rinsed in two sets of rinse water. The first was clear, the second a pale blue from the bluing which Lottie had added. Finally they were hung out to dry.

Then, came the hard work. Big sand rocks had been brought up from the creek bottom by Eph. These rocks were completely white and real soft. We would beat them until they became grainy as white sand. Using the left over lye water from our wash, we wet our natural pine floors before sprinkling the sand over the boards. Every inch of the floor was scrubbed with brooms until all evidence of the long winter was gone.

Rinse water from the huge tubs chased away the grimy sand leaving the floors clean and the house sweet-smelling. It was a long hard day but worth it as our bare feet touched the flowers of our labor.

Our clothes were ironed with flat-irons which were heated on the wood stove in the kitchen. We didn’t have an ironing board, so we ironed on the kitchen table with padding on it. Ironing was one chore which I did alone, as Grover was not required to help.

It was also my job to make the fire in the cook-stove and put the tea kettle on every morning. In the winter time, Grover made the fire in the fireplace. Working together made our chores go quickly, though not quick enough to get us to school on time. Once our morning duties had been performed we raced four miles to class; we attended Mountain View.

One morning we were on our way to school and came to a wooden gate which was lying across the road. Right next to the gate was a pistol. We decided some drunk had probably dropped it. Anyway, we took the gun with us. It is truly a miracle it wasn’t loaded as we played like we were going to shoot each other. We had so much fun playing; we were mindless of the tragedy it could have been if only one shell had remained in the chamber.

When we went home that afternoon we gave it to Eph. He kept it for awhile hidden behind Lottie’s’ sugar pot, before selling it to a neighbor.

One of our daily chores was to take morning milk to Grover’s Grandma Farriester’s on our way to school and place it in the spring to keep cool. When we returned, we would pick it up and take it home for supper. We usually cut across a field so it would be closer. The field had a shallow pond in it, which was full of water bugs.

Grover had just gotten a new straw hat. We thought that the hat would make a perfect seine to catch those water bugs. It was almost dark when we arrived at home. Lottie was waiting on the front porch, switch in hand. That was my first whipping from her. I knew we needed one … I knew we shouldn’t have pulled a stunt like that … and knew for certain we would not do it a second time.

                                   

                                   *

Eph and Lottie had a little shed which was used to store hay, and also milk the cows. One day Grover and I were getting some of the loose hay (it wasn’t in bales) for the cows, and found this funny copper coil. Grover made me promise I wouldn’t tell a soul about it. He confided in me, that this was what Eph used to make moonshine.

After I had lived with the Farriester’s for a spell, they knew I could be trusted, and allowed me to help in making the whiskey. Eph had a big oak barrel in the hen house.

First, he put ground corn and water in the barrel. After adding sugar, he let the mixture set and ferment. When it was ready to make into whiskey we hauled it down to the bowels of the holler, or someplace where we would be well hidden. There the mixture was cooked over a fire.

I don’t recall the procedure that went into the making of the home brew, but do remember the last part. When the steam went through the little copper coil that was in a vat of cold water, it exited out pure whiskey. It was my job to catch the whiskey in jars. Next we took a brace and bit (that’s like a drill), and drilled holes in a piece of hickory.

The hickory shavings were then wrapped in a clean cloth bag and placed inside each jar. Like magic, the clear whiskey soon became an amber color from the shavings.

The dreaded federal men were always looking for moon-shiners. Eph had to be so careful not to get caught making the whiskey, never cooking his mash off in the same place twice. Times were so hard people were doing whatever it took to make a living. When Eph sold any of his whiskey he got $.25 a quart for it.

If anyone bought a large amount of sugar at one time, you could be sure and expect a visit from the Feds. We never knew if they kept a close eye on the grocery store, or had someone planted inside who ratted on friends and neighbors for a few dollars.

One time, Eph had just cooked his mash when he got word the Feds were near-by. Grover and I helped him dump the prized mash into pig troughs. Mama pig and her babies were soon gathered at the trough, quickly devouring the mash.

Eph made a quiet exit into the woods, leaving Grover and I alone with the pigs. It wasn’t long before we were laughing so hard our sides ached; as we watched the pigs stagger, fall down, then try to stand again, squealing loudly – inebriated beyond belief.

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Chapter Six

WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS: Chapter Six:             Chapter Six The rain had stopped by the time we arrived at Uncle Charlie and Aunt Mel Oxford’s house. I don’t know what...