So, incase you guys are wondering why my posting has been, at best, pretty spotty lately it is because I have been working on a very special project. It is my great-grandmother autobiography.
I have been pouring over these pages in great detail and finally after a little work I am planning on making myself a book of her story. I love reading the words they mean so much to me. And since this is my blog I thought that I would share with you her story. It is to much for just one blog posting so I will post a little bit at a time.
I call her Nanny.
A Time to Remember
My love for my family is the most important thing in my life. Without them, I'd have no reason to write these words.
* * * * *
I want to dedicate this book to my loving parents. My beautiful daughters all five of them, and most of all my wonderful husband, Cordie, who has put up with me for fifty odd years.
Ruby Swatsenbarg Lewis
CHAPTER I
My parents and three younger brothers were living in a tent, up Flat Rock Hollow at Christi, Oklahoma, when it came time for me to make my appearance into the world. Poppy rode on horseback to get the Midwife of the neighborhood, then on to Westville, Oklahoma to get the Doctor.
It was storming, thunder and lightning, one flash and clap after the other, and pouring down rain.
When they got back to Peach Eater Creek, it was out of banks (you could spit in it and it would overflow.) The Doctor couldn't cross in his buggy, so he went back to town.
As soon as the water went down enough, Poppy swam his horse across and went on home. But I had beat him there.
I was born May 31, 1920 all 4 lbs. and 8 oz. worth to Rozella McGehee and James B. Swatsenbarg.
I was delivered by the Midwife. She never reported my birth in Stillwell, Oklahoma, which is the county seat of Adair County. There isn't a record of my birth anywhere in Oklahoma. So you see I could be called a ghost writer.
I was the eighth child, the only girl and the runt of the litter.
My father was an only child. After they had two boys (each time mommy got in the family way), poppy would say, "Maybe this one will be a girl".
When I was born mommy said, "Well, Jim you finally got your girl, what are you going to name her?"
Poppy went outside for awhile. When he came back in he said, "What is the most precious jewel you can think of?" Mommy said, "A ruby I guess.” Poppy said, “That will be her name, for next to you she is the most precious little girl in the world."
Mommy gave me the name Mae after the most kind and loving sister-in-law in the world.
I had seven brothers; the four older ones were married with children of their own.
John Columbus Harrison, James William Franklin, Elmer Isiah Wesley, George Washington, Cecil McKinley, Pearl Adolphus and Raymond Albert. Thought you would get a kick out of that, odd but true.
When the three younger boys came home, Raymond went out sat down on the step crying. Poppy asked him what was wrong. He said, "I wanted to name little sister." Poppy said, "What do you want to name her?" He said, "Ruthel". When Pearl heard it he wanted to name me too, so he named me Mary. Cecil said if the other boys gave me a name, he wanted to name me also. Poppy asked what it would be. He said, "Magdalene". Mommy has this all in her bible. You figure it out. I am just glad the older boys didn't want to add their names in on it, there's no telling what I would have come out with.
Mommy had six grandchildren; she was ashamed to let anyone know she was in the "family way". One day a lady caught her heaving and guessed her secret. Mommy was 43 years old. She was too old to be bothered with a new baby.
I loved my mother and I know she loved me, still I always felt I was in the way. There are times I feel that way even now.
While I was a small baby, mommy would have Raymond look after me. While she did her laundry, cooking or anything else she had to do.
I think Raymond sort of resented being tied down, not getting to play with the other neighbor boys.
He is eight years older than me. He was always looking for a chance to get out of staying with me.
One day he made a harness for his dog, and then tied him to my buggy, everything went fine until a cat ran across the road in front of us. Well, the chase was on. I fell out when the buggy turned over. Raymond had a tough time sitting for awhile. That was the last time he tried that.
Another time he was swinging me in a tree swing, some boys came by wanting him to go with them rabbit hunting. Mommy said she needed him to watch me for her. He started hollering, "Mommy can I go? Poppy said I could." The louder he hollered, the faster he pushed, you guessed it. I fell out flat on my face.
When I was sitting alone, Mommy had me on a pallet in the yard, while she hung out some clothes. (I never crawled.) She heard me scream, when she picked me up a tarantula spider fell out of my "didy". It had bit me just above my pelvic. That made the worse sore anyone could imagine all over the lower part of my stomach. The flesh rotted out to where they could see my intestines. The whole family held, rocked and walked the floor with me for weeks, not knowing if I was to live or not. Don't let anyone tell you that a tarantula isn't poison. I will carry the scars of one to my grave.
When I was about a year old, I had the whooping cough. An old Indian woman told mommy to get some mares milk, give it to me, it would cure the whooping cough. Poppy knew a man that had a new colt. They milked the mare, gave it to me. I know it cured me. For I am still here and have worked like a horse ever since. I guess that is why I am always nickering about some thing or other.
I loved my father and followed him every step that I could. He never got too busy to answer my childish questions or listen to me rattle on.
