REMEMBERING THE FARM
R. D. ICE
[adapted from The Farm 1991, by Bonnie Simmons]
Memory is a gift from God.
It is amazing that the human brain
has the power to recall things past and gone
and bring them forward to the now.
Bonnie wrote of her adventures
and trips to The Farm on Refugee Road
in the days when it was a center of
the Ice Family as they were then.
We take the Brice Road exit
from the Interstate, and
turn toward the village
of Brice, which still exists.
We turn down Refugee Road,
just past the Electric Company,
and turn in the driveway
under spreading trees.
Mom stops our car in
the driveway, I step out
to take a good look,
drinking in the aroma
of familiar loved things.
Pull off your shoes and
run barefoot through
luxurious green grass!
This is country! - even though
the huge Metropolis
is surrounding us
on all sides.
The barn is straight ahead,
once painted a mustard yellow,
which has faded to
a pale tan.
A row of sheds
stands along one side
of the parking area,
toward the house which is
behind us, to our right.
To the left of the barn
are the remains of an orchard,
what is left of the chicken-house,
where White Leghorns once lived,
and a shed that housed a
family of ducks, bought to eat,
but kept as pets until
they grew old and died.
Behind the barn, what was
once a pasture is now
overgrown with spindly
trees and bushes.
Behind that now a swamp,
since drainage tiles
were damaged
by the Electric Company
in some of their digging.
We walk toward the house
onto the back porch,
go in the screen door
which bangs shut behind us.
We go down a hallway
with peeling linoleum
on the floor. Turn
the door knob and
step into the kitchen.
Grandma looks up.
She is chopping carrots.
She gives us a hug,
then goes back
to chopping again.
She is dressed in a
faded denim jacket
with her boots on.
Two kerosene heaters
provide the heat in
winter, and even though
summer seems to be here,
she still wears the boots.
Grandpa is sitting in
his chair, watching TV
with a book in his hand,
glancing down to read
a few more lines.
Behind the television
a dysfunctional door
leads onto a time-ravaged,
broken front porch.
The living room is dark,
rich in tone.
The door-frames
are original wood,
intricately carved.
In the place of
some doors hang
heavy, musty curtains.
Grandpa puts the coffee on,
placing just one spoonful
in the pot and boiling it
until it looks black enough.
In the downstairs bedroom
Western paperbacks line
three of the walls.
The bed was removed
some time ago.
There still is a cot in
my old room, where
my uncle slept forty years ago.
When the doctor came to
examine Grandpa the
day before he died,
he placed him on the cot
in that room.
I enter the "family room,"
used for special occasions,
always chilly because of
broken, airy windows.
An old stove -
which I have never seen used -
stands tall and black,
a pipe issuing from its top
that leads into the wall
and away to some
unknown someplace.
Sheet-draped chairs
face each other across
the room.
A dusty green couch
stands guard over
fragile games from
my mother's childhood.
An elderly piano, out of tune,
with broken strings and
clunking pedals stands
before a water-stained wall.
Old Mad magazines
and paperback books
line two walls.
The window-glass is
held together with
duct tape.
As my sister picks out tunes
on the old piano, I pick up
a MAD magazine from
September '66, sit down
in a sheet-preserved chair,
and begin to read.
But this is the Farm!
Its character is given
by the people who
have lived here.
It is an oasis of "folk culture"
breathing the years of
four generations or more,
and "in-laws" and "out-laws."
And familiar loved things.
THE VIRTUAL FARM
R. D. Ice
The old house still stands after
many years have rolled by.
The patriarch of the Family
once lived there.
Change is part of life,
and change has come to us.
Someone else lives
in the house now,
things are not the same.
The old house has been
refreshed and refurbished
with a new roof,
a new foundation,
restored to its pristine glory,
a country farm,
but no longer ours.
We are the Old Ones,
and the Family
becomes more important to us.
Old times are treasured,
memories cherished,
of days faded and gone.
We look to the future!
New days lie ahead
and our children and
their children and
further generations will
build new memories
as they seize the
opportunities which
come their way.
YOU CANNOT GO BACK
R. D. Ice
I cannot go back. Period.
The Farm isn't there any more.
Time and change have moved on.
By age six I had lived in four houses
in four towns in two States.
In the summer of 1935
we all moved to the Farm:
Grandmother Rosa,
Grandfather K. C. Ice,
Juanita, my sister (a tiny baby),
and me, Rhoderick D. Ice.
McGarvey Ice, my father
stayed on in Vinton, Ohio,
to teach in the High School
for another two years.
I was so excited to go to school!
First grade at Brice Elementary!
There is a whole world out there
to learn about and to see!
Brice then was a sleepy little
crossroads town of maybe a hundred.
It had grown up around the railroad
which had a station at Brice.
The Methodist Church was
the life of the village.
We visited it (but I don't remember),
then we began attending the
Reynoldsburg Church of Christ,
about four miles away.
We were not farmers! But,
Brice was a farming community.
We lived on a gravel road,
and Columbus was nine miles away.
It could have been in another world.
Farmers thought of themselves as
business men, important people.
When Jim Leasure came to help
on our farm for a few days,
he was a factory worker, and
had a different outlook on life.
Jim attended the Fifth Avenue
Church of Christ in Columbus.
We eventually began attending there
because they had more children.
Grandmother would load us up
in her 1936 Willys sedan, and
we would drive nine miles to
Fifth Avenue on the edge of Columbus.
The Fifth Avenue Church was
rural in flavor, although many
were factory workers, but they
had moved from rural areas
to find work in the City.
Friday, November 23, 2007
NORTON ATLAS
NORTON ATLAS
R. D. ICE
I grew up as a preacher's kid. I was around people all the time. Dad always seemed to praise the Lord, although I sometimes wondered what he had to be thankful for. There were weeks when we had $12. to feed all five of us. But we had a roof over our head, always. And we had lots of friends. Sometimes Jim or someone would bring a bag of groceries.
But I was restless. There was a world out there - just waiting for me! I wanted to do things! I did things with some other guys on the cable access channel. I could see myself making it big! Maybe a rock star! Yeah! That's what I want to be. Someone! I talked about it enough. Dad and Mom saw me on cable TV. My voice made me a natural to be an announcer. I was sort of the emmcee of the show we guys put on. "Question authority" was our theme. And yet, I was me, not someone else.
I got up my nerve and went to talk to Dad. He wouldn't understand. Not at his age. But I had to try. I walked into the living room at our house. Dad was there, sitting in his recliner.
"Hello, son," said Dad.
I sat down across from him, and waited.
"I know what you're thinking," Dad said.
"No, Dad. You don't know what I'm thinking. I know that you're thinking how will you ever live it down if I go to the Big City and make a success, become a Star! You want to keep me here at home where you can tell me what to do."
"Well, son, it's not so much what happens to us. We'll get by, as we always have. It's you. You're going to face tough choices. The Big City has many opportunities. But some are good and some are bad. It may not be what you expect to find when you get there."
"Dad. Don't you always preach that 'all things work together for good.'"
"Yes. But that's when you love Him and ask for His guidance for life. And if you 'screw up,' He is always there to help you get it all back together again. He is the Father who loves you."
"Dad, I do love Him. It's just that I can't live your life. I've got to go to the Big City and make a life of my own."
Mom came in from the kitchen. She stood and listened.
"Norton." Dad put his hand on the recliner and slid himself up on the edge. "I'm still worried about you when you meet the raw life of the city. You've been sheltered even though you don't think so. When you meet with wickedness in the flesh, it could petrify you."
"Dad. This is a college town. This is the big University. Everything happens here. What could be different in the Big City?"
