From ’20 to ’20–More or Less

July 20, 2021

From ’20 to ’20—More of Less

Chapter 6  (More of the Fifties)

Early in the decade there was a time, now sort of undefinable by my memory, in which we seemed very poor in retrospect. We didn’t have much—I think a new pair of blue jeans to start school only went to which ever boy couldn’t wear a hand-me-down—that sort of thing. It was a time of living by faith for my parents and a time of trying not to be missing out on anything by Pete, Jack and me. But, along the way, both Ken and Don returned from their time in the military, Don being the most memorable, not to slight Ken. Ken came back to his job at Indiana Bell, even to defying the union strike, working during and after the strike was settled, he was well taken care of by the company. I always admired that.

Don had a problematic finish to his enlistment. He broke his right hand on the jaw of a Marine (so the story went) and was mustered out a little early, Korea being already under a truce. But, at home, Don went to work for a construction company, did pretty well and both he and Ken bought new cars. Ken a ’55 Ford convertible and a few months later, Don bought a ’57 Ford Fairlane. These both became crowded into our driveway along with E.H having a car and a pickup truck. 

Leon got married during this time frame, I think it was in ’57, on Good Friday. Soon after his marriage he was drafted and then sent to Germany where he was in April of 1958. Don was killed in a one-car accident around midnight on April 12th, I believe. Tragedy as never before experienced in the E.H. and Lenora Lockhart household had come. It was a horrible, horrible thing to go through, especially for Daddy and Mommy, but for sure for us all. Leon was hard to get hold of and subsequently could not come home for the funeral. The time of mourning was different for each one of us. (I have since come to believe that mourning is like a fingerprint or a DNA—we each have our own. Some mourn quickly and demonstrative and others are delayed for a time. Others still, mourn for long, long times.) Ours was personal, of course, but much harder for E.H. He was decimated.

As we’re looking into the 1950s with the family all growing up, the details of our getting through it need to be spread just a little more. This is a difficult decade for several reasons and I’ll try not to belabor too many things in it. Eight seemed to settle the size of the brood and although the oldest child (Roberta) was married in the middle of the ‘40s, and had the first two grandsons before the end of that decade, the rest of us still lived with “Mommy and Daddy.” But Ken joined the air force after having started a career with Indiana Bell and Don joined the Navy with his best friend—both due primarily to keep from getting drafted into the Army because of the “war” in Korea. Ken spent his Korean time on the island of Okinawa as an Air Force radio man and Don spent his on aircraft carriers as a “swabby” in the Navy. It seemed (from my perspective) that Ken had mostly a good experience-building stint, but Don hated the Navy, hated what he did, hated being away from home. Hard time for E.H. and Lenora, two boys in war. I remember very clearly the weeping as we took them back to get on their respective trains after they were home on furlough. 

Second daughter Margaret had dated fairly regularly and one of her “dates” was a nice guy we all liked name Bill Brown. We were surprised that one wasn’t the one. But then came Wendy (short for Wendell) Waltz. Yep, he was the one for her! A Waltz who waltzed into our lives! My brother Jack and I, about 9 and 11, liked Wendy because he would play tag or chase us with water balloons or some such thing. One evening we were running around in the yard chasing him and as he turned to look at us laughing loudly, taunting us, having great fun, he suddenly stopped held his chin up and was in great pain. He had thrown his jaw out of place. Margaret, Mommy and us had to take him to an Indianapolis hospital to get his jaw bone back in place. He had to be put to sleep, so on the way home, we had to stop to let him vomit alongside the road. That pretty much ended the playing. But, he was the one, so there was a big wedding at Lick Spring Separate Baptist Church! (First wedding I remember being at.)[[date]]

The first four grandchildren for E.H. And Lenora were all boys. Roberta and Bob, who had married about the time I was two had all boys. Marg and Wendy, a year or so after they were married were expecting and so it became a big deal that they should have a girl. Everybody wanted a little girl! And there she came. Cynthia (Cindy) Elaine Waltz was born and there was much ado about it! But then, Marg and Wendy followed that with 3 more boys. But, as the grandchild population grew, there were more girls, Ken and Shirley had two, then one boy, Leon had two—one with Donna, one with Bobbi. Then Pete and Judy had 3 boys, Jack and Betty Jo had one each and Barbara and I had two boys and one girl. Yet, Bob and Roberta had two more boys, Bob never got his little girl. 22 grandchildren in all for Lockie and Lenora! Looks like the Lockharts were going to be around for a few more generations. Back to the ‘50s.

