Plevna, Kansas, Grandma Haas and Great Grandma Hatfield

I know I have written about my Plevna years, but in case you missed it let me go there again.  Grandma Haas, who was Mother's mother, had a stroke mys last year of grade school.  Great Grandma Hatfield was pushing 100 and could not take care of her alone, so I was sent to stay with them and do what I could.  This meant I started my Freshman year in the little Plevna High School.  The whole high school was less then 40 kids.  Plevna was a farming community and all the kids in school were farmer's kids.  I stuck out like a sore thumb.  But it was what it was and there I stayed.  I do not remember any of those kids I went to school with.  There was a family named Smith that lived catty cornered from the grandma's and I went over there sometimes, but was under strict orders not to look at their television because that was the work of the devil!


The family consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Smith and a whole bunch of girls.  I can recall 5 for sure.  I never saw a boy, so that may have been the family.  There may have been a son some where but I do not recall.  Mr. Smith had one blue eye and one brown eye.  That was something I had never seen before and have not seen since.  I see it occasionally in dogs, but never in a human.  Of course, I do not actually seek the phenomenon out, so it may slip by me undetected.

There were several things that amazed and intrigued me about the Smith family.  The first was the size of the house.  It was a two story that had never seen a coat of paint.  It must have been about 10 rooms and was lathe and plaster.  I know this because the ceiling of the foyer fell down and we were then relegated to using the back door because no one cleaned up the mess.  Later the ceiling in the front room would fall also.  That was more serious as Mr. Smith was napping on the couch under it when it collapsed and received a small cut.  We did praise God that it was not more serious!  One room contained a quilt frame which always held a quilt, but I do not know if anyone ever quilted or it was just there.

As in most homes of that era, the plumbing consisted of a privvy out back and a pump by the back door and usually one in the kitchen.  This was the other thing that amazed me about the family dynamic.  There were several wash tubs located in the kitchen.  They were there to hold the dirty dishes.  On Saturday, they heated water and washed all the dishes.  It was a bee hive of activity on that day as all the women folk were there and working feverishly to get the chore done.  When the dishes were all washed, dried, and put away it was time to heat the water and wash the clothes.  Saturdays were definitely work days at the Smith house!  Mr. Smith stayed in his chair by the window looking out at the back yard.  The dog stayed by him so it did not get stepped on by the scurrying women.  I did not go over there on Saturday.

Sunday I was expected to attend church.   Mom and dad would come for a visit about once a month.  They brought the 3 younger girls.  This was always special to me.  Dinner would be on the table when I got home.  It was always a feast and always the same fare.  Great grandma fried chicken and the rest of the meal materialized around that.   You know the comfort food thing?  Mashed potatoes, gravy, corn, green beans, homemade dinner rolls, butter, jelly and pudding of some sort or another for dessert.  Some times a cake or pie.  Celery stuffed with peanut butter.  Pickled beets and sweet pickles.  The poor table would be groaning from all the food.  Never went hungry at Sunday dinner.
As I recall we never ate after the sun went down.  Dishes were washed and back in the cupboard in very short order.  The men folk, which usually consisted of my father, sat in the rocking chair with his thumbs hooked together over his stomach.  Grandma died in January of my freshman year.  Aunt Mabel came from Coldwater and took great grandma back with her.  I returned to Nickerson and the bosom of my family.

My father.  As I recall, my father was a big man.  His skin was very white and his hair had at one time been mostly red, but not a bright red.  It was more like a reddish blonde with a tad of brown.  He had freckles on his hands which were very white and not calloused at all.  I don't remember his eyes.  He had a big stomach and always wore overalls.  He wore brown, high top shoes.  Funny the things we remember from our childhood.  I think he may have been English with a bit of Irish, but who knows.
I do not think he liked me very much.  I know Mary was his favorite, but Mary was everyone's favorite.  Mother kept all of us girl's hair very short, but Mary was allowed to let hers grow long.  We were all so jealous!  Dorothy was the baby.  Donna and I were just there as  middle children.  Josephine ran away and got married very young.  Jake forged his birth certificate to show his age as 17 when he was 15 and joined the Army.  That made me the oldest of the youngest kids at home.  I relished in that and was very bossy.

