I, George Merrill Lauppe, arrived January 2, 1935, at William Newton Memorial Hospital in Winfield, Kansas. My names were selected due in part to tradition and in honor of an individual. George was my Grandfather Lauppe's name, as it was his father's. The name George has been used six times in the Lauppe ancestry since 1620 in Germany. Merrill was the married name of a Winfield lady for whom my mother worked prior to my parent's marriage. I remember visiting Mrs. Merrill several times in her large house on the hill near Southwestern College, prior to her death shortly after we moved from the Tisdale community. Her yard had stone retaining walls of varying levels which presented a real climbing challenge.

    Nineteen thirty-five (1935) was the first year the City of Winfield presented gifts to the parents of the year's first-born baby. I arrived early enough for my parents Harold Omer and Ione Elizabeth Ruggles Lauppe to receive several gifts presented by local merchants. Gifts included: $10.00 credit toward a square-tub Maytag washing machine, which was taken advantage of (I have the one-cylinder engine of that machine); baby's first photograph; baby pillow; a cotton dress for mother; free eggs and dressed poultry for mother's first meal home; special rate on shoe repair (ladies half-sole, 75¢ and men's, 85¢; a floral gift; mother's shampoo and finger wave; thirty quarts of milk; five gallons of gasoline; a free case of Coca-Cola; and a free cedar tree which was set out south of the southwest porch at Grandpa and Grandma Lauppe's house. The tree was still alive in 1998. The total hospital bill was $32.50, which my father had to borrow (no health insurance then).

    Home for us for the first six years was six miles east of Winfield on US Highway 160 and one-half mile south in the Tisdale community. Following Grandpa Lauppe's death in January 1941, we moved in with Grandma Lauppe on her farm, two and one-half miles west and two miles south of Burden, near Silver Creek School, where I lived until August 1956. In October 1951 I started dating a young lady (Marceil Ring) who was in my junior class at Burden High School. We were married December 27, 1955. At that time we were both in higher education programs, Marceil in a Registered Nurse program at Wesley Hospital in Wichita and me a junior at Southwestern College in Winfield, Kansas. Marceil graduated August 1956 at which time we rented an apartment in Winfield, where we lived until moving to Lawrence, Kansas, where I had accepted a teaching position at Haskell Institute (now Haskell Indian Nations University), the federally operated high school for Native Americans (referred to as Indians).

    Because of the two major moves, my life seems to have three distinct periods corresponding to the communities in which we lived: 1) Tisdale, 1935-1940; 2) Silvercreek/Burden/Winfield, 1941-1957; and 3) Lawrence, 1957-present.

    I am indebted to English teacher Dee Akins for making spelling and sentence structure consistent with current accepted publishing practices and Barbara Johnson, typist of theses and dissertations, for her ability to interpret and type my memories from those hundreds of 3x5 water- and food-stained cards.

    For several years I have considered recording some of my life experiences, since lifestyles have changed drastically during the last sixty years.

    Gone are the days of farming with horses, traveling via horse and buggy, living without electricity, going to a one-room country school with one teacher teaching all eight grades, the outhouse, reading and studying by kerosene lights, no radio to listen to or television to watch, no INTERNET to communicate with unknown individuals, wondering each day what type of weather one will have an hour hence, impromptu visits to neighbors or relatives, going to a small town shopping on a summer Saturday evening where stores stayed open till midnight or when one visited with neighbors or friends on those same streets until stores closed, playing "king of the mountain" on straw stacks, seeing steam locomotives pull passenger and freight trains, watching a "newsreel" of fighting action during WWII and part of a cereal movie prior to the feature movie, butchering hogs or cattle under a tree or in the barn driveway, harvesting grain by binding with a binder then shocking the bundles by hand and several weeks later threshing the grain with a threshing machine and threshing crew of up to fifteen men, driving cattle several miles to pasture, hand pumping water for livestock several hours at a time nonstop, making lye soap for laundry using hog fat cooked in a large steel kettle in the yard near the wood pile, no telephone, etc.

    On several occasions after relating a life experience I was encouraged to record that episode, along with others, in writing. Time to reflect on my many memories and record them in writing did not present itself with family, job, and hobby responsibilities, until after retirement from Haskell Indian Junior College (now Haskell Indian Nations University) in 1985, and employment in 1986 with the Douglas County Appraisers Office. One gentleman (Glenn Jones) in the appraisal office and I had been going to lunch together on a regular basis when the county implemented a new policy which required every county employee to live in Douglas County. Glenn lived just outside the county so was terminated in 1989. I was unable to find another county employee to join me for lunch. One day, after Glenn’s termination, while sitting in a restaurant waiting for the waitress to take my order, food to be delivered, and following the meal until my lunch hour was over, I decided I could be writing my memoir. So for the next eight years, each workday when other obligations did not take priority I wrote on 3x5 index cards, as they fit into my shirt pocket. The first three years only me and an occasional curious waiter or waitress knew I was writing, what I considered my total memoir, which is of the Tisdale community – Part I.

    Upon presenting the finished document – Part I – to family and friends they strongly encouraged me to continue writing about events following our family’s move from the Tisdale community to the Burden community. Over the next five years, at lunch, I recorded some of the more noteworthy events while living in the Silver Creek/Burden communities, as well as that brief time while living in Winfield, which constitutes Part II.

    The Lawrence, Kansas community, after September 1957 – Part III – has not been started as of this writing (May 1998). However, in retirement I hope to schedule a time for recording noteworthy events.

    My purpose for writing this memoir is to share in writing many of my life experiences, as well as describe them in such detail that those interested can locate the place of occurrence; relate dying farm activities performed for centuries with horses as it yielded to modern tractor-powered farming; portray life’s encounters with family, relatives and neighbors, as it was in the late thirties, forties, and early fifties, which made farm life so rewarding and provided me an opportunity, for a few moments, to relive each of those cherished memorable events.

    Writing this memoir has been a real challenge as it is my first attempt to write more than just a few pages on any one subject. My hope is that it is written in such a fashion that you can gain from it in several ways.

CONTENTS

Part I – Tisdale Community

Part II - Silver Creek, Burden, Winfield Communities

    The following describes many of my memories of happenings that occurred while our family lived in the Tisdale community or when we continued to worship at the Tisdale Methodist Church and visit with former neighbors after moving away in 1941.

     Undoubtedly, those first six years, prior to moving, had a great influence on my life as in later years and now I still cherish those many good times while living in that community.

    Even though Great-Grandfather Harris' death occurred soon after we moved away from the Tisdale community, its account is included in this section to accompany death narrations of both of my grandfathers.

    February 2, 1940. The weather that February morning was cold as it had snowed approximately six inches during the night.

    Brother Dwain and I were playing mid-morning in the snow-covered driveway with a set of twenty-four-inch diameter cultivator wheels mounted twenty-four inches apart on a pipe axle (no sled to play in the snow).

    While playing, our neighbor girl Ms. Cranston, who lived one-quarter mile north, on U.S. Highway 160, which is six miles east of Winfield, walked into our driveway and up to the house. Her walk was necessitated due to lack of a telephone in our house.

    Shortly after she walked away we were called to the house and informed we could not play now because "we are going to Grandpa Ruggles." He lived about six miles away at the north edge of New Salem.

