Marion Co TOC

This column contains snippets of wonderful stories and memories. I have never met Mrs. Shipman but I look forward to her column and it's normally the first thing I read when I receive the Echo. Mrs. Shipman has been kind enough to allow me to share with you some of her stories and memories.

July 5, 2001:
     I always like to do a little genealogy along the way, and this time we stopped in Webb City were, once upon a time my great Uncle William Dillard and family lived. This was during the mining time here in the Ozarks and was rather closely connected to the mining operations in Joplin and Webb City, Mo. He was a wagon driver and did other odd jobs. It was a busy place and a lot of work was to be done--hard work.
     While there, we discovered he lost a little child, Earl A. Dillard died December 2, 1911 when only two months old. So it must have been a very sad time for them.
     William "Bill" was the youngest brother of Grandpa "Doc." He was married to Nancy Parlaee Cown, of whom I was told, when she was eight years old, her parents bought a hotel in Harrison, Ar. And moved there.
     Bill passed away at the county hospital in Sacramento, Ca., on the 30th of November 1957. Since his wife, Nancy "Pearl" was buried here in Arkansas, William had expressed many time to his children that he wanted to be sent back to Arkansas to be buried by his wife. Jean, his daughter, arranged with the mortuary for him to be put on the train and be brought back to his beloved home place, the Ozark Mountains and laid to rest by his loving wife, who had born to him 12 children.
     Grandpa Dillard also worked at the mines and drove an ore wagon, I have been told. Once upon a time, (You cousins, when I tell stories, this is the way I remember it being told, and fi you remember if differently, I would love for you to write your version of it,) it was told how grandpa's wagon was loaded and coming up that steep hill from Rush Creek mines, when he decided to unhook the horses from the wagon and leave it on the side of the road until morning. He did and his boys knew it, so to play a terrible prank on their dad, as they often did, they moved the wagon, tore up bushes and ground as if the wagon ha sure enough run off down into the deep hollow. The next morning when grandpa saw the disturbed ground and no wagon, he was unhappy, to say the least, and he raved and his language was colorful. He falsely accused one poor feller, who had just gotten out of the pen, and was cutting such a shine, that his boys thought it best to tell him the truth. It was worth it all to them to see that "fit". They dragged the wagon back to its rightful place and continued on their way.
     I don't know if he had his stiff collar and tie on or not, but I also have been told he wore a tie a lot of the time. Once when Mr. Reece came to see him about farming, I guess, and Mr. Reece went back home and related to his folks, " I did see Doc and he was out in his corn field plowing and he had his tie and stiff collar on." I wonder if he had his round straw dress hat on.
     Grandpa Dillard was a farmer and did raise lots of corn and I am convinced, from the wagon story along with the "Shine" cut when his baby daughter Rosa (Dillard) Davenport slipped off and got married, that he raised a lot of CANE also.

July 12, 2001: Top of Page
    Once upon a time, two white men by the name of McCoy and Bill Clifton had bought a barrel of whiskey and were heading up the creek with it in a canoe. The men knew how much the Indians loved that firewater and were being very quiet and as close to the other side from the Indian village as possible. McCoy and Bill knew they would be in big trouble if they were seen. They got into big trouble.
     A crowd of Indians had collected on the shore and gave the two men a sign to bring the canoe to their side of the stream. The men ignored the signing and worked with all their strength pushing that canoe as fast as they could. As it happened, the Indians were running along the banks and headed them off upstream. Then trouble began.
     McCoy headed for the hills, but Bill stayed to defend the barrel of whiskey. He used his canoe pole as a weapon, but to no avail. There were too many to fight. The Indians dragged the canoe to their side, got the treasured barrel and turned the boat back to poor Bill, and on his way he went, empty-handed.
     The white men knew that trouble was on the way, even if Bill was mad enough to have whipped the whole settlement of Indians, had it been in his power. The white men gathered all the arms in the village, put them together and stood guard over them with clubs. Sure enough, all the Indians, little, big, old and young, got drunk and kept up a terrible yell night and day for half a week.
     A few of the white men visited the Indians, but were very careful to avoid trouble. (I wonder if they had a little nip of that whiskey.) Even old Bill visited them and sought revenge for his loss. Each time he caught a drunken Indian away from camp he would knock him down and stomp him, then let him up and wait for another, then do the same job over again.
     I don't know if or how the white men got their drink past the village. Maybe that is when the "wildcat stills" started.
     I am glad things were settled around here when the Indians occupied Shawnee Town in the 1820s. It was said that white settlers visited them from far and near. The Indians erected several small huts from cedar logs, mainly, and the logs were notched on top, whereas the white man notched their logs on the bottom.
     I guess it worked both ways. The "top notch" huts were lived in by white men and the Indians moved on and the white settlers moved in.

July 19, 2001: Top of Page
    Once upon a time, when my mother had to under surgery at the Rollins Hospital, at her final examination Dr. Guenthner did it. Mother was not pleased, because she thought Dr. Rollins was the one to perform the work. When Dr. Rollins explained that Dr. Guenthner was really the one to do the surgery, it was all right, because her trust was in her doctor and from then on Doctors Rollins and Guenthner were number one in her thinking.
     John Rollins of Harrisonville, Mo., the namesake of the good doctor and hospital, came to the car races at Flippin Friday and Saturday nights. He spent both nights at the home of Joretta (Davenport) and Johnny Marcusen of Maumee.
     Joe Barnes, Charles Robison, Leon Shipman Jr., Steve Davenport and Louie and Julie Stoops did a good job at the church house here. Not only did they get rid of the poison ivy, but uncovered two large copperhead snakes. There was one complaint -- when Louie was asked if he skinned the snakes to save the skins for further use, he hadn't. He was rebuked for being wasteful. There could have been a hatband and belt made.
     At least those two snakes won't bite now. When Daddy Pate was alive he tried to keep a check on snakes. Once upon a time the church house at Mull was a store with a gas tank in front, as most little country stores had at that time, and Daddy, seeing a hole in the ground where the old gas tanks has been, knew it must be a snake den. He poured some gas down the hole, struck a match and dropped it into the hole. The earth shook for several feet around. Hwy. 14 and the church house survived, but I'm sure the snakes didn't. What memories a day of cleanup will bring.
     Daddy built some mighty fine snake traps, too. He could also get rid of them by grabbing their tails and giving them a quick jerk, popping their head off. He protected us from them, but also scared folks awfully bad with the same.

