Jesse Smith Decker born 10 April 1908 Taylor, Navajo, Arizona
Some impressions before the family moved to Day Wash¬
My first impression was that we were quite a large family, living in a small house, but we were all very happy because my mother, Achsah Mae Hatch was so cheerful and happy most of the time. There were five children older than I, and four younger children in the family. All of these except Freda, the youngest, were born in the old home at Taylor, Arizona. It was no wonder that my Mother dreaded to leave the old home and move to less than she had there, on a dry wash, two miles from the nearest neighbor.
The home in Taylor that I speak of consisted of a large main room, with a narrow lean-to on the north side. This main room was made of logs, which were chinked with narrow strips and then plastered over with mud. It was about twenty-two feet long and eighteen feet wide with a large fIreplace with stone hearth in the east end of the house. The chimney to the fIreplace was outside the main building and extended about a foot above the ridgepole. The lean-to was much narrower but a little longer than the main building and the east end of this was partitioned off as a bedroom.
Mother's bed was always in the main room and she always had one or two babies sleeping with her. I do not remember just when I was pushed from this much coveted nest but it must have been shortly after three years of age. I do remember that three or four of us boys slept crosswise of a folding daybed which was collapsed during the day to make more room in the kitchen.
One incident that is very vivid to me happened in the spring of 1911, when I was just three years old. The family had just been through a siege of scarlet fever. The older boys dressed me in woolly coat and cap and pulled me to Grandfather Decker's home for part or all of the day so that the house could be fumigated. That hat and coat and red wagon ride made a great impression on me.
Very little else do I remember until about two years later. I do recall two more incidents within those years. My brother, Don, was in bed with chicken pox and I envied him. When Saturday night bath came that particular week, my sister stripped me to the skin and then called Mother. They found me completely covered with chicken pox, bathed me quickly and tucked me in Mother's bed with Don, which 1 reveled in greatly.
Very plain is the memory of my brothers with the mumps. Their fat cheeks were not just comical, but were a condition to be sought for. Great was my disappointment when mumps developed for me, but were only two small kernels, one under each ear. I still remember the pain however, when I ate something sour and tried to laugh.
Either in the fall of 1913 or the spring of 1914, 1 was troubled with an unusual amount of tooth and ear ache. Since hot water bottles had not graced our home by then, my main relief came when a small sugar sack filled with hot rock was applied to my cheek and ear. When Mother was asleep or busy 1 would heat the rock salt in the frying pan on the wood stove, pour it back in the sack and take my hot bundle to bed hoping for relief and rest.
Many were the hours of enjoyment spent in the orchard below the ditch, paddling our bare feet in the ditch, jumping into the wheat in the granary, swinging between the locust trees in front of the house, jumping from the loft to the hay stack in the barn, and gathering green alfalfa from the ditch bank. Great was my disappointment when I realized these pastimes would abruptly end in the summer of 1915.
After Christmas of 1914 my great desire to go to school was first satisfied. 1 started Kindergarten work under Miss Anderson. She was blond and good natured and gave us each a valentine on Feb. 14. The inscription by the boy and girl on my valentine, the first one 1 had ever received read, "I wunder if she would schmile at me, if I gif her sunping nice." I had achieved! My teacher had remembered me, her newest pupil with a store valentine!
With sadness I remember the long and hard task it was to care for my brother Joy. [born with cerebral palsy] He was constantly fretting because of the pain and hunger in his body, yet could not get relief. He did not learn to go [to the bathroom] by himself at all until after he was seven years old and could not audibly ask for as much as a drink until almost five. His constant care was Mother's until her next baby came and then the neighbors and friends stepped in to succor him. Aunt Em [Emma] Smith bore the brunt of this load until Mother was well enough to take the full responsibility again. She took Joy to her home and cared for him. Sometimes one of the older boys went with her to assist and keep her company. Joy was a constant care and worry to the whole family and because of this was a unifying force many times.
Well I remember when Carl was born on Feb 16, 1913. It was very cold. Mother was tired out from handling her family of seven children with the youngest not quite two and an invalid, and carrying her eighth. Shortly after the baby arrived she became ill with pneumonia, a severe case. Neighbors came to help; the Doctor was rushed from Holbrook over 30 miles away; Aunt Em took Joy; Alma, Don and myself went to Aunt Jane Hatch's home, [another neighbor] took the baby Carl to care for him. That left Catherine, not quite 12 to keep house for Father and the two oldest boys, besides telling the nurses where things were in caring for Mother. From then until after the youngest child, Freda, was through college, Catharine carried some major load in the family affairs. The one exception was the two years she was on her mission in the Northwestern States.