"There is a difference. The students come here to learn and prepare for the future. They may make some mistakes, even serious mistakes, but it's nothing to compare with those who scam and destroy. Some will seem to be your friends as long as you have a dollar. But when you are flat broke, they will dump you in the trash can. And there are pimps and sharks and gangbangers."
"Dad! Give me some credit. I have enough sense to take care of myself. I'm not a baby anymore."
"Norton. Remember we love you. You always have a home here. No matter what happens, you can always come back home. When you need help, we are always here for you. May God protect you."
"Dad. You're loading guilt on me again."
"Norton, that's not what I am doing. We want you to know that we really do love you and care about you. But sometimes you should feel guilt. It's a warning, like when you touch something hot and it burns your finger. Everybody has a conscience. When you do something wrong, your conscience makes you feel guilt. It's supposed to be that way."
"I love you!" Norton hugged Dad and Mom. Then he went out the door.
It would be some time before they saw each other again. Dad was moving to Northern Ohio. Norton was moving in with some friends and staying behind. Later he intended to try to get to the Big City.
R. D. ICE
I grew up as a preacher's kid. I was around people all the time. Dad always seemed to praise the Lord, although I sometimes wondered what he had to be thankful for. There were weeks when we had $12. to feed all five of us. But we had a roof over our head, always. And we had lots of friends. Sometimes Jim or someone would bring a bag of groceries.
But I was restless. There was a world out there - just waiting for me! I wanted to do things! I did things with some other guys on the cable access channel. I could see myself making it big! Maybe a rock star! Yeah! That's what I want to be. Someone! I talked about it enough. Dad and Mom saw me on cable TV. My voice made me a natural to be an announcer. I was sort of the emmcee of the show we guys put on. "Question authority" was our theme. And yet, I was me, not someone else.
I got up my nerve and went to talk to Dad. He wouldn't understand. Not at his age. But I had to try. I walked into the living room at our house. Dad was there, sitting in his recliner.
"Hello, son," said Dad.
I sat down across from him, and waited.
"I know what you're thinking," Dad said.
"No, Dad. You don't know what I'm thinking. I know that you're thinking how will you ever live it down if I go to the Big City and make a success, become a Star! You want to keep me here at home where you can tell me what to do."
"Well, son, it's not so much what happens to us. We'll get by, as we always have. It's you. You're going to face tough choices. The Big City has many opportunities. But some are good and some are bad. It may not be what you expect to find when you get there."
"Dad. Don't you always preach that 'all things work together for good.'"
"Yes. But that's when you love Him and ask for His guidance for life. And if you 'screw up,' He is always there to help you get it all back together again. He is the Father who loves you."
"Dad, I do love Him. It's just that I can't live your life. I've got to go to the Big City and make a life of my own."
Mom came in from the kitchen. She stood and listened.
"Norton." Dad put his hand on the recliner and slid himself up on the edge. "I'm still worried about you when you meet the raw life of the city. You've been sheltered even though you don't think so. When you meet with wickedness in the flesh, it could petrify you."
"Dad. This is a college town. This is the big University. Everything happens here. What could be different in the Big City?"
"There is a difference. The students come here to learn and prepare for the future. They may make some mistakes, even serious mistakes, but it's nothing to compare with those who scam and destroy. Some will seem to be your friends as long as you have a dollar. But when you are flat broke, they will dump you in the trash can. And there are pimps and sharks and gangbangers."
"Dad! Give me some credit. I have enough sense to take care of myself. I'm not a baby anymore."
"Norton. Remember we love you. You always have a home here. No matter what happens, you can always come back home. When you need help, we are always here for you. May God protect you."
"Dad. You're loading guilt on me again."
"Norton, that's not what I am doing. We want you to know that we really do love you and care about you. But sometimes you should feel guilt. It's a warning, like when you touch something hot and it burns your finger. Everybody has a conscience. When you do something wrong, your conscience makes you feel guilt. It's supposed to be that way."
"I love you!" Norton hugged Dad and Mom. Then he went out the door.
It would be some time before they saw each other again. Dad was moving to Northern Ohio. Norton was moving in with some friends and staying behind. Later he intended to try to get to the Big City.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
CHRISTMAS AT GOOD SAMARITAN
CHRISTMAS AT GOOD SAMARITAN
R. D. ICE
[This is a true story. Nola was Wendi's sister. Nola died soon after this, and Wendi was not many months later.]
Wendi had finally come to the point
that a nursing home was the only answer.
She was very angry and caused all the
trouble she could, even to the point of
calling 911 with cries for help.
For a while she was permitted to camp out
sitting in a chair on the front porch of
Good Samaritan, under a canopy
made of a heavy blanket. And this
seemed to pacify her for a while.
But in time she came to be at peace
with herself and with the staff who
patiently worked to help the residents.
Christmas time was here!
Wendi allowed herself to be cheerful.
Swirls of snowflakes filled the air,
as the Preacher drove up to the
Good Samaritan Nursing Home.
Inside bits of red and blue paper
decorated the walls, and
all the touches of Christmas were
everywhere to be seen.
Nurses and helpers began bringing
the residents into the dining room
for the big Christmas party.
Helen, 104 years old, walked in
with help from an aide,
to sit by herself in a chair.
Wendi was pushing a wheelchair
toward the front and then she sat in it.
"Preacher," she said, "have you come
to take me home? My cats are
lonesome and they need me."
"Wendi, be glad you are in here
where it’s warm. It is too cold
out in the country at your trailer.
Your cats will find warm places."
Another aide came pushing Nola
still lying in her bed.
"Nola," said the Preacher,
"here you are, bed and all.
Merry Christmas."
Nola was bedfast and had been so
for some time. Yet she was alert
and certainly enjoyed the
singing of Christmas carols.
But she could not speak to answer.
Others came, walking as they could,
some with walking frames,
some in wheelchairs. All
trying to enjoy the spirit of
Christmas, the Season of the Year.
Party favors and bits of
good things to eat. This was a time
of celebration, a break in the
cold gray days of winter.
Each one was tenderly taken care of.
The aides and nurses were going from
resident to resident, missing no one.
But too soon it was over.
The Preacher followed Nola
when her bed was returned to her room.
"Nola, isn’t it wonderful that God
sent Jesus into our world
to be our Savior!
We are people of hope!
One day we will rise to
eternal life, singing and praising God,
for ever and ever!"
"Nola, I’ll say a prayer with you."
"Holy Father, reach down and touch
Nola with Your love and mercy,
give her hope and help her look
to the future You have for us.
Forgive her sins and save her.
Bless all the residents here at
Good Samaritan, and bless those
who are taking care of them.
In Jesus’ name, Amen."
R. D. ICE
[This is a true story. Nola was Wendi's sister. Nola died soon after this, and Wendi was not many months later.]
Wendi had finally come to the point
that a nursing home was the only answer.
She was very angry and caused all the
trouble she could, even to the point of
calling 911 with cries for help.
For a while she was permitted to camp out
sitting in a chair on the front porch of
Good Samaritan, under a canopy
made of a heavy blanket. And this
seemed to pacify her for a while.
But in time she came to be at peace
with herself and with the staff who
patiently worked to help the residents.
Christmas time was here!
Wendi allowed herself to be cheerful.
Swirls of snowflakes filled the air,
as the Preacher drove up to the
Good Samaritan Nursing Home.
Inside bits of red and blue paper
decorated the walls, and
all the touches of Christmas were
everywhere to be seen.
Nurses and helpers began bringing
the residents into the dining room
for the big Christmas party.
Helen, 104 years old, walked in
with help from an aide,
to sit by herself in a chair.
Wendi was pushing a wheelchair
toward the front and then she sat in it.
"Preacher," she said, "have you come
to take me home? My cats are
lonesome and they need me."
"Wendi, be glad you are in here
where it’s warm. It is too cold
out in the country at your trailer.