At night we played "kick the can"  with the neighbor kids.  That is a game of hide and go seek which entailed placing a can on the ground and the one who was "it" counted while everyone hid.  Then the "it" person had to find each one and bring them back to "base".  While the "it" person went to search for the remaining hidden, some one could sneak in and "kick the can" which freed the ones who were stuck in the "jail".  Game sometimes went on for hours.  In day time we had "clod " fights.  This required a freshly plowed field.  We usually chose small clods which had dried and threw them at each other.  They usually crumbled on contact, but if they had been baking in the sun several days, they tended to be a little harder and left marks.  As tempers flared, the clods got bigger and more then one tear was shed either from pain, frustration, or from an eye full of dirt!  Brother Jake decided at one time to pull out his .22 rifle.  Little shit!  The game was over for the day and he was the winner for sure.

More about Plevna later, but now I have to go tend to the geese.

Welcome to my world.

I forget that Debbie does not do the email thing, but does check in here pretty regularly for my words of wisdom.  So, Debbie here are all my endeavors and I sure hope you enjoy them.  The first one is the Stations of the Cross that I told you about.  Enjoy!

Click here for my youtube.

The Pines at Beulah, to die for.

Loaded my friend Nancy in the car today and headed West across the beautiful Beulah Valley to my favorite place in the whole world, The Stompin' Grounds Coffee shop on Main Street.

Yep, the sign was still there!

Little Jan was still inside!

The refrigerator was still covered with bumper stickers!

And up the road was the thing that had brought me to Beulah in the first place, the dragon by John Clay.

But now Jan has a new job.  She is helping run the Pines at Beulah.

Take a tour here by simply a click!

These are cabins up the road from the coffee shop.  They have kitchens and everything you need for a little get-away in the mountains and the cost is dirt cheap.  Oh, you could go to a Motel 6 and for a lot more money you could have asphalt all around you and you could eat at the McDonald's up the block.  These cabins are nestled in the pines and have all the amenities of home.  I could see how getting together with the family could be a joy!

Nancy and I walked up the road and peeked in the windows.  Hell, I may just go hide out in one of those some time when I am wanting to get away from it all.  They even have a fire pit out back.  Course it is a propane fire under artificial logs, but who wants to start a forest fire anyway?  Not me!
I did forget my camera so the pictures above are old, but you would not have known that if I hadn't told you!
That aside, I love Beulah.  It is a 30 minute drive from Pueblo, but it is another world.  When I first came to Colorado back in 1977 one of the first places I visited was the Host Restaurant in Beulah.  That was a real treat to set in that little place and watch the Hummingbirds and the soft rain that seemed to fall every afternoon.
I did not know about the Pines of Beulah until Jan told me today.  So I made up my feeble little mind that I would blog about it and then put it on Facebook and maybe someone would want to take me up there for a nice relaxing day and night in the mountains.  Hmmmmm.  Maybe Jesse and Bernadette could go there for their honeymoon.  Or Ross and Chaz?  Well, somebody could and then they could invite me up for coffee.  OK.  So I guess I won't be going, but you could.  Be sure and click on that link below the picture for phone number, pictures and prices.
And tell them Lou sent you!!

Oh, hey! Did I see what I thought I saw?

Today I took the day off, sort of anyway, and a friend and I went to Florence.  For my out of state friends and family, Florence is a little town west of here and sort of on the edge of the mountains.  It is a 25 minute drive up there and since my son and his partner live there, it is a trip I make fairly regularly.  Nancy and I found the farmers market in the park and picked up some green stuff.  Then we walked up Main Street and toured several antique shops.  She picked up some plates she was looking for to finish her kitchen.  Florence has more antiques per square foot then anywhere in the world I think.