July 26, 2001: Top of Page
    As I have been staying with my daughter Beci, who lives in Maumee, south of Walter Creek, I have been thinking about "once upon a time" when my mother, Cora, lived here with her mom and dad, brothers and sisters. I wonder how it was and what all they did. I visualize how she looked when she was a young girl from the pictures I see of her when she lived in Maumee only a few yards from Beci Coffey's home.
     Uncle George and Julie McAllen and family lived just across the road from the Charlie and Sophronia Davenport home. Our neighbors were near, but I remember some of the stories Mom told me of how she and Aunt Metta, George and Julie's daughter, would go home with each other, but always went home before breakfast to start their day's work with their families. The jobs included growing crops of corn, beans, potatoes and other vegetables. Another chore was to go to the spring and get buckets of water to drink, wash dishes, cook and wash clothes.
     On wash day much more water was needed to pour into the old black kettle to boil clothes in lye soap to make the white clothes were white and the work clothes clean. The old-timers knew the sun would help draw the soil out and bleach the white clothes whiter. The dish rags needed that, since the wood stoves were very sooty and often got very soiled.
     Yes, the spring was so important when my mother was a little girl living in Maumee. I can almost see her as she chunked up the fire under the old kettle, punched the clothes with a broomstick, then returned to the rub board to scrub the clothes until her knuckles were rubbed raw from the strong lye soap. That job generally took the entire day with a large family-which I think was why the day was called "wash day." Most every day is wash day now, with the push of a button. Would Martha say, "it is a good thing"?
     The next day was called "ironing day." The old wood stove was heated up, irons were placed on the hot caps of the stove and a "swipe" rag was placed on the ironing board or table you were performing the job on. The clothes, having been dampened down as they were brought in off the clothesline and rolled up, were ready to iron.
     I can think of how she must have learned how to test the iron by dampening her fingertip and quickly touching the iron to see if it would "boil spit."
     It has been interesting to talk to folks this past week about how their mothers ironed sheets, pillowcases and even sometimes the underwear and diapers.
     Perhaps with materials now, taking them out of the dryer and wearing them mi9ght be another "good thing." Mother and Aunt Metta perhaps could have spent more time together as children and had the time period been as now; buying your food, running water, washers, dryers and wash-and-wear clothing, but would it have been "a good thing" and would my mother have been the mother she was had she had all the modern conveniences?

August 2, 2001: Top of Page
    Talking about all this food reminds me of a story which happened once upon a time at Rush. Of course, at this time period there was not a lot of entertainment for young folks, or old either, to attend. When a get-together was at hand, everyone wanted to attend, whatever it was. Well, this one particular time was a revival meeting and, as the story was told to me, as long as the preacher could get someone to come, the meeting continued. Of course, the young may have gone for a different reason than the mothers and dads, but it was good to be around neighbors, friends, "fellers" or sweethearts. Whatever the reason, the preacher seemed to begin getting an appetite for some good old country cured ham and had gone to the church house to pray and send his request up to God above. Lee Medley, whom many of us remember being at Rush, was passing by the church house and thought he would supply that wish, as he listened in secret to the prayer.
     Lee went back to his well-filled smokehouse and got a good smoked ham and returned to the praying preacher. He slipped up to the window, then pitched the ham in. Hearing the thud, the preacher looked up to find his prayer had been answered. (I bet he went home and friend a big iron skillet full and had gravy on the side.)
     That night his testimony went on and on abut how God had sent it to him and no doubt he was thankful and thought he had it made, for sure, until...
     ...Lee Medley, who had come to the meeting, began to twist and turn. He couldn't sit still any longer without letting the truth be known. He stood up in the congregation and confessed, "Preacher, the Lord didn't send that ham, I did it myself."
     It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop, then, almost without a word Webster left out, the preacher said, "Well, the devil may have brought it, but the Lord sent it."
     I think he got to eat the gift of country cured ham.

August 9, 2001: Top of Page
    Ever since Heather (Jones) Pitman called from her home in Little Rock the other day, I have been thinking of the request she made of me.
     Once upon a time when she was a little girl, and as she grew up, she heard Corky Craig and I do a lot of programs. She asked me to send her the words to three songs we generally had in the programs; "The Hound Dog Song," Four Nights Drunk" and "Grandpa's Pig Pen."
     I think the late Corky Craig has been remembered so much for the song (which was a true song she composed herself), "Grandpa's Pig Pen." For you who grew to love the song, and you who have never heard it, I feel you would like to have the words. You see, her Grandpa Whit Davenport (my uncle) really had this pig and Corky happened to be on hand when this thing happened. It was so amusing to her that she wrote this song:
     "My grandpa had a little pig that he called Old Betsy. He fed her in the morning and in the evening, too. Betsy got so fat, she couldn't even waddle. Love and fond affection were all she ever knew.
     "Down in the pig pen early one fall morning, Grandpa fed Old Betsy all that she could hold. Betsy was expecting soon to have a litter. Grandpa thought a dozen and maybe even more.
     "Down in the pig pen early one cold morning, Betsy had her litter, but only two small boars. Grandpa stood there glaring and Betsy lay there grunting. She had done her best and she could do no more.
     "Grandpa said, "Old Betsy, why did you deceive me? I've been out all night and my poor feet are froze. When I tell my friends, they will not believe me. No more belly rubbing, just a board across the nose."
     Corky had another verse to it she always sang, but explained to the audience that her mother, Floy, didn't like it, so I reckon I won't write it. It sure is true and cute, though.
     I did send the words to all three songs for her to use at some programs. I hope her parents and sister Robin thought to deliver them, as they went to spend the weekend with the family.

