I Remember: This Little Mouse from Bollinger County

By Melba Elledge

What was it like to grow up in an isolated rural community in the post depression era? And what if your father died when you were nine months old leaving you and your five brothers and sisters to be raised by a heart broken widow? What if this was before any kind of assistance was available to a family in this circumstance? How does a bashful girl without a father cope?

See how a step-father, though blind from birth, came to help in that situation.

Follow the authors life through the struggles and victories of ensuing years.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 11, 2008
• ISBN: 9781462840984

Melba Elledge

Go with the author to Bollinger County, Missouri. See life in the post depression era. Be touched by the author’s life as it evolves from the shy, timid back woods girl that she was, to the big city, and then back again. In your mind meander with her to experience some of the same feelings you may have had as you too grew up in similar circumstances. Or to experience them for the very first time. Just maybe you will feel enriched as she shares with you. This is the author’s hope.

Book preview

Copyright © 2009 by Melba Elledge.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

42259

Contents

Chapter One

I Remember

Chapter Two

Change

Chapter Three

Renewed

Chapter Four

Spring

Chapter Five

The Truth

Chapter Six

Life on Castor River

Chapter Seven

Happy Times

Chapter Eight

Jake

Chapter Nine

Rattle Snakes and Copperheads

Chapter Ten

More Change

Chapter Eleven

Dating

Chapter Twelve

A New World

Chapter Thirteen

Beyond Graduation

Chapter Fourteen

Teaching

Chapter Fifteen

The Wedding

Chapter Sixteen

Married Life in the City

Chapter Seventeen

Starting a Family

Chapter Eighteen

First Things First

Chapter Nineteen

The Ministry

Chapter Twenty

North Acres and Beyond

Chapter Twenty One

Bethel

Chapter Twenty Two

Hopewell

Chapter Twenty Three

Arbor

Chapter Twenty Four

First General Baptist Church of Advance

Chapter Twenty Five

Post Retirement

Chapter Twenty Six

Question Marks

Chapter Twenty Seven

Thar’s Gold In Them Thar Hills

Chapter Twenty Eight

A Rich Heritage

Chapter Twenty Nine

Some Things I Have Learned

DEDICATION

I dedicate this work to my teachers, perhaps all of whom have already passed from this life, both public and church school teachers. I think of my college professors who must have seen me for the backwoods girl that I was, smiled, and then did their best with what they had to work with.

Most of all, I thank my family for their love for and patience with me. And for my God, Who actually is the Author of this book. Thanks to our daughter, Joyce Elledge Hale, who did the cover art.

Chapter One

I Remember

On Thanksgiving Day 2002, Dennis, our youngest son, asked me, Why don’t you write your autobiography, Mom? Immediately I said to him, Well, pray for me. I had never thought about such a thing and well knew I would need the good Lord’s help. Then as I began to consider, I had no idea what to think about, much less write about. Among a few remembrances, the thought I Remember, surfaced. Could that be the name of the book? (A few days before he had approached me, I was awakened with, When am I going to write Christian writing? If that was the Lord speaking, it was, when was He going to write, through me. I had been writing a book about my mother. Also I was writing another book. Then I thought, maybe I am to write my remembrances down first, thus the halt on my other books, right in the middle. After that perhaps God intends to help me finish the other books I was working on. I hoped.

Now on December 10th, 2002, the thought, remember, popped in my head. Oh, yeah maybe I should start this, I thought. So here I am, remembering, excepting of course the first chapter as you will see.

Dennis, thank you, for asking me that question. I hope you will not be disappointed.

The scripture references used are from the King James Version. Cover art by Joyce Elledge Hale.

Surprise Birthday Gift

Reva, you should go ahead and plant those peas. The weather is nice and they should be in the ground soon or we won’t be able to plant any this year. Today is the 11th of March. They sure will taste good with new potatoes and green onions along about Memorial Day.

Reva was a dutiful child, but being only 11 years old, wondered why her mother was not helping her in the garden today. Sometimes her mother did not feel well, but today she had seemed on top of everything, with extra energy to spare. And patience. She was having company as well.

Papa had hitched up the team to the wagon and was gone to fetch Aunt Holly. Why today? It wasn’t even Sunday, and gardening was in full swing. He had even taken Jean, her two-year-old brother. The way she figured, that would leave her sister, aged 8, and Eldo, 6. Eldo was watching Elwood, who was 4. Not much help, if you asked her, especially with Papa gone and Mom having company. It did seem strange, the way she looked at it. Virginia wanted to drop the little peas in the ground. That meant she would have to make the holes all down the row and then cover them carefully after Virginia dropped them. The peas had been stored since last spring and there was only enough to fill out the two long rows the length of the garden.

Papa had plowed the garden and the soft smell of the brown soil was rising in the crisp spring air. Birds were busy, hardly noticing the girls, as they quietly flitted here and there with the twigs, strings and other building materials for their nests—nests where they would raise a family of four or five little songbirds. But now, like the Eaker family, each of them went about the business assigned to them. The old shoe on the corner fence post seemed to be right for Mr. and Mrs. Wren. A blue bird stopped there momentarily, but even with his fierce determined look, saw that it was already taken and flew on. It’s mate, not as brightly colored, joined him and both were investigating the hole in the tree near the garden.

Virginia, come on. It will be lunch time before we get done!

But look! Aren’t they pretty, she exclaimed of the birds. Well, pretty is, as pretty does! Reva dutifully informed her sister. She had heard that axiom many times, and it seemed to apply here. She also remembered last year when those two blue birds flogged her when she got too close to their nest of little birds.

Come on, let’s hurry. Maybe Aunt Holly will bring Parthene and we can play. Somehow that didn’t seem possible, what with the strange plans that seemed to be similar to the time two years ago when little Jean was born.