Your cats will find warm places."
Another aide came pushing Nola
still lying in her bed.
"Nola," said the Preacher,
"here you are, bed and all.
Merry Christmas."
Nola was bedfast and had been so
for some time. Yet she was alert
and certainly enjoyed the
singing of Christmas carols.
But she could not speak to answer.
Others came, walking as they could,
some with walking frames,
some in wheelchairs. All
trying to enjoy the spirit of
Christmas, the Season of the Year.
Party favors and bits of
good things to eat. This was a time
of celebration, a break in the
cold gray days of winter.
Each one was tenderly taken care of.
The aides and nurses were going from
resident to resident, missing no one.
But too soon it was over.
The Preacher followed Nola
when her bed was returned to her room.
"Nola, isn’t it wonderful that God
sent Jesus into our world
to be our Savior!
We are people of hope!
One day we will rise to
eternal life, singing and praising God,
for ever and ever!"
"Nola, I’ll say a prayer with you."
"Holy Father, reach down and touch
Nola with Your love and mercy,
give her hope and help her look
to the future You have for us.
Forgive her sins and save her.
Bless all the residents here at
Good Samaritan, and bless those
who are taking care of them.
In Jesus’ name, Amen."
WENDI THE WITCH Chapter 5
WENDI AT GOOD SAM R. D. Ice
Wendi is nearly 90,
changeable like the weather.
Her two sisters and her brother,
are more helpless than she.
Wendi was sitting on the front porch
of the Good Sam Nursing Home,
with her feet propped up in the wheelchair,
a blanket covering her like a tent.
Wendi! What are you
doing out here?
Are you camping on this porch?
Dad blast you, Preacher!
You've got to get me out of here!
Call the ambulance!
Get me to the hospital!
I'm an old woman
and they are killing me here!
I got to get back home!
My cats need me!
My chickenhouse is there all alone,
and I'm here in this god-forsaken place!
Get me outta here!
Wendii, you can't live
by yourself anymore.
They take care of you here.
Patty works here,
and she sees about you.
Dadblast you!
I tell you I can't stay here!
I got a pain in my side and I'm dying!
Call 9-1-1! Call the sheriff!
Call Miriam!
Just get me out of here!
Usually the preacher can
talk to Wendi and settle her down.
But today she was in a foul mood
and filled with anger.
He shook his head and walked away.
It is another day.
Wendi is walking in the parkinglot,
holding to her wheelchair.
Preacher, hello!
How are you today?
It's so good to be out in this sunshine!
You see that woman working in her garden?
She gave me three cucumbers!
See,I wrapped them up in my blanket.
Ain't they beautiful!
She pushed her wheelchair
to the front porch.
She took the cucumbers out,
sniffed their aroma,
and cradled them like a baby.
Then she smiled, and drifted off to sleep.
Wendi is nearly 90,
changeable like the weather.
Her two sisters and her brother,
are more helpless than she.
Wendi was sitting on the front porch
of the Good Sam Nursing Home,
with her feet propped up in the wheelchair,
a blanket covering her like a tent.
Wendi! What are you
doing out here?
Are you camping on this porch?
Dad blast you, Preacher!
You've got to get me out of here!
Call the ambulance!
Get me to the hospital!
I'm an old woman
and they are killing me here!
I got to get back home!
My cats need me!
My chickenhouse is there all alone,
and I'm here in this god-forsaken place!
Get me outta here!
Wendii, you can't live
by yourself anymore.
They take care of you here.
Patty works here,
and she sees about you.
Dadblast you!
I tell you I can't stay here!
I got a pain in my side and I'm dying!
Call 9-1-1! Call the sheriff!
Call Miriam!
Just get me out of here!
Usually the preacher can
talk to Wendi and settle her down.
But today she was in a foul mood
and filled with anger.
He shook his head and walked away.
It is another day.
Wendi is walking in the parkinglot,
holding to her wheelchair.
Preacher, hello!
How are you today?
It's so good to be out in this sunshine!
You see that woman working in her garden?
She gave me three cucumbers!
See,I wrapped them up in my blanket.
Ain't they beautiful!
She pushed her wheelchair
to the front porch.
She took the cucumbers out,
sniffed their aroma,
and cradled them like a baby.
Then she smiled, and drifted off to sleep.
CONFUSION IN THE HOTEL
CONFUSION IN THE HOTEL R. D. ICE
[Truth really is stranger than fiction. This is a true story.]
An old man and his two daughters, who were in their fifties, were in a car, heading for Ann Arbor. It was late afternoon.
"Melchorrine. Did I just have a birthday?"
"Yes, Daddy. You were 87. We had a big party. Everyone was there. Do you remember?"
He looked puzzled. Then he leaned forward. "Are we going to get home before dark?"
"Daddy, you have tests at the hospital at Ann Arbor tomorrow. We are staying at the hotel tonight. We'll go back home after your tests are run in the morning.
He shook his head and leaned back against the seat. Then he leaned forward again. "Melchorinne, I don't want to do this. You know that."
"Daddy, you must have these tests run. That hospital in Midland wasn't any help at all. They just think you're old. You weren't getting any better. We've got to get you to Ann Arbor. They helped you at Ann Arbor the last time. You've just got to get better and be all right."
"But I don't want to go! Why couldn't I just take an aspirin or some baking soda? Why couldn't I just stay home? I want to stay home!"
Alice Jean spoke. "Daddy, we want you to have the best care. That's why we are doing it. We love you."
"All right. All right, but I'm not doing this just because you say I have to. This is my choice and my decision. I guess I will go to Ann Arbor to their hospital." He leaned back again.
They continued down the highway. They took the exit and threaded their way through the city traffic. Finally they drove into the parking garage under the hotel. Melchorinne and Alice Jean got the suitcases out of the back of the car. Alice Jean took the suitcases, then stood to see if she would be needed to help.
Melchorinne helped Daddy to get out of the car. She helped him walk to the elevator. They rode to the main floor lobby.
Alice Jean checked them in and got the key to the room. "Come on," she said. "It's on the eighth floor."
Melchorinne helped Daddy into the elevator. She braced him against the wall and held his arm. Alice Jean set the suitcases in the corner.
The door opened at the eighth floor. They walked down the hallway and stopped at 814. Alice Jean unlocked the door and they all went in.
"Daddy, sit in this chair," said Alice Jean. "I'll turn on the TV and you can watch the news. We will get things unpacked."
Melchorinne helped him to sit down in the chair. The news was interesting. He sat for a while. He looked intently at the bright pictures that moved across the screen.
Then he looked around and tried to get up. "I've got to go to the bathroom."
Melchorinne helped him stand up and led him into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
About two minutes passed. He shouted, "I'm ready."
Melchorinne went in, helped him to stand up, and led him back to the chair.
After a while, Alice Jean said, "It's time for bed, Daddy. We'll help you get ready."
The girls helped him out of his clothes and into his faded yellow pajamas. They helped him into bed and covered him up. They turned out most of the lights, but left the one on in the bathroom so they could see to do things.
By then Daddy was asleep. They turned the TV down low and watched it for a while. Finally they turned it off. They had to get ready for bed themselves. It was a peaceful night.
Morning seemed to come quickly. The girls quickly got up, took care of things, and got dressed.
Daddy still lay in bed, soundly asleep, snoring gently. "Mel, let's go down to the lobby and get something for breakfast and bring it back up here. Daddy is sound asleep. We'll be back before he wakes up."
"Let's do it. We'll hurry." But as soon as they shut the door, he suddenly opened his eyes. He lay in bed for a few minutes, then struggled to get up.
Finally he sat up on the side of the bed. "Melchorinne! Alice Jean! Where are you?"