    On arrival we found several other family members discussing final arrangements, for Grandpa had died suddenly. It was later in the day when Grandpa's body was brought back to the house in a black hearse which backed up to the never-used west front door. A gray casket was unloaded and carried with difficulty to the second floor. Different family members, son and daughters, took turns sitting with the body at night until funeral services were completed.

    It was in viewing Grandpa's body in that gray casket in the poorly lit, cold room shortly after getting it upstairs that I first experienced death.

    Mother spent one night sitting with the body. The day of the funeral we waited in the living room as the casket was carried downstairs and through the living room's west door where the hearse was waiting.

    We then went immediately to the church.

    Funeral services were in the New Salem Presbyterian Church, less than two blocks from Grandpa's house. Burial was in Rose Valley Cemetery, about four miles south of where we lived.

    Grandpa died from a heart attack while Aunt Urdeen and Betty Jane Stiff, whom grandparents and Aunt Urdeen raised from the time she was a baby, was a block and a half away milking the cows.

    At the time of Grandpa's death he was blind.

    Grandfather Ruggles was rather short in stature, probably about 5'6", with a gray beard. He was always in the house when we visited. Due to blindness he spent most of the day in their living room on a "day bed," which we had in our home for a number of years following grandfather's death.

    He apparently did not make much of an impression as the only thing I remember is his harmonica playing. He would tell me to go to the kitchen and ask Aunt Urdeen to give me his harmonica which was kept on top of the solid black walnut pie cupboard at the extreme right front corner. I now have the pie cupboard. He sat on the edge of the day bed with brother Dwain on his right knee and me on the left one playing beautiful songs on that bright shiny harmonica. After playing to us he would let us blow "carefully" on his harmonica.

    Other things I remember while visiting Grandpa, Aunt Urdeen, and Betty Jane in New Salem include:

    "Going After The Cows." - They lived in a white two-story frame house on the east side of the street at the north end of a dead-end street. Adjacent to the property was a native grass pasture of approximately ten acres which extended behind the houses across the street west from Grandpa's. One block south and one block west was a small barn/shed in which Aunt Urdeen and Betty Jane milked the cows. It was always fun to go with them of evenings to drive the cows from the pasture to the barn at milking time.

    "Steam Engine Tractor." - Directly across the street west from Grandpa's house lived Joe Fishback, a tall skinny fellow, who parked his steam engine in front of his house, headed south. It sure was fun to climb on and see it run and the fire when the fire box door was open.

    "Grocery Shopping." - Downtown New Salem was about three blocks south and east of Grandpa's house. Groceries were bought at either of the stores on the west side of the single block of stores. Usually groceries were bought at the north store. The east side of that block had houses and the city water well with pump and gazebo type shelter over it painted green. At the sound end of the block and immediately south of the well was the sole gas station and service garage. Attached to the south side of the gas station was a shed which housed a large saw used to cut trees into lumber.

    My father had several large poles sawed into dimension lumber, 2 x 4's and 2 x 6's. The stack of lumber was at least 10' long, 8' wide, and 6' high. The poles came from a rather large railroad bridge spanning a creek running through the pasture where we lived. The lumber is a full 2"x4" or 2"x6", rough sawn. Some of that lumber is still in the old hay barn on the Lauppe home place.

    "Sleeping at Grandpa's Overnight." - The first time I remember sleeping away from home was at Grandpa's. Everything was fine until after we had gone to bed, Dwain in bed with Betty Jane and me with Aunt Urdeen. I suddenly missed my parents and my own bed and started crying. After a long time of crying and various words of comfort from Aunt Urdeen she finally said, "Why can't you be quiet and go to sleep like your little brother?" Apparently it must have worked as I do not recall crying all night.

    "Road to Grandpa's." - The road Daddy usually followed into New Salem was straight north of our house until we were one mile south of town, then west one mile, then north about one mile into the west edge of town. That road took us past the bee man's house, where we bought honey on occasion, past a creek on the west side of the road where some guy's Model T Ford was stuck in the mud one time.

    "Public Sale." - Following Grandpa's death, Aunt Urdeen had a public sale to dispose of livestock and furniture. I do not remember attending the sale but do remember that Mother bought a female Jersey calf which was about two months old. Mother named her "Decky." I don't remember why. She turned out to be a pet and one of the best milk cows we had. Her milk stall was the extreme north one of the six.

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    January 29, 1941 was a beautiful day. Daddy was working a team of horses near the barn about mid-afternoon. A black shiny two-door 1940 Ford sedan drove rapidly into our driveway. Its driver, who lived about one mile west of Grandpa and Grandma Lauppe, was Frank Weigle. He talked to Daddy a few minutes, then got in his car and drove away.

    Promptly Daddy stopped working the horses and put them in the barn. When he harnessed or unharnessed the teams I liked to sit in a nearby horse feed grain box, which is part of the hay manger, and watch. That afternoon he did not remove the harness as usual, but only their bridles. I asked him why he was not taking the harness off the horses and he said Grandpa Lauppe was sick so we were going to their house. We hurriedly left for Grandpa's. Daddy drove that black 1935 Chevrolet two-door sedan faster than ever before. He drove so fast that muddy water splashed on the windshield as we went through mud holes south of Carol Cook's house. It stuck on the windshield so bad that we about ran into the ditch. Mother said, "You better slow down." Apparently Daddy did not slow down as that old Chevy banged and bounced over those rocks protruding into the road half a mile east of

    Boss Power's house when we started down the hill into the valley and again coming out of the valley on the east side. After sliding on the rounding curve and heading north, that old Chevy engine roared and fence posts whizzed by like never before. Again Mother said, "Harold, you better slow down." He only seemed to drive faster again after getting through the "S" curve, then heading straight north again.

    At the north end of that mile road we did not slow to turn east to Grandpa's house as usual, but went straight north another mile just past the Silver Creek school on the west side of the road, to a strange place. One of Daddy's first cousins, Dale Harris, and his family, consisting of two daughters Yvonne and Marilyn, lived on the eighty-acre farm that belonged to Great-Grandfather John Green Harris. We were invited into their living room where we learned that Grandpa, Grandma, and her sister Etta Harris Lauppe, who was visiting from her farm near Meade, Kansas, were headed for the town of Burden, about five miles from Grandpa's. About one hundred fifty yards north of Dale's house was a draw and bridge with a big mud hole. Grandpa's green and black four-door 1927 Buick sedan got stuck in the mud hole. He walked back up the hill to Dale's to have a team of horses pull the old Buick with Grandma and Aunt Etta in it out of the mud. He had just entered the front yard and was approaching the front porch when he collapsed. Ethel, Dale's wife, saw him walking and collapse but did not recognize him. Thinking a stranger had collapsed, she went to the field to get Dale. By the time Dale got to Grandpa and the Burden ambulance drove four miles out of town, it was too late to save him. He had died from a heart attack.

    Attending Grandpa's funeral service were two of his farmer brothers from "out west" (Meade County) -- Uncle Alta, married to Grandmother Lauppe's sister Etta, and Uncle Austin, another farmer from near Yoder, Colorado. That was the only time I ever saw him since he did not come back to Kansas for the funerals of two other brothers and two sisters.

    I remember Grandma Lauppe had a meal in her house just prior to the funeral when Grandpa's four surviving brothers and two sisters, plus Grandma, Daddy, and Aunts Mabel and Olive were seated around the dining room table. All four brothers -- Uncle Austin, Alta, Deam and Jake -- were seated on the south side of the table. Aunts Mary and Jen were seated on the table's north side. I do not remember how the other family members were seated. The kids were served later.