Carl also stands out in my memory because of an accident in the family. It was in the summer of 1914. Our red wagon had been broken beyond use for some time. The older boys were in the process of fixing it Just six years old, I was elated at the prospects of having a wagon again. In my enthusiasm, I started swinging a long baling wire around my head. The baby toddled toward me to join in my glee, when the end of the wire struck him in the face and he fell to the ground screaming with pain. Great was my sorrow when I saw that I had hurt him, but it became mountainous when the doctor said he would not be able to see from his eye again, and it might be that he would lose the sight of both eyes. (He did keep the sight in one eye).
Following the fish incident on my seventh birthday, another memorable thing happened. The birthday was Saturday. Sunday was normal, as far as I remember-Sunday School in the morning and Sacrament Meeting at 2:00 p.m. Monday morning was a bustle at our house however.
We were awakened extra early and sent to school with the washing, which had been sent regularly to Sr. Perkins for some time. Sister Orpha Standiford, a midwife and a family friend, was at the house when we were pushed out of the door. When Lorenzo, Alma, Don and I arrived at the Taylor bridge, the sun was just rising. We stopped and put the washing on the bridge to watch the sun rise. While we were there, Lorenzo remembered that part of his school material was still at home. That was not at all unusual, so we just waited for him to go home and get it. When he returned he ran the last two blocks. We could tell from his face that something had happened. He burst out, "Guess what! We have a new baby sister!!! !" We were all dying to go back and see her because we had plenty of time. Then too, a girl was a sight to behold at our house. Six boys in a row had preceded her arrival. We were given a graphic description of the rarity by Lorenzo only after he had our solemn promise that we would not try to go home and disturb Mother. He was the only one of the four of us who had even peeked at her until she was ten hours old, but we spread the news on his testimony. Sister Perkins, the washer woman was first-then the early kids at school, then the teachers, and when school was out the whole community knew that May Decker had another girl to help after Catherine had been completely worn out! At least, that's how the gossip went.
That my Father and Mother were not in complete harmony in some of their major decisions disturbed me considerably as a child. The family, at least the majority, had moved to the ranch in the spring of 1915. Father, Mother, the baby Glena and I had stayed behind at Taylor to finish negotiations on their property. The house had been in Mother's name and she was quite reluctant to sign the deed for releasing it. Sharper words than usual were spoken and I remember crying myself to sleep, not because of what was said, because I knew they were bigger than the words they were using, but because I felt they were doing wrong when they could not agree completely on the action they were taking. One of my broad principles of married life began right there. None of my children should ever know if my wife and I disagreed on major issues, which directly affected the lives of our children. "A solid front, or no front." was my motto.
The summer before we moved to the ranch permanently had some memorable incidents also. It was that summer that Uncle Jim built his house just a mile south of the old Day Wash home. We had gathered a few range cows in to milk, but was called away to Taylor for some reason and asked Lorenzo to take care of them. Father was milking fIfteen or more range cows also. My folks were invited to a reunion or important church meeting in Snowflake for a few days and Lorenzo and I were left as the dairy men for the two herds. We would walk or ride the mile to milk Uncle Jim's herd, carry the milk back the mile, milk Father's herd and then put all the milk in a washtub and make cheese. We could not let grass grow under our feet during those few days! Lorenzo was eleven and I was six.
That fall the boys and girls of school age moved to Taylor before Mother and Father did. Mother had Carl and Joy (helpless) younger than me with her. She was not well and the last thing before she moved was to scrub the kitchen floor. I was elected by choice or necessity to do the job. Mother's praise of my job was extremely high for the miserable job I must have done at age six. Scrubbing brush on hands and knees, with a burlap kneepad and a small patch at a time was the method used. Mopping up was no chore because the excess water either ran through the cracks between the 12 inch boards or else soaked into the rough lumber.
It was that summer also that Don and I used to climb up to the attic on a straight up ladder and eat the dried apricots and the coffee beans Father had store there for his sheepherders.