He pulled the covers off on the floor, and finally stood up. He staggered around the room, holding on to things. Finally he went to the door, took hold of the knob, opened the door, looked around, and stepped out into the hallway.
The door locked itself shut behind him. He turned and tried to get the door open again. He pounded on it weakly, but nothing happened. He stood for a while, leaning up against the door, looking around wildly. Finally he started down the hallway.
He would lean against the wall, then move on a little bit, trying each door he came to, hoping to find one unlocked. But no one would answer the door.
He came to the elevators, stopped, leaned against the wall and looked at them. Then he reached out to punch a button.
The elevator door opened. He stepped inside. The elevator began moving downward, then stopped at the fifth floor.
The door opened. A man and a woman stepped inside. He got out.
Turning to the left, he staggered down the hallway, trying doors, looking for one that was unlocked.
He felt exhausted. He leaned against the wall, resting himself, until he could move on. All this was very tiring for him.
"Here, what are you doing?"
Two of the maids who cleaned the rooms were coming down the hallway. They could see he was in his pajamas and had no shoes on.
"Who are you? What are you doing?"
"I'm trying to get back to my room."
"What's your room number? We'll help you find it."
"I don't know the number. I can't remember. The girls brought me up here. They know the number."
"What girls? Who are you here with? You're not alone, are you? Someone must be taking care of you."
"My daughters, Melchorinne and Alice Jean. They brought me down with them to go to the hospital. I think I have something to do at the hospital this morning, some tests or something."
"You say you can't remember what room you are in? Are you lost? What's your name?"
Daddy studied a moment. "I'm Erick, Erick Butcher."
"Erick Butcher?"
"Edith, you go call the desk. See if there is a Butcher registered anywhere."
Edith came back in a few moments. "There is only one Butcher family registered, and they are black. I don't think they are his family."
"Go call them anyway. You never know about these things."
Edith came back. "They said they aren't missing anyone. He doesn't belong to that Butcher family. I called the desk again, and they have no idea who he might be."
"Say, what name is the room registered in? Is your daughter married? What's her last name?"
"Both of my daughters are married. I can't remember the names. Melchorinne's husband is Ronald. I remember that."
"He certainly doesn't have any identification on him, dressed like he is."
"Mary, you're in charge. Make a decision."
"O.K. Let's take him down to the lobby. Let them take care of things. It isn't our problem."
"I'm cold," he said. "I'll bet you are," said Mary. "You don't have anything on but those pajamas. I'll get you a big towel off the cart." She proceeded to do so.
He wrapped it around himself as well as he could. Then Edith and Mary helped him into the elevator and they started down to the main floor.
The door opened into the lobby on the main floor. About seventy people were scattered around the lobby. A few turned to look, and began staring when they saw this strange sight. Daddy just stood in the doorway for a moment. The towel fell to the floor. His hair was tousled; his faded yellow pajamas gaped open; he was barefoot. More eyes turned to look at this strange spectacle.
Then he saw the girls over to the left, at the coffee shop. "Melchorinne!" he shouted. "What are you doing here!"
By now everyone was staring. The girls left the coffee shop counter and ran to him. They took his arms, hurried him across the floor, and got him back into the elevator as quickly as they could.
At the eighth floor they rushed him out of the elevator and hurried him down the hallway to their room.
"Daddy! What were you doing? What were you thinking?"
"I was trying to find the bathroom."
"But there is a bathroom in here. You were in it. Why would you go outside the room?"
"No there's not! There is no bathroom in here. I looked everywhere. I looked under the bed. There isn't any bathroom anywhere in this room. I had to go outside."
"Oh, Daddy! You'll be the death of us yet!"
"Mel, I was never so embarrassed! I wish we were back home! Help me get him ready. We've got to get him to his appointment. Let's get packed and get out of here! I was never so embarrassed! I wish we were back home!"
[Truth really is stranger than fiction. This is a true story.]
An old man and his two daughters, who were in their fifties, were in a car, heading for Ann Arbor. It was late afternoon.
"Melchorrine. Did I just have a birthday?"
"Yes, Daddy. You were 87. We had a big party. Everyone was there. Do you remember?"
He looked puzzled. Then he leaned forward. "Are we going to get home before dark?"
"Daddy, you have tests at the hospital at Ann Arbor tomorrow. We are staying at the hotel tonight. We'll go back home after your tests are run in the morning.
He shook his head and leaned back against the seat. Then he leaned forward again. "Melchorinne, I don't want to do this. You know that."
"Daddy, you must have these tests run. That hospital in Midland wasn't any help at all. They just think you're old. You weren't getting any better. We've got to get you to Ann Arbor. They helped you at Ann Arbor the last time. You've just got to get better and be all right."
"But I don't want to go! Why couldn't I just take an aspirin or some baking soda? Why couldn't I just stay home? I want to stay home!"
Alice Jean spoke. "Daddy, we want you to have the best care. That's why we are doing it. We love you."
"All right. All right, but I'm not doing this just because you say I have to. This is my choice and my decision. I guess I will go to Ann Arbor to their hospital." He leaned back again.
They continued down the highway. They took the exit and threaded their way through the city traffic. Finally they drove into the parking garage under the hotel. Melchorinne and Alice Jean got the suitcases out of the back of the car. Alice Jean took the suitcases, then stood to see if she would be needed to help.
Melchorinne helped Daddy to get out of the car. She helped him walk to the elevator. They rode to the main floor lobby.
Alice Jean checked them in and got the key to the room. "Come on," she said. "It's on the eighth floor."
Melchorinne helped Daddy into the elevator. She braced him against the wall and held his arm. Alice Jean set the suitcases in the corner.
The door opened at the eighth floor. They walked down the hallway and stopped at 814. Alice Jean unlocked the door and they all went in.
"Daddy, sit in this chair," said Alice Jean. "I'll turn on the TV and you can watch the news. We will get things unpacked."
Melchorinne helped him to sit down in the chair. The news was interesting. He sat for a while. He looked intently at the bright pictures that moved across the screen.
Then he looked around and tried to get up. "I've got to go to the bathroom."
Melchorinne helped him stand up and led him into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
About two minutes passed. He shouted, "I'm ready."
Melchorinne went in, helped him to stand up, and led him back to the chair.
After a while, Alice Jean said, "It's time for bed, Daddy. We'll help you get ready."
The girls helped him out of his clothes and into his faded yellow pajamas. They helped him into bed and covered him up. They turned out most of the lights, but left the one on in the bathroom so they could see to do things.
By then Daddy was asleep. They turned the TV down low and watched it for a while. Finally they turned it off. They had to get ready for bed themselves. It was a peaceful night.
Morning seemed to come quickly. The girls quickly got up, took care of things, and got dressed.
Daddy still lay in bed, soundly asleep, snoring gently. "Mel, let's go down to the lobby and get something for breakfast and bring it back up here. Daddy is sound asleep. We'll be back before he wakes up."
"Let's do it. We'll hurry." But as soon as they shut the door, he suddenly opened his eyes. He lay in bed for a few minutes, then struggled to get up.
Finally he sat up on the side of the bed. "Melchorinne! Alice Jean! Where are you?"
He pulled the covers off on the floor, and finally stood up. He staggered around the room, holding on to things. Finally he went to the door, took hold of the knob, opened the door, looked around, and stepped out into the hallway.
The door locked itself shut behind him. He turned and tried to get the door open again. He pounded on it weakly, but nothing happened. He stood for a while, leaning up against the door, looking around wildly. Finally he started down the hallway.
He would lean against the wall, then move on a little bit, trying each door he came to, hoping to find one unlocked. But no one would answer the door.
He came to the elevators, stopped, leaned against the wall and looked at them. Then he reached out to punch a button.
The elevator door opened. He stepped inside. The elevator began moving downward, then stopped at the fifth floor.