In ‘54, as I mentioned earlier, we remodeled the old house and actually got indoor plumbing. What a great thing to not have to go to the outhouse in cold weather! And for me, being the youngest, not having to bath in old bath water—yuk! To this day, I will not even dry with the same towel twice! But the “new” home offered more, we had central heat for the first time. Hard to believe, the temperature always the same on cold Winter mornings, never had that before!

Leon left our house before he married, but Ken, Pete, Jack and I stayed living at home till we married. (Jack and his wife, Barbara and I were married in the first part of 1960.) All of us married by the start of the ‘60s. So, for E.H. And Lenora,  the 50s emptied out the house. None of us, however moved very far from home to start. so family get togethers were common. When Leon was drafted and then sent to Germany, Donna went with him, so they were a long way off and couldn’t get back on quick notice. When the tragedy struck, we missed them.

The tragedy struck one Tuesday night in April of 1958: Don had come home from work, and he and I went to the drugstore for a milkshake after supper, then played a game of pool at the pool hall. He gave me a ride back home and I asked him where he was going and could I go with him. He said, “No, I’m going to go see Bob (Haugh, close personal friend who was a bartender), so I’ll probably be late,” he said. I got out of the car and he said, “See ya later.” I was the last family member to see him alive. On his way home about midnight, Don fell asleep, left the highway and hit a tree, dying instantly, according to police reports. When a County Sheriff’s deputy and Pastor Frankie Collins, who’s church was about 1/4 mile from the accident, knocked on our door to tell us of the accident, our home changed forever. 

Sadness set in. The mournful feeling of such great loss, for E.H. And Lenora especially, but touching us all, was very hard to take. So many friends and neighbors who knew and loved Don, an excellent farmboy, a well respected baseball player (I once saw Don throw from a catcher’s position to 2nd base and pick off a runner—what an arm!) He loved high school sports still when he returned form the navy, never missing any baseball or basketball games if he could possibly get to them. He once left a basketball game with 25 seconds left and the Redbirds behind by about 7 points, I think. In those last seconds, magic occurred on the floor and we came back and won on a last second shot; Don never left early again!!

Don’s funeral was held at Lick Springs Separate Baptist church (where Margaret was married) and I never saw it as full as it was for his Eulogy. He was buried beside my grandparents there. But the sadness didn’t go away soon.

There was a certain quietness which prevailed in our house for weeks to come. E.H. never preached for several weeks. We wondered if he would ever again. Sometime, perhaps four or five weeks after the funeral, I had a horrible chest cold (which today would be deemed “walking pneumonia” I’m sure) and I had to get penicillin shots several days in a row, including a Sunday. Daddy drove me to get that shot on Sunday. On the way home, I asked him if he thought he would preach again. Without taking his eye off the road, and with tears running down his cheeks, he said, “I don’t know, son.” I said no more nor did he. As I recall, it was about four more weeks before he went back to preaching each Sunday. But he was never the same after that. Something in his preaching style was just altered by a permanent motivation from the sadness.

An interesting thing occurred for E.H. and Lenora soon after that. A thing I didn’t even think was possible: she got pregnant with what was termed a “change-of-life-pregnancy.” The baby (Bruce—the 7th boy) was born about 7 weeks early. His lungs had not formed correctly and he died in just a day, or so. Another great sadness into our lives. Then, seemingly in rapid order, Ken was married, Pete was married, then less than two years later, Jack was married and then I was married. And E. H. And Lenora were living alone for the first time since 1925.

Thanks for reading, the Elder