The same summer, another page in the family history was written. Alma had typhoid fever and we children were sleeping in a tent near the house. Boys will be boys and girls will be girls about taking care of themselves at night Sometimes I needed to use the chamber pot in the middle of the night. This unforgettable night was one of those occasions. Catharine felt that her experience was such that she didn't need the kerosene lamp this time. I was in the middle of the bed between Don and Lorenzo. When Catharine and I thought all positions and angles were right I released all muscular control and bingo! I missed the complete circumference of the chamber pot and hit Lorenzo square in the face. There was a .sputtering and yelling by Ren, a putting on of the brakes by me, lighting of the lamp by Catherine and general commotion in the tent which ended by a general was up, sop up, and changing of beds. Never will I be able to live down this incident as long as there are brothers or sisters who experienced it.
Father did his best in his way to make things comfortable for all of us. He had a new school district organized and provided the best room in our new house as a school room. Catharine and we four boys were five of the necessary 8 children needed for such a school. Uncle Z.N.'s three, Joseph, Eunice and John made the other three. They lived a little more than two miles from the new house. Dick Reidhead, about Alma's age, lived just two miles away the other direction. Father managed to get the Reidheads in our district in spite of the opposition of Theodore Turley and others who were ram-rodding the Joppa School District four miles away.
With a maximum attendance of 10 or 11 pupils we started school that fall. Uncle Jim (then called Alvin) was the teacher. We had all new desks and books as well as a new room. The room was so new that it was not quite completed. As I remember the classes were organized with Catherine in the 8th grade; Joseph and Lorenzo in the 6th; Dick, Alma and Eunice in the 4th grade and John, Don and I in the second. Though I had only been in school one half year, Uncle Jim thought I could read well enough to keep up with Don and John who had both been to school for two full years.
This summer of 1915 was the last summer that Francis was with the family. He had attended the Snowflake Academy the winter before and had become very interested in athletics, especially running. Jess Pierce, Ann Manier and a fellow by the name of Poulson had all run some races in St. Johns and Taylor as part of the 4th and 24th of July celebrations. Francis was all fired up. He took Father's tongue scraper and leveled off a track in the back yard. On Sundays and other free times, he would get the four of us, Lorenzo, Alma, Don and myself in the back yard, strip us down to the bare essentials and we would run races. He named us according to his rating of these athletic heroes. Being the slowest, I was named after the lowest on his scale, Poulson. That was my name for a while, and every conceivable degeneration became my nicknames until I started high school. Each member of the family used his or her own pronunciation. Besides that, Father and Mother tried to call me Smith and Aunt Lena, Grandfather Decker's 2nd wife, called me Smiling Smitty. She was born in Germany, a convert to the church and she spoke with a very pleasing German accent.
On Sundays, since a branch of the church had not been organized we either went on a picnic or played games of some sort or raced [after scripture study]. This particular Sunday we had gone on a picnic up Bagnal Hollow which branched from Day Wash at Uncle Jim's property. We had enjoyed a nice ride and picnic and we were on our way home. Between Uncle Jim's and our houses we heard a commotion in the trees. Our dog and a coyote were fighting. The dog apparently got the worst of it and started running toward our buckboard [wagon], with the coyote close on his heels. As the two came close, Father and us boys sict the dog on the coyote. That gave the dog confidence and the coyote fear. Their positions were reversed and the dog pursued for about a hundred or more yards. The coyote then took courage and turned and came at the dog in great fury. The dog needed more courage and the chase was reversed. The chase was reversed again when they came near the buckboard. As I remember, the coyote put the dog to flight and pursued him at least three times. Father had no gun with him or I'm sure he would have helped the dog. The last time, the coyote continued running toward a limestone ridge, where we figured she had her young hidden. The dog had come too close to her happy home. The incident was very amusing to all but the dog and coyote, but I was always a little cautious of that limestone ridge when I went to Uncle Jim and Aunt Mabel's. I did not completely investigate the situation until I was older and then on horseback.
Lorenzo was a very dependable boy in all respects, even to the extent of entertaining us. One day during this particular summer had rained. There was a puddle of water by the kitchen door. He and Catherine had taken off their shoes and stockings and had gone wading until the puddle had become a muddy hole and slick with clay. Then the fun started. Lorenzo began sliding through the slick mud and singing crazy songs. We were all highly entertained until at the end of a six foot slide he hit his toe on a piece of metal or glass and the party ended with a sore foot.