Also has some things that are just eye catching!

And fun to look at!

The Rose Bud Cafe proved to be a very good choice for breakfast.

A farewell look up the street.

Since I had to be back in Pueblo before 2:00 we loaded Amanda in the car so we could drop her off at her house.  And then I beheld a sight that was not something I was used to seeing!  What appeared to be a man walking his dogs proved to be much more than that.  It was a man walking his dogs alright, but only 2 of them were dogs!  One of the dogs was a cat!   

And a very well behaved cat it was.  I stopped my little Focus right there in the middle of the street, because I am here to tell you, I thought I had gotten some bad weed!  Cats are just way to independent to be led around on a string.  This is the exception.

So say hello to J Roberts and his dogs Taylor and Lucy.  And this, my friends, is 

Mr. Kitty!

So I bid a fond adieu to Mr. J. Roberts and his little family of Florence, Colorado.  You made my day.  Thank you so much and hope to see you the next trip!

The dining room table.

This is my dining room table.  This is not how it usually looks.  It is usually piled high with mail, groceries, something I placed there that needs to go some where else, a chain saw that needs sharpened, etc.  Early in life I learned that the table was the hub of the home, the one place the family gathered every day.  We ate all our meals there.  We did our home work there.  Some times we just sat there and talked, or listened.  The one in Nickerson had a kerosene (might have been coal oil) lamp in the center.  (A lamp went in the center of the table as opposed to a lantern which hung on a nail by the back door and was used to light our way to the outhouse. )  We could set there and do our homework and watch momma iron.

This was taken back in July of 2013 (  read that blog here ) when I had a cook out for the British Motorcycle club that Sherman had helped start  in 1986.  It was the one year anniversary of his passing and he has now been gone two years.  Miss you, Sherman!  But I digress.

This is a lunch I threw together for Sister Nancy, Sister Barbara, Faye Gallegos, Maxine Hale, and Nancy Williams, just because they are friends with a lot in common.  Read that blog here.  And a good time was had by all.  Take a look under the table and tell me what you see.  Oh, Elvira!

See her!  Isn't she cute?

If this table could talk!  In my mind I see Kenny reading the paper.  He always sat with his back to the door. I remember when we first moved to this house back in 1982.  We were not married at the time and we had a Formica table and a puppy named Chili Dog.  Chili ate the rung off one of the chairs which made things pretty tacky.  A year after we moved in we eloped.  It was -15 degrees and two days before Christmas.  When we arrived home after the ceremony which was held in a senior citizen high rise in Canon with 2 witnesses we did not know, we found a bottle of cheap wine on the table.  Thanks, Gene Baugh!

Back on track here.  The first purchase we made when money was available was this table.  We wanted an oak table with claw feet so that is what we bought.  We bought chairs that were oak and finished them to match the table.  If this table could talk!  It is definitely the center of my world.  It saw the kids all raised and gone and it saw grand kids and great grand kids come to visit and one get adopted!  He holds the past, the present, and the future, just like the one back home when I was a kid.  In my mind this table is my life in a nutshell.  

It is always a shock to me when I go into some one's home and they do not have a table.  I remember the first time I went into one of my kids homes and there was not a table. 

 "Where do you eat?"  

"We set on the couch." 

And it goes without saying, "We watch television and have no idea what we ate."  

I often wonder how one carries on a meaningful conversation while the television is blaring and one is balancing a plate on their knees.  I think all of my kids now have tables and chairs.  They also have the mate that came with the table!  

I do not remember if the table of my childhood had matching chairs.  I don't think so.  I do know we were not allowed to tip the chair back.  That was just a no-no from forever.  Grandma had a claw foot oak table.  Some times I just set and think back how simple life was in those days.  We always had "Sunday Dinner".  It was a chisled in stone thing.  We would have pot roast or fried chicken.  Sometimes Jake shot a bunny and that was special.  The rest of the week we pretty well foraged, but Sunday Dinner and the claw footed oak table were things we could put money on as lasting forever.