August 16, 2001: Top of Page
    Somehow I still remember things of once upon a time and I was just wondering, do you grownups remember how thrilled you were to find out hat cute little boy or girl was still around for another school year? Do you remember when Mom got that pretty clean "Gold Bond" or Red "Indian Chief" tablet and a pencil ready to be sharpened and the eraser not yet used? (My eraser always got used up before the rest.)
     Then there were all the books, some new, some old. The old ones had interesting things inside besides the lessons, such as, "Turn to page so-and-so, turn to another," etc. I never could find much at the end of the "turn pages." It probably was much to the owner when it revealed the secret, "John loves Ruth."
     Do you recall how cold it was to go to the "johnnie house" or, tin the country schools, on one side of the hill?
     How about the games we played; hopscotch, jacks, wolf over the river, still sticks, stink base, tag, fox and hound, kick the can, and we never tired of playing dolls and cars, cowboy (with stick horses) and sailing an airplane in the house when weather was not convenient to be outside. Poor teachers.
     Do you remember the lunch hour? (We called it dinner.) I remember the sack lunches when the jelly would run out of the biscuit or slice of bread if you ha "light bread." Sometimes the egg wasn't quite done and it ran down on your clothes, and the milk, if you were fortunate enough to have it, might be "blinky" (that is just before the milk "clabbered"). Now, what should I say to you who never saw or drank clabbered milk? Forget it. You will probably never experience that taste, anyway.
     Do you remember when we had to wait on at bus at school while it took one school group home? That was fine if "that feller's" bus was on a similar run. I was fortunate there.
     Our children, grandchildren and great grandchildren are making memories, as well as getting an education. Let us help to make good and wonderful memories. They will know how to read and write their names, anyway.

August 23, 2001: Top of Page
    I had a good talk with Euga - bond in our school days - Shockley on Monday. What a pleasure it was. It seemed the question about salt pickles came up with a friend and the directions they didn't recall.
     When Huber, her husband, called for the information, I told him I would look it up. I too could not remember how much salt to use for how long, but I found my directions, called Euga and gave it to her.
     This started us off on how we remembered once upon a time when we were still kids, how our mothers made those cured pickles and they would keep for so long.
     When we became homemakers we recalled how the slimy unappetizing brine looked which covered the pickles.
     A weight held the cucumbers down in the brine and cloth covered it. Each day this was removed. We decided it looked so bad, we felt it wasn't' fit to consume. We ate them they were good. The pickles are supposed to last for two to three years.
     I doubt if the old-timers food lasted that long though. Remember the salt pickles you could buy stored in a large barrel? I reckon that was the good-old-days, but we didn't buy many since we lived on the farm and did the curing and canning.
     This conversation led to the making of crepe paper flower decoration. It seemed she had written an article concerning this subject once.
     Her family used to do this craft each decoration as we have expressed in the Echo, I believe. I never did learn very well how this flower making went.
     Mother generally had so much cooking, washing and house cleaning to do she didn't do many crafts. But she admired the things others did like that.
     My plans right now are to purchase some beautiful colored crepe paper and get to work maybe with Euga's assistance. Since we didn't have florist wire back then, I asked what they used. "We saved our old screen wire and pulled the wire from that" said Euga. I think I can come up with that.

August 30, 2001: Top of Page
    The kitchen, in my growing years, was so special to me, warm, cozy and full of good smells. My taste buds always began to work when I ent3ered Mom's kitchen. Some of the sweetest memories were in what we called "the old house." This was located in front of where our dad had our new rock house built during the hard-time years, when 50 cents was a day's wages.
     Once upon a time there were no beautiful cabinets, cabinet tops or lots of cabinet shelves, but my mother once said, "I can go to my kitchen on the darkest night that comes and put my finger on anything I need." Wish I could do that, but in the first place, they didn't have all the things to keep up with. They used a hand mixer, which really was their hands, so no use for all that precious space to be taken up with a mixer. The bread was stirred in a single bowl with flour, in which a hole was made in the middle, a pinch of salt, a dab of soda (depending on how large a crowed was going to eat), then came lard, say a small handful, mix with the fingers, then pour buttermilk in the middle of the mixed-up flour and, as the flour was gathered up from around the hole in the middle to form a soft dough, there was no need for measuring spoons or even a stirring spoon.
     Neither did she need a space to keep a biscuit cutter, because she just pinched off a piece of dough from the ball she had made, about he size of an egg, gave it a whack with her floured hand and placed it in the pan. Oh my, what wonderful fluffy biscuits came out of that woodstove oven-that is, if the shelled corncobs were brought in from the barn to give the oven a boost at bread-making time.
     I have heard when young'uns would ask their mothers what the soda was for, she would reply, "To make the dough rise up so the biscuits will be light and fluffy." (Our mothers took great pride in this art.) When they asked. "Why the salt?" "To make them taste good." "Why the dab of lard?" "To make them tender." "What is a pinch of salt?" " It is what I can pick up with my thumb and forefinger." "What is a dab?" and so on until you would think, "Am I telling a story like Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf?"
     I guess it's easier on young cooks to get a cookbook when it states clearly "One teaspoon, one tablespoon" and how many cups. I catch myself doing pinches and dabs, maybe because of the old saying, " "You can't teach an old dog new tricks." I do need more room on my cabinet, though.