I remember going to a little branch close to our house (some where in Okla.) He would pour sweet anise in a lid; we would sit and watch honey bees feed on it. When their legs got covered, they would rise and fly. Poppy could tell by the way they took off, if the tree was close by or far away. If it was close he would say, "come on Sis, let’s find that tree. I can taste that honey now." But, if it was too far away he would say, "You go back to the house and tell mother to get started on them Johnnie Cakes." When he cut a bee tree, we always had honey, butter, and Johnnie Cakes the next morning for breakfast.
Poppy could rob a hive or a tree and never get a sting. He always said, “Bees don't like the way I taste."
Poppy had lots of funny sayings or at least I thought they were. Like the time he told me if I wanted some speckled chickens, all I had to do is set a hen on Easter Sunday. All the chickens would be speckled if they weren't some other color. Of course I didn't catch that last part. I am just a little slow to get some things.
Poppy bought a model T touring car at Charleston, Arkansas in 1925. Everyone was so proud of the new car and wanted to learn to drive it.
We lived down the lane from the road, with a corn patch on one side of the lane, with a watermelon patch on the other. Mommy decided she was going to learn to drive. She went up through the watermelon patch and back down through the corn. When she got it stopped, she crawled out, said, "Now that I have my crops gathered, I think I'll stop driving." She never tried again.
Poppy never learned to drive either. One of the boys always drove wherever we wanted to go.
The day Cecil decided to learn to drive, there were some girls setting on a wagon just talking, enjoying the Sunday afternoon. Well, Cecil was watching the girls, not paying attention to what he was suppose to do. He ran into the back of the wagon. The tongue stuck up in the air. He pushed that wagon several feet before it stopped. It looked so funny. No one was hurt, except Cecil's pride.
I remember going to Uncle Pats. They had a litter of new puppies. Of course I wanted one. Mommy said they were too young to be taken away from their mother. Uncle Pat said, "Let her have one, if it doesn't make it come back and get another one."
Someone had put corn meal in the radiator to stop it from leaking. On the way home, the car got hot, that corn meal started to boil out. It looked like mush. Mommy pulled me out of the car, asked where was my puppy? I had him under my coat. I wasn't going to let anything happen to him. Poppy just stood and looked at the mess and said, "Well, just as I expected." He would always say that when things went wrong.
He also said, "If you have anything you can't fix with bailing wire, you don't need it." I guess that is true for many strands have been used.
I never saw my daddy mad. I am sure he was from time to time, but I never knew it.
I named my puppy Spot. He was my constant companion. He went with me everywhere I went and slept at the foot of my bed every night.
One morning Frank came over early, I was still in bed. He made a grab at my foot to pull me out of bed. Just as he grabbed for my foot, Spot got him by the hand, bit a place that took a long time to heal. Spot was following along behind the wagon, when a man came along in a car, ran over him and killed my dog. Pearl made that man pay me for hitting Spot for he could have missed the dog had he tried.
Pearl gave me a bay mare. Mommy and I could ride her any place. She just walked along fine, never stumbling. Just let one of the boys get on. She would just go wild, bucking like a bronco. No one ever figured that out. She took foot evel. We couldn't ride her anymore. We sold her to a man, who said he knew how to cure it. I don't know if he did or not, for we moved soon after that and never heard from her again.
It seemed like I always got all the crippled and unwanted animals in the family. George gave me a blind rooster. I carried him around and fed him until he was able to eat by himself. He followed me every place I went. I put papers on the floor every night under a chair for him to roost on. Each morning he crowed to wake us up.
An old man was staying with us for awhile. He sure hated that rooster. He said, "Some day, I'm going to make dumplings out of that rooster." Well, one day my rooster came up missing. He disappeared never to crow again. Everyone called the old man Daddy Green. He was always playing tricks on anyone he could. One day, he told me, "I can give you a stick in each hand, I'll bet you a stick of candy you can't hit me with them." He sat down in an old cane bottom chair. Told me to take hold of a rung in each hand, and then try to hit him with them. He didn't know the rungs were loose. I jerked them out, hit him on the head hard as I could. Boy was he mad! He wanted Mommy to paddle me. Mommy said, "You told her to hit you."
I sure got even with him for killing my rooster. He left our house soon after that. I never heard of him trying to pull any more tricks on anyone.
Our family was real poor in worldly goods, but rich as kings in loving each other.
Poppy and the three boys at home made cross ties, cut wood, did share cropping or any other hand labor they could get.
We moved from place to place, job to job. We always stayed in Arkansas, Missouri, and Oklahoma. If they heard of a job somewhere they thought was a better deal than what they were doing, we would up and move at a moments notice: first in a covered wagon, then a model T pickup, then a model T touring car. What we couldn't take with us, we just left behind, always intending to go back the next day to pick it up. Of course we never did.
I have often wondered whatever became of all those things, dishes, quilts, tools and whatever.
When we moved from Natural Dam, Arkansas, Poppy left an old cap and ball rifle. I've heard him say lots of times he wished he had found room on the car to put it. I can remember watching him melt lead to make balls for that old gun. It would mean the world to me now.