    Funeral services were held in the Burden Methodist Church, a one-story white frame building, with many folding doors along the north side of the sanctuary which opened into a large room used for Sunday School classes. Burial was in the Burden cemetery, one mile north and one-half mile east of the church.

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    April 17, 1942 weather-wise was a perfect day for the last day of school at Silver Creek School, which was a one-room white wood frame building, three miles west and one mile south of Burden, Kansas. It was one-half mile west and one mile north of our house in the extreme northwest corner of the same section as our house. Activities started mid-morning with a program consisting of a small skit, band numbers, and poems. My part was to play the "sticks" in the rhythm band and recite a short poem. Following the program was the "Last Day of School Pot Luck Dinner." Afternoon activity for the last day of school traditionally was a baseball game between fathers and sons. Women and daughters must have visited. The ball game was over and most other schoolmates and parents had gone home. We were about ready to depart school for the last time that first year of school for me when Aunt Blanche and Uncle Ira Powers, who lived less than one-fourth mile east of school, stopped on their way home from Winfield. That's when we learned that Great-Grandfather Harris had died in the early afternoon. Funeral services were held two days later on a rainy and very muddy day. It was so muddy that some cars and even the hearse experienced difficulty getting to the Grand Prairie Cemetery, one mile east and three miles north of Burden. The funeral procession went straight north of the Burden Methodist Church, then east and to the north cemetery entrance, which is less of an incline than the east entrance. Great Grandpa's casket was carried from the road to the grave side. Rain during the services at the cemetery found several people staying in their cars. It rained so much that one could hear water running in the open grave during the service. After the service the casket was moved and water dipped from the open grave so it would not float when lowered into the grave.

    Grandpa Harris was the third grandfather to die in as many years.

    As I recall, he was a tall, thin gentleman, who lived at the north end of the block on Seventh and Fuller, just north of Winfield's Ninth Street Fire Station. We stopped to see Grandpa Harris quite often as his house was on our way to and from downtown Winfield since we lived six miles east of town.

    His living room contained two unique pieces of furniture to our house. They were namely, a huge brown wood radio about two feet wide and four feet high, with cloth covered slits in the wood front. It sat along the east wall, south of the window. Along the south wall was a day bed divan with the high head.

    Grandpa always had the same question each visit, "Have you caught any birds or rabbits yet?" He would tell us, "The way to catch them is to put salt on their tails."

    It was always fun to watch big red goldfish swimming in his blue concrete sunken fish pond between the house and the garage. After Grandpa's death in 1942, several of the goldfish were placed in the livestock tanks at the windmill west of the barns at our farm. Those fish survived in the two stock tanks for at least forty years.

    A red tile single car garage sat south of the house near the alley. Grandpa did not have a car. However, the garage was always full of walnut wood furniture Grandpa had made. He made drop-leaf tables, straight-back chairs, rocking chairs (standard and children size), magazine racks, foot stools, shoe shelves, etc. He made the small walnut wood rocking chair for me. The straight back walnut chair with padded seat, magazine rack and foot stool, which I have, are his products.

    At the time Grandpa bought his first 160-acre farm one mile east and three miles north of Burden, he planted several walnut trees. When he sold the farm several years later, it was on condition that when the trees matured they were his to harvest. Hence, all furniture he made during retirement years was made of walnut.

    We always looked forward to visiting Grandpa so we could go one block south to the fire station and look at the big red fire engines and always hoped they would make a fire run so we could hear the sirens and see them drive out of the station, which did occur several times.

    Grandpa's second wife was a small, thin lady whom I vaguely remember. I think she died prior to Grandpa. One apparently true story is told about her. She did not wash supper plates until she had turned them upside down and served fried eggs for breakfast on the bottom.

    I remember waiting in the car in front of Grandpa's house for an endless period of time until the hearse arrived for Grandma Harris' funeral.

    Another story repeated over and over about Grandpa Harris concerned times when the Walnut River flooded downtown Winfield. Water would get into Grandpa's house but he would not move out. He put his bed on four chairs and slept at night above the water.

    He was progressive as he, along with J. F. Henderson, Marceil's great- grandfather, built the Telephone Exchange in Burden and ran line #1 out to his three daughters' and one sons farms about five miles southwest of Burden. Our phone ring was one long ring and one short ring until the dial system was installed around 1967. One long ring was for "Central" or operator, and five short rings meant all call -- everyone listened at the same time for a message, like school being cancelled or a fire in the neighborhood.

    He manufactured the cement blocks used to construct the small one-story telephone building. It was about ten feet south of the stone City Hall building in Burden. The building was about 20'x20' with floor level about 16" above sidewalk level with a sheet metal awning over the sidewalk. It stood until the early 1980s.

    Another venture of his was Burden's water system. He pushed it by getting residents to sign up, by hand digging holes for the water tower footings, and running pumps at the spring a mile and one-half west and one-half mile north of town.

    He also installed scales which were available to farmers at night when the elevator scales were closed. He charged 10¢ to weigh a wagon. He kept half the charge and turned the rest over to the City of Burden. It made each of them $8.00 to $10.00 per month.

    The late 1930s were still not an ideal financial time for farmers since things had just started to rebound from the Depression. However, that did not keep the younger couples in the Tisdale community from getting together on a regular monthly basis, and then some, for pitch parties. Parties were always held in a different home each session.. Usually eight or ten couples with kids attended. Those I recall attending besides our family were Uncle Bill and Aunt Grace Ruggles, Maurice and Melvin; Aunt Babe and Uncle Glenn Miller, Curtis and Marlene; John and Edna Stover; Ed and Margaret Seegler, Carl and Sister; Oscar and Bertha Scholey and daughter Phyliss; Alma and Bill Bell, Stanley and Brother; May and Earl Benjamin (older children); Les and Etha Ellinger, Bob and Phyllis (older); Uncle Charles and Aunt Olive and Marjorie, and others from time to time.

    The evening was filled with parents playing cards at different tables throughout the evening. Scores were kept with two prizes given, one for highest score and lowest score. I don't know how score was kept, except I think they played seven point pitch and moved to a different table after each game. During the winter months several games were played prior to sandwiches, pies, cakes, coffee, and hot chocolate. After desert, more rounds of cards were played. Several times during the summer weather several took ice cream freezers to the game party. Then two to four men turned the freezers at the same time.

    Several times the group had surprise parties which were unannounced to the party holder. For a surprise party everybody, with the exception of the family who did not know a party was going to be at their house, gathered at the home of a party member closest to the location of the surprise party. All went at the same time with horns honking and cowbells ringing. I remember them gathering at our house twice -- once to surprise John and Edna Stover, who lived one-half mile south, and once to surprise the Fry's, who lived one-half mile south and one-half mile east, on the south side of the road.