I do not know where my childhood table ended its term of service, nor do I have any idea where mine will go when I no longer have use for it.  I am hoping that one of the kids will want it because it brings back the memories that mine brings back.  And I hope wherever it goes, that it keeps the cigarette burn on it that my Kenny left for me.

Finishing up my grade school years.

I remember little about my grade school years and whether that is by choice or chance, I know not.  Every year we had a class picture made and every year I was on the end of the front row because we were grouped according to height and I was pretty much the runt of the litter, so to speak.  I remember we had to walk to a seperate building for music class.  Miss Barkiss was the teacher and she later married David Houston, who was the son of the Principal at Nickerson Grade School. I do know I could not hit a note if my life depended on it.  I still remember her making me stand in front of the class and how hard I tried to hit middle "c" what ever the hell that was.  I don't think I have hit it yet, though I do love to caterwaul the country music I grew up listening to on the radio.  When it was time for the annual music program, Miss Barkiss gave me the job of announcer since I could not sing, but my voice carried and she needed some one whose voice carried.  I loved that.  I could stay behind the curtain with my microphone and no one could see me.
Most of the school work I considered stupid and did not bother doing it.  Poor mother!  I remember  a few of the kids I went to school with, but really don't care what became of them, although I do wish them well.  Nancy Cuthberson who's dad was in constuction and they had 2 Great Pyrennes dogs that I was terrified would step over the fence and eat me.  Martha Knobloch was a pianist and we were taken to her recital which was held at her home and we had to dress up and we were most uncomfortable, but for years after I would point at her house and tell whoever I was with that I had been inside that home and it was beautiful!  Barbara Hawk was the daughter of the dentist and my best friend.  Mother cleaned house for Mrs. Hawk and sewed for them.  I remember once I was over there and Mr Hawk made us an ice cream with a cherry on top and mine fell off and I cried like a baby, so he gave me another one.  There was Joan Moore, Beth McGonigle, Linda Schlatter, Gary Battey, Earl Kelly, David Sjoborg who's older brother was at college and died in a car wreck.  Irene Rienke, Evelyn Piper, Loren McQueen, Kenny Fenton, Ronnie Beck, and names that completely elude me.
In 8th grade 2 new boys arrived on the scene.  Billy Newman and Steve Dorrell were from the big city of Hutchinson.  The were cousins.  I had no idea what cool was, but one look at Steve and I knew the definition of cool, super cool, and coolest thing in the world.
Remember Fonzie?   The Fonz?  Steve exuded cool and never let on that he even knew us little girls were batting our heads against a stone wall.  He wore blue jeans with the belt loops cut off so they rode down his hips just a tiny bit.  He wore a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up exactly one and a half turns.  And the collar up in the back, but laying flat in the front.  His black hair was combed into a duck tail and every hair was held in place with axle grease.  Billy was just there, but when Steve walked in the room he arrived and when he left, he sucked the air out of the room.  He was skinny, giving him the lean and hungry look  He was my first honest to goodness crush, and bless his heart, he had eyes only for himself.
I do not remember graduating from grade school.  I don't think it was a big deal back then.  I just remember reading on my report card that Louella Bartholomew was promoted to grade 9.  That was it. Grade school was behind me.  Off to the big High School on the other end of Main Street.  But, alas, before that could happen my life took a bit of a turn and I was sent to Plevna, Kansas to take care of grandma Haas and Great Grandma Hatfield, thus seperating me from classmates I had gone to school with for 8 years.
Stay tuned.

The church on the corner.