September 6, 2001: Top of Page
    When I saw the picture in the Echo of Gertrude McClain Jones on her 94th birthday, it brought back memories to me of her mom, Julie (Davenport), and George, her dad. Each time I go over Maumee way, I pass their old home place. I think of how it must have been for them back then.
     In our Dillard Tall Tales, Recipes and Three Songs, there is another special day written about Gertrude at age 92. This was written by Carolyn, and I quote: "One of my favorite people to visit is 92-year-old Gertrude McClain Jones. She is realted to a lot of us on the Davenport side of the family. Her mother Julia (Davenport) McClain, was my granpa Whit's aunt.
     "I work for Joe Davenport, who is also my uncle. He has a paving business on Hwy. 202 between Summit and Flippin. One morning, Phyllis Snyder, Gertrude's daughter, called the office wanting Joe to haul some gravel to their driveway. When the work was finished, Phyllis and Gertrude drove down tot he office to pay for the work. The wanted to invite Joe and me to lunch the next day at their house. Gertrude says, it's just beans and cornbread. We go to their house at noon and there was Gertrude stirring fried potatoes and dipping a cup into a pot of beans to scoop them out in our plates. While we enjoyed the feast of pinto beans, sauerkraut, fried potatoes and cornbread, with big goblets of iced teas on the table, Gertrude entertained us with family stories. She said, "Once upon a time when Floy was born (Floy was Uncle Whit and Aunt Rosa (Dillard) Davenport's first child) Whit was looking for someone to stay with Rosie to help with the baby. Whit and Rosie lived at the old Bulter place and we lived at Maumee.
     "Whit came and got me and we walked over there and wasded the Buffalo River. Rosie was about 14 or 15 years old and I was younger than she was. I stayed a week and helped Rosie cook and we played with Floy like she was a doll. I washed dirty hip-pins (diapers) and hung them out. Whit gave me $2.50 and boy, I thought I was rich!"
     I reckon the old saying "God takes care of children and fools" must be true, because Floy survived.
     Caroly continued, "Gertrude said that her sister Pauline was 'struck on' Bazze Dillard and she was 'struck on' Austin Dillard."
     When they asked what they would do for birthdays and holidays when she was young, Gertrude replied, "They always liked to go out to the old Maumee store. There was a great ol' big wheel of cheese that they kept a cheesecloth on; whole pieces of bologna hanging up in there; and they kept bolts of material to make up for sewing." She said at Christmas time they would order their candy and it would be put out in big wooden buckets. She said they would have soft puffy candy shaped like bananas and peanuts. Her favorite of all the candy was the hard candy shaped like ribbons.
     Another story she told was about "once upon a time" she and Lizzie (Williams) Dillard, who later married Clarence Dillard and they became the parents of Jane Rose, ruby Pyle, Ernestine Noeller and Joe, were asked to sit up with a corpse. Gertrude was about 12 or 13 years old and Lizzie was only a little older than she.
     At that time, when a person died the family would get someone to "site up" with the dead person the night before they were to be buried the next day. The Smeltzer girls' mother had died and she and Lizzie were going to sit up with her. Gertrude said, "I don't know why in the world mother let me do that, but off to the Smeltzer place we went.
     "It got dark and the wind was a-howlin', old cats were yowlin' and every once in a while here would come first one then the other of those Smeltzer girls, peeping in the door."
     Gertrude has eyes as bright as a robin's and when she told this tale, you could just see the mist swirling outside and hear the wind howling when she said, "Me and Lizzie were scared to death."
     Gertrude, you have lived, and are living, a very eventful life. Happy birthday, and may you have many more, along with your stories of years ago.
     I got hungry for that ribbon candy while writing. I don't have any, but I went to the candy bowl and stated eating those old-time orange slices that stick to your teeth when you eat them and I love that taste and feel of the grains of sugar crunching between my teeth.

September 13, 2001: Top of Page
    I have had folks ask me to write something about once upon a time when Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) Camp was located about 13 miles on Hwy. 14 S.
     Many local boys joined this camp, as well as from other counties and states. This was a great help to the boys and finance to their families. I don't know how much money was given to the boys and their families, but one CCC camp in Missouri stated that the boys received $8 and $22 was sent home to his family. That doesn't sound like much now, but was an abundance in the '30s.
     The boys had training that could help prepare them for jobs after their days in the camp. They learned to work with tools, heavy equipment, cooking, office work, and building with native rock (the rock quarry is evident at Buffalo Point Park on the hike to Pebble Spring or the Indian Rockhouse), hewn logs and lumber. The old rock cabins and lodge in the park, and the beautiful rock walls, were constructed by CCC boys when the park was a state park. Many landowners were asked to donate land. My dad and mom donated land where the top pavilion is located.
     The camp provided recreation for the boys, which we locals were allowed to participate in. There was an Ample Theater, which was a treat for us young people, since shows were something for us, because the closest theater was at Cotter. There was a tennis court, recreation building, barracks, kitchen-dining hall and other constructions. The water for their use came from Desoto Springs.
     So many things can be written about this, but not enough space this time. I don't dare close without saying what a nice thing it was for us teenagers. Many Marion County girls married CCC boys and have lived happy lives.
     Girls, was it not a great time?