During this summer we had enough milk from the group of cows that we made our own butter and cheese. Father often had buttermilk when it was available. The rest of the family often voiced their objection to drinking this plentiful beverage. When Father's sister was visiting us, I took the her by the hand to lead her to breakfast. As we got to the kitchen door, where the family was gathering for prayer, I announced in a loud voice, "Aunt Connie, I dare drink buttennilk." This has all the earmarks of an attention getting device and the family has never let me forget it.
Father and Francis came to violent disagreement that summer. [When he lived in town] the winter before, he had begun smoking on the sly. He was in his full teens (16) and thought he was a man. Father apparently did not consider him such. He wanted to be a cowpuncher and wished it so hard that he thought others felt as he did. He was obstinate and determined as are many teenagers, especially Decker teenagers. He and Lorenzo were quarrelling over a riding bridle. Father felt that Lorenzo was right. The argument grew warmer until Father thrashed Francis in front of most of the family as an audience. This so infuriated and humiliated Francis that he vowed he would leave home and did. He never returned to live with the family except as a hired hand 4 or 5 years later. It seemed ages to me that he was gone. To Mother and to most of us, this was the greatest tragedy that had ever come to our home. This final break came as a culmination of many minor arguments between them, which I knew little of at the time. My own feeling now is that it stemmed from the time that Father returned from his mission in the fall of 1910.
The two years [with Father gone] had been trying times for Mother. With me as her baby in arms and five children older she had been asked by the church authorities to be a widow for two years. This was not an uncommon thing in those days and Mother would have born the load even if it had not been common. The church authorities just had to speak and she would obey. During those two years, she not only managed the family but also sent money to Father every month. Grandfather Decker helped in many ways, but I can see Mother sharing her problems with the older children and teaching them that their Father was doing the most grand and glorious thing in the world. The children helped in every way, especially Francis, the oldest. Mother had confided in him her worries and fears.
When Father returned, Mother turned her problems and worries over to him.Their conferences were both night and day and little did either of them know how this was affecting their 12 year old son, who had been something before Father returned. Mother followed Father's advice explicitly and often due to the times, and sometimes due to misjudgment, fmancial reverses were experienced.
Father wanted more land. He invested in dry land, which did not return the investment immediately. Pressure was brought to sell his sheep. This he did at a loss. .. conditions forced it. He bought cattle at a high price, many of them old. There was a dry summer and a hard winter. Many of the older cattle died. Father still had his notes to meet with no cash on hand and a large family to feed. He was forced to sell part of his property. Although Mother protested, he sold the Taylor home and orchard, and moved to the dry farm. That meant cattle and Frances wanted to be the cow-puncher.
Father protested, mainly because of the rough company and that even increased the desire of the teen-age boy. Their disagreements mounted and the break came that afternoon with the argument over the bridle.
Thus started the many years of living continually at the ranch. With the Taylor home sold, the winters too must be spent 20 miles from the nearest town and more than a mile from the nearest neighbor. The house was built one half mile from the wash, our only source of drinking water and household water. This had to be hauled in barrels after being dipped from a well by hand. No permanent well was dug and when the wash ran we had muddy water to deal with. Nearly every spring or summer a new well was dug, either because the old one was dry or the floods had broken it in. Many times Mother had to use alum or egg white to settle the water so she could wash. Many were the times we got our minerals and penicillin directly from the water we drank.
In the fall of 1915 we started school in the only room in the new house that was inhabitable. Late in October Mother moved into the other two unfmished rooms. A blue denim curtain was used to partition one room into a kitchen and bedroom. The other room was used as a combination living room, parlor and dining room. Half of the attic had rough boards lain down snugly, not nailed, as a floor and that served as the bedroom for the boys my age and older. Catherine and the younger children slept in Mother's bedroom. Except for a few more 12" rough boards laid on top of the ceiling joists and not sawed to match and one adobe partition between the school room and the all-purpose room and upright joists in these same two rooms, nothing much more was ever done to make the house more livable until Alma, Don and I were able to handle tools. This episode will be mentioned later.
My experiences in school that first year were both exhilarating and disappointing. My brother Don, and cousin John, were both older in years and more experienced in school. My reading habits were poor. The advanced readers and the facilities available and the methods used did not get me over the hump into reading for pleasure and with ease. That winter and in the successive years I got into habits that have inhibited my learning patterns ever since. My success came in the mathematics drills. I was a little slow in combination and multiplication of simple numbers -memorization-but when it came to larger problems, 1 seemed to outstrip the other two boys in the class. This was a source of satisfaction to me. I knew my capacity and the matter of promotion was a worry to me. School came to a close too early in the spring for me, however. Catherine was graduated from the eighth grade and the proper promotions were made.
