CHAPTER TWENTY
EVERY YEAR GETS SHORTER
My house seemed very large and very empty after my Joe was gone. Suddenly my thoughts turned to my Mettie, who was now a widow with a flock of children to look after. [see addendum] I knew she wanted them in school. Why not ask her to come live with me; then the children could enroll in our good school here in Alamogordo!
Was I ever glad when Mettie wrote they were on their way! It was like starting life all over again to watch these children grow up. I told Mettie this several times because I wanted her to know how pleased I was to have her here with me. She remarked that I might find them a little uppity at times and maybe a trifle independent, but she had hopes that they would tame down a little as they grew older and smarter.
I had the feeling that these children were going places and seeing things, and I wished with my whole heart that I could join the parade. I had to adjust myself to the flapper age, the lipstick, and the hardest of all, to women smokers. I made up my mind that I would be friends with this new generation by giving advice only when I was asked, and I'd cut my tongue before I would say, "Now in my day......"
They got under my skin sometimes, like the time one of them came out with, "Gee whiz, Grandma, why do you bother to go out in this heat and listen to a lot of dry rot?" This youngster was actually puzzled that I should want to go to church on one of the hottest days of the year.
I shot back with, "Young man, have I ever belittled any of the places you go?"
"Excuse me, Grandma, I didn't mean it that way."
"That's all right, Sonny: just learn to live and let live. I like my life; you like yours. Let's don't crowd each other."
Mettie usually had to rush to the kitchen on some pretense when the children and I locked horns a little, so they wouldn't see her laughing. She said she was always betting on me, and she always said she was glad she had brought the children here because I was good for them, but it was actually the other way around--the children were very good for me.
In 1924 I got the nicest invitation from my oldest son, Bob, and his Phronie. They had moved to Arkansas some years before and were now living near my birth place. This was my longest train ride, and I loved every minute of it. I found the porters and the passengers might be nice to this old grandma. A smile takes you a long, long way.
Bob and Phronie were so good to me. They took me in their car every day I was there; so we got well acquainted all over again with that part of Arkansas and into Missouri, my old stomping ground. The queerest to me was that I had imagined the towns would be miles apart. They certainly seemed that way to me as a child. Now we could ride fifteen miles and there would be another town. It didn't take long to get there in an automobile.
I did miss the trees' they have all been cut away to make more space for farms. It was easy, though, to picture my old home as it once was. I could imagine my big brothers rushing out the door to meet me.
Bob and Phronie asked so many questions about my childhood days, and in trying to remember little happenings, I had the feeling I was looking at myself from a long, long distance. Was there ever a real little girl called Angie McCarty? I was glad I went back to meet her again.
When I arrived from this long trip, Mettie and the children had to hear all the details. Here I was again, reliving my childhood, and I must say I had the most attentive audience. I guess their interest in bygone days gave me the idea to get out my best quilts and start sending them to daughters and daughter-in-laws. Imagine how I felt when the younger people called them "priceless heirlooms!"
I didn't have enough to give to the grand daughters, but I decided I'd start on silk quilts for them. I was to find out in a hurry that my old gnarled hands had lost their cunning, and it was taking me much longer to finish quilts, but it was a good project, and it kept me very busy when there weren't sick people to visit, or books to read, or flowers to look after.
Then my eightieth birthday crept upon me, and I had my first surprise birthday party. The Methodist Missionary Society of Alamogordo gave the party for me. I never saw a larger birthday cake, and I received such pretty aprons and hankies and a box of new silk squares for my quilt making.
Someone told me that a "lady's" name should appear in print but three times: at her birth, her wedding and her funeral. Since I didn't have any newspapers around to report my birth and wedding days, I substituted my Golden Wedding day, and my eightieth surprise birthday party. Seems I could be forgiven for that.
Here it is 1931, and I must admit I am getting up in years. I know now what people mean when they say every year gets shorter. Seems I don't get turned around before I have to hunt up a new calender.
This trip to Arizona has been very rewarding. I enjoyed my visit with Hettie and Jack, and it was good to hear all about their five children--all of them out on their own, well and contented in their work.
So many friends have asked what I think about this "modern age." I'm like the rest of you; I want us to come out of this "Depression in one hurry. I guess none of us will forget the year 1929 when we saw hundreds of men "riding the rails," jumping off trains to get for food at our back doors. We're coming out of it slowly, but a man has to have a job that's important to him, else he rates himself not much above an animal."
You ask me to list some things that please me most, and that is not hard to do. To think that I should live to see some of my own granddaughters and the granddaughters of my mountain people become college graduates! Maybe a good rule says all women are to receive an education; then they will see to it that all their men are educated.
Another thing that makes me very proud and happy is that my grandsons have turned to ranching in several cases after they have earned the where-withal in other jobs and professions. I like to think ranching is in their blood. Goodness knows! I get shocks and surprises when I see how ranching is done these days.
Look at Jerome Arrol (Mr. JAB) over there in Tehachapi, California. Can you believe he is raising purebred Herefords? I can tell you, the cows are bigger and fatter than the largest bulls we ever had.
I had to smile when Jerome wrote he was buying a ranch. He wrote "Grandma, this is a cattleman's paradise. You'll have to see it." How many times have I heard that during my lifetime?"
Ernest, Hettie and Jack's third son, has turned to another part of ranching. He is going to go far with horses. Did you know that he sent my Jack to Colorado to pick out the finest Quarter Horse Stallion he could find? I caught my breath when I got to see that horse. His name is Billy Byrne, and they said he has already won medals in horse shows. He's going far in Quarter Horse history. Wouldn't my Pa, Thomas McCarty, love all of this?
It seems you have to be part farmer, part cattleman, and a first-class mechanic to make a go of ranching these days. The sight of all those cars, trucks, engines, and pumps make me stare in pure amazement. Yes, times have changed, but there is one phase of ranching that has not changed at all.
There still have to be real cowboys who can ride and rope, and Hettie and Jack's second son, Archie, still shows the rest of them how it ought to be done. My! It's good to see him sittin' in a saddle, and when he goes to whirling that rope, you know it's going to obey him. Happy-go-lucky, dare-devilish, easy smiling Archie--the spitting image of my Joe.
This is about all I can wring out of me for your account of my life story. If you want to know the truth, I feel like I've undressed and left all my window shades up. I never meant to tell of my sick, sad years, but I think the Lord intended that I tell everything. If this story should help any older person to give up dope or prevent any younger person from starting the habit, I would be very grateful to my Maker for giving me this opportunity.
I must get packed, now, and start toward home tomorrow. I do want to see Tod and Ida over on the Hondo, but I won't stay over a week or ten days, for I must get home and help Mettie get that fruit put up. Mettie's boy, Walter Lafferty, really likes my picked peaches. My! He's a good boy. Alamogordo is going to be very pleased with him. He's studying pharmacy, and one day he wants to own his own drug store. He'll make it.
Time to get to bed. Tomorrow is another day! Goodnight all. |