    One winter Saturday evening we got dressed and went shopping in Winfield. On the way home, probably 8:30 to 9:00 p.m., as we topped the hill by Johnson's, one-half mile north and one-half mile west of home, Daddy noticed lights in our house. He said to Mother, "Didn't you blow the lights out before we left home?" She thought for a moment and replied, "No, we did not light the lights before we left home." She was right, as I remember it was still light when we started to town, because it was very unusual to leave home at that time of day when it was about dark. On arrival at home we found the yard full of cars and the house full of card group members playing cards. When they arrived for one of the surprise parties and found no one at home they came on in, started a fire in the living room stove, built a larger fire in the kitchen stove, opened the only downstairs bedroom door, set up card tables, made coffee, hot chocolate, sandwiches and were playing cards while waiting for us to return home. What a surprise!!

    Another night pitch was held as Oscar and Bertha Scholey's, one-half mile north and one-half mile east. There must have been at least six inches of snow on the ground and it was still snowing when it was time to leave for Scholey's. Rather than walk the mile via road, we took a shortcut across a field and the pasture. After the party was over, a couple by the name of Smith, who lived in Winfield, offered us a ride back home. We all piled in their black 1939 or 1940 Ford, along with another couple. Snow was so deep the car got stuck going up the hill in Scholey's driveway. All three of the men got out and pushed the car up the drive. I was not allowed to get out and push even though I wanted to. After letting us out at home, Mr. Smith had some trouble getting out of our driveway even though it was level. Daddy started out to help push them near the road but wasn't needed as the driver managed to get onto the road himself.

    It must have been during the month of October that one of the parties was held at May and Earl Benjamin's, one-half mile north and two miles east, and one-half mile north, then back off the road east of us. They lived in a large house with a kitchen on the east, dining and living room on the south, and two bedrooms on the north side, with a continuous screened porch on the south side and east sides of the house.

    At one point during the evening I discovered that all the other kids had vanished. I went from room to room and could not find them. Next I started looking on the porch from the living room but could not see any of them. None were visible from the dining room. There was only one place left to look and that was from the kitchen. I went to the east kitchen screen door with my hands shielding my eyes so I could see onto the dark porch. As I stood there peeking out with my eyes adjusting to the dark, suddenly several terrible frightening looking faces came screaming at me. I was so scared that I ran from the kitchen, through the dining room and living room, and into the northwest bedroom. Mother and Daddy could not get me to stop crying so after a long period of time had Betty Jane to try and console me. At one point to try and show me there was nothing to be afraid of, the kids with masks brought them in to show me. I remember crying long after we were home and had gone to bed.

    Another party was held at John and Edna Stover's. Sometimes the group sang when George Leftwich came to play his violin, Boyd Leftwich a guitar, Rush Leftwich from Burden, a banjo, and a piano was available. That night was another surprise party. I remember lying in the middle of their living room floor and going to sleep listening to the music and singing.

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    Quite a few things happened to make life interesting in the Tisdale community besides those already related. They made up my boyhood memories in many ways:

    "Unit (HDU) Meetings." - Mother, like most of the women in the Tisdale community, belonged to a Home Demonstration Unit, which met on a monthly basis.

    Those "Unit" meetings were held on a week day afternoon in a different home each month. I remember particularly well one of the meetings was at Scholey's, either late fall or early spring. Joann Fry, my age, and I had gone outside to play, even though it was very cool, without our coats. We were in the hog pen wading in mud when our shoes became stuck in the mud. I finally left my shoes and also Joann stuck in the hog pen mud. After I had gone back to the house and had played awhile, our mothers missed us and asked a number of times where Joann was, as well as where were my shoes. I finally showed them, then got in trouble for leading Joann into the hog pen and leaving her without telling the mothers.

    Another Unit meeting which would have been later, maybe during the summer, was held at Aunt Grace and Uncle Bill Ruggles'. At that time they were living two miles east of Winfield, on the south side of the road on what was known as the Lunsford farm. This was prior to the Ruggles moving one-half mile east of Uncle Jay and Aunt Ollie's where they were living when Maurice started first grade in 1939 (five miles south of Cranston's corner). Natural gas was being piped into the house with a ditch in their front yard for the lines and meter. It sure was fun playing in the ditch until time to get out. Maurice crawled out, helped Melvin out, then they both left me trying to get out. After what seemed like a lot of crying and a long time, Mother and Aunt Grace came to my rescue.

    "Bumble Bees." - Probably the most vivid was bumble bees. One of the cow pastures was about one-half block north of the house. It was a summer evening about milking time when Mother took me down the road with her as far as the pasture gate. I was instructed to stand between the road and pasture fence north of the gate while Mother went out into the pasture after our cows. While Mother was rounding up our cows, I was tromping in the grass in my designated waiting area. The call of nature came so I stepped farther back, closer to the fence so no one would see me if a car came down the road. I proceeded to pee when suddenly the air was full of big black buzzing bumble bees coming from the grass where I was peeing. I was dressed in short-legged union alls and no shoes. Needless-to-say, the bumble bees were not happy about having their home wet down and attacked my bare legs. After being stung I ran out of the grass with the bees after me. After I got away from their nest and out in the road they stopped flying after and stinging me. I still remember jumping up and down in the road and screaming until Mother got there. She took me to the barn and set me on the hayrack wagon to look at my legs. I kept repeating over and over, "My legs are broken, my legs are broken." Mother said, "No, your legs are not broken, you can still walk. They just sting and hurt."

    "Buck Sheep." - Another summer evening, while Mother and Daddy were milking, I was attacked by a mean buck sheep. They milked out in the cow lot north of the barn. The milk cows were so gentle that they could be milked wherever they happened to be. A large long tree log lay in the lot on which I was to stay while the cows were being milked. As most kids get tired of waiting in the same spot, so did I. While off the tree log I felt something hit me from behind which knocked me down, then continued to butt me around. Just as I would get up, that old buck sheep would hit me again until Daddy came to my rescue. I was afraid to get off the tree log when sheep were in the lot with the cows after that butting.

    "Finger Scar." - One summer morning Mother and I had gone to the garden east of the house with a paring knife to cut some vegetables. On the way back to the house I wanted to carry the knife. Mother did not want me to carry it but finally gave in, if I would be careful. She went on into the house while I tarried under the two spirea bushes east of the house under the kitchen window. While trying to cut a limb from the bush the knife slipped and I thought "cut my finger off." It only left a scar on my left index finger, which starts near the top and at the back edge of my fingernail one quarter inch wide and three quarters inch long. At first I was not going to cry and tried to hide the cut when I saw all the blood I got scared and started crying. Mother heard me crying through the open window and came to my rescue.

    "Eggs." - Late one summer morning I thought I was being really helpful by taking some eggs to the house from the chicken house. Since I did not have a basket or bucket to carry them in, I placed one egg in each front pocket and one in each hand. With the eggs in pockets and hands I headed for the house with my find. Everything was going fine until I was about halfway to the house when suddenly I stubbed my toe. I felt something wet and gooey in my hands and as I got up, two wet feelings were at the front of my pants. Needless-to-say, four broken eggs and another pair of dirty pants got me in trouble again. I have not carried eggs in my pockets since. But I have broken 30-60 dozen eggs at a time, which occurred when I worked at Armour's Creamery and Egg Produce in Winfield during 1955-57 while working my way through college. Eggs were transferred from truck to cooler on a two-wheel dolly, which held three 30-dozen wooden egg crates. When a wood handle would break off the bottom crate, all three cases of eggs would splatter all over the floor as they were being moved from truck to cooler. I used a grain shovel to scoop up egg contents and shells. Really quite a mess and difficult to clean up when all those egg whites stuck together. "Outhouse Substitute." - When the call of nature came, instead of going to an outside toilet, I preferred to squat under the back of Daddy's "Model A Ford Chassis" trailer he had backed into the door less lean-to attached to the south side of the garage. Even though I was at the back of the lean-to and under the trailer, I must have been visible from the road as several years later Ed Seeliger laughed, as he always did, when he told me I waved from that position under the trailer to him as he went down the road.

