Mama was a premature baby
She had to be carried on a pillow, for two years. They always said her head was so small, it would have gone in a coffeepot. Now I don't know how small a coffee pot was then. It couldn't have been very big. One of the first things that she could do, when she was tiny, was to ride in the saddle in front of her Pa. She learned to ride side-saddle, almost before she could walk. Other girls would ride side-saddle, until they were out of sight of the house, and then straddle their horse. Mama had her own side-saddle. She never would straddle a horse. If she rode a horse with a regular saddle she put her leg over the saddle horn. She would --- 'go like the wind'--'go like an Indian'. Mama liked to ride fast, us kids were always afraid that she would fall off.
She was so small that she did not start to school until she was 8. Her sister and two brothers rode their horses, when they crossed the river at Oaks Crossing. Sometimes the Brazos River would be up. Then the school kids would ride across the river on the Oaks Ferry, to get to the school, up by the Hittson grave yard.
One time she saw some Indians hunkered down, slipping along, tree to tree, at the edge of their school yard. She told the teacher. The teacher told them, "You sit quietly at your desks and be brave, no matter what happens." The group slipped on by, one by one and didn't bother them.
Dad Was Always Good to Mama
She didn't have to work in the fields, like she did before she married. When she had time she picked cotton, Dad did not tell her to. He did not tell her not to, either. Mama always milked 2 or 3 cows. She let the calves suck enough milk to raise good fat calves. Dad sold them. Dad never milked, he couldn't get it to come out right. He never picked over 100 pounds of cotton in a day either. Dad never expected us kids to do any better than he did. We didn't work hard Dad couldn't build a chicken coop. Mama could have built a house, with some one to go along with her. He couldn't cut the boys hair, nor shear a dog, Mama did all that too. Anything that 'fell to' Mama, she could do it. Dad was like me, neither one of us could 'sell a gold dollar'.
Mama's Garden
She always had a good big garden, it was down toward the fields, about 100 yards from the house. It was the other side of the big hog pasture. There was a big sand hole for us kids to play and dig in, and shade trees. Our sand hole, it used to be a water well, and it caved in and left a big hole. There was always an older one of us, to watch the younger kids. The two acre 'goober' (peanut) patch was next to the garden. The goobers were bailed. On rainy days, we liked to go to the barn and pick them off the bales of hay and eat them. There was always 2 rows of popcorn planted beside the goober patch. The first 4 rows were left for black-eyed peas, we all liked them.
Some Nights
After the boys come in from work in the fields or anywhere, we would go and tell Mama, "Mama we're not getting into anything to make candy", and she knew that we were. We would take brown sugar out of the barrel and cook it to syrup, and pull it between us to make taffy. Dad would get us started to playing dominoes or checkers, then he would 'go on to the barn,' and we would get to play our Victrola. We were so proud of it.
Etta got to 'pick it out', one time, at some kind of a 'To Do' (She won it.) We had 5 or 6 of the flat 78 records. Two were ragtime and there was "When The Roll Is Called Up Yonder' and another church song.
Summer Time
I remember it being cold in the winter, but I don't remember it being hot weather. We always had watermelons, and kept them under the house to stay cooler. We made sure there were always plenty under there. Sometimes we would buy a block of ice in town and roll it in an old quilt. We would bring it home and make ice cream.
'Aunt Julia'
A great niece, (Julia Minerva Hess Hargets' daughter) asked, "Aunt Julia, I never heard of you getting mad?" "Well, Theresa, I got mad one time and it made me sick for three days. I said I wasn't ever going to do it again." Anything new or 'outlandish' come along, she would say, "The very idy." It rhymes with 'tidy'.
One time Mama had been somewhere alone, riding her horse. She seen a little dog, a ways up the road ahead. So she 'started up in a lope', to see the little dog. She come to a gate, again she opened the gate and started on again, she had lost sight. But when she got home, the dog had got there, had a fight with all the other dogs, went on to the neighbors, and did the same thing. It was a mad dog, rabid. We all had to kill all our dogs and cats.
Any pregnant woman always stayed at home---and out of sight. They never went to town. When company come, they stayed in the house. Mama ordered things from Sears. Us kids loved to look at the catalogues. We just wore those 'wish books' out, looking at them so much.
Mama didn't like to undress all the way. For a bath, she would wash the top half and then the bottom half. Her sleeves had to come below her elbow. She wanted her dresses to come down nearer her ankles---than her knees.
"There's A Great Day Coming."
It was her favorite song that she liked to sing around the house.
Company
She loved company, any time, about the first thing that she asked them, was, "Have you 'et' yet?" If they hadn't had a meal, she would get up and build a fire in the stove. She would catch a fryer, out of the yard, and clean it. When she got it on to cooking, then she would go to the cellar and get a couple of jars of vegetables and a jar of peaches, for a cobbler. She would cook a 'company meal' for them. So quick and so good.
