Two
____________
Highs
& Lows
It wasn’t too long
before we moved to Binger, once our sharecropping contract was up. It turned
out that we were able to leave earlier than the contract specified due to the
owner’s son wantin’ to have a farm of his own now that he was a grown man. We
youngins didn’t mind so much seein’ that there were a lot of flies in that
farm’s outhouse. They sure did tickle a lot.
This was during the Great Depression and
times were very difficult for everyone, even in Binger. Being a family of
sharecroppers meant we gave a portion of what we raised to the landowner in
exchange for use of the land, barns and outbuildings, and our tiny old drafty
farmhouse that featured an outhouse and had no running water.
We grew mainly cotton, corn, wheat and oats. Our
drinking water came from a cistern and had a hand pump. I used to pump our
water on Saturday mornings. That was one of my many chores. Ma prepared our
food on a woodstove and our regular source of heat came from a modestly sized
potbelly stove. But we were happy, content with what we had. So many others we
knew had less and we would help as many folks as we could whenever it was
possible. Livin’ in Binger seemed to bring new hope to my Ma and Pa, and that brought
new hope to us children as well. Havin’ hopeful parents was somethin’ we grew
to be grateful for over the years and that became a treasure of strength and a
potent example to us youngins during our own lives in later years.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Rae Ann,” Hilda called to her daughter softly,
“fetch me a couple of more eggs from the henhouse. I ain’t got quite enough as
I need for doublin’ this recipe.”
Little Rae Ann scurried out the farmhouse door,
across the yard, and into the henhouse faster than a sneaky fox in the wee
hours of the morning. She gathered up almost a dozen eggs in her apron before
racing back carefully to the kitchen to join her mother in their baking
endeavors.
“Bakin’ for this many folks is quite a
challenge,” Rae Ann stated.
“It sure is, but the joys of gettin’ together to
raise money for folks who be sufferin’ more than most… well, there just about
ain’t no greater joy than that.”
Father McNeary, who we already knew, had
organized a church bake sale event for the upcoming Saturday over in Hinton and
the response from local families was tremendous. The money raised was to go to
help the families hit hardest by the economic effects of the times.
“Ain’t no cracks in any of ‘em, Ma,” Rae Ann
assured, “I checked each and every one.”
“That’s my good little worker. Now wash ‘em up
for me. We sure as rain don’t want any chicken scratch from those shells
gettin’ in this mix.”
For the rest of the day mother and daughter
worked hard together baking, stacking up baked goods, cleaning, and preparing supper
for the rest of the family.
Suppertime came and went like a cool breeze on a
hot summer’s day. Around eight in the evening, Mr. Charlton and Rae Ann’s older
brother, Richard, returned from working the fields.
“I could eat a horse!” exclaimed Richard, the
farmhouse door slamming behind him as he entered.
“We ain’t got any horse for supper, but there’s
some chicken and potatoes in the kitchen,” his mother informed.
As soon as Mr. Charlton had assured the barn was
closed and secure, he joined his son for supper.
“That was a mighty fine day’s work you did, son.
I be a might proud of you.”
“Aw, it weren’t nothin’, Pa.”
“It was to me, and that’s all I got to say about
it.”
John was a hard working father and demanded
nothing less from each of his children. Sun up to sun down and more, these were
the necessities of the time and the unwritten rules known, practiced, and
experienced by every sharecropping family throughout the Oklahoma farming
communities.
The following weekend arrived swiftly and once
the Saturday morning chores were completed, the Charltons were off for the bake
sale. Father McNeary had poured his heart out to his fellow parishioners and
his efforts paid off. Two dozen families spent their week baking and dozens
more from as far away as Jaspar’s Ranch came to purchase items to help the less
fortunate.
“Quite a turn out, if ya ask me,” commented
Tilly O’Toole to Hilda Charlton.
Tilly O’Toole was a widowed farm wife who due to
her financial situation was forced to move away some two years prior. She had
returned to visit her recently married sister in the area and came to the bake
sale to visit with her old friends.
“Seems that folk just can’t help but to look out
for one another in one form or another these days;” Mrs. Charlton replied.
“Hilda,” Tilly questioned, “you ever think about
goin’ west?”
“West? My lands, woman, we ain’t got the means
to pack up and move west. It was all we could do to manage to move here. That
sounds like a huge ordeal to me.”
Tilly smiled, seeing Hilda’s obvious look of contemplative
thought, “I hear it’s mighty nice out west.”
“I imagine it is.”
“Good day, ladies,” came a loud greeting. “This
is a wonderful thing ya all be doin’ here.”