    "Going After Cows." - One of my favorite things to do in the summertime was to go with Daddy after the milk cows of evenings. One of the cow pastures was west of the barn, which was across the road from the house. A small creek ran through it with a railroad trestle over it. It was always fun to walk under the railroad trestle and see and pound on the huge black creosote poles that seemed to reach to the sky. Daddy had old poles that were replaced, sawed into 2x4 and 2x6 lumber at the saw mill in New Salem. Another interesting thing about that creek was to watch the water run through wheel spokes when Daddy drove the wagon in the water to swell the spokes and wood fellows so the steel rims would stay on.

    "Hired Men." - During harvest season Daddy sometimes hired an older gentleman to work on the farm. Eggs Neglan lived in Winfield, six miles west of us. Ed did not have a car so Daddy picked him up each morning and took him home early evenings. One summer evening when taking Ed home, just east of town where Highway 160 turns slightly southward, a car passed Daddy at what seemed a high rate of speed. At that time US Highway 160 was all gravel. Just after the car passed us a golf ball sized rock came through the lower right portion of the windshield and landed in Ed's lap. The windshield in that 1927 Chevy was not safety glass at that time. Most of the way to town I had been sitting on Ed's lap but just before the rock flew through the windshield I had stood up between Daddy and Ed, in the seat. None of us were cut with glass which left a small round hole in the windshield.

    "Trixie." - One winter morning I was with Daddy in the high-wheeled horse-drawn grain wagon south of the railroad tracks. We were going across the prairie hay meadow toward a field to pick up shocked Kafir corn for cattle. Out little black and white terrier dog (Trixie) was running along the right side of the wagon. She ran in front of the right rear wheel, then it ran over her. She was on her back and feet were in the air as the wheel went over her stomach area. I was afraid it was the end for her but she got up and ran after the wagon.

    "Steam Locomotives." - One advantage to living close to the Missouri Pacific Railroad line between Winfield and Dexter was being able to see the huge steam locomotives used to pull rail boxcars. It was most fun when going to the field south of the tracks and stopping near the tracks, for the train to cross, where we were close enough to see the many mechanical parts moving. Especially exciting were the long connecting beams on the locomotive's driving wheels, black smoke and steam coming from its smoke stack and sometimes fire in the fire box if the fireman was shoveling in coal.

    Sometimes when Dwain and I were playing in the yard, the train engineer or fireman would give two or three short toots on the steam whistle, then wave to us. Before we moved from Tisdale some of the big, funny-looking, blue, strange-sounding locomotives started pulling freight cars. It just roared, without smoke, and its horn sounded funny. Its engineer did not whistle and wave like the steamer crews. It was not as much fun to watch for trains when the diesel electrics started running, since there was nothing moving except the big shiny blue and gray locomotive.

    "Tramps." - The late thirties were still a poor economic time for many individuals. Several times men, referred to as "tramps", who followed the railroad tracks, would stop at our house and ask for food. They had a very small bag or things rolled in a red or blue bandanna tied to the end of a stick resting over a shoulder. Mother invited them in and either fried an egg or made pancakes. They always left full and pleased.

    "US Highway 160." - During the time Kansas was grading and building bridges for US Highway 160 east of Winfield, detours were set up. One such detour was one-half mile north and one-quarter mile east of our house at a bridge building site. The detour consisted of driving down a fairly steep bank into a creek bed, across a temporary low water bridge with water running over it, and up the other side.

    One time when Grandpa and Grandma Lauppe came to visit us, Grandma was afraid to ride across the water/creek ford with Grandpa. She got out and walked across. I always thought it was fun to ride in the car up and down the steep banks and drive through the water. I never could understand why Grandma was afraid.

    "Gravel Quarry." - Late in the 1930s the state of Kansas widened and totally constructed US Highway 160 east of Winfield, one-half mile north of us. Gravel for the new road came from a gravel quarry about one-quarter mile south of our house. It was on John and Edna Stover's farm on the west side of the road, just south of the railroad tracks. Several times after starting the cows in from the pasture next to the quarry Daddy and I walked over to the quarry to see the big equipment and the big hole in the ground.

    It was a noisy operation in several respects: a) When blasting rock loose with dynamite it would rattle windows in the house and was always fun to run out of the house to see the big cloud of dust. b) Hearing those old truck engines roar and the transmissions whine as their drivers floor-boarded them to get up the steep incline and out of the quarry. c) Seeing and hearing the Ford trucks come down the road after they got out of the quarry, with their dark green bodies and black fenders and oval grill, with dust flying, scattering our chickens that were in the road and being told and warned to stay out of the road because of the big fast trucks. Several chickens were run over by the trucks, as the chicken house was on the east side of the road and the barn on the west side where they liked to spend a lot of time.

    "Dwain's Mess." - One summer evening we were getting ready to go to pitch where the men were going to freeze homemade ice cream. Dwain and I were already dressed playing in the kitchen. Mother had already mixed ingredients for the ice cream and had it in the ice cream can sitting near the front of the cabinet. Dwain wanted to see what the can contained so he proceeded to climb up the front of the cabinet by stepping on drawer pulls. He succeeded in climbing high enough to reach the top of the can and pull it over on himself and the floor. What a mess! Needless-to-say, I was in trouble again for not watching my little brother who just messed up his clean clothes and spilled 1 1/2 gallons of ice cream mix on the floor. I don't remember, but we probably went without ice cream mix, although I remember my parents discussing what they should do.

    "Freezing Ice Cream." - During the summer months on several occasions ice cream mix was taken where pitch was being played. Someone provided ice and broke it into small chips for the ice cream freezers. Ice was placed in gunny sacks and pounded with a heavy hammer to chip correct freezer size. Usually three to five men were turning freezers at the same time. After the ice cream was frozen it was packed good with ice and blankets for two to three hours while the adults played pitch and all the many kids just played. Probably at least fifteen kids, ranging from 1 year old up to teenage were at each party.

    "Blacky the Cat." - We usually had cats around the barns to help control rats and mice since there was always a lot of grain for them to feed on. One time we had a small black and white kitten (mostly black) named Blacky. I played a lot with Blacky until one day he vanished. Two or three days after his disappearance Mother got the five gallon cream can off the south porch to start putting cream in it to take to town. That's when she found Blacky suffocated. I remember playing with him and putting him in the can. I did not remember when we were looking for him.

    "Road Kill." - The livestock barn was across the road west from the house, garage, and chicken houses. Chickens liked to be around the barn to get grain and scratch in the cow and hog lots. When crossing the busy road quite often one or more would be hit by a car. It wasn't unusual for the driver to stop, come to the door and tell us they had run over one of our chickens. Sometimes they were made into chicken and noodles as they were always old tough hens.

    "Fake Car." - During warmer weather Dwain and I played north of the house under Spirea bushes. We did not have store toys to play with so we found other things and played make-believe. One such make-believe toy was a rusty part of some farm machinery which was about four inches long and one inch wide with two circular projections at one end, and was called our "Ba-ba-Car."

