Showing posts with label Tales of Fernnook. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tales of Fernnook. Show all posts

Friday, December 31, 2021

Letter from Grandpa Marion to Grandma Opal ( shared with me from Uncle Jim)

 

(From Jim to me on May 3, 2018)  Following is a letter Marion wrote to Opal in Oct 1929. It is not the complete letter but only three pages of it.  Opal would have just turned 19 and Marion was 24.  He was writing from Flint Michigan.  You must remember Marion only had a fifth grade education if that much so I made a few corrections to spelling and grammar.  From the way the letter was going Opal may have censored the last page and made sure it did not get saved.  Pure speculation on my part. We can thank Ty for locating this. He was the finder of the treasure.

Here it is:

Oct. 28th 1929

Miss Opal Simon,

My dearest loving little girl, I will write you a few lines tonight. How are you and what are you doing to pass the time off?  I wonder if you are thinking of your old lonesome boy tonight and wishing you could be with him to cheer him up.  Baby, life sure seems dull sometimes, if I didn’t have you to think about I don’t know what I would do but I know we will be together sometimes and so it makes me glad about it.  Because I can have you for always, Baby girl, isn’t that nice for us to be together for always and for me to love you for all time.  It just seems so good honey I can hardly stand to wait for I want you so bad.  Oh! Opal darling I know we will always be happy together.  For I could be happy with you anywhere on earth and I know you would always love me and we wouldn’t be jealous at one another because we wouldn’t do anything to be jealous over.  Opal darling don’t you ever doubt me for I will always be true to you, because I know I love you and I don’t want other women.  I would rather kiss you than any girl I’ve ever known and Opal darling I know just how you are.  I know it would be lots nicer if I had lots of money and I could give you anything you wanted.  But Baby girl I haven’t got it. I can only give you my love but sweetheart I can work for you and we can get by.  Opal sweetheart as much as I love you I would give you up if you could marry some man with lots of money and you could be happy with him.  But it sure would be a pain for me to have to give you up.



Friday, September 13, 2019

















Skunk Summer Wedding Part 1

It all began at Uncle Jim's house.  One night, sometime in late spring or
early summer, Kent and I were visiting with Uncle Jim.  He was prattling
on about this and that and then told us that he had been having a new visitor
to his porch recently.

He still had his normal round of visiting possums and coons, but this gal
was a little different.  She was black and white and could raise quite a stink
should she be so inclined.  He told us that she was a bold little thing and
that he could rattle the door and she would not even lift her delicate little
head, but would just keep munching until all the cat food was gone.

After a bit, we stood up to go, and when we got to the door, there she was,
bold as brass, eating away.  Sure enough, Uncle Jim banged and clanged
the door, but she didn't even look up.

Shortly after that, Bill and Stacey caught a picture of a skunk wandering
around outside their door after dark.  Now, Uncle Jim swears that it was
at Bill's property (then owned by someone else) where the neighborhood
skunks originated.  He says it happened a few years back. He says he
noticed a skunky smell there in years gone by.   I don't know, but that's
what he says.

Then, dad called me one morning, and, in a voice that just shimmered with
laughter said, "Laurie, I caught a skunk last night in my coon trap, and I
don't know what to do with it."  We both had some silly ideas like to try
to hook the cage with a cast of a fishing pole and pull it way down in the
woods with the Mule...but really, we were stymied.  Dad called Conservation
Agent Grandson, but couldn't get in touch with him, so we were in a bit of a
stinking mess.

So, we did what any rugged homesteader would do, we each looked on the
internet and we both found the same solution.  And, amazingly it worked.
Just picture, if you can, Papa slowly approaching the cage with a blanket held
up blocking the skunk's view of him.  Oh, and just hear him singing a little
song.  Because that is what he did.  Because that is what the internet said to
do.  Later, I asked him, "What song did you sing?"  "Oh," he replied, "I just
made up a nice little song about the skunk and me."  He must have liked it,
because dad was able to walk up to him and throw the blanket over the cage.

Then he sneakily opened the door of the cage, but the skunk just stayed in it, so
dad was still in a bit of a quandary.  After mulling things over a bit, he figured the
skunk must be thirsty, so he sprayed some water in front of the cage and, shore
'nuff, out came the skunk and waddled away.