Besides teaching that first year, Uncle Jim still had an interest in his Father's cattle as well as had some of his own. He sometimes had to be away from home overnight, especially at round-up times. Aunt Mabel was young when she was married and had been raised in a city, therefore was afraid to stay alone at nights. Mother either invited her to stay with us or else let one of us boys stay with her. On this occasion, I was staying with her. Uncle Jim was not expected until late that night. They only had one bed besides the baby bed so 1 was sleeping with Aunt Mabel. Uncle Jim arrived home in the middle of the night and made me a bed on the floor by bringing in a straw tick from the tent. I spent the rest of the night on the straw tick. When 1 awoke the next morning, there was something hard at the foot of the bed. 1 started rummaging around to find what it was and found 1 had to get inside the tick to discover it. I fmally pulled from the tick a hen, exclaiming to Uncle Jim and Aunt Mabel, "I found that little thing". They, and later I, were amused that 1 had spent the night with an old hen as a bedfellow.
During the summer of 1916, the school picture changed somewhat. Mother was to have her tenth baby in December. Catherine was going to high school and Mother was to spend part of the winter in Snowflake. Uncle Z.N. And his boys built a one room cottage halfway between his ranch and ours. He had taken the County Superintendent's examination and was to be the teacher the next two years. Those two years all the children traveled a mile or more to school. A full day of school at the one room house was the experience of that little group. Eunice was to be the only girl, so Aunt Laura got Roxy Hall to live with them for companionship. That also helped the A.D.A.
So all the school facilities were moved a mile away from our home. Late in the fall, Mother moved to Snowflake. She took Carl and Glenavieve with her. About the time Mother moved to Snowflake, Aunt Lena took Joy to Salt Lake City to see what could be done for him. He was in Salt Lake and Ogden under special care until the next summer.
Mother's move to Snowflake left the four of us, Don, Alma, Lorenzo and I, at the ranch for a good part of the winter. Father was with us much of the time, but he went to Snowflake often to see about Mother and the rest of the family. One evening when we came home from school there was a front quarter of beef hanging from the rafters in the dining room with the sign "Have some beef' written in Uncle Jim's handwriting. Our diet included more protein the next few weeks. We four boys got along fairly well together. Lorenzo was in general charge. We staggered jobs as much as possible, but as I remember, the dishes were mainly mine and Don's responsibility . We had some kind of cooked cereal for breakfast, had sandwiches or some substitute for lunch and for supper we had bread and milk. We sometimes made our own bread. Mother tried to supply that from Snowflake by some method or other. We nearly always had beans cooking in some way, and nearly always had baked squash either in the oven or in the cupboard. Bread and milk was our main dish for the evening meal. A cow furnished the milk. Lorenzo was the milk man. This and other tasks made him about the last to leave the house every morning. We managed nicely until the Christmas holidays.
We lived with expectation toward these holidays - at least I did. We had expected to all go to Snowflake and spend the time with Mother. On December 14, our third sister was born and that made our holiday season filled with even greater expectations. There had been a few inches of snow the night before we set out for Snowflake. We heated rocks to take with us in the buckboard and put on our warmest coats as well as took quilts. The trip of 20 miles which took about four hours was a cold one. We were overjoyed to see our new sister for the first time.
Mother's apartment was too small for ten of us, counting our parents. Either the trip or the change of conditions exposed all of us boys to severe colds. The Christmas time was a happy one, but was uncomfortable because of the colds. Mother gave us castor oil. She tried to make it more palatable by putting a heaping teaspoon of sugar in the blue spoon of oil. To this day granulated sugar is distasteful to me.
Father was there for Christmas day but spent most of his time at the ranch to take car of the stock. About a foot of snow fell while we boys were away. He had made us a mile long path to the school house with the slip scraper. We used that path the rest of that winter as well as the next winter, even when the snow was off the ground. It was really the shortest way and we boys walked Indian fashion most of the time, especially through the snow.
We were not only fortunate, but blessed during the next two months until Mother returned with her tenth child and third daughter, christened Freda Seraphina. The weather was cold and we had to build hot wood fires in order to keep warm at night and get warm in the mornings. Mother had cautioned us about fires for fear that we would bum the house down.