    "Turkeys." - We always raised turkeys which roosted in trees east of the house. Since air-conditioning was unheard of, our upstairs bedroom windows were open summer nights. One night our turkeys were making a terrible racket. It was unusual since they slept quietly at night. All their noise woke me as well as scared me. I got in bed with Mother and Daddy. By that time the turkeys had quieted down. A few minutes later they were fussing again so Daddy got up and went out to see what was upsetting them. A long time later he returned without finding the cause of the disturbance.

    "Sick Nights." - When I was sick with a fever at night during the winter months Mother would sleep with me in the heated living room downstairs. I always slept on the wall side of the bed. It always felt so good to sleep with my face against the cold exterior wall. Mother was always telling me to move away from the wall. It wouldn't be long until I was lying against it again.

    "Sharing." - The first car I remember Daddy owning was a green and black 1927 Chevrolet coupe with Landru Irons on the body behind the doors. One of the unique features of the car was the approximately eight-inch-wide shelf at the top of the seat back rest and the body. That shelf made an excellent place for a child to spread out while riding. Dwain and I fought over who got to ride in the "window" until we learned to take turns.

    "Model 'A' Trailer." - Daddy did not have a truck or pickup to haul grain so he bought a four-wheeled trailer. I remember going with him to get it, which was across the road north of the Stone Frog Hollow schoolhouse three miles east of Winfield on US Highway 160. At that location was a small white frame building housing a grocery store and a small single stall auto repair shop. The owner also did welding and made trailers. Daddy bought a trailer made from a Model A Ford chassis. The twenty-one-inch wheels had been cut down in order to use sixteen-inch tires, which was a popular size by the late 1930s. He parked it in a lean-to attached to the south side of the garage. He always backed it in the space. When squatting under the trailer during winter months I liked to stick my tongue on the heavy rear axle and feel it stick.

    Prior to Daddy's purchase of a 1934 Chevrolet pickup and later a 1955 Chevrolet ton truck, the trailer had a grain box on it. During wheat harvest, starting with 1949 at which time I was fourteen and eligible to drive on farm errands, I made a lot of trips with it full of wheat to the Burden elevator or home from the other farm to unload grain in bins. The first years after its purchase a black 1935 Chevrolet two-door standard sedan was used to pull it. I started driving at age twelve towing the trailer behind the 1935 so I had some interesting experiences. The north/south road between the two eighty-acre farms at the "other place" had never been graveled and had large water/mud holes after rains. One time while trying to get through one of those deep mud holes I got the car and trailer stuck. Daddy unhooked the combine from the tractor in order to pull the car and trailer on through the mud hole. On another occasion a year or so later I had just pulled out of the south wheat field on the east side of the road with a trailer load of wheat and started to accelerate when the left rear axle of the old Chevy broke.

    In 1988, while restoring my 1929 Model A Ford in preparation for our trip to Alaska, Daddy gave me the Model A trailer chassis. Several parts of it were used on our 1929 Model A which made our Alaska trip possible. Needless-to-say, when I went with Daddy to get that trailer I never dreamed that fifty years later I would be riding on part of it to Alaska on our 36-day, 8,300 mile trip with thirteen other Model A Fords. Those old Fords never die, they just keep rolling.

    "Neighbors." - During the late 1930s and up to the time we moved in February 1941, Daddy bought milk for the hogs from Lyge and Stella Bailey, who lived one-half mile north and one mile east and about one and one-half mile north on the east side of the road.

    Part of the time they milked three cows. Each would milk the outside cow as they were locked in the stanchion in their white barn, then when that cow was milked, turn around and both milk the center cow at the same time. Seemed strange to see two milking the same cow at the same time. We would get there for milk in the evenings as they were milking. Not only did they share milking responsibilities but just about everything else. They each had their own car. When he went anywhere in the neighborhood it was in a 1915 brass radiator Model "T" Ford Roadster. They went to Winfield in her 1936 black two-door Plymouth Sedan. I have been in the grocery store when he paid for half of the groceries and she the other half. Chickens were her income. I don't know how they split the livestock and crops. Research of the Ruggles family in 1976 indicated she was a Ruggles descendant. I had no idea prior to that time she was related.

    "Leg Injury." - In late 1939 or early 1940, first cousin Maurice Ruggles was on his way to school one morning when he stopped to see a neighbor's, Mrs. Maddis', new Ford car. At that time Ruggles lived three miles south of us, and one-half mile east, then south off the road about one-half mile in a two-story yellow house, which was one mile east of Aunt Ollie and Uncle Jay Bowser. Maurice walked to the one-room frame school building north of their house. When he arrived at Mrs. Maddis' house he heard her car running in the garage. Just as he stepped behind the car she backed out of the garage, not knowing he was around, and ran over him. His right leg was injured severely with stitches required on the back of his leg from ankle to his thigh. We visited him several times while he was hospitalized on the second floor of Newton Memorial Hospital in Winfield. His room was to the left of the main central stairs on the south side of the hall. By the time he reached fifty years of age, circulatory problems had developed in that injured leg.

    "Great Uncle." - On a couple of occasions a tall thin gentleman stopped to visit. He was always referred to us as "Uncle Walter" Gordon who married a Bowser, my Grandmother Ruggles sister. The most unusual thing about him was the fact that he lived in Canada, where he farmed.

    He said it was so cold during the winter that wheat was planted in the spring. He also said that it was no fun fishing because fish were so thick they could bite as soon as the hook hit the water.

    "Visiting Grandparents." - It was always a treat to visit Grandma and Grandpa Lauppe and stay all night. Evenings after supper they sat around the dining room table and read by light of kerosene lamps. When they were both reading all one could hear was the eight-day clock ticking that sat high on a shelf of the south wall of the dining room. Their bedroom was the south room upstairs. I slept with them which was a treat since Dwain and I slept together at home. When all was quiet with Grandma and Grandpa asleep, the tick of another eight-day clock could be heard. It was a black one with gold colored columns on its front. It had a round face in the center, which was about a foot long and eight inches high.

    It was always fun to play on an old rusty plow type Twin City tractor parked south of the big barn west of the house. It did not run so it was always parked headed north about two feet south of the barn. It was sold at the auction. Grandpa and Daddy had purchased a 1937 John Deere Model "A" tractor which was not delivered until after Grandpa's death January 29, 1941. The John Deere was unloaded under the large old elm tree about 50 yards north of the house, a few days after we moved in with Grandma. Two or three days later it started to snow so Daddy decided he would put it in the driveway of the barn. He opened the north driveway doors and then started the tractor and started toward the barn. Just as he got past the shop its engine stopped. The crankshaft had frozen to the bearings due to a broken oil line. No permanent damage occurred to the engine.

    Another engine we played on some was a large one cylinder mounted on four steel wagon wheels drawn by horses. Grandpa used it to power his corn sheller, as he did custom shelling for neighbors. Daddy tells about the time Grandpa had scheduled corn shelling at Ira Barkman's, who lived one-half mile east and three miles south of Grandpa's. The north/south road one-half mile east of Grandpa's had never been open through the pastures. Two miles of the north/south road, one and one-half mile east, was nearly impassible except for horseback. Two miles of the north/south road, one-half mile west of Grandpa's, had never been opened. Hence to get three and one-half miles to Barkman's, Grandpa had to travel six miles.