But not too far away, as further events will show.

Meanwhile at my own little farmhouse at Fernnook Farm, our very own skunk
made an appearance.  I would come up to the front porch at night, and there
he would be, chowing down on cat food.  Said cat food disappeared from the
front porch after that.  Then we would get a glimpse of him in the evening in
the tall grass at the end of the yard, and we would see him foraging in the grass
right in front of our deck of a morning...I got some pictures of him there, but
they are not good, which is why I borrowed the picture from MDC at the top
of this post.

One night, I was feeling all at odds with myself and life and I went to sit
outside in one of the lawn chairs that are lined up at the edge of our carport.  It
was near the Fourth of July because I could hear the city shooting off their
fireworks.  Who should appear on my little strip of concrete patio but my
own local skunk.  He ambled toward me, I put my feet up in my chair, and
he went under my chair.  Then he stood on his hind legs and put his front
paws on the chair that was just next to me and sniffed around it.  Then he
finally ambled off and I hightailed it to the porch.

Another night, I ran into my little black and white buddy by the back door,
so I scrambled back to the front and up on the porch, only to find the door
locked.  I banged pretty long and hard before Kent came to let me in.

I am not the only one with close encounters of the night-skunk kind.  Anne
(my Montana niece) was sitting on Papa's porch during our family reunion
when she received an unwelcome and surprise visit from his skunk.  I told
you it hadn't wandered too far away.  She jumped up and ran to the front door,
it was locked.  Then she ran to the big garage door.  It was closed and she didn't
know the code.  Then she ran to the side garage door, and it too was locked.
And everywhere she ran, sensor lights kept turning on, so she was crying and
panicking, and she just knew she would get sprayed,...but she didn't.

Jim did get a spray around his house though.  And, he had baby skunks that
were born and being bred right under his shed which is right by his house.

That is not the end of the Skunk Summer Wedding, but this post is long enough.
The rest will have to follow in due course



Friday, March 23, 2018





















Uncle Jim typed out a couple of recipes for me and brought them to Peeta's
Birthday Party last night.  At the bottom of the recipes he wrote this:

These Recipes were written by Grandma Hattie Chappell Simon, and saved
into her White Ribbon Cookbook.  (Her cookbook is not in as good a shape
as the one pictured above.)

Cottage Pudding
1/2 cup sugar.  1 cup milk
1 pint flour, 2 tablespoons
melted butter.  1 teaspoon
soda.  2 of cream tartar.
2 eggs.  A little salt.
Little ginger or cinnamon.
Bake 1/4 hour in small pan.

Gingerbread
Mix one cup molasses with
one cup sour milk.  Mix and
sift 2 1/3 cups flour, two
teaspoons ginger, 1/2 teaspoon
salt and 1 3/4 teaspoon soda.
combine mixture and add 1/4 cup
melted shortening and beat
vigorously.  Pour into a shallow
pan and bake 25 minutes in a
moderate oven.

I am going to try them when I get a chance.

I also saw one, as we were flipping through the pages in Uncle Jim's
yard, for Burnt Sugar Cake.  Now, I just made a burnt sugar cake last
weekend from a recipe in Tyler's Wooden Spoon Cookbook.  It was
pretty yummy, though Debby said it wasn't exactly like her mother's
recipe.  So, I am hoping to get both her mother's recipe and the one
from Grandma Hattie, make them both , and then I can compare all
three of them to see which is the yummiest of all.

Tuesday, February 06, 2018















A few weeks ago Greg Henze asked me what I knew about Lone Star East.
He had recently heard about it and didn't realize that it even existed.  Greg
grew up in the Oak Grove area and attended the schoolhouse at Oak Grove.

I told him the little that I knew...which is that G'ma Opal, Dad, and uncles
and aunts and various other relatives had attended there.

It was on the corner of the Crowe property and the well or cistern is still
there.  I knew that Marjorie Edmonds (a distant relative) had taught
there for awhile.