This one particular morning, which was colder than usual, we were on our way to school when Lorenzo stopped in the path and said, "I fell like I've forgotten something. I'd better go back to the house". When he entered the kitchen it was filled with smoke. He found a few sticks of firewood too close to the cook stove. Some of them had red coals on them. He removed the burning sticks, rearranged the wood and went on to school, feeling sure that he had been inspired to return that morning. Rest assured, we checked the wood boxes every morning from then on.
After Mother arrived in February we were a happy quartet and I'm sure we all had a healthier respect for the part she played in our house. That spring I contracted quite a severe infection in my eyes. We used what remedies we knew of, but the after effects were weak eyes which have been one of my many weaknesses. I feel this did handicap me somewhat in my school. This condition was not corrected until the beginning of my junior year in high school.
Another thing I recall which impressed me that winter was the congeniality of all of us at the ranch. It was a great thing if we could get Father to tell us stories or sing us songs in the evenings. To enjoy these evenings we generally had a few pinon nuts for refreshments. We had gathered a larger amount than usual that fall. Greater was our joy when we could get Grandfather Decker to participate with us. He stayed with us a few times that winter as I remember. His stories to me were a little more enjoyable probably not because of their content but their length, and the number he could tell us. After he got started one of the four of us could always think of another one we would like him to repeat to us from a previous night of similar entertainment. So passed the winter of 1916-1917.
That spring was the first I remember that Don and I took the pigs from the pens and herded them on the hillsides where they could eat grass and weeds. The corn had run short and there were so many that this method was used as a supplement to their diet. It was a tiresome, disagreeable job to be a swineherd. That, to me, was the lowest ebb of a prodigal son. Nevertheless it had to be done and Father and Mother saw that we did it. The worst thing of all was the trouble we had from the first of August on. The corn had ears on at that time and some of the greedier pigs could inevitably smell that green corn. As soon as our backs were turned those pigs would make a beeline for the corn patch and leave the herd behind. Such disaster ended in us penning the main herd and then spending extra time to find the greedy swine. The next day it was even more difficult to keep him or her content on grass and weeds.
One of the trials of the family was the Hancock debt. Shortly after his mission, Father became indebted to Grandfather Decker for something more than $1000. Father hoped to pay the note back in the next year or so, but reverses made the payment impossible. Grandfather sold the note in a business transaction with Levi Hancock. His wife had an uncanny ability to put the pinch on Father for a payment on the loan at a time that pinched him the most. With 12 in the family and little cash crop I don't know when would be a good time to tap for the interest and part of the principle. This note pinched the family finances until after the family was grown.
One time when the Hancock family was paying us a collection visit, their son Joe wanted to show us just how good he could swim. We dry land boys were sure that our fins had not sprouted yet, therefore were careful about going into the deep part of the stock tank where we were swimming in the nude. Joe wanted to show us timid souls his aquestrian skills when he stepped into a hole and went under. He came up only to go down again. When he was finally helped to shallow water his only comment was, "That hole was a little too deep." The family was always compared to Joe Hancock in our swimming skills. Their evaluation in my case was about right.
The winter of 1917-18 was rather uneventful as I remember. It was my first home Christmas without belief in the mythical Santa Claus. Don would stay up that year to help with the last minute arrangements. I was so excited and envious that I was awake at least an hour after I had been sent to bed. The next morning brought many surprises in spite of my sleeplessness. I remember well the 25 pound box of candy and goodies furnished by Grandfather Decker and Aunt Lena. They spent Christmas with us that year. The fourth grade was complete by Don, John and I, Alma and Eunice finished the sixth and Joseph and Lorenzo finished the eighth grade.
Thus dawned the summer of 1918. Byron Pace, a cousin by marriage (we called him Uncle By), purchased the section of land just south of Father's 160 acre original homestead. He built a house for his family right across the street (sic) from us on the facing hill and had asked the trustees for the job as teacher. He and Addie, Adeline, our cousin, had a large family. Wilson was in high school. Beth was about Alma's age, then came Glenn, Ruth and Marian, with Magdeline not quite school age. There were younger children also. With the close proximity of this large family, the school facilities were moved back into our front room that winter. John, Eunice and Dick Reidhead traveled two miles to school that winter. I'm not sure that Uncle Z.N. stayed at his ranch all that winter. The one room school house was moved to his property to expand his living quarters.