    He always had to start real early of a morning in order to be set up and ready to start shelling or threshing, as he threshed grain during the summer, when neighbors arrived to start work. This particular winter morning when Grandpa got up about 4:30 a.m. it was snowing and blowing. He harnessed a team and hooked on to the corn sheller and engine and headed toward Barkman's by going the west route. Due to the extreme cold and snow he walked all six miles to keep warm.

    Barkman also arose to find a blizzard so decided to cancel shelling. No telephone or automobile existed to communicate to Grandpa their decision to cancel shelling. One of the Barkman's rode horseback the east route. Just as they arrived at Grandpa's he was also arriving at their farm. Since Grandpa would have been going west and north against the storm to return home, he stayed at Barkman's until the blizzard stopped.

    Another fun thing to do at Grandma and Grandpa's was to beat on the large rain barrel at the northwest corner of the house. It was made of galvanized metal, approximately eight feet diameter at the base, tapering up eight feet to a four-foot diameter opening. Rain water from part of the north and west slope of the house ran into it. It had a pipe out of the bottom with a 90° bend and a faucet about 18 inches above ground which was fun to turn on and let water run. Some years after we moved in with Grandpa the bottom rusted out so a bottom was put over the top. Then the old bottom was cut out and the barrel turned upside down and moved to the east side (back) of the house to catch water from the north and east slopes. Grandpa's car was a green and black four-door 1927 Buick sedan. I always looked forward to going places with Grandpa so I could ride in that spacious back seat and stand up on the back seat floor and see between the grandparents as we rode along. The Buick was sold in the public sale following Grandpa's death.

    It was always a treat to have Grandpa and Grandma Lauppe stop to visit us a few minutes, either on their way to or from Winfield. They usually had a piece of candy or a cookie for us. One time they stopped on their way home with a special gift. I don't remember if it was my birthday or Christmas but they gave me a blue four-in-hand tie -- my first, as the others were bow ties.

    "Moving." - Daddy had rented Perry Miller's 320-acre farm slightly over one-half mile east of Grandpa and Grandma Lauppe. We were scheduled to move from the Tisdale community on or about March 1, 1941. On January 29th Grandpa Lauppe died suddenly from a heart attack so we moved in with Grandma prior to March 1st. Moving day that February morning dawned cloudy with light snow falling. Howard Moon moved furniture for us in his new black Dodge one and a half ton cattle truck with stock racks. Three or four men on saddle ponies started early that morning to drive all of our cattle and horses, even though it was snowing. Uncle Bill Ruggles and Ed Segelar were two of the drivers.

    By the time Howard arrived early moving morning to load, snow was coming down pretty heavy. Furniture was loaded out the front door (west side of the house). Since the house doors were open and no fire could be built in the wood stoves and still move them, the house was cold. Until it was loaded, Daddy had seated Dwain and I on top of the kitchen cook stove as it was still slightly warm from cooking supper the night before. After the stove was loaded Dwain and I were getting cold so Daddy took off his heavy "sheep lined" coat and had me put my right arm in the right sleeve and Dwain his left arm in the left sleeve and our other arms around each other, then he buttoned it to keep us warm.

    When all the furniture was loaded, Dwain, Mother, and I crawled in the truck and rode with Howard. I can still see the new green circle speedometer with the red arrow showing speed. Howard had the lights on due to poor visibility in the heavy falling snow. By the time we got about a mile west of Grandma's we passed the horses and cattle. Snow was at least eight inches deep by the time we arrived at Grandma's. After the furniture was unloaded, the saddle ponies the cattle and horse drivers rode, were loaded in Howard's truck and hauled back to the Tisdale community.

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Uncle Jay and Aunt Ollie Bowser (Mother's mother's, brother and sister)

    Three and one-half miles straight south of us was where my Grandmother Ruggles (Bowser) was raised on an eighty-acre farm. An unmarried brother and sister, Jay and Ollie Bowser, continued to live together on the eighty acres. Uncle Jay always had a long full brown beard which was fun to pull, and dirty bib overalls as he always fed a log of hogs. Quite often he would say, "I went to town yesterday, would you like some bologna." It was very good, especially since we never had it at home. It was always between one and two inches in diameter and eighteen inches long curled so that both ends met. It was probably summer sausage rather than bologna, since he did not have any way of cooling it.

    Aunt Ollie was a small, extremely skinny lady who always kept a dog in her bedroom which was directly off the kitchen to the north. Her bedroom door was by the back door leading to the back screened porch. As we went in or out of the back door her dog would bark and get upset. Even though we wanted to see the dog she never ever gave us a glimpse of it. Aunt Ollie died when I was about fifteen. A short time prior to her death she was hospitalized. Her dog starved to death because it would not eat food provided by Uncle Jay.

    Uncle Jay died the winter of 1955/56. Not long after his death Grant Aunt Myrtle Murrett called me and requested I stop and see her. She was a sister of Aunt Ollie and Uncle Jay's, my Grandmother Ruggles, Aunt Maggie Oldham, Uncle Bert and Uncle Chester Bowser. Her house was on Bliss Street, the second house south of 9th on the east side of the street in Winfield.

    She said Uncle Jay and Aunt Ollie's furniture, which was really Great- Grandfather Bowser's furniture, was being divided among the nieces and nephews. Since mother was deceased, she wanted Darlene, Dwain and I to have our mother's share. Only two pieces of furniture were unclaimed by others. She indicated Uncle Jay's house would be unlocked. I was to let myself in the house and pick the one piece of furniture I wanted. I borrowed Daddy's small 1955 blue Chevrolet flatbed truck to haul the glass front cupboard which I selected. The reason I chose it was memories of crawling on it as a small kid. Aunt Ollie had it sitting along the west wall of their living room, just north of the large window-type opening between the living room and the kitchen. Their house was small with four first floor rooms. Besides the living room and kitchen was Aunt Ollie's bedroom and double sliding doors off the living room into the parlor, which were never open. Although when we were school age Uncle Jay allowed us to go in the parlor and play the wind-up Victrola record player and their pump organ. It was always dark as the dark green shades were always pulled. The room had other furniture also. I don't know what happened to all of it as the room was essentially empty when I picked up the cupboard. The southwest corner of the living room had double windows with an enclosed wood chair seat-height box protruding about two feet into the room under those windows. It was fun to play on the box, which had doors that lifted in its top, then crawl into the large opening between the living room and the kitchen. From the opening it was possible to climb out onto the top of the cupboard's lower base, which spelled trouble for me again.

    While in the house I looked it over good. Aunt Ollie's bedroom had never been cleaned thoroughly after her death. Her dog had a small wood box in a small closet under the stairs to the second floor. The dog must have been small and white as the box was about two feet square with a lot of white hair in it. Finally I had gotten into Aunt Ollie's room but too late to see her dog. While on the second floor, which was "T"-shaped, I observed something about it that I hadn't as a child. It was really a floored attic only. The roof rafters were exposed and the side walls were very low. It still had furniture and other items to be removed. I don't know whether it was before I was there or shortly after that Uncle Winn Oldham and Uncle Glenn Miller were taking stuff out of the "upstairs" when Uncle Winn noticed a strange knot hole in one of the old rafters. They investigated and were surprised to find a roll of bills, which at one time had had a rubber band around them. That roll of bills turned out to be eleven one-hundred dollar bills ($1,100). They looked diligently but were not able to find other strange knot holes.