The door opened. A man and a woman stepped inside. He got out.
Turning to the left, he staggered down the hallway, trying doors, looking for one that was unlocked.
He felt exhausted. He leaned against the wall, resting himself, until he could move on. All this was very tiring for him.
"Here, what are you doing?"
Two of the maids who cleaned the rooms were coming down the hallway. They could see he was in his pajamas and had no shoes on.
"Who are you? What are you doing?"
"I'm trying to get back to my room."
"What's your room number? We'll help you find it."
"I don't know the number. I can't remember. The girls brought me up here. They know the number."
"What girls? Who are you here with? You're not alone, are you? Someone must be taking care of you."
"My daughters, Melchorinne and Alice Jean. They brought me down with them to go to the hospital. I think I have something to do at the hospital this morning, some tests or something."
"You say you can't remember what room you are in? Are you lost? What's your name?"
Daddy studied a moment. "I'm Erick, Erick Butcher."
"Erick Butcher?"
"Edith, you go call the desk. See if there is a Butcher registered anywhere."
Edith came back in a few moments. "There is only one Butcher family registered, and they are black. I don't think they are his family."
"Go call them anyway. You never know about these things."
Edith came back. "They said they aren't missing anyone. He doesn't belong to that Butcher family. I called the desk again, and they have no idea who he might be."
"Say, what name is the room registered in? Is your daughter married? What's her last name?"
"Both of my daughters are married. I can't remember the names. Melchorinne's husband is Ronald. I remember that."
"He certainly doesn't have any identification on him, dressed like he is."
"Mary, you're in charge. Make a decision."
"O.K. Let's take him down to the lobby. Let them take care of things. It isn't our problem."
"I'm cold," he said. "I'll bet you are," said Mary. "You don't have anything on but those pajamas. I'll get you a big towel off the cart." She proceeded to do so.
He wrapped it around himself as well as he could. Then Edith and Mary helped him into the elevator and they started down to the main floor.
The door opened into the lobby on the main floor. About seventy people were scattered around the lobby. A few turned to look, and began staring when they saw this strange sight. Daddy just stood in the doorway for a moment. The towel fell to the floor. His hair was tousled; his faded yellow pajamas gaped open; he was barefoot. More eyes turned to look at this strange spectacle.
Then he saw the girls over to the left, at the coffee shop. "Melchorinne!" he shouted. "What are you doing here!"
By now everyone was staring. The girls left the coffee shop counter and ran to him. They took his arms, hurried him across the floor, and got him back into the elevator as quickly as they could.
At the eighth floor they rushed him out of the elevator and hurried him down the hallway to their room.
"Daddy! What were you doing? What were you thinking?"
"I was trying to find the bathroom."
"But there is a bathroom in here. You were in it. Why would you go outside the room?"
"No there's not! There is no bathroom in here. I looked everywhere. I looked under the bed. There isn't any bathroom anywhere in this room. I had to go outside."
"Oh, Daddy! You'll be the death of us yet!"
"Mel, I was never so embarrassed! I wish we were back home! Help me get him ready. We've got to get him to his appointment. Let's get packed and get out of here! I was never so embarrassed! I wish we were back home!"
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
CASS RAILROAD
DREAMS OF CASS RAILROAD
Rhoderick D. Ice
Cass Railroad State Park in West Virginia. A living memorial to how things used to be when lumber was king in these hills.
I stood at the Cass train station waiting for the Shay Locomotive to come down the hill. I was thinking about the times of old and what it would be like back then. In my mind I was there.
Crowds of people had come to this boom town of Cass to work in the lumber industry. You have to go where the work is. I was here to find a good paying job.
"Chuff-chuff-chuff-chuff." The big Shay Locomotive now coming into the station sounds different from most steam trains. The big Shay has three cylinders which chuff away in a smooth rhythm. It came backing into the area in front of the depot, pulling a string of logging cars. Two Shays were hooked to this train. It takes a lot of power to get up to the top of this mountain. The Shays go all the way up to Bald Knob to bring back logging cars loaded with logs.
I walked around the Shay to look it over. It is beautiful, gleaming black, with polished brass fittings sort of a golden color. I could feel the heat from the firebox in its middle and see bright red flames through the cracks. Steam sprayed out here and there.
The fireman was shoveling coal into the firebox of the boiler. Pungent black smoke billowed out of the smokestack. The pump on the side of the boiler chuffed away as it pumped more water into the boiler to keep it full. Suddenly the safety valve sent up a blast of steam. Too much pressure would burst the boiler.
Jim Jenkins, my good friend, came over to me.
"Roger, I got my ax from supply. I'm ready for the big day!"
"Jim! I'm ready too. Imagine, cutting those big trees way up on Bald Knob Mountain! We've sure got our work cut out for us."
"Yeah, but think of payday! All that money at the end of the week! It is a job, and jobs are hard to find in this day."
The Shay's whistle gave a long blast. Men began hurrying to get on the train. We climbed on a logging car and braced ourselves against one of the posts sticking up from the edge of the car. The posts were to keep the logs from rolling off.
The whistle gave a short blast. There was a jerk as the Shay began pushing the cars up the hill. We went past the repair shops, moved a little faster past the water tower, and then up to speed toward the first switch-back.
The train slowed as it came to the switch-back. It gently eased into the long switch-back siding and then stopped. The brakeman jumped off and ran to pull the switch which would direct the train up the mountain on the other set of tracks. The switching rails moved with a "thunk" solidly against the other rails. We were ready to go on up the mountain.
Now the Shay was in front with the logging cars behind. We were on the way to the next switch-back. The switch-backs angle across the side of the mountain and make it possible to get up the steep grade.
"Chuff-chuff-chuff" went the Shay's three cylinders. We came to a steeper section of track and the Shay's drive wheels slipped. "Chuffchuffchuff." The engineer released sand which went down a chute to where the drive wheels met the track. The sand gave enough bite to give traction again, and we continued on up the mountain.
We arrived at the next switch-back and the brakeman jumped off to throw the switch to send the train up the next set of rails. He pulled the lever and the switching-rails moved. This time the Shay would be behind the logging cars again. It was safer that way. The heavy Shay had good brakes, and being at the bottom of the train would help control the heavy load of logs when coming back down the steep mountain.
"Jim! Here we are at the top! Brrr! Isn't it cold up here on Bald Knob Mountain! How the wind blows!"
Jim took a deep breath. "Yeah, so cold and clear and fresh! Makes me feel good to be alive!"
We stood a moment and just looked around. We could see mountains in the distance. They were probably over in Virginia. They seemed a long way off.
The small village of Spruce was up here on the mountain. It was mostly barracks for the workers to live in. There were sheds and barns and all the things we would need to stay up here for weeks at a time.
"OK. You ready? Let's get to work." Max Joist, the Foreman, led us into the forest and showed us where to work today.
Jim and I were to work on the same big tree. It takes a lot of chopping to cut a big tree down. Our axes were so sharp you could shave your whiskers with them. This wood is hard and you must have a sharp ax.
"Here we go!" Jim said. He gripped the ax with both hands, reared back, and swung as hard as he could! "Whomp!" A chip flew out of the tree-trunk. Then as he reared back for another swing, I swung my ax and chopped into the tree. "Thunk!" Another chip flew. We kept chopping away one after another.
Finally, we seemed to have the tree cut almost through. We heard a cracking noise and the tree began to lean over.
Jim yelled "Timber!!!" We ran to be in a safe area.
The tree came down with a crash and a thump that shook the ground, breaking limbs from other trees as it fell.
We began chopping the top out of the tree, then we chopped off the branches to prepare the trunk of the tree for loading on the train. By this time I wasn't cold anymore. The sweat just rolled down my face. We did stop now and then to drink plenty of water from the jug at hand.