When school began that fall there was a reorganization of classes. Don and John were obviously a little ahead of me in their work. Glen Pace was just my age. We remained in the 5th grade but Don and John went on to do 6th grade work. About every grade in school was offered that winter. Uncle By, as we called him, really had to spread himself thin. Uncle By could not finish the school year for some reason. His wife, my cousin Addie, substituted for him for a while and before the year ended Addie's sister, Lydia Savage Smith, was asked to take over the school. We were very happy with her as a teacher, at least we kids were.
The next year, Lydia was our teacher for the full school term. She and the two girls slept in a folding bed in the school room. Mother cooked at least part of their meals and Mary, the youngest, became Mother's girl during the day. Lenora, Carl and joy started school for the first time that winter. It was a struggle for Joy. He was bashful, the other children made him more so, and it was almost impossible for him to talk loud enough for Lydia to hear. He worked hard and made some progress.
It was that year that the fundamentals of society were opened to my vision a little. Lydia really taught Glen and I how to think through our problems. I had a little extra time on my hands, and every book I could find was read. Even my previous readers were read again to keep me busy. A waste of time was the last thing Lydia could tolerate.
My shoes wore out before the winter had passed that year and Father had to mend them one day while I was in school. The story is told by Lydia that I came to school one morning, which consisted of walking around the [comer of the] house in some of Mother's or Catherine's shoes. I'm sure I was embarrassed because they were not mates and were both for the same foot. I either stayed in for recess or else got my own shoes from Father, after he had mended them. The school year of 1919-20 passed without any major tragedies.
That spring my sister Catherine graduated high school. That was all that was needed to teach in the grade schools of Arizona at that time, if you could pass an examination given by the County School Superintendent. She took the examination and passed it. Then she went to Flagstaff for the summer to get what teaching helps she could get in Summer Session.
She started her first year teaching all the subjects to 6th, 7th and 8th graders and possibly most of the others. All of her pupils but 3 were close relatives and four of them were her brothers. Alma and Lorenzo came home for the Christmas holidays and brought the measles with them. The whole family took sick. Catherine, our teacher, was especially sick and school did not start as scheduled after Christmas because of her illness. She graduated two from the eighth grade and got two more of us ready for the eighth grade.
Although we had sung church hymns all our lives, that was the first year I ever learned any formal music. I can still remember some of the songs she taught us and benefited much from the few things she taught us about notes and key signatures. We had the organ in the school room as our musical guide.
The next year Uncle By came back as our teacher and Catherine taught in Taylor. His son Glenn and I finished the 8th grade as the only classmates. I did a little better than he did at school so was given top honors in the school register.
Catherine's six brothers were always a trial to her. She often had a girl friend come to visit during the summer months. These were great times for her and us except for the interruptions brought about by family pressures.
I was a constant snooper into family activities One particular night Catharine took advantage of my nosiness. I'll never forget it. She and one of the Hall girls had made a batch of taffy candy. She had threatened the rest of the family before she sat it on a shelf to cool and went outside while it cooled. These girls sat talking, giggling and watching just outside the window. I came by and started nibbling on the cooling candy. Before I was aware of my plight, two grown girls were trimming me to size with both tongues and slaps across my face and all other appropriate places. My feelings were completely crushed and my embarrassment in front of company was supreme.
A few more incidents should be mentioned and some comments made besides our school experiences during this time. Our social life consisted mostly of two or more families getting together for a picnic or dinner and at that time games of various kinds were played. These get-togethers were mainly on Sundays. The older people would play dominos or checkers and we younger ones would play ball, run-sheep-run or other games of activity. The ball games I did not enjoy too much, mainly because I was one of the younger ones who played, but partly because I could not see the ball too good. There were not enough of us at school to have a good ball game either so other games were resorted to.
Some of our Sunday activities included riding burros. There was a herd of wild ones on the range. We could drive them into the corral, rope them and attempt riding them. I always tried the smallest because I was the smallest. On one of the later of such activities I was riding one of the horses and just as the burros were turned loose I roped one. This was a rather husky burro and was going fast. I did not brace myself or the horse soon enough. The burro hit the end of the rope, pulling sideways of the horse and pulled me, horse saddle and all right over a rough cedar stump. Before he was stopped the horse was on the ground and my left leg was under her but on top of some rocks. I had a pretty sore leg for a few days. It was skinned from above the knee to my shoe top.