September 20, 2001: Top of Page
    We had another sad thing happen to our family. U.D. Lynch passed away Saturday morning. We are hurting with all you children, grandchildren, brothers and sister, as well as so many friends, especially in Marion and Searcy counties.
     As I sat down at U.D. and Almeda's old home place with some of the children, we began to think of so many things which had happened on that place, even when Ebb and Mary (Davenport) Williams owned it. How they raised their families on this farm and all the times Aunt Mary would take off during the rain, sleet, snow or sun to help a sick neighbor or deliver one of the over 600 babies she numbered. The children must have enjoyed going to Water Creek, which ran through the farm, for a cool swim or bath after a day of working in the fields of hay, garden or truck patches.
     Uncle Whit and Aunt Rosa (Dillard) Davenport lived on this same farm and some of the stories their children tell are things never to be compared to any other family of kids, just ask Glen, or maybe better, ask some of the others. We love you anyway.
     After that family, Almeda, their daughter, and U.D. bought the farm and raised their family there for many years. Now the yarns they can tell are almost equal to their aunts and uncles, but some of the aunts and uncles were carried over into this generation and how I loved to g visiting with my cousins.
     Their daughter Gwen and Wesley Shipman are the owners now and the place will continue to be loved and taken care of in their special way. This is where folks are gathering before and after U.D.'s funeral.
     This is where I heard a few comments. Once upon a time when U.D. and some other men he was with were eating in a cafeteria, they noticed a poor feller come in and they knew he was in need of food. The men said, "I believe we should get him some food," but U.D. said, "Naw, that man can work, let him buy his own." The subject dropped. The men went out after eating and happened to look back to see what had happened to U.D. He had bought hat poor "working" man some food. His bark was much worse than his bit, don't you think?
     Carolyn Vigna said she remembered when he was in the Army, he wrote to her mother, Almeda, and her two brothers, Raymond and Danny, that he was sending her a birthday present. She said they were all so excited, they watched daily for the mail to come. Finally that day arrived and there was a package from Korea. They lost no time in opening it. Who cared if the paper was ripped? Just open it and let us see. Of course, there was present for each of them, but she only remembers hers. It was a beautiful kimono and doll. Oh, how she wishes she still had it, but the family had a great loss with everything gone by fire. What a shame, but the beautiful memory is still there.
     Carolyn remembered when on holidays they had lots of delicious food, but U.D. would always think of some less fortunate families than they, so off with some food to share with them.
     He was a hard worker and expected everyone, including his family, to be likewise. He and Almeda were active in our Ralph-Caney Fire Department and we will miss them at the Caney Firehouse Saturday evening, Sept. 22, when all that barbecue dinner will be served, with fine desserts to fit your taste. Remember that old-time saying, "Come one, come all."

September 27, 2001: Top of Page
    Does anyone have a coal of fire? Mr. Walt Williams remembers that old-time saying. Well, the weather the first of this week tell us it's time for that coal of fire to be kept handy. Some of us still like to keep a few live coals in the fireplace and woodstoves to be able to start a quick fire the next cold morning.
     Once upon a time our mothers and fathers knew what wood would make the quickest, hottest and longest burning fire. The long-burning wood or the cookstove was so good to keep going with a pot of beans, whippoorwill peas or a batch of meat cooking slowly and the heat of the cookstove would keep the house a little warmer in the cold winter time. The fire in the fireplace was something not only for warmth and beauty, bur for safety. You never wanted to put popping wood on unattended. This caused many homes to burn or a hole to be burned in of the braided rugs which took you so long to make.
     This time of year reminds me of when so many men had to work in the timber after the crops were gathered. Once upon a time when ties were cut and the demand was great, Charles Robinson said his dad was sent down to this part of the country to cut and float ties down the Buffalo. He mentioned a company from Missouri who hired him and Florence Davenport's father, Dixon, was the foreman. He mentioned how they slid the ties down the river off of Tie-Shoot Bluff.
     He told the story of a group of men who would back the wagon up to the bluffs to unload and once made the mistake of getting too close; the wagon and team both went off. I asked if the man was in the wagon--he didn't know. Then I wondered if this could be one of the groups who camped out and had to keep the fire full of coals to cook the beans. Did I tell you about the men taking turns and the first one who complained of the food had to do the next meal? One cook sure did put he salt to the beans. When they sat down to eat, one said, "My, the beans are salty...it's just the way I like them."
     I don't know if he was the next cook, but two lessons were learned--keep you thoughts to yourself and keep the coals alive.

October 4, 2001: Top of Page
    My kitchen cabinets are made out of the old George Davenport home he built many years ago. I was made to appreciate them even more when Jean, Byron and I were discussing things. I asked her if she remembered Grandpa being gone a year before he brought a load of wood back into the house.
     You see, another story came to mind when once upon a time during a cold winter he went out for firewood to replenish the fireplace. He was gone and gone, as I think I may have told you. The family knew nothing about him and his body wasn't found, so they figured he was at least still alive. He was, and returned in about a year with, "Whit, you've let the fire go out."
     We had a laugh and Jean said, "Did you know Grandpa George was a basket maker and sold baskets to help get the money to build their house with?" He was such a grand carpenter and built a fine house for the times, and I am thankful I still have a little remnant of his work in my kitchen.
     What I wonder is, could he have gone to the Indian reservation for a spell? Just a thought, folks, no documented information.

October 11, 2001: Top of Page
    Now we do misunderstand what non-Arkies say too. Once upon a time, for instance, Carolyn Robinson while clerking in the Burley Baker Store, had some people ask how to kill chiggers? It was not all that plain to her, she thought they said chicken. Of course, she began by telling them to ring their necks off. (That is the way the folks around here had chicken to eat, just grab it and start ringing.) They wanted to know how big it had to be and she said, "Oh, about two or three pounds." The poor strangers looked confused, when someone helped Carolyn decipher the queston. So you see, it is not always our language, which is confusing and misunderstood.
     The other day, I was reading in our old book, "ABC and XYZ of Bee Culture". I remembered reading something about he remedial value of bee stings. I know this is a good book. May be a little bit out of date, 1935 edition, but after talking to Aunt Flo Davenport about bee hives and honey, I needed to refresh my min on the matter. Aunt Flo said her dad sometimes put on his bee bonnet, which was made to protect the head, face and neck. Gloves and long sleeves were worn also, but she said the stings didn't seem to bother her dad. She said once he was stung by about 35. She told about, once upon a time when she was quite young, she was eating her lunch and a bee happened to be on her bread and stung her on the lip. How it did swell---and HOW the "kids" did laugh at her because she looked so funny.
     Well after reading up on these stings, I wondered if her dad ever had rheumatism? The book reads, "It has been reported that bee-keepers during their occupation., continuously exposed to stings, and acquiring immunity to their effects, never suffer from arthritis, rheumatism, or gout. If they were afflicted with these maladies before taking up bee-keeping, they are usually cured with out suffering further recurrence." Some of the testimonies in the book reads like this: "In 1870, a veteran, who had acquired a very bad rheumatic ailment, was completely cured after being stung by bees. A retired facteur rural (letter carrier), whom for some time had been unable to walk, fully recovered after being stung by about a dozen bees. "Once more peculiar case." A woman with a paralyzed arm was stung by a number of bees and, as a result recovered the use of her arm." The writer of that article appealed to the medical profession to explain this miracle, suggesting and inviting a torough investigation.
     Since I had a son who was highly allergic to stings and had about two years of shots for immunity, I am not telling you to go out and get stung, and I don't want you doctors to loose all of your patients. Maybe you have beehives??