Of course I have vague memories of stories from G'ma Opal of her running
around the school yard playing ball, and of dad getting switched because of
something he and a girl friend of his had done.  I remember also G'ma Opal
talking about the road she walked to get to school.  It was not K-2, but rather
was a lane that (I think) went from the Old Homeplace behind our property
and then up Joel's lane to the school.

But last night when I mentioned it to Papa, he reminded me of a few other
things about the school.

He attended there his first 6 weeks or so of 1st grade, before moving down
to Arkansas.  Later, there were a few random weeks a few years that he went
there.  And, then he actually finished up his last few weeks of 8th grade at
Lone Star East.  In between he was in several schools in Arkansas and several
in Texas.  He finished his schooling 9-12 grades in Texas.

When he graduated the 8th grade, there were two others who were in his
class.  Johnny Crowe was one of them and (Vercie ??) Hensley was the other.
Their teacher, Helen Boshears, took them down to the creek for a picnic outing
to celebrate.

Two others who taught over the years at Lone Star East were Mansell Rogers
and Helen Boshears.  Helen later wrote an article that was printed in the
Prospect News that told about her years teaching there.

The above picture is not Lone Star East.  Sadly I don't think I have ever seen an
actual picture of it.

Saturday, February 03, 2018

Down Old Lady Henry's Road there lived the Cora family.  They
lived in an old two room shack with cracks in the floor and wall
nearly big enough to put your hand through.

Shadrack Cora, an old man who always had tobacco juice running
down both sides of his mouth, lived there with his wife and several
children.  One of the boys was Marion, another was Saverne, and
the rest I don't know.

One day, Uncle Bill went to visit Shadrack.  (Uncle Bill told this
story as true...so we'll just believe it is.)  One day, as I said, Uncle
Bill went to visit the Coras. 

Shadrack was sitting by the wood stove and Mrs. Cora was in the
kitchen working.  There was a pile of wood next to where Shadrack
was sitting and a cat was on top of the wood.  As Bill and he chatted,
Shadrack would reach over every so often and push the cat out of
the way, grab a stick of wood, take the lid off the stove, and toss the
wood in. 

One time though, he didn't push the cat out of the way.  Instead, he
picked up the cat, opened the stove and threw him in the fire.  The
cat made a horrible crying noise and Mrs. Cora came rushing in
from the kitchen to see what all the squalering was about.  I'm afraid
it was too late though for poor pussy.  I guess he just got tired of moving
that cat out of the way.

Of course the Cora and the Harris families were neighbors.  One day,
when Saverne Cora was over at the Harris place a chicken hawk was
after the Harris chickens.  Saverne in trying to shoot the hawk killed
one of the Harris girls and filled another with buckshot.  That was a sad
day in the little community of Fernnook.

Friday, February 02, 2018

Papa was in fine storytelling mode the other night.  I tried
to take a few notes so that I could write some of them down.
Hopefully I have most of the details correct.  Forgive me
if I mess up a bit, and feel free to correct me.

Used to be that the Harris family lived where the Kirks do now.
Edna Hopkins lived there when I was young, but long before
that the Harris family did.  This story came home to me because
Bud Harris died a few weeks ago, and I hadn't realized until
recently that his family were originally Fernnook Folk.

There were several kids in the family.  Bud was one of the boys,
and Stella Ruth and Beauty Mae were two of the girls.  Stella fell
in a bucket of lye as a young girl and it affected her eyes especially.

One day the two girls walked back to the homeplace to get some
vegetables from Great-Grandma Hattie (or Happy as some called
her.)  Cousin Jetty was staying with Great-Grandma at the time.

Stella Ruth and Beauty Mae went to the door and asked if they
could have some 'maters and 'taters.  Jetty told them that that
wasn't the proper way to say those two vegetable names.  They
were really tomatoes and potatoes.

A few days later, Mrs. Harris walked back to Great-Grandma's
house and knocked on the door.  When Granny Hattie answered,
Mrs. Harris said, "Miss Hattie, could I have some malettuce?"  She
must have reckoned that if 'taters and 'maters wasn't proper enough,
then surely lettuce wasn't either.

I was telling Hattie (the younger) this story today and she said,
"Are you sure she wasn't saying "more lettuce?"

I guess we'll never know.