Mamas Little French Song
Mama was full blood French, she could understand it, but she couldn't 'talk it' When they moved from Illinois, her older brother and sister, Theresa and David, had been around a lot of French speaking people. There were very few around them, here in Texas. Her Mama and Daddy saw that their kids got along better with other kids, when they talked the same. They wouldn't let the younger ones talk French. She learned a little French song that she sang to her babies and the little kids. She got older and one day, Ludie and Jerry asked her to sing it. They wanted to record it. She couldn't think of it, she tried and tried.
A few days later, she thought of it---and she 'cut down' on it. Miss Ola, her housekeeper, come along, and it scared the stuffing out of her. She patted her and shook her and ask, "What is the trouble? What's wrong?" But Mama just rattled right along, and didn't pay any attention to her. Miss Ola saw Hanner pass the door outside, she run out and told him to, "Come quick, something is wrong." He run in and laughed and said, "There's nothing wrong. Mama is just singing her little French song"
Mama's Mother, Grandma Hess, had an accent. When her grandkids got loud or rowdy, she would call them, "Lid-del Debbils"---a lot. Mama Gill never used that word, but one time, that I heard her. A wild grandson, and she quietly come out with, "You Liddle Debbil".
Only One Snake Bite
Mama raised 8 kids on that place. None drowned and only one snake bite. JM was about 5, he was on the river, down the bluff, behind the barns with Dock. Climbing back up, on one of the stepping places, was a copperhead. It bit him on the foot, just above his ankle. Dock stopped at the barn to hunt for Dad. Dock sent JM on to the house, to get Mama to doctor him. Mama had Sis get some rags. She got the coal oil and a pan. She put JM's foot in the pan and poured coal oil on it. They tied a rag around his leg. JM remembers feeling good after Dad doctored him. They took JM to see Doctor Smith at Palo Pinto. Doctor Smith said, "Mote, I've told you, not to give these kids whiskey when they get hurt." JM was OK in a few days. Anything else than snake bite, Mama and Dad paid no attention to it. You didn't go to the doctor hardly. Mama always had a remedy.
One Remedy
Was to dig up a poke root. Poke has a big root that it comes up from, every spring. Poke root is brown, cut it up and boil it in water, take a bath in the water, and your itch will be gone. It will cure impetigo too. We had a certain family that would spread it, every year. The poke berries are red and make a brilliant dye. Indians and old timers have long used the berries, for dye. We all loved to eat poke leaves in the spring, it was the first fresh green thing that we had to eat. It will make you sick if you don't boil it and throw the first water out. It tastes good with scrambled eggs, or with cornbread and fried salt meat. It goes good with the first little wild green onions that come up in the spring. They are hard to find, but they are worth all the hunting. Another good "green' in the spring, was lambs' quarters. It mixes good with other greens. It grows around the barns, and is a little later than 'poke salat'
All we had to do was 'grunt'
or 'look peaked', and you got it. Mama doctored us. The medicine she used most, was 'liver regulator'. It was ground up leaves, she would cook it, and the pan would set on the back of the stove. You had to drink the juice and the leaves in the bottom, too. That’s what she fixed up, when one got 'too tight'. You get constipation, bad cold, or anything, you got a 'round' of it, (2or 3 doses). It tastes bad. But it always worked. I hated it. They used to hold me down. "Cam you hold one leg, Dock,you hold another. Black you hold her hand and Hanner, come hold the other one". Of course they won and the medicine worked. (Anne Louise Moore-Mama made me drink the same stuff. Now I will not drink any kind of tea, hot or cold.)
The Watkins Man
He come around once a month. Raleighs was a big company but they soon played out. He drove an old buggy, but it looked nice. Us kids would come running, and stand back and look. He had some toys, but we never bought any. We knew that we got our toys for Christmas. Mama bought castor oil, Epson Salts and red liniment. Watkins liniment cured everything. It took the place of coal oil (kerosene) and turpentine a lot. When you put coal oil on a sore, it would blister if it was bandaged tight. We took a drop of coal oil in a spoon of sugar, to doctor our sore throat. We used to get our bad colds doctored, with a 'greasy rag' on our chest. Lard and some coal-oil was put on two layers of cloth. It was pinned under our clothes, the smell would rise up and clear our head and throat. We hated that too, but it worked. When Vicks come out, we liked it so much better.
Mama bought face powder from the Watkins Man, she couldn't use browned flour, like the rest of us. It looked like browned flour on her. Some French are just a shade darker. Some say that comes from 'Black Dutch' ancestors. Mama and me were going to see a neighbors new baby. Mama heard they were going to name her 'Julia'. I said, "Oh no, the baby will be black if she is named Julia. " My cousin Julia Lynch is 'black' (just a shade darker). Hanner's girl, Julia Jean, is a bit darker too. I guess its about 'run out' now.
Julia
My Mama's grandmother was named Julia. My Mama's name was Julia. I named my youngest daughter, Julia Alice. We called her Alicea. Mama's sister Theresa (Tressie), named her daughter Julia Minerva.
When Mamas niece, Julia Minerva, married, Mama gave her a two gallon crock butter churn. Julia used it all of her married life, to churn her butter. She 'broke up housekeeping' (it hasn't been used to churn butter since) and gave the churn to Hanner's daughter, Julia Jean. She told her to pass it on down to the next Julia. The day that I died, Julia Jean met my great granddaughter Julia Elaine. Julia Jean told Julia Elaine about the churn and she was excited that the churn would be hers, some day. (My great grandaughter, Julia Elaine Moore. Her father, Ben, he would not even consider any other name for her. It had to be 'Julia'.)