October 18, 2001: Top of Page
    Sometimes our school students are likely to misinterpret you teachers. I love the stage bands of our schools but once upon a time, a teacher was trying to impress one of the members of the band. He was explaining about the guitar he was (missing part) said, "The guitar is more than 2,000 years old," One "hip' student sneered and answered, "That's ridiculous, they didn't have electricity in those days!" I began to wonder what kind of a guitar and what did it look like 2000 years ago, mine is surely not that old.
     Then a lot of our students are so caught up in ball, they about eat, live and learn with it. Like, one time in history class, (I understand a lot history teachers are also coaches,) the teacher asked his students to list the eleven greatest living Americans.
     Everyone jotted their answers down quickly-except (I won't call any names,) who was setting there with all the wrinkled, up expression he could get in his young face and in deepest of thought.
     "What seems to be the problem?" the teacher asked. "Well," __replied, " I can't seem to decide on the fullback."
     Then of course, we are all interested in where different folks are from, (even in tracing our ancestry down,) so I reckon it also starts to be taught in school. One poor teacher was doing her best on this topic and asked the children, "Where do the Italians come from?" The little second grade child replied with a loud cry, "From Italy!" and "Where do the English come from?" Equally as loud, "From England! The Chinese?" "China!" "The Russians?" "Russia!" and where do the Irish come from?" Up leaped a little boy and screamed, "From Notre Dame!" You just can't fool a 'kid'.
     I have heard all kinds of complaints about new math from the parents. We don't understand how to do it and I wonder just how we use to manage and how we get along today. Again the ball games help out, I reckon. One of the kindergarten teachers was giving a little quiz on counting and started one little girl out with 1 to 10; the next child was to take over beginning with 11. This got a little bit out of hand when the little girl started, "11, 14, 22, 17, 28," The teacher was not too happy with this answer and felt she had failed somewhere along the line and asked, "What kind of counting is that?" The child spoke up proudly, "Who's counting, I am calling signals." They start out young in this ball thing.
     I must admit, I have shed several tears when my dad and brother would try to help show and explain mat to me but it never did happen to me like it did to one little boy. The teacher noticed a lump on the head of her young student and inquired what happened? The reply was, "Oh, it's nothing really, that's just where my daddy helped me with my math last night."
     Once upon a time when one of my cousins was going to a little one-room school, (all kids went barefooted,) the toes were a good way to learn to count. The teacher told him to count his toes. He did, and came out with the same number of 6 each time. The teacher got provoked and said, "Let me show you how to count. " she got down, grabbed the foot and proceeded to count. She got the same number, 6. He happened to have 6 toes on that foot.
     Don't ever underestimate the child.

October 25, 2001: Top of Page
    I have been fascinated by the story of Mary Seats as a young girl when once upon a time, while the family was living probably near Mountain View at the home place in a little community called Neunata, (I am not sure if that is the correct way to spell it-just put it down), while my grandmother was provided with a 3^rd grade reader for her schooling, Aunt Mary was sent to Eureka Springs for an education. I have a feeling she was suppose to come back and further educate her siblings, but I don't think that happened. She was married at age 17 in Carroll County. You can see, we parents don't have all the plans for the children carried out by them, but hat's the way it is.
     What I wonder also, what was the important thing about a 3^rd grade reader. Bill McClain told me that "once upon a time he had been told that Grandpa George Davenport was a well learned person and read all the time. He went to school until he was 18 years old, which was good for then." He said, "All of George's school years, he took his Bluebacked speller, and the 3^rd grade McGuffie Reader with him." This is the grandpa who use to tell his children that some day people will be flying through the air like birds, and grandma would say, "Kids, don't believe a thing he is saying, I think he is loosing him mind."
     He was wise, wasn't he?

November 8, 2001: Top of Page
    Our Davenport relations were remembered. One of the things Iris remembered some telling her, that Grandpa George made musical instruments but didn't' remember what kind. She remembered when once upon a time, the hills and hollers would ring with her Dad's songs as they would walk to school through the woods to Mull, she would hear Virgil singing. What a wonderful memory for a child to remember. She recalled hearing how the folks would get together and sing. Uncle Virgil played a banjo. I have heard Grandpa George wanted his children to learn how to play an instrument. I guess that would stand to reasoning if he made them.
     Thanksgiving is just around the corner and I can almost taste the turkey and dressing. It is not too long to election time either, and more hunting seasons will open up. Lots of things are going on.
     Thinking of election. Once upon a time there were more election places than there are now. I recall one out at the Burley Baker Store, and my! What a fine bunch of folks who cast their votes at Rush. It has not always been a ghost town. Even after all the hotels were gone, and the 5,000 people who worked at the mines were not there anymore, there still existed a store and post office with Lee Medley as caretaker.
     Rush at one time, was a lively place. The school children from the old Dillard School walked to Rush to compete in games, such as races, etc., and I remember going to a pie supper down there. So you can see it was a busy place, but then one day on July 27, 1954 was a primary election, which proved to be the last election held at Rush.
     Lee and Mary Davenport were kind enough to share a picture of this final day with us. Hope you enjoy it as I am.

