Ethel Proctor-Life Story Part Four

My Book of Memories

by Ethel P. Formo

1910-1978

     We lived about 2 ½ miles from school if we cut through the fields.  It was 5 miles around by the road.  Since there were no buses and everyone was so busy in the fields, we had to walk to school.  But we didn’t mind.  We’d often rob the chicken coup on the way out and trade the fresh eggs in at the little country store near school for a pencil or a bit of candy, or whatever the “store man” felt like giving us.  I was afraid to take more than two at a time.  So I usually ended up with an all-day sucker or a pencil.

     But it was more fun just exchanging parts of our lunches with the other kids.  Mom would let us mix cocoa with thick cream to make a thick paste and spread it on our good home baked bread.  We were very popular lunch exchangers. In fact Mom finally had to put a stop to it because we were making more sandwiches than she knew we should eat.  We got pieces of chicken, cake, cookies, other kinds of sandwiches or whatever—even for our good cocoa sandwiches.

     I loved to play marbles and at home my older brother Elwood would teach me how to hold the taws to the best advantage.  Once in a while the boys at school would let me play after they found out I could play.  They felt an ego at whipping a girl and most of the time I was an easy target for to earn more marbles to play with.  But it didn’t always work out that way.  My collection finally grew and grew.

     Winter came with lots of snow.  But we could not miss school.  So Dad offered to run a school wagon, picking up everyone along the way.  That meant we had to leave home almost before daylight since he had to go back to where we used to live to pick up the two Jensen kids before heading the long way around the road picking up children at every farm house.  There were the Hones, the Marshalls, the other Hones, the Tuttles, the Calls, the Whitneys and several others. Our sheep wagon was full. We had lots of fun on the way, usually; but once in a while a fight would ensue.  It seemed that one or the other of the Jensen kids was always involved.  One day Dora took a biscuit out of her lunch bucket and threw it at Orville.  It hit the window at the end of the sheep wagon and completely shattered it.  Everyone teased Dora after that, that her mother finally would not let her ride with us anymore.

     Finally it got so the snow drifts were so deep the horses couldn’t pull the wagon through.  No one seemed to have a sleigh big enough so most of the time we had to walk.  It really wasn’t awfully cold with that much snow.  I didn’t sink in the snow very much when I walked but what a treat it was to ride on my big brothers shoulders when it got too deep for me.  Finally Dad rigged up a hay rack with runners on it.  Although it was open, the deep layers of hay or straw and warm blankets made it a gala ride.

     Easter came and it was time to get out into the fields to plant so we had to start walking to school again.

     Mom had made us new dresses for Easter and Easter morning as we left for church here she came with new hats for all of us.  Oh how very pretty mine was.  It was a very fine white straw.  It had a wide brim and mixed velour flowers all around the crown.  It had a band of yellow ribbon that ended in long streamers down my back.  Oh how very proud I was.  I had always thought yellow was the most beautiful color in all the world.  God made the sun, the moon, and the twinkling stars yellow and so very many of the flowers.  Mom had made a yellow organdy dress for me and I felt like a queen that Easter Day.

     Oh how I wanted to wear that hat to school.  Mom wanted me to keep it for best.  One day I couldn’t resist the temptation.  It was getting hotter and the sunshine was so bright.  I slipped back into the house after Mom left for the fields and got my hat.  Mom and Dad had both often said, “If you ever do anything you know isn’t right, or don’t’ mind, something bad will happen.”  But the temptation to wear my hat was too great.  I watched it like a hawk all day at school.  But alas, on the way home Orville Hone, whom I thought was my best boyfriend, sneaked up behind me, grabbed my hat and sailed it through the air.  “Just to make you cry so I could chase it for you,” he confessed later.  But later didn’t count.  The hat landed in the irrigation canal and went sailing away.  It seemed like hours before I could get it back.  Orville got it alright, but what a sorry sight it was!  The ribbon had shrunk and made the hat way too small to fit my head and the fine straw on top had spiraled so it looked like the dummy hats the teacher put on the bad boys in the classroom.  My heart was broken.  I did not have the courage to face Mom and Dad.  I stayed out in the yard hiding whenever anyone came around but oh how much kindling got piled up that evening.  The chickens got double rations and I searched for stray nests all over the yard.  Any excuse seemed a good excuse not to let Mom see my hat.  But, at last, no way could I hide it any longer.  Dad raised his hand as if to spank me, then laughed instead.  Oh, if he had only hit me.  It would not have hurt half so much.  Mom gave me a hurt puzzled look, then a twinkly smile lit up her face for a brief second.  “You see whenever you don’t mind something bad will happen.  Now you won’t have a pretty hat and we can’t afford another.”  That was all—but my heart was broken.  I had learned another lesson.

     Time passed and there was talk of selling the farm but since we were still very young, it did not mean that much to us.  Our minds were filled with other things.  Valentine’s Day was near, and since we had to deliver our valentines Mom said we could as long as we got home before dark.  We had walked the land many times so we know our way very well.  We became so engrossed in what we were doing; Mrs. Call had to remind us several times it was time to leave.  It was getting dark and the shadows were long.  We have to pass the McPersons farm where they had six beautiful peacocks.  Mr. Mac had put up a very high fence and even cut down some of his beautiful shade trees to make stumps for the peacocks to roost on.  We had marveled at the shapes of the stumps many times with dead branches reaching out at various lengths and sizes.  Letting your imagination run wild at these grotesque figures in the daytime was great fun.  But after dark they came to life and could scare the wits out of a saint.  Add the scream of a peacock and all badies broke loose.  I doubt the winged feet of Apollo could have covered that mile of land any faster than our short legs!  Home was heaven.  From then on when Mom or Dad said, “Be home before dark,” we were home before dark.  (Sixty one years later, I still have the one Darrell gave me—his choicest one.)

To be Continued next week.