Poppy could do lots of things, but he could not milk a cow. He could pull all day, not get enough to cream a cup of coffee. So Mommy did the milking. Poppy did lot of the cooking. He loved to cook and was a good one too. The only time I ever talked back to him, he told me to put wood in the stove. I did but he didn't see me. He said, “I told you to put wood in the stove." I said, “I ain't going to do it." Boy I didn't know what was happening. He had never spanked me in my life. He turned me across his knee and gave my behind a good paddling. I said, "Poppy I did put wood in the stove." He said, "You could just as well told me that in the first place, as what you did say," he said, "The boys never talked back to me, and you are not either. " You can bet I never talked back to him again.
Poppy made a little doll bed and a chair out of spools for me. Mommy made me a quilt and pillow. I sat and rocked my baby dolls to sleep and put them to bed.
Poppy made axe and hammer handles out of hickory sticks. When it was too cold or too wet to work outside, he would work on the handles. I would set in my little chair at his feet and scrape on a hammer handle with a piece of broken glass. He always kept handles on hand for the woodsmen.
Poppy chewed tobacco. One day I was running around the house chasing my dog. He was setting on the porch whittling. Just as I came around the corner, he spit my face full of ambeer. Got my eyes full. You talk about burning, it felt like pepper sauce. He almost cried. He was a tender hearted man.
Sometimes when poppy came home I would climb up on his lap. He told me stories or sang a little song. He would start a story then finish it in his own version of it.
He would kiss the bridge of my nose. He always said, "That was sugar meant only for poppies." I would never let anyone else kiss me there.
One of the songs poppy sang was:
I had a little dog and his name was Jack
I rode his tail to save his back
His tail fell off, and I fell back
That's what I got for riding Old Jack.
Poppy loved to Fox hunt. He along with other neighbor men would gather some nights, go out they would be gone all night. Some nights when he couldn't go hunting, he would sit out on the front porch and listen to the neighbor dogs as they chased a fox. Sometimes mommy and I sat with him. He knew each dog by name, by the sound of their bark. He would say. That’s old Blue, or there goes old Jack or which ever.
Poppy had a big old gray hound that could pick a cotton tail up pretty quick, if Mr. Rabbit didn't find a hole soon. He also had a little bench legged dog he called "Chuch" meaning "boy" in Indian language. He sounded so funny when he barked. Everyone around there knew him.
Poppy always walked with his hands clasped behind him. He talked to himself a lot. I asked him why he did. He said, "That was the only man he could trust that didn't talk back."
Poppy said he would loan a man anything he had in the way of tools, except his gun or his pocket knife. He said most folks didn't know how to care for a gun. He always kept his knife sharp enough to shave with.
Poppy always wore overalls and an old felt hat. Sometimes he and the boys would get into a wrestling match. He used his hat to whip them. We always had so many good times as far back as I can remember. Mommy was always the referee.
My parents, Cecil, Raymond and I were camped along with about fifteen other families at Spavinaw, Oklahoma. The men were working on the big dam there. I was about six years old.
Everybody got water out of the one well there. One evening two girls went to get a bucket of water about the same time. They got into an argument as to who got there first. Their brothers took it up, and then the fathers started to get into it. Next thing we knew someone started shooting, knifing, fighting with clubs, broken bottles and anything they could get hold of. Poppy shoved a bunch of women and children down in a covered wagon telling us to lay still and not move till he said we could. Boy, he didn't have to tell us more than once.
I thought it would never end. When the fighting finally stopped, there had been several wounded, some were dead, there was blood all over the place. I remember seeing them rolling a man up in a quilt, all I could think of was he will smother rolled up like that.
That was the first dead person I had ever seen. I didn't know it at the time. I only knew I was a scared little girl.
Some of the families left. We stayed awhile longer. Don't know if we stayed till the dam was finished or not. No one in our family was hurt.
One Christmas my brother and sister-in-law came to see us. They brought me a rag doll filled with saw dust with painted features. They took her sister a few months older than I the biggest and the prettiest doll I ever saw. Well, I wanted one like it. My sister-in-law said when I got big enough to take care of a doll like that, she would get me one.
After dinner my nephew and I took my doll out to the chicken trough and baptized it till the water was dripping from it. I brought it in and threw it in my sister-in-law's lap. I told her she could have the old doll I didn't want it. My brother said, "Sis, I will get you a big doll like the one you want if it is the last thing I ever do." He kept his word. The next time he came to see us; he brought me the prettiest doll I ever saw. It was almost as tall as I was.
I kept that doll until Ava Carol got big enough to play with it. She tore it up. I wish I still had it.
One night it came up a real black cloud. The neighbor came running by saying, "A tornado was about to hit, take cover". Poppy told us all to go to a neighbor’s cellar about a quarter of a mile across the field. Cecil grabbed me swung me upon his shoulder, took out in a run for the cellar. It started to rain and hail. Hail balls were hitting me on the head. It was thundering and lightning all the way. By the time we got there the worst was over. Poppy said that was the most foolish thing he had done in his life. We would never again run his family out in a storm like that. We never went to a cellar again as far as I can remember.
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