The young girls returned to the duty assigned them. Dig, drop, cover. Dig, drop, cover, as Reva with the hoe made a little hole, Virginia dropped two peas, and then Reva covered them.

Earlier, the warm sunshine had gently clothed the girls but now they removed their sweaters, hanging them on the fence, when they reached the end of the first row. The little wrens flipped their tails in the air and darted nervously about until the girls were again a safer distance from them on the second row.

Eldo and Elwood came bounding up behind them. They had finished their chores and were up to frightening their sisters. They stopped short of where the girls were, and planned to say, Boo! suddenly jumping into their faces. But Spot, the dog, got to them first and spoiled their fun.

You boys! exclaimed Virginia. What are you two up to now? You’d better leave us alone. I’ll tell Mom, she lamely warned them.

Ha, ha, ha, betcha’ can’t catch us, they chorused, and they were off. The dog took the cue and leaped ahead of them bouncing back and forth to see which way they were going. Soon the girls had a moment of delight as they got a glimpse of the returning wagon. Spot also was ready to welcome the approaching party and forgot the boys as he lifted his head with a bark that sounded threatening to anyone who didn’t know him. His bark is worse than his bite, Papa always said of the family watchdog that was pet, companion, friend and even helper—dutifully helping to bring in the cows. To the girls there was both delight and disappointment. It was always exciting anytime anyone came to this farm. Being located where it was, there was no passing of travelers. Anyone who came within miles definitely was headed here.

Our farm was the center of the earth as far as we were concerned. Spreading out below us to the south was our barn, chicken lot and pigpen. The pasture was on a hillside beyond that. The far away hillside lay across the creek; another one led to our school some two miles away through sage grass and woods. To our right, up the hill, a rough rocky road led to the Null’s home and beyond them was the church. Veering off to the right down a path that sometimes resembled a road lay the Fowler place. Beyond that, and some more miles, one wound through the woods to Sank, our trading place. Only the Fowlers came from that direction; certainly no one as far away as Sank ever came. In between the Fowlers and Sank, the road led by a house that had various renters from time to time. In fact, some years later when Virginia married, she and her husband lived there for a time. To the west, past our garden, was a lane lined with catalpa trees that bloomed with a beautiful lavender cluster in the spring. Later on in the summer, they flourished with the most vicious looking worms that devoured the leaves from the trees, to the very last one. These big fat worms were about two and half inches long, with black and yellow stripes running the length of their green bodies. With a little horn-like appendage at one end, they scared the socks off of you if you should decide to pick one up. Either end could come at you.

Years later, after Norman and I were married, someone told him that these creatures made good fishing bait. Mom had moved by this time, but there was a row of these trees not far from where she now lived. We were down on vacation and chose a good day to go fishing. With a container to keep our catch in, worms I mean, we proceeded to go for our bait. Now Norman had never seen this type worm before. He had been used to the earthworm for bait, tame little creatures, though yucky as all get out to put on your hook. I’ll never forget his first encounter with retrieving one of those catalpa worms.

Confident and with the usual matter of fact inclination to get on with whatever he was doing, so he could get on with the task intended, that of going fishing, he reached for one of those pretty critters. Now what he didn’t know, and I had no reason to suspect that he needed to be informed, because as I said, I grew up with these things, but you reach for one, and suddenly one end will attack you. Most often we used a twig to provoke the aggressive behavior. Either end of the worm could be provoked to such action.

Now mind you, Norman only had fishing on his mind, even if it meant dealing with such wild-looking worms. Imagine his reaction with the first action of that worm! He just about jumped three-foot high, as I recall. And it didn’t take him all day. Well, the fishing expedition may not have been all that successful, but the bout with the bait was something to remember.

Now years later, where we live in Advance, we have one of that same kind of tree. Fortunately these have no worms. (Yet!) But out on the farm where our son and wife have a cabin, there is one of the catalpa trees, and yes, each summer you can find all the fishing bait you need. For the brave in heart that is.

So it was past that quarter-mile line of trees and across the creek we could go to other neighbors. Two roads, one up a steep hill wound through the forest and down to where several of our cousins lived. The other road led to the right, north and west, up the same hill, through the woods toward the Cazaad place, which was situated on a knoll surrounded with fruit trees and a garden spot. From there it was some twenty miles to Lutesville, and about the same, southwest to Zalma.

With the barking dog and two little boys joining the approaching wagon as it entered the yard, the two gardeners watched expectantly. No, Parthene was not along, thus to their disappointment they remained in the garden. This must be more than a social call they concluded. They watched as Aunt Holly was ushered into the modest little house. What was surprising to the girls was that the boys did not gain entrance. Instead they came running to the garden with news that all four of them could go to the Fowlers to play for the afternoon.

Papa said so! the boys chorused excitedly. This all seemed strange to the girls, but what orders like that could be ignored, even if the brothers had it all wrong. Papa was always kidding and joking with his family, but when he gave orders they were not to be taken lightly without consequences, so they happily obeyed these orders even coming by a not so reliable source. The girls wiped their hands, and brushed their hair back from their faces and left the hoe, peas and the task at hand by the garden gate.

The girls looked knowingly at each other as they followed the boys, who were already headed up the hill, with the dog barking excitedly alongside them.

Reva thought to herself that this would be a nice birthday present, since she was turning eleven today. There would be no other fanfare for the occasion, except maybe the usual ritual that went like this: Someone had you lay over their knees, then gave you the right number of licks, counting off One, two, three, four, etc. And of course the last big lick with the loud pronouncement, And one to grow on! No one had even remembered to do that much for Reva on this busy day. Sometimes the children would try to put the birthday person under the bed—if they were not getting too big, and Reva thought to herself that she probably was.

The sun was sinking below the southern hill behind the Fowler’s