The foreman came up to us. Two men followed him dragging a steel cable. They dug under the tree trunk and hooked the end of the cable around it. The foreman blew his whistle and the steam skidder began reeling in the cable, dragging the log - as it was now called - sliding it over the ground to the loading area - skidding it, as the loggers say.
We followed to see things as they happened. When the log was dragged to the logging car, men put props under it and attached more cables so that it could be rolled up onto the car. They guided the log as the cables pulled it up. When the logging car was filled with logs piled one on another, the Shay Locomotive would take it down the mountain to be sawed into boards.
"Clang!-Clang!-Clang!" Someone was pounding a gong. "Food!" the men shouted and we all began running to the cook-shack. We were famished!
Ham, lots of pinto beans, fried potatoes and onions, biscuits and cornbread. Plenty of good coffee, strong enough to float a horseshoe. And lots of pure fresh mountain water. What more could we want! We ate and ate and then ate some more. It takes a lot of energy to work in the woods cutting trees.
Back to work! Lots more trees to cut!
When we couldn't see anymore in the dark, it was time to quit. We were totally exhausted! We walked with the others back to our bunkhouse and fell into bed clothes and all. I was asleep before I hit the bed.
The sound of the steam whistle finally brought me awake. Another day was here. All of us washed as quickly as we could in the icy water. Then we ran to the cook shack.
Pancakes - only they called them flapjacks. They were thicker than the pancakes I knew, and heavier. But they did taste delicious to a hungry man! Molasses and butter to go with them. Biscuits too. They called them cat-heads. And brown gravy which they called poor dew. Lots of good greasy bacon. You do need all these calories when you work in the woods all day. And again that coffee that would take the varnish off a board. After a cup or two of the coffee I began to really wake up and feel alive! All that fresh air and exercise! I could live to be a hundred!
The foreman walked in the door and gave a blast on his whistle. "Get to work! It's a new day! Let's get at it!"
"Boss, you're a real slave driver!" one man said. Another just groaned.
Jim and I sighed, and headed out to cut down one more tree, or several. Will we ever make it to the end of this week? Payday! Won't you come soon!
But dreams end and I was standing by the tracks as the Shay came into the station. I'm glad I don't live in the past. But what memories! I'm ready to get on this train and ride up to the top again!
Rhoderick D. Ice
Cass Railroad State Park in West Virginia. A living memorial to how things used to be when lumber was king in these hills.
I stood at the Cass train station waiting for the Shay Locomotive to come down the hill. I was thinking about the times of old and what it would be like back then. In my mind I was there.
Crowds of people had come to this boom town of Cass to work in the lumber industry. You have to go where the work is. I was here to find a good paying job.
"Chuff-chuff-chuff-chuff." The big Shay Locomotive now coming into the station sounds different from most steam trains. The big Shay has three cylinders which chuff away in a smooth rhythm. It came backing into the area in front of the depot, pulling a string of logging cars. Two Shays were hooked to this train. It takes a lot of power to get up to the top of this mountain. The Shays go all the way up to Bald Knob to bring back logging cars loaded with logs.
I walked around the Shay to look it over. It is beautiful, gleaming black, with polished brass fittings sort of a golden color. I could feel the heat from the firebox in its middle and see bright red flames through the cracks. Steam sprayed out here and there.
The fireman was shoveling coal into the firebox of the boiler. Pungent black smoke billowed out of the smokestack. The pump on the side of the boiler chuffed away as it pumped more water into the boiler to keep it full. Suddenly the safety valve sent up a blast of steam. Too much pressure would burst the boiler.
Jim Jenkins, my good friend, came over to me.
"Roger, I got my ax from supply. I'm ready for the big day!"
"Jim! I'm ready too. Imagine, cutting those big trees way up on Bald Knob Mountain! We've sure got our work cut out for us."
"Yeah, but think of payday! All that money at the end of the week! It is a job, and jobs are hard to find in this day."
The Shay's whistle gave a long blast. Men began hurrying to get on the train. We climbed on a logging car and braced ourselves against one of the posts sticking up from the edge of the car. The posts were to keep the logs from rolling off.
The whistle gave a short blast. There was a jerk as the Shay began pushing the cars up the hill. We went past the repair shops, moved a little faster past the water tower, and then up to speed toward the first switch-back.
The train slowed as it came to the switch-back. It gently eased into the long switch-back siding and then stopped. The brakeman jumped off and ran to pull the switch which would direct the train up the mountain on the other set of tracks. The switching rails moved with a "thunk" solidly against the other rails. We were ready to go on up the mountain.
Now the Shay was in front with the logging cars behind. We were on the way to the next switch-back. The switch-backs angle across the side of the mountain and make it possible to get up the steep grade.
"Chuff-chuff-chuff" went the Shay's three cylinders. We came to a steeper section of track and the Shay's drive wheels slipped. "Chuffchuffchuff." The engineer released sand which went down a chute to where the drive wheels met the track. The sand gave enough bite to give traction again, and we continued on up the mountain.
We arrived at the next switch-back and the brakeman jumped off to throw the switch to send the train up the next set of rails. He pulled the lever and the switching-rails moved. This time the Shay would be behind the logging cars again. It was safer that way. The heavy Shay had good brakes, and being at the bottom of the train would help control the heavy load of logs when coming back down the steep mountain.
"Jim! Here we are at the top! Brrr! Isn't it cold up here on Bald Knob Mountain! How the wind blows!"
Jim took a deep breath. "Yeah, so cold and clear and fresh! Makes me feel good to be alive!"
We stood a moment and just looked around. We could see mountains in the distance. They were probably over in Virginia. They seemed a long way off.
The small village of Spruce was up here on the mountain. It was mostly barracks for the workers to live in. There were sheds and barns and all the things we would need to stay up here for weeks at a time.
"OK. You ready? Let's get to work." Max Joist, the Foreman, led us into the forest and showed us where to work today.
Jim and I were to work on the same big tree. It takes a lot of chopping to cut a big tree down. Our axes were so sharp you could shave your whiskers with them. This wood is hard and you must have a sharp ax.
"Here we go!" Jim said. He gripped the ax with both hands, reared back, and swung as hard as he could! "Whomp!" A chip flew out of the tree-trunk. Then as he reared back for another swing, I swung my ax and chopped into the tree. "Thunk!" Another chip flew. We kept chopping away one after another.
Finally, we seemed to have the tree cut almost through. We heard a cracking noise and the tree began to lean over.
Jim yelled "Timber!!!" We ran to be in a safe area.
The tree came down with a crash and a thump that shook the ground, breaking limbs from other trees as it fell.
We began chopping the top out of the tree, then we chopped off the branches to prepare the trunk of the tree for loading on the train. By this time I wasn't cold anymore. The sweat just rolled down my face. We did stop now and then to drink plenty of water from the jug at hand.
The foreman came up to us. Two men followed him dragging a steel cable. They dug under the tree trunk and hooked the end of the cable around it. The foreman blew his whistle and the steam skidder began reeling in the cable, dragging the log - as it was now called - sliding it over the ground to the loading area - skidding it, as the loggers say.
We followed to see things as they happened. When the log was dragged to the logging car, men put props under it and attached more cables so that it could be rolled up onto the car. They guided the log as the cables pulled it up. When the logging car was filled with logs piled one on another, the Shay Locomotive would take it down the mountain to be sawed into boards.
"Clang!-Clang!-Clang!" Someone was pounding a gong. "Food!" the men shouted and we all began running to the cook-shack. We were famished!
Ham, lots of pinto beans, fried potatoes and onions, biscuits and cornbread. Plenty of good coffee, strong enough to float a horseshoe. And lots of pure fresh mountain water. What more could we want! We ate and ate and then ate some more. It takes a lot of energy to work in the woods cutting trees.