When I was in the 5th grade, Miss Swenson the teacher, decided I had a brillant future as a poet.  She asked mother's permission to submit some of my work to Jack and Jill magazine.  I could write reams back in those days, unless some one wanted me to, and then I was blank.  As I recall I did manage to give her something and she mailed it off to the magazine, but I never heard any more about it.  Childish dreams dashed in the forgotten world of adults.  Probably her fault I am screwed up today!
Seventh grade proved to be very traumatic for us kids.  Mother was diagnosed with cancer and was put in the hospital and operated on immediately.  By this time Josephine was already married and so we were sort of left in the lurch with no one to take care of us except dad.  Now what that man knew about taking care of kids was exactly nothing.  He assumed on some level that since Mother was not there, we  would not need to eat.  Neighbors took pity on us and we did not starve.  You can not tell by looking at me today that I ever missed a meal!
When Mother came home, she was "bedfast" which meant the little bed in the front room was where she spent her days.  That way she could look out.  As I recall there was not a whole lot to see out there, but she was in a prime place to see it if it were to be seen.  She had received lots of cards while in the hospital so she spent time reading those, over and over again.
The ladies at the First Christian Church on the corner of Main Street and across the street from the school came to call and decided that since school would be starting soon, they needed to sew us girls new dresses for school.  We were measured and measured again to make sure the first measurements were correct.  Then the day came that they met for the "sewing bee".  I was so excited I could hardly contain myself.  I was going to have a new dress!  This would be a fancy dress made just for me and it would not have the words "Gooch's Best" any where on it.  At least I hoped not.  Dad was beside himself because those old biddies were sticking thier noses in our business.  They thought he could not take care of his family.  The fact that they were right was entirely beside the point.  I was going to have a new dress.
The day came when they brought the dresses and we tried them on so they could see how they looked and if they fit properly.  To my amazement I recieved 2 dresses.  I could hardly contain myself.  I could hardly wait for the first day of school.  It did finally come.  To this day I can not remember what color my dresses were or what they looked like.  Seems like one of them had stripes and one had flowers, but you could not prove it by me.  Mother cautioned us not to be "putting on airs" because we had new clothes.  I don't think I did, but nonetheless, my day was shattered when a boy in my class said, "Oh, ain't you something in your new clothes?  My mama said the church ladies made them because your momma is dying and can't take care of you.  Says you are poor as church mice."  Well, that pretty much did it for the happiest day of my life.  Needless to say, Mama wasn't dying, but it made for a long day.
Got into a lot of trouble that year.  Got sent to the office for saying Loren McQueen had cooties.  What ever cooties were.  I only said it because some body else told me that.  Seems like that was also the year Mrs. Wells had her baby in the bathroom in the middle of the night.  I sure wished we had an indoor bathroom, but that would not come for many years.  Oh, and I am here to tell you, an outside privy certainly leaves a lot to be desired.  I am amazed to this day that my digestive tract ever worked, between worrying about falling through the hole and living in mortal terror that a black widow spider would bite me on my tender tush!  And then there was that trip out in the middle of the night and having to worry about mountain lions and gypsy's and God only knew what else.  How did I manage to survive in that world?
Seventh grade ended with a bang.  The last day of school was always a picnic.  The band played and the kids ran around and it was so much fun.  Well, sort of.  That was the year the band was playing and a bird flew over and did a number on Gay Withrow's hat as she played whatever insturment she played.  Sure sucked to be her!
But the best thing about the whole year was that since the ladies made us clothes, mother felt obligated to attend church.  Thus began my early religious training.  I wanted to know all about this man named Jesus.  I was crushed that this man had died on the cross.  If I had only known him my life would have been perfect, but now he was dead and I would never know him.  I did finally get it straight, he had died for me, so I could have life everlasting.  That is something I never forgot.
I joined youth group.  I always memorized more verses than anyone else.  I loved that church and I loved the minister, Rush Barnett and his lovely wife, Genevive.  I wanted to be a missionary and go to Africa.  He talked to me about it and the plans were made.  Many hours were spent in there home and it was there that I was happiest.  And then the inevitable happened.  Rush J Barnett was transferred to another church.  I don't remember who took his place, but it was a man who did not much like kids and I was a kid.  We still went to that church, but the youth group ceased to be.  When we quit going, no one really seemed to care.