Harry and Harvey Turley were often around when we were playing with burros. This incident should show how stubborn burros are. These boys rode pretty good horses this particular day and decided they would try to swim the burros. Our stock tank was almost full of water and would make burros swim if they crossed it. After considerable chasing, they got six or eight of the biggest burros out to about belly deep in water. Try every way possible and they would go no farther. After a half hour of trying that, they tried to drive them out again - without success. They were close enough to the bank that we could hit them with rocks and sticks. After about an hour we gave up thinking they would walk out when we went away. Many time later in the day we tried to drive them out with no luck. Since they were a menace we did not drag them out with ropes but left them in the water at dusk. The next morning all of them had drowned. Father watched one of two in the last stages and there was no effort made by them to leave. They either just floundered over or else ran in sort of a circle until they fell over and drowned. We used them for pig feed and then burned the carcasses. Stubborn donkeys!
Father had two very good saddle ponies. One was called Jeff and the other one Legs. Legs had the highest spirits and was a smart horse. Father's cousin Silas James was working for us at the ranch. Legs was behind the haystack in a small pen and Si was trying to catch him. He had fooled Legs [sometimes before] with a nose bag. I could see from the other side of the haystack. I climbed up carefully to see what would happen next. This time Si had some oats in his hand and was trying to coax Legs to eat, then stand while he caught him. Legs came closer and started to nibble. Si reached for his mane. Legs whirled and kicked him twice in the seat of the pants with both hind feet. Legs was not ridden that day.
Si smoked regularly, but outside the house. He often stood on the east side in the sun after breakfast with his pipe. This morning was not unusual except he stood too close to the screen door and Don was chasing me. The outside was the only place out of his reach, so I bounded through the kitchen door and swung the screen door wide against the house. Si' s pipe got the full force of the blow. The stem was forced down his mouth to the bowl. We boys thought the incident very funny, but Si couldn't see it that way. He really bawled us out for not looking and I noticed often that he stood well past the reach of the door from then on.
One summer the tank at the house was about the only source of water for some distance. Grandfather, Uncle Jim and Father were gathering their stock. We herded the cattle each day in order that they would not scatter and thirst. Two went out each day, Grandfather and one other, but this day Alma and I were trusted with the herd. We turned them to graze and started for the shade, running a race. My horse stepped in a prairie dog hole and I and the saddle were thrown completely free of her, but landed on my head. It was a hard enough fall that I was knocked silly, but still I got up, helped re-saddle the hose and rode back to the house, more than a mile. Alma knew I was not normal, but put me on the horse and started me home alone. The horse knew the way better than I and I let her go whence she wanted. I helped Grandfather fIX the cinch but was obviously hurt so they put me to bed and I slept off the injury. It was 4:00 p.rn. before I awoke and was normal again. When I did awake I thought it was morning and could remember nothing since we had run the race about 6:30 that morning. Mother and the rest were happy that I could talk and act sensibly again.
I had another experience with this same horse a summer or two later. The older boys were in Taylor putting up the hay and Father was away on the round-up. My job was to get the cows in and milk them. It had been raining in the afternoon and did not seem to let up. I could hear the cow bells when I started for them. The rain kept falling and it became just dusk when I reached them. They were farther from the house than usual and the rain kept falling. Before they could be driven to familiar country it was almost dark and I was confused. Instead of following the cows, I got anxious, left the cows and tried to fmd my way home. After riding for some time, I came to a fence, and followed it in one direction and then the other to try to find a familiar landmark. Once I tied up the horse and made an attempt to rest until morning but could not rest, because I knew how anxious Mother would be about me. I finally got the impression to let the horse go and she would lead me home. The only thing to do was to keep the horse moving. Finally she led me to another fence. This fence looked familiar to me. There was also a light in the distance. All at once the spot became familiar to me. A group of long-leaf pine trees were recognized, the whole country side took a few turns in my head and my horse was headed homeward on a gallop. It was almost midnight when I walked in the house. Mother was in a frenzy with worry. Father had arrived home just after dark and Mother had him set a tree on fire. That was the light I could see. There was one lesson learned from this episode and that was that horses and cows had more direction sense than boys on a dark night when it was raining. That is the only time in my life that I have been really lost. Mother attests that her prayers kept me moving until I got my bearings. The cows did not get home until the next morning, but if I had stayed with them and driven them we would have arrived by 8:00 or 8:30.