“Billy Peckton,” Tilly addressed the young man,
“how’s your ma doin’? Is she here?”
“No, she sent me with some money to pick up
whatever I could with it. Her and Pa are both doin’ the farmin’ now. We need
every hand in the family out in the fields these days.”
Hilda agreed, “I understand that, Billy. Hard
times means for hard work.”
“So, Miss O’Toole, you back here for good, or
just for a visit?” Billy inquired.
“Miss O’Toole,” Tilly contemplated the title for
a moment, “I recon I ain’t been called that yet, but I think I kind of like it.
Anyways, I’m just here for a visit, just a visit.”
A man with a southern accent greeted the small
group and commented, “I just be boilin' over with generosity and kindness. It’s
flowin' forth from my big heart like a spring river's snowmelt. One just can’t
contain such a thing. It’s a good thing this sale, and havin’ donations taken
anonymously through the church, well that sure helps to hinder glory seekers
who want something in return, especially personal recognition.
The church bell rang loud and Father McNeary
stood in the back of a wagon to address the people gathered for the sale,
“Welcome to you all. Before we continue on and you folks start spendin’ all
your money up and be up and leavin’, I’d like to say a prayer of thanks to God
for all of your fine efforts and ask him to bless and multiply the proceeds
brought in today to help those needy families we all know and care for.” Once
everyone bowed their heads, Father McNeary began, “Our Holy Father who sent his
beloved Son….”
“C’mon,” Richard Charlton shouted to his
siblings, “I gotta show you somethin’.”
Rae Ann, Teddy, Mary, and little Sarah Jane ran
as fast as they could to catch up to their older brother. The climb up the dry
grassy hill behind the church was steep, but it leveled off about one hundred
yards up. Rae Ann had to carry Sarah Jane up the hill for over half of the
distance.
“Look at this,” Richard pointed.
“Sick,” shouted Mary.
The siblings stood staring at a dead and well
bloated fairly fresh cow carcass. Richard sat on the dead beast and a load
noise of air passing exited the animal.
Sara Jane remarked, “That’s nasty.”
Everyone laughed.
The smell of the decaying animal was masked by
the smells of nature. Odors from hay, anise, and sun-dried pine needles
permeated the air.
“We’d better get back before Ma and Pa know we
are missin,” a worried Teddy stated.
“They are pretty busy, I recon,” Rae Ann
assured. “I think we can have a little play time. Maybe we can play kick the
can with some of the other kids.”
“Yeah, let’s go!” Richard exclaimed.
The quintet of siblings slid down the dried
grass on the hill and rounded up three friends. After informing all of their
parents of their plans and gaining approval, the group of eight youths
proceeded to the back of the church to begin their game.
“…forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty...
here I come,” Teddy shouted loudly.
The group had found a small water pale to use as
the point of contact for kicking and declaring oneself ‘free’ during the game.
One youth, the ‘Counter’, searched for the others who had hidden themselves,
the ‘Hider’ all the while keeping their eye on the immediate horizon and
especially the can. Once someone exposed themselves and ran to kick the can, it
was a race to see if the counter or the hider would arrive first. The first
hider caught became the next counter. If the hiders could not be found in good
time or arrive ‘free’ by kicking the can, the counter would shout All the Outs in Free, but most
children shouted Olly Olly
oxen free.
Hours passed and the sky began to darken to a
haze. One youth could not be found and this frustrated Richard, the counter, to
no end. He refused to call Olly Olly oxen free until his parents called for the
clan to come to the front of the church and get ready to leave. Finally he gave
in and yelled, “Olly, Olly, oxen free!”
Lying on top of the church swing, three swings
were fastened in a row to a wooden beam and there was just enough room for a
youth to lie on top of it, was the last hider. She climbed down with a
mile-wide smile on her face.
“Good job, Leah,” Rae Ann proudly complemented
the girl, “that was awesome.”
Richard was not amused. He did not like to lose,
and especially not lose to a girl and he remained silent for almost the entire
wagon ride home. He finally opened up once he saw a shooting star make its trek
across the black night sky’s horizon. “Wow, that was amazing.”
Once home, Richard helped his father unhitch the
horses, brush them down, and feed them before going to bed.
Teddy kindly reminded Richard of an event he
wished to soon forget, “You got beat by a girl!”
“Quiet or I’ll pound you.”
“A girl?”
“C’mon, Teddy—”
“I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, I was just
funnin’.”
“I know, me too. Good night, Teddy.”
“Night, Richard… a girl?”
Chapter Three: Oklahoma Summer
__________________________________________
(Painting: 'Hiding in the Haycocks' by William B. Baker - 1881)
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