Pictured are: (Back row: Junior Casting at the post, Bessie (Medely) and Cicil Casting and Lee Medely.
Row 2 from back: Mary (Martisic), Mable (Dillard) Holland and Jim Davenport and Lon Dunlap.
Row 3: Lee, Janice and Monty Davenport.
Row 4 from back: Eddie Davenport, Grace McCafferty and Berneta Davenport with the big smile.
      What a wonderful group.

November 15, 2001: Top of Page
    Virginia, you and one of your cousins were together a lot, and I guess that could make up for a whole lot. Do you remember when once upon a time you lived in Yellville, we were country cousins, Earnstine (Dillard) was staying with my family going to school, and you two cousins could find more excuses for Earnstine to stay in town with you--one of the reasons, which tried to be concealed, was to be with those good looking Callahan boys. My daddy Pate wasn't blind to that and Uncle Clarence, Earnstine's dad, had told my dad, to be by her like he was by us. Well at that time, we didn't have boyfriends at Yellville, but we were not allowed some of those privileges anyway, and how can a teenager see why it would be bad just to stay with her town cousin. Wasn't that a special time in your sweet young lives?
     One special time I remember when your family lived here, Virginia, your sister, Jearldean, came to spend some days with me, and when she went home, I rode out to Yellville with her and Daddy. While Dad was gone to do some business, I stayed there at your home until he came back through to pick me up. In between times, I really did want some curls. There were no home permanents, if there was to be any disturbance to the hair, it would be braided for a "kink", rag curls, curling irons you put down in the coal-oil lamp, or metal wave clamps of which my hair was too short, and oh how I wanted longer hair and a curl or two. I got a wish that wonderful day. I borrowed fifty cents from your mother and Aunt Veda, to go to the beauty shop and have two curls on one side three on the other side, which was a style for little girls. It was quite a thing. They washed my hair, put some of the bad smelling "stuff" on it, then hooked me up to this big machine, which had clamps every so hot if it touched my head. I have had a blister burned a time or two with the things. When I got home, I think Mother and sister Myra thought I looked alright, I did and that was the first time I got to let my hair grow out, because you never cut any perm off as long as there was a little, "kink". You wanted to get your money's worth and I did, the whole $.50 worth but...My what misery beauty can cost!!

November 22, 2001: Top of Page
    A lot of our fear and unhappiness are mixed with happy and carefree times though. I was just thinking about something one of my Dillard cousins told in our Dillard Gen. Book he had prepared for us at the Dillard Reunion, which his health was so bad he was unable to attend. Once upon a time when E.G. Dillard lived here in the Dillard Settlement, he wrote, "During the depression, we lost about everything. (The bad thing they had lost their dad,) I remember one day setting on the front porch not knowing what to do, as we didn't have a penny to our name, when I looked up and saw Uncle Bazze walking toward the house. He looked at me and said, "Dutch, do you remember the little pig I gave you?" I told him I did and he said, "She now has a litter of pigs of her own and I will give you $20.00 for her and you can have one of her little pigs." Without that $20.00 I don't know if we would have survived the depression. I have always been thankful to my Uncle Bazze."
     E.G. was also thankful for his mother who worked for $2.00 a week at a Hotel in Yellville and he worked on farms during the summer for room and board and expressed that he had many good experiences with his Uncle Troy Mears. He worked cleaning a pool hall at Yellville, before school time at YSHS. Also he worked at the Fee's Cafeteria. Here he met Sid and Reba Cole. They asked him would he like to go to California? He went with them and got a job in a restaurant before and after school. He was age 15, and how thankful he was to have a job.
     Doesn't this make us all want to help someone during a struggle and--be thankful for the little blessings?
     His family moved to Yakima, Wa. Where he joined them for about a year. Age 17, he headed back to San Diego, CA. Not having the money for a ticket, he walked or hitch hiked to Salem, Or where he heard a train whistle. He hopped the train, and remembered riding on top of the cars, going through tunnels, almost suffocating, as these were coal burners. He made it and later was drafted into the Army.
     We are thankful to all our Veterans and all our Fighters of today and this is being thankful for big blessings.

November 29, 2001: Top of Page
    Once upon a time, cars and trucks were few. As usual, Grandpa "Doc" wanted to try one out. He did. Although the thing died, couldn't it started. It provoked him "much-so" and he beat the thing, it still didn't start. He ran into a fence or two because the dumb thing could not understand the language of his horses, whoo, gee and haw. I don't believe he ever drove much after that, but his sons loved cars and trucks and gradually they all had vehicles. When Uncle Roy Dillard Doc's son, and family moved to Texas, in his early married life, he had a truck. Women didn't drive much either, but his wife, Aunt Veda (Mears) needed to go to town for something and she got into their truck to try out her talent of driving. She got it started, no problem and managed to stay on the road fine. It was when she had to stop that she was in awful trouble. She couldn't stop it. She drove around until she finally came to a stop on a hill. She then walked back to town to get her groceries. I wonder if there was a hill when she got back home to stop her. Experience is a dear teacher.