Back to work! Lots more trees to cut!
When we couldn't see anymore in the dark, it was time to quit. We were totally exhausted! We walked with the others back to our bunkhouse and fell into bed clothes and all. I was asleep before I hit the bed.
The sound of the steam whistle finally brought me awake. Another day was here. All of us washed as quickly as we could in the icy water. Then we ran to the cook shack.
Pancakes - only they called them flapjacks. They were thicker than the pancakes I knew, and heavier. But they did taste delicious to a hungry man! Molasses and butter to go with them. Biscuits too. They called them cat-heads. And brown gravy which they called poor dew. Lots of good greasy bacon. You do need all these calories when you work in the woods all day. And again that coffee that would take the varnish off a board. After a cup or two of the coffee I began to really wake up and feel alive! All that fresh air and exercise! I could live to be a hundred!
The foreman walked in the door and gave a blast on his whistle. "Get to work! It's a new day! Let's get at it!"
"Boss, you're a real slave driver!" one man said. Another just groaned.
Jim and I sighed, and headed out to cut down one more tree, or several. Will we ever make it to the end of this week? Payday! Won't you come soon!
But dreams end and I was standing by the tracks as the Shay came into the station. I'm glad I don't live in the past. But what memories! I'm ready to get on this train and ride up to the top again!
BEAN DINNER
FOURTH OF JULY BEAN DINNER
R. D. ICE
[This is based upon what memories I have of Vinton and the things I have heard about from different ones. I have changed names and used my imagination to create the details. Yet this is as accurates as I could make it.]
The year was 1934 and the Depression had struck with a vengeance. President Franklin Roosevelt was in the second year of his first term. In this little southeastern Ohio town called, Vinton, people were coming out of their houses and gathering at the High School in preparation for the Annual Fourth of July Bean Dinner.
"Roger! Today is the Bean Dinner! Let's go to the parade!"
"Parade! Parade!" shouted Roger, age 5, bouncing up and down. "Daddy, I want to go! I want to go to the parade! I like the band and the firecrackers! It'll be such fun! Is Mother going?"
"Her stomach is sick again today. She is going to stay home."
"I wish Mother would go. She would like the music and the parade. Is Grandma going?"
"Your Grandpa is doing surgery this morning. She has to stay home and help him."
"I wish Grandmother and Mother both would go. It'll be such fun. I like to have fun! But we'll go together, won't we Daddy!"
Roger and his father, Virgil, began walking down the street and turned toward the High School at the edge of town.
At the High School, Jimmy Freshcorn, the constable, walked around speaking to everyone and keeping order. Some were shooting off firecrackers and rockets and waving sparklers that showered sparks into the air. Others were standing and talking and watching and waiting. Roger Hefflin and his father joined the crowd. Virgil lit a sparkler and gave it to Roger. Roger waved it around and laughed with glee at the sparks shooting out.
In the Park overlooking the town, Ike Hooper, the cook, had been busy since the day before. Beans and some chunks of salt pork simmered and bubbled in a huge iron kettle. A big wooden barrel of soda crackers had been brought in. A huge pot of coffee was beginning to simmer on the fire. Everything had been made ready for the Celebration.
Four WWI veterans had dressed in the Civil War Blue of the Union Soldiers. Everett Wood was the commander. Harry Green carried the American Flag. Mark Keener and Jack Sturm stood holding their rifles. All eight members of the marching band stood holding their instruments, ready to begin the celebration.
"Attention!" shouted Everett. The veterans snapped to attention.
Everett raised his hand in a salute. "Forward, march!"
The band began playing "Stars and Stripes Forever." With Everett leading, the veterans marched up the hill toward the Park, with the band and the crowd of people following. Roger ran ahead to catch up with the band and marched along behind them, trying to keep in step.
At the Park, the veterans stopped in front of the bandstand. The band took their places in the bandstand. The people gathered on either side to give the veterans room for what they were about to do.
The flag-bearer stood at the top of the steps, holding the Flag high.
"Attention!" shouted Everett. "Salute the Flag!"
Everyone raised his eyes to the Flag and saluted. Then each put his hand over his heart. "I pledge allegiance, to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands; one Nation, [under God,] with liberty and justice for all."
"Present arms!" The two veterans with rifles turned to look out over the town below them and stood at the ready.
"Ready, aim, fire." The two rifles raised and shot in unison, the sound echoing from the hills.
"Ready, aim, fire." A second volley of shots rang out. This was repeated twice more. Then they lowered the rifles, turned and stood at parade rest.
Thomas Bidwell, the mayor, went up the steps to stand on the edge of the bandstand.
"Ladies and gentlemen. Miss Effie Cheltenham will now sing 'The Star Spangled Banner,' assisted by the band. "Let's all sing along with her."
Everyone saluted the Flag and stood at attention, waiting for her to begin.
As the band played, Miss Effie began to sing. "Oh say can you see, by the dawn's early light..."
When Miss Effie finished, the mayor spoke again.
"Friends, we honor our great Country, the U. S. of A. And we honor the soldiers who gave themselves and sometimes their lives to make this Nation great. They left home and family and friends to go off to war in defense of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. In the Revolution, they fought to set our Nation free from British rule to gain our Independence. In the War Between The States, they fought to preserve our Nation. In WWI our soldiers fought to set the world free. Even now our President, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, is fighting against this terrible Depression that has paralyzed our Nation. He declared a bank holiday, closed the banks and reformed the currency. We stand with him in his efforts. We pray that good times will come again. Let's all give a big cheer for our President!"
Everyone shouted and whistled and stamped their feet!
Then the band struck up "America" and Miss Effie sang again.
"My Country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee we sing..."
"Ladies and gentlemen," said the mayor. "Our Civil War soldiers had to live on dry beans and hardtack crackers. An army marches on its stomach, and it takes lots of food to keep it going. In honor of these soldiers we feast today just as they did: dry beans seasoned with salt meat, cooked in an iron kettle over an open fire. We don't have any hardtack crackers, but we do have these soda crackers. There's plenty of coffee in the big blue coffeepot, and lots of good, fresh water at the pump. As soon as the Reverend Brother Ed Harris says the prayer, you can all help yourselves and eat all you can hold. Thank you for being here today! We appreciate your donations that help make this Dinner possible. And now, Brother Harris."
Brother Ed lifted his hands, and the crowd grew silent.
"Oh holy God, bless this Day of remembrance and these Thy people. May we ever remember the soldiers of the past and all that we owe them. Bless our President and help him to act wisely. May good times come again and this Depression be over. Bless the one who cooked this feast. Bless us as we share in this meal, and as we eat, may we remember the privations of those soldiers who had to live in this way. May we be thankful for the freedom we enjoy and the blessings of life. We ask Thy blessings on us all, through Jesus Christ, Amen."
Each family had brought bowls and spoons. This was before paper plates and plastic spoons. You used it, washed it, and used it again. Recycling was the only way possible.
As the line passed the kettle, Ike Hooper, the cook, ladled beans into the bowls. Etta, his wife, handed out the crackers from the barrel. Eunice Freshcorn filled the coffee cups from the big pot. The people sat down at the tables and began eating.
Roger ran to get in line, with Virgil following.
"Here, Roger, let me help you."
"Daddy, I can do it myself. I'm a big man now."
Roger turned to the cook. "Mr. Ike, here's my bowl. Fill it up for me. I like those dry beans just like the soldiers used to eat."
Virgil picked up a stack of crackers and held out his cup to get coffee. Roger picked up a tin cup of water. They sat at a table and began to eat.
"There's plenty more," shouted the mayor! "Come back for seconds and
thirds and as much as you can hold! It's the Fourth of July Bean Dinner!"
The people ate and then went back for more. The festivities lasted until the bean kettle was empty.
