From ’20 to ’20–Part 1

Most of the details to this true story are lost to the memories of those long passed away.. What I am writing down was told to me in bits and pieces by my father and mother, as well as some of it coming from older siblings or other relatives . Some of the details, then, are fueled by my imagination as to what or how the events came about. But, the essence is true. I am living still (I think) as I write this and it is not another’s family but my own of which I write. 

For the many years that I have been “out in the world” I’ve spent the most time talking about the things I experienced or I’ve heard from others. As these years have begun to pile up, some things seem worth writing down, not because the world just has to know! But, because there are some worthwhile lessons learned, some tales worth telling, and some next generation, and on down the line which might benefit from reading about them. 

Almost all of the time, location, and the peoples found herein is truly middle of America, 20th century. This, then is the story: 

“From 20 to 20—100 years, More or Less”

Around 1990 it became clear to me that I wasn’t seeing my mother enough and that I had to make a way to change that. At that time, I had no certain income that I could plan out ahead of whatever was in the bank at the time, what I was going to do, where I went or how long I would be gone. My wife had an excellent job, and even though we were living well and seeing our children regularly, etc., I didn’t plan based upon her paycheck unless the two of us were going to be doing or going together. So, I resolved to go to Indiana no less than twice per year, to see my mother, regardless.

It seemed to please the Lord that I do this because the uncertain income which was coming to me through people giving without being prompted in any way, to the ministry of teaching what I saw in Scripture at several bible classes each week, became sufficient for my trips. Carrying out my avowed plan to see my mother regularly from the on, always seemed to be provided for.

These trips “home,” found me visiting my mother, Lenora, at her small apartment in Morgantown, IN. My father had passed away on Sept. 12, 1987. There wasn’t any way my mother could care for their home, a modest but very comfortable country home with too much yard, etc., for a 78 year old to caretake. So, with our full awareness and eager consent,  one of her grandsons, a nephew to me, bought her place and she had chosen the small apartment to which I went to visit. She and I would have long talks (some arguing, mostly about Scripture) and one thing would lead to another and over the years she did a lot of gap-filling on the historical side of the family. I don’t think it will be boring.

Early On

On several occasions I heard my father, E.H., tell that he left home when he was 14. It never was perfectly clear to me where he went, but little by little I could put together years in which he did this or that and piece together his teenage years. Seems he went to Indianapolis at the first, perhaps due to older siblings who had left their Kentucky home near Bowling Green in order to find more permanent work “up North.” He told me about his treks West during those years to become a hand on Threshing crews. These were young men, mostly teenagers who would “follow the wheat harvest” where a man or a company would own one of the large Threshing Machines which would move from farm to farm (or a central location for small farms) and the farmers would haul their harvested wheat straws to them, the “hands” would pitch the wheat straws into the machine and then load the wheat and the straw in separate wagons on the back side for the farmers to return home with or sell the grain. 

The “following the harvest” part came from a starting place in Southern Oklahoma and would move Northward as the Spring weather ripened the wheat. It was in Northern Kansas, working this job, when my father tried to join the Army to fight in the “war to end all wars”-WWI. He was found to be too young and they shipped him back to Kentucky at the age of 16. 

So, back in Kentucky, E.H. worked for a while with his father (my grandfather Robert was a logger at that time, I believe, taking hardwoods for building homes up North.) But, my scant understanding of that made me draw the conclusion perhaps E.H. and Robert didn’t always see eye to eye. Not much was told, mind you, but so it seemed to me. 

In those late teen years, E.H. pal’ed around with some men his age, a little younger, a little older, and I know nothing of their habits except for a couple of small details that grow in importance to this tale.

A slightly younger lad, name of Ed entered the picture somewhere because we had an old picture for many years (I think still have it) of Ed and E.H. dressed as cowboys complete with the Winter sheep’s wool chaps, Pretty sure they weren’t cowboys — just foolin’ ‘round. But, Ed had a younger sister. 

To Be Continued (TBC)

Thanks for reading, the Elder