Julia Boisso 1812 Lorraine, France
Julia Emily Hess Gill 1875 Illinois
Julia Minerva Lynch Hargett 1893 Mineral Wells
Julia Jean Gill Frensley 1930, Oklahoma City
Julia Alicea Knight 1933, Breckenridge, Texas
Julia Elaine Moore Conine 1981, Fort Worth
We had red 4 o'clocks
that grew in the yard. They come up from the root every year. They are a bushy flower that blooms in the afternoon. Some are pink or white. Everyone wanted the bright red, they are prettiest. And you could put the juice from the flower on your lips. You could get however bright, that you wanted. It was our only 'lipstick'. We pinched our cheeks for pink. We waited until we were away from Dad.
Mama's Biscuits
Mama could make better biscuits than anybody else. Her pan was 14 inches across and 3 inches deep, she kept it half full of flour. With her fingers she would make a little well in the middle. She would put in soda, baking powder salt and then add buttermilk. With her fingertips in a circular motion, she would push a little flour into the liquid. Her fingertips were pulling the dough and mixing it, quickly. Before you knew it, the dough clung together in a very soft ball. She tossed it out onto the floured dough board and flattened it with her rolling pin. She cut the biscuits quickly, and put them in the pan and stuck them in the hot oven. Oh they were good.
The morning after every one of her babies were born (and babies are always born at night), I carried the bread pan to the side of her bed, for her to mix the biscuits. Mama made loaf bread too, both my Grandmothers could beat her making the loaves. It was the only thing they beat her at. Mama was so quick and good at everything. I took care of the babies and we stayed back out of her way. I never learned to cook or sew.
Cobblers
Mama made the best cobblers, out of any fruit that she had. We looked forward to green grape pies. They were the first thing in the spring. Mustang grapes have to be picked green, before their seeds form and get bitter. They were especially good because of the butter that she put in them.
Fruit Cake
All of us had to make one for Christmas. Most people poured liquor on it, it kept for months. We just didn't put it on the table, except for special occasions.
Tea Cakes, they were our cookies. Mama made the best ones, and she made so many of them. The plain every-day cookie.
Noodles
We all liked noodles too. Mama mixed eggs and flour, a real thick dough. She rolled them very thin, cut them in narrow strips, and spread them to dry. We put them up on top of the smokehouse, where the dogs couldn't get to them---as they dried up there on the flour sack. They had to get some sun, to dry out right. We made a lot, and kept them for when the sun wasn't shining. It took a lot of them----it took a lot of whatever we ate.
The Pie Crust
The first paper plates that come out, were a grey color, thick soft cardboard. Mama got holt of one. She baked a pie and put it in the paper plate. Dad had a table knife and was trying to cut through the whole thing. He was just 'a-sawin' on it. He said, "Mammy, you have made some big mess's, but this is the biggest."
Pyrex Oven Ware 'come out', she got a pie plate for Christmas. We were all amazed that there were glass dishes that you could cook in. And it had a one year guarantee, too. She was proud of it and showed it all year. The next Christmas we talked her into using it. It broke in the hot oven, with a pie in it. And the guarantee had just run out. She wouldn't ever use another one like it.
Mama was the champion of chicken and dumplins. Granmama made big fluffy 'Southern' dumplins, but Mama's were the best. She fried guinea and sometimes baked a goose, when Granmama come. Uncle Jim, Aunt Anne's husband, would come and get a goose sometimes, he never paid for it. There used to be worlds of rabbits. There were cotton tail and jack rabbits both, and squirrels too. Jack rabbits are two or three times as big as a cotton tail. Mama fried the young, and made dumplin's out of the old ---- of anything she got holt of, animal or foul.
Mama made feather beds
from 'down', that’s the soft fuzzy feathers on the back end of a goose, There isn't much on each goose. She had 5 feather beds and plenty of pillows. A goose does not like it when she was caught and held. Nor to have her feathers plucked out---although they soon grow back. We just pinched onto the short downy feathers and pulled them out. We would hold the goose between our legs, or under our arm. Their head looking back. If they could get their head loose, we got a pinch that made a blood blister!! And then they squirted on us! We complained so-o-o much. Mama gave each of us two big feather pillows when we married. She shouldn't have.
Ludie remembers
It was hard job to 'make up' a bed with a feather mattress. It all had to be all 'took apart' every morning and the mattress, turned and beat on. The feather mattress was 'plumped up', to look rounded and pretty. You never sat on a feather bed, it mashed them flat and ugly. Dad would waller out a hole in the feather mattress on his bed. He wanted it left that way. I couldn't stand to look at it, we made up all the other beds to where they were fat and pretty. I would take the broom and beat on his bed until it was level. Dad would ask. "Who has been bothering my bed?"
Copyright © 2004-2005 by Anne Louise Moore - All rights reserved.