    I always felt like I knew Uncle Jay better than Aunt Ollie. That may have been because we spent more time with Uncle Jay. We always went to visit them unannounced, as neither of us had a telephone, on late Sunday mornings. Mother always took some food. Then she and Aunt Ollie spent most of their time in the kitchen preparing the Sunday dinner while Daddy, Dwain and I visited or played with Uncle Jay in the living room. I liked to watch him stroke his long brown full beard and run my fingers through it when he held me on his lap. We always liked to watch for the cuckoo in the clock that hung on the south living room wall, just east of the double windows, and pull on its winding chains. Another activity was to play with the coffee grinder mounted on the kitchen window frame on the screened back porch.

    When playing in the livestock barn, northwest of the house and close to the water well, we thought it fun to be able to touch floor joist and floor of the haymow on the horses' side of the barn. Uncle Jay apparently never cleaned manure from the barn. His horses rears touched the floor above. Most barns had a two to four foot space between the horses back and the floor above.

    Aunt Ollie had a large holly-hock patch south of the house which was fun to run through and hid in. While playing outside we always had to be on the lookout for Aunt Ollie's geese that would chase us when we were in their area of the yard. It sure hurt when they pinched with those sharp powerful beaks.

    One Sunday the Ruggles were also there for dinner. As usual after the Sunday dinner we headed outside to play. While the geese were away from the big old poultry house we decided to play in it. We were climbing as high as possible which was quite high in a big open gabled roof. Maurice was hand-walking, hanging onto the top of one of the seven foot high double doors, when he fell. At first he laughed but in a few seconds, cried. That ended the climbing.

    About one-quarter mile south and west of their farm was another house and big unusual barn. It was known as the "Gordon Place." Uncle Jay farmed it and raised all of his hogs there. The barn was two or three times larger than Uncle Jay's. From the interior it was possible to open the north door of the haymow and drop down about three feet to the ground, which we could not do in any other barns where we had played. I now know that type of barn is known as a bank barn since it was built into the south side of a hill.

    Uncle Jay did not buy his first automobile until after Aunt Ollie died. Prior to that time he had to catch a ride to Winfield with a neighbor. That auto was actually a 1932 Ford Model B pickup. One of his neighbors gave him driving lessons in the cattle pasture. I never did see him drive it and understand he did not drive it to Winfield, but continued to ride with neighbors.

    Apparently Aunt Ollie never went away from the farm for any reason until her illness. None of us could understand how she could stand to stay at home all the time.

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    Our rented farm house on 160 acres did not have modern conveniences like some of the neighbors had. We did not have electricity, an indoor bathroom, running water, or telephone, and heated with wood.

    Water was pumped from a well east of the house, carried into the house in a three-gallon galvanized bucket called the "water bucket" which always had a dipper with handle in the bucket. We all drank from the same dipper.

    Since we did not have a bathroom, it meant we used the "outhouse" east of the house. I did not like to use it so usually went to the lean-to attached to the south side of the garage, which had a dirt floor. Daddy parked the Model A trailer in it. He always backed it in the shed, which did not have doors on the west end which faced the road and allowed those passing by to see into the shed. Several neighbors reported to have seen me wave at them while I was squatted in the shed as they went by.

    Our water was pumped from the well either by hand or a "hit and miss" one-cylinder water-cooled John Deere engine of one to one and a half or two horsepower. The engine ran a John Deere "pump jack" via a flat 4 inch-wide belt. Daddy must have sold the engine at the public auction of Grandpa's machinery. In later years the pump jack had a V-belt pulley added and was used to pump water for livestock when the wind did not blow the windmill.

    Our source of heat was wood. The kitchen was heated by the cook stove with its hot water reservoir on the right side. A wood stove heated the living room, which were the only two rooms heated during cold weather.

    Since we had no telephone, all communication with neighbors was face-to-face, which required a lot of traveling, many times to Winfield for farm machinery parts which were not in stock.

    Our source of light was kerosene lamps which had to be filled on a weekly basis. The chimneys were washed often to remove the black soot created by an uneven wick or the wick being turned too high. The wick had to be trimmed several times a year as they do not burn straight across. To trim flat wicks one used scissors and trimmed the end slightly rounding with a slight arc on the wick. It would burn less blackening of the chimney. The Aladdin lamp used a wick which formed a circle and had to be trimmed with a special wick trimmer. Its flame burned on a cotton cone-shaped mantel which produced a white light, whereas the ordinary lamps produced an orangish-yellow light with less candle power.

    We went to Tisdale Methodist Church, which was one-half mile north and one and one-half miles east of us on US Highway 160. It was a white one-story two-room wood frame building. The north/south section was the sanctuary with entrance doors at the north end. Adjoining the sanctuary on the south end was an east/west wing with a full (usually wet) basement. That wing was used for children's Sunday School. during and after World War II that wing was also used as a basketball court for the church's ball teams to practice prior to games played at Winfield High in a church league. In the mid- to late forties the basement was partitioned to provide three or four classrooms. Not long after a concrete block and silverdale stone sanctuary addition was built on the east side of the original sanctuary.

    Around 1960, a second floor was installed with classrooms in the east/west portion of the old structure. During 1956, members of the church collectively built a quonset building approximately 80' x 120' in order to have a basketball court, stage, and kitchen. The Saturday we poured the floor, I dumped over 200 sacks of cement in a cement mixer.

    We attended church fairly regularly up until the time we moved from the Tisdale community in February 1941. I, as most kids, had difficulty sitting quietly during church services. It seemed like I was in trouble every Sunday for standing in the pew and looking behind us.

    In the late 1940s "Homecoming" was always held on a Sunday after church, during a summer month. A large tent was pitched in a grassy area south of a road south of the church between the two outhouses.

    Dishes were stored in a small room built over the basement stairs in the Sunday School wing. Drinking glasses were moved from the dish closet to the tent by means of a brigade of at least half a dozen high school guys: one in the dish closet, two in the big Sunday School room, one to catch glasses as they flew from the dish room, who then threw it to the guy that threw it through an open south window. A guy outside threw the glass across the road except when a car came along, then it went over the car. Seldom was a glass ever dropped.

    During Christmas caroling either Howard or Harold Moon's two-ton truck with stock racks was used. A tarp was wrapped around the sides and top of the stock rack. Bales of straw were placed around the perimeter of the bed and down the center for seating. Loose straw was scattered on the floor to help keep feet warm. It was several miles between caroling stops but always was fairly warm inside the cattle bed.

    In the winter of 1956/57, after the new gym was completed, Tisdale needed a 5th/6th grade basketball coach, which was me. Only four boys were eligible so we attempted to get at least four boys from Winfield schools. Records will show our team won only one game, a forfeit. Not enough guys would show up regularly for practice and we had to forfeit a couple of games due to having less than five players.

    At a party one summer night, an older gentleman came outside of the church to smoke, in the area where the reunion/homecoming tent was pitched. He placed a foot on the back bumper of a pickup and one elbow on top of the tail gate. Suddenly he jerked his arm off the gate and rubbed his elbow. Again he placed his elbow on the gate and in about 30 seconds started rubbing it again, this time looking also at the pickup gate. Seeing nothing on the gate he placed his el