Then the band took their places in the bandstand and began playing a series of stirring marches.
The people sat at the tables and listened with appreciation, some tappiong their feet and waving their hands in time to the music. Roger stood up and tried to emulate the band director.
"Daddy, I like the music and the band. I want to learn to play in the band. Can I have something to play music on?"
"I have a cornet that I play in the circus band during the summer. You can play that. I'll help you to learn."
"I wish I could play in the circus band."
"Maybe you can when you are older."
"I don't want to wait until I am older. I want to do it now."
Finally, toward the end of the afternoon people began leaving. The band gathered up their instruments and started back to town. It had been a most wonderful day! The Fourth of July Bean Dinner!
R. D. ICE
[This is based upon what memories I have of Vinton and the things I have heard about from different ones. I have changed names and used my imagination to create the details. Yet this is as accurates as I could make it.]
The year was 1934 and the Depression had struck with a vengeance. President Franklin Roosevelt was in the second year of his first term. In this little southeastern Ohio town called, Vinton, people were coming out of their houses and gathering at the High School in preparation for the Annual Fourth of July Bean Dinner.
"Roger! Today is the Bean Dinner! Let's go to the parade!"
"Parade! Parade!" shouted Roger, age 5, bouncing up and down. "Daddy, I want to go! I want to go to the parade! I like the band and the firecrackers! It'll be such fun! Is Mother going?"
"Her stomach is sick again today. She is going to stay home."
"I wish Mother would go. She would like the music and the parade. Is Grandma going?"
"Your Grandpa is doing surgery this morning. She has to stay home and help him."
"I wish Grandmother and Mother both would go. It'll be such fun. I like to have fun! But we'll go together, won't we Daddy!"
Roger and his father, Virgil, began walking down the street and turned toward the High School at the edge of town.
At the High School, Jimmy Freshcorn, the constable, walked around speaking to everyone and keeping order. Some were shooting off firecrackers and rockets and waving sparklers that showered sparks into the air. Others were standing and talking and watching and waiting. Roger Hefflin and his father joined the crowd. Virgil lit a sparkler and gave it to Roger. Roger waved it around and laughed with glee at the sparks shooting out.
In the Park overlooking the town, Ike Hooper, the cook, had been busy since the day before. Beans and some chunks of salt pork simmered and bubbled in a huge iron kettle. A big wooden barrel of soda crackers had been brought in. A huge pot of coffee was beginning to simmer on the fire. Everything had been made ready for the Celebration.
Four WWI veterans had dressed in the Civil War Blue of the Union Soldiers. Everett Wood was the commander. Harry Green carried the American Flag. Mark Keener and Jack Sturm stood holding their rifles. All eight members of the marching band stood holding their instruments, ready to begin the celebration.
"Attention!" shouted Everett. The veterans snapped to attention.
Everett raised his hand in a salute. "Forward, march!"
The band began playing "Stars and Stripes Forever." With Everett leading, the veterans marched up the hill toward the Park, with the band and the crowd of people following. Roger ran ahead to catch up with the band and marched along behind them, trying to keep in step.
At the Park, the veterans stopped in front of the bandstand. The band took their places in the bandstand. The people gathered on either side to give the veterans room for what they were about to do.
The flag-bearer stood at the top of the steps, holding the Flag high.
"Attention!" shouted Everett. "Salute the Flag!"
Everyone raised his eyes to the Flag and saluted. Then each put his hand over his heart. "I pledge allegiance, to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands; one Nation, [under God,] with liberty and justice for all."
"Present arms!" The two veterans with rifles turned to look out over the town below them and stood at the ready.
"Ready, aim, fire." The two rifles raised and shot in unison, the sound echoing from the hills.
"Ready, aim, fire." A second volley of shots rang out. This was repeated twice more. Then they lowered the rifles, turned and stood at parade rest.
Thomas Bidwell, the mayor, went up the steps to stand on the edge of the bandstand.
"Ladies and gentlemen. Miss Effie Cheltenham will now sing 'The Star Spangled Banner,' assisted by the band. "Let's all sing along with her."
Everyone saluted the Flag and stood at attention, waiting for her to begin.
As the band played, Miss Effie began to sing. "Oh say can you see, by the dawn's early light..."
When Miss Effie finished, the mayor spoke again.
"Friends, we honor our great Country, the U. S. of A. And we honor the soldiers who gave themselves and sometimes their lives to make this Nation great. They left home and family and friends to go off to war in defense of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. In the Revolution, they fought to set our Nation free from British rule to gain our Independence. In the War Between The States, they fought to preserve our Nation. In WWI our soldiers fought to set the world free. Even now our President, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, is fighting against this terrible Depression that has paralyzed our Nation. He declared a bank holiday, closed the banks and reformed the currency. We stand with him in his efforts. We pray that good times will come again. Let's all give a big cheer for our President!"
Everyone shouted and whistled and stamped their feet!
Then the band struck up "America" and Miss Effie sang again.
"My Country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee we sing..."
"Ladies and gentlemen," said the mayor. "Our Civil War soldiers had to live on dry beans and hardtack crackers. An army marches on its stomach, and it takes lots of food to keep it going. In honor of these soldiers we feast today just as they did: dry beans seasoned with salt meat, cooked in an iron kettle over an open fire. We don't have any hardtack crackers, but we do have these soda crackers. There's plenty of coffee in the big blue coffeepot, and lots of good, fresh water at the pump. As soon as the Reverend Brother Ed Harris says the prayer, you can all help yourselves and eat all you can hold. Thank you for being here today! We appreciate your donations that help make this Dinner possible. And now, Brother Harris."
Brother Ed lifted his hands, and the crowd grew silent.
"Oh holy God, bless this Day of remembrance and these Thy people. May we ever remember the soldiers of the past and all that we owe them. Bless our President and help him to act wisely. May good times come again and this Depression be over. Bless the one who cooked this feast. Bless us as we share in this meal, and as we eat, may we remember the privations of those soldiers who had to live in this way. May we be thankful for the freedom we enjoy and the blessings of life. We ask Thy blessings on us all, through Jesus Christ, Amen."
Each family had brought bowls and spoons. This was before paper plates and plastic spoons. You used it, washed it, and used it again. Recycling was the only way possible.
As the line passed the kettle, Ike Hooper, the cook, ladled beans into the bowls. Etta, his wife, handed out the crackers from the barrel. Eunice Freshcorn filled the coffee cups from the big pot. The people sat down at the tables and began eating.
Roger ran to get in line, with Virgil following.
"Here, Roger, let me help you."
"Daddy, I can do it myself. I'm a big man now."
Roger turned to the cook. "Mr. Ike, here's my bowl. Fill it up for me. I like those dry beans just like the soldiers used to eat."
Virgil picked up a stack of crackers and held out his cup to get coffee. Roger picked up a tin cup of water. They sat at a table and began to eat.
"There's plenty more," shouted the mayor! "Come back for seconds and
thirds and as much as you can hold! It's the Fourth of July Bean Dinner!"
The people ate and then went back for more. The festivities lasted until the bean kettle was empty.
Then the band took their places in the bandstand and began playing a series of stirring marches.
The people sat at the tables and listened with appreciation, some tappiong their feet and waving their hands in time to the music. Roger stood up and tried to emulate the band director.
"Daddy, I like the music and the band. I want to learn to play in the band. Can I have something to play music on?"
"I have a cornet that I play in the circus band during the summer. You can play that. I'll help you to learn."
"I wish I could play in the circus band."
"Maybe you can when you are older."
"I don't want to wait until I am older. I want to do it now."
Finally, toward the end of the afternoon people began leaving. The band gathered up their instruments and started back to town. It had been a most wonderful day! The Fourth of July Bean Dinner!
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