December 6, 2001: Top of Page
    Lots of time we have the privilege to relive a little of our "once upon a time." I did just that one day this past week. It seemed the little children at Bruno Pyatt, the Head Start Group, were learning about some old Ozark Culture. My part was to show them some ways children use to make paper doll furniture, cut out paper dolls, and simply play with them.
     Do you remember all the pleasure we "kids" had finding a Sears or other catalogue with the right size clothing models for paper doll playing? We naturally had to wait until the catalogue was out of date before we started cutting but at least the same time before it was taken to the out-house or toilet, as we called it. But he thing about that, we could still spend time looking and finding some we had missed. That was the life, wasn't it?
     The school children were very interested, and so were the instructors, and they had plans to continue to let the little ones learn the skills of cutting, folding, balance, color and learn-to play with something they have made themselves. With One paper chair, these skills can be learned, and the child doesn't even know they learned anything because it was play. So many ways to teach.
     Lee and Mary Davenport were looking good Sunday. I wish they could have stayed to hear Dwight Shipman deliver his sermon, but Lee get rather tired to sit through two services.
     I got to thinking how many things ins the pas Lee has seen change and I happen to run across this information he had given of once upon a time. Quote: "Seeing his first airplane fly over when he was a boy living at Desoto Springs. The first car he ever saw, a T-Model at Maumee. When you could buy all of the land you wanted for $1.00 and acre. When gasoline was nine cents a gallon. When men would drive hogs and cattle (by foot) from the Mull-Dillard area to the Summit Depot to be shipped to market by railroad, the first road grader he ever saw was drawn by a team of mules. Helping cut the right of way for Highway 14 with a crosscut saw.
     As a young teenager, he would drive a team and wagon loaded with cotton to Yellville, leaving before daylight and getting home after dark. His mother would fix a warm rock to keep hid feet warm in the wagon and have a worm flat iron in his bed when he got home. Walking from Desoto to Mull, which was Dillard at the time, to a one-room school where one teacher taught eight grades.
     It was stated, "the list can go on." I am sure of that from all the stories he has related to me, such as when he worked at the sawmills probably with steam engines.
     I don't know if he was working for his Grandpa "Doc" when Doc inquired about buying a new sawmill but when the company sent their price listings to him he said, "Ted, get a pencil and write that company. Tell them if I had that much money, I wouldn't need a sawmill." Well something like that--only his language wasn't that mild to the sales company.
     Lee, tell us more, I like to hear all that. Just make it up if you need to, it would still be interesting.

December 13, 2001: Top of Page
    I finished wall papering a bedroom the other day. I guess I got inspired while cutting out paper doll furniture from wallpaper. While discussing papering, I found out several folks had been involved in the same job. But it appeared some had gotten so involved, it was beginning to play on their good nature. It does get trying but I could solve their problem. Just do the job by themselves and no one can be blamed. How about that? As our conversation continued, I began to explain to this young man. Once upon a time wallpaper was unheard of around here. Consider when the log dogtrot houses were built. No papering, one less thing to get upset about. Then when houses progressed into boards, it was luck if the boards stayed close enough together to keep a part of the north wind and snow from blowing in. Then glory be! someone created some very thick wallpaper which could be put right over the newspaper the walls were covered with. The newspapers and magazines were not all bad. They made the house seem cleaner, warmer and besides there were pretty pictures and some children had their first reading lessons right in the kitchen while their mothers were cooking. This thick designed paper looked cheerful and rather shiny since it was put up with small nails driven through a washer type-thing to prevent the paper pushing through the nail head when the wind blew. How wonderful. Then wallpaper books were sent out from Sears, free. You ordered it and the border. This is when the disturbance began such as arguing, you know what I mean. No man wanted to fool with such a thing. The lady of the house got the flour out of the meal and flour bin, stirred if up in water, set it on the wood stove let come to a boil until it became clear, just like the starch our clothes were "prettied" up with. Let it cool, cut the paper sides, swipe the flour mixture on the wallpaper and on to the wall. I used the cuttings from the sides of the border for curls. Of course my hair was so short, there was not much to pin it to, but some way the walls were done. The cleanness and the smell was so wonderful...a "new lease on life", the old saying goes.
     Now days, you pay a goodly price for a scant roll, get junk to go on the wall first so the paper will stick, then cut to match run the pre-pasted paper through water and slam it on to the wall or hire ti done by a pro, which might save a marriage some times.
     Pick you choice folks.

Dec 27, 2001:Top of Page
    Once upon a time when our children were small, Marie (Dillard) and I learned to spell out names before the little ones. This was such a common thing, that it carried over into the adult world. This was discovered when Marie told my (by spelling) what she had gotten for her husband with him standing by-I got him a J-A-C-K-E-T. Well the laugh was on us.
     Wasn't it fun to get up on Christmas morning and see those stockings with a bulge here and a smaller bulge there and maybe a doll head sticking out of the top of the stocking?
     I recall when we really didn't put up a tree-then as I grew up and realized that was a custom to some; I just had to have one with trimmings. I remember trying to make decoration with anything shiny. I recall some of the first decorations Mother purchased. They were different colored tin foils with different cutout designs with several of the same designs sewn together. They could be stored flat. But on the tree, they were separated into round circles or balls. And how about all the red bells to unfold, some of them small, some medium and some large. Glass bulbs were so pretty but when they were broken, what a sad feeling. Popcorn was beautiful, but that was always hard for me, I loved to eat that too much. Even the buckberries were beautiful strung and placed around the tree. The beauty to a little child is something they can relate to and things of nature like the buckberry bushes they knew because they sometimes saw their mother make baskets from the vines.
     Can you remember when the big thing at Thanksgiving and Christmas time, the men and boys would go hunting? Especially if there should be a snow on the ground, to track the rabbits and what a feast there would be to have fried rabbit.
     Another special thing was to kill a hog and have fresh tenderloin for a Christmas dinner or one of those country-cured and smoked ham. Home made biscuits and ham gravy on the side. I can still imagine I see mother standing over that wood cook stove with an apron on left hand holding to the large skillet handle, turning those large slices of ham. What a beautiful thing to remember.
     Frankie Sue, I bet you remember all these things, don't you? We "Old Timers" all do and how abut when we would go out in the snow, the folks would wrap their shoes in gunny sacks to help keep their feet warm and dry. How good insulated shoes would have been. I guess progress is good after all.