Gran and Grandma and memories at the farm

When we were kids, Melanie, Carrie and I spent time in Corsicana during the summers. We would split our time there between Mollie's in town and Gran and Grandma's in the country. The farm was always a big draw for us because Gran had a horse named Ace for us to ride, and that was huge.

I remember Gran got us a dog one year. Lucy was a basset hound, and I have no idea what he was thinking or where he got her. But I remember going with him to pick her up. Maybe he rented her? I don't know. But she ran back to her real home three times in one day. On Lucy's third abandonment of us, Gran was done. He refused any more attempts to make Lucy feel at home with us. He was over it and over Lucy. But if his goal was to make that trip that summer memorable, then Lucy the Bassett hound made sure of that. 

While we were there, Gran would take one unpaid day off from his job at the Daily Sun, and he and Grandma would drive us to Dallas and take us to Six Flags. Grandma would make fried chicken and brownies and we would have a picnic lunch on the grounds of the amusement park.  

God bless their souls for that adventure. They never set foot on one ride. They just shepherded us through the hot Texas sun from ride to ride all day long. When we ended the day there, the five of us would pile up in his old green truck and ride back to Corsicana. 

Of course we would get sleepy and of course Gran would have nothing of us taking a nap at 10 o'clock at night. As we tried our hardest to get in a little sleep on the ride home, he would yell, "WAKE UP!!" I thought he was the meanest man on earth at that moment. This man who had walked all over Six Flags taking us to any ride we wanted, and who was surely having as much fun as we were. Why would he keep us from dozing? When I got older, I realized he was a very wise man who knew he had to get up for work the next day and didn't want three chattering granddaughters keeping him up all night. The next morning would find us sleeping his work day away.

Sleeping at Gran's in the summer was always a challenge. There was no cold air window unit in their house like there was at Mollie's. They had one water cooler unit in the kitchen window that "cooled" the whole house. We all thought central air was the way to go, but Gran and Grandma were acclimated to warmer weather and thought their method of cooling the house just fine. 

I remember those hot, still nights lying in bed trying so hard to sleep and not sweat. Only when the attic fan rumbled on for relief, did the most blessed cool breezes come blowing in the open windows. And there was always at least one midnight whistle of a nearby train. It sounded heavenly and somewhat haunting to me. Remember....I was still scaredy cat me. 

While Gran was printing newspapers at work, my grandmother's busy days were spent washing clothes and hanging them on the line, cooking three squares a day, cleaning up after cooking three squares a day. She was the best cook ever. She could cook anything and worked hard in her kitchen. She would just get things cleaned up from breakfast or lunch and we would ask, "What's for supper?" She would huff and puff and shoo us away immediately. But I know she secretly appreciated how much we enjoyed her cooking. 

Her list of bests included Grans' favorite, banana pudding, peach ice cream, peach cobbler, homemade biscuits, fried chicken, fried quail, any vegetable that grew in their massive garden where you could find tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, peas, watermelon and huge Texas sized cantaloupes. Just to name a few. The garden was Bessie's grocery store, and if she needed an item, she would walk out the screen door and be off "shopping" for something for her meal, many times in her barefeet. She was a country girl at heart.  

Bessie Louise Webb was 21 years old when she married Truly Etheredge on May 15, 1926. She and Gran made a good team as they worked alongside each other on their beloved farm. But even when she was a little girl, she worked hard for her family picking so much cotton in one day it made her a legend. 

They raised quail and chickens for themselves, if you know what I mean. But Gran wasn't the only one "dressing chickens and quail." They did it together. And if you don't know what that means, it's wringing their necks, plucking them and putting them up for cooking later. It's brutal, but she was tough like that.  

They lived in town for a lot of their younger married life, and their one child, Billie June, was their pride and joy. Even as tough as Bessie was, she decided after childbirth she was good with just the one. Gran wanted more kids, but she wasn't one to forget the pain of childbirth. 

She was a self taught sewer and made clothes for her daughter and upholstered furniture and so many baby quilts I lost count. She was pretty strict and by the book, a major penny pincher and liked to give Carrie and me temperance lectures on the regular at the ripe old ages of 10 and 12. After our sit downs with Bessie, Carrie and I would ask each other, "What the heck was she talking about?"

The good news is that she mellowed with age and she loved to sit up late with us and gab into the wee hours of the morning. She was always interested in what we knew and what we were doing. I guess Mom came by it honestly, because Bessie was really good at listening. And even though she was kinda prim and proper, she wasn't so proper that she didn't laugh at Gran's somewhat bawdy humor. 

She was staunch Baptist and not so happy that her daughter married a Catholic, and even less happy that we all had to be raised Catholic. And at the time I had no idea what that meant. But now I do, and I don't blame her for her opinion of that. She had restrictions on church going with her grandchildren and I don't remember ever going to church with her. 

While Bessie was toiling away at home, Gran worked all day at the newspaper in charge of printing out the best paper he could. He was a loyal employee and lost more than one finger in the press while working there. He worked hard for little pay and no retirement. But when he got off work he came home to tend to his real love. He worked his cows and sheep and chickens and goats. He loved being outdoors and when he and Grandma weren't working, they would sit on their back porch reviewing life with our aunts Mollie and Nina, while we might all be gathered around shelling peas from their garden. 

Mom and Dad's families really liked each other. I didn't know until I was older that they weren't blood relatives. My cousins, who weren't technically Gran and Grandma's grandchildren, felt just at home at the farm as their six grandkids. That's just how they did it. And it worked. Because we all loved being there with them. 

We were like ants on a hill in the summers when we all managed to be in town together, a total of eleven cousins. We worked hard at playing, while the boys helped Gran bale hay, build fences and do anything else so they could spend time with him. He was a huge draw because he was fun, funny, patient and just downright amazing. 

I remember riding around on dusty, dirt, back country roads in the back of his truck. And when we were there for July 4th, there was a picnic in the backyard in the hot Texas afternoons and a hayride at dusk. 

I remember warm nights on the back porch enveloped in darkness, but filled with the thick sweet scent of honeysuckle. Gran freshly showered with the scent of his coast soap, would cut the honeysuckle smells. His shuffling feet coming down the sidewalk from the well house was always a sure sign he would sit down on the porch before bedtime. And I can still hear the symphony of crickets and their counterparts singing a song of beauty as we sat and listened in the dark. The serenading frogs reminded us summer was in full swing. 

I don't remember what we talked about, but I know I was drawn in by the sound of his gentle voice. Laughing uproariously at his barbing humor was a byproduct of time spent with him. Any story told by Gran was funny, even if I'd heard it ten times before. We all had personal favorites we begged him to retell. 

Gosh the sweet memories have flooded my mind, and it reminds me how thankful I am for my ancestors who made my childhood fun, adventurous, heartwarming and lasting. It's all as real a treasure as an old string of pearls. 

That place, their farm in Corsicana Texas, is as Dale calls it, "holy ground" for us. It's a place of happiness full of such wonderful times. Our favorite place with our favorite people. 

You have only to look at their faces to see how happy they were there. 

What a life well lived by them as they wrote a love story on each of our hearts.  

Truly and Bessie Etheredge sitting on their back porch in Texas.

That's what heaven looks like to me tonight.