The House on the Hill

The Family moved into the house on the hill in early March of 1941. There were four large rooms each joining the next with big hinged doors. Little identified the rooms for any special use. There was no sink, no running water, no cabinets or cupboards. Just four large empty rooms. Perfect for two little girls to run in wild circles screaming and yelling and slamming doors. Stairs climbed the wall in the "back" room to a long spacious room upstairs.



A chimney stood in the wall separating the two rooms on the east end of the house. This alone defined the rooms. One would be the "front room"where the family received guests, gathered in the evenings and carried out various household tasks. The other room would be the kitchen.



Mama supervised the unloading of the truck. The beds were set up. Two double beds went in the "front" room, one for Mama and Daddy, the other for the little girls. A large double bed was set up in the adjoining room for the big girls. The boys would sleep upstairs.



A large wood-burning cook stove was set up in the perceived kitchen. A large home-made cook table was brought in along with a long bench and four cane-bottom chairs. The beds were made and buckets of water were brought in from a pump out by the barn lot. A fire was kindled in the old cook stove and Mama started supper.



The smell of bacon, fried potatoes, hot bisquits and gravy filled the kitchen. The children warmed themselves behind the big cook stove before sliding on to the bench behind the table. Daddy picked up the baby and sat her on his knee. This is where Babe ate every meal until she became too heavy for this very special place.



The pot bellied stove used to heat the "front" room was stored for the summer. We had used the last of the coal before leaving Arkansas. Spring was coming. It would be warm soon. There was no need to buy more coal until next fall.

Bobbie and I spent the cool spring days in the warmth of Mama's kitchen rocking and soothing our hand made babies and playing with thread spools saved from Mama's sewing.

The Move to Missouri

The house sat there on the hill overlooking rich black bottom land. Actually, it stood on the edge of a ridge about three miles across that sloped south along the New Madrid fault line.

The family moved to the house on the hill from Arkansas. Although we were a pitful sight, I'm sure we were hardly noticed. Everyone rode around in a flat bed two ton truck with wooden, slightly bulging, side boards.

Mama and the babies rode in the cab, the rest of the family were tossed about in the bed of the truck along with the beds, cook and heating stoves, tubs, kettles, a few items of furniture, clothes tied up in bed sheets and of course, farming equipment.

Daddy turned off Highway 61 and we bumped along a for a couple miles on a dusty farm road before pulling into the front yard.

The family we were uprooting were still in the house. They had been dragging their feet about moving for weeks, maybe months. When they saw the eight or nine kids jumping out the bed of the truck and Mama exiting the cab with a baby on each hip they decided it was time to move on.

The house on the hill was ours. So this was home, a big two story house perched on cement blocks, wooden tree stumps and piles of rocks. As precarious as the house appeared then, it remains to this day to me a symbol of stability, protection, comfort, home.

Another Baby Girl

She knew the baby was coming, but it was too early. How much early she wasn't sure. This had been an unpleasant pregnancy. Two of her older children were married already and a grandchild was on the way. She had not been well for a year of so and the older children were not thrilled that she was expecting. She had nine children. Wasn't that enough?

She sent Daddy for the doctor. She hoped he hurried. She instructed the older girls in how to prepare for a birth and they were busy with anxious excitement. She sent the younger children to play with cousins on this cold February Sunday.

The baby was born without incident, but the doctor looked worried and she didn't hear a new born cry. "Is the baby ok?" she asked.

"I need to take care of you first." the doctor answered.

"No, take care of the baby first." she breathed. She could not bury another baby, not now.

The doctor worked feverishly with the baby, mainly because Mary needed immediate attention. He was about to lose two patients. The baby, limp, blue, and with no response was as good as dead. He dipped the baby in warm , then cold water. There was a small gasp, a few faint heart beats, then nothing. The doctor repeated the process again but still the baby's heart did not respond.

"Don't give up." came a desperate whisper from the bed.

" I will try one more thing, a shot in her heart. If that doesn't work, we've lost her." the doctor answered.

With an injection into the tiny heart, it began to beat. Gradually the tiny body turned pink. The doctor wrapped her in a warm blanket and handed her to an older sister. He then turned to the mother and once again worked his magic. Soon Mary inched up in bed and reached for the tiniest baby she'd ever had, another little girl.

The doctor wrote in his little book, "Baby girl, February 13, 1938.

New experience

This is my first experience using a blog. I'm a little uneasy but a lot excited.