Mom and Dad were married for twenty three years before I was born. At first, they lived in a little one room cabin made of wide oak boards. Over the years, as their family grew, Dad added four rooms onto their house. A walkway made of large flat field stones led to the small
porch and our front door. Having sheltered and kept nine children before me, the outside of our house looked weathered and worn. But on the inside the walls were covered with
wallpaper. Linoleum covered the floors. Lace curtains covered the windows and welcome covered the doors. It was good and warm in the winter time from two wood burning stoves and nice and cool in the summertime from screens in the windows and doors. There was
always good food for the table and always comfortable beds. Folks were always asked to stay just as long as they could. And most of them always returned, like we knew they would. However humble, I loved my Home Sweet Home and my big family.
Then things began to change at my house. At three years old, I was too young to remember when my four oldest brothers left home. But I missed them. My sister Pearl said I asked for them every day and wondered where they could be. My brothers had been drafted into the United States Military during World War II. Each of them served in different parts of the world. We, the family at home, could not have imagined where they were or the things they saw.
My oldest brother, Fred, was in France. He served in the 79th Division under the command of General Patton. A bullet grazed Fred’s head. He made little of it, but was awarded a Purple Heart for bravery. In Italy, my brother Roy was a forward radar man. He was in Pompeii when Mount Vesuvius erupted in 1945. My brother Joe was stationed in the Philippines, which had been attacked only hours after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Clarence, the youngest of the four, was in the Navy. He said it was a pretty scary time in the North Atlantic watching ships around you explode when they were hit with enemy fire. I know they were homesick – young men from the Appalachian mountains, far from home.
My youngest brother Carl and my three older sisters were still at home. With the four oldest boys gone, they worked very hard helping Dad on the farm and Mom with all the work she had to do. Many half gallon jars were filled with fruits, vegetables and meats preparing for
the day my brothers came home. Every evening the family gathered around the battery powered radio to listen to news of the war. And every night, Mom, looking very thin and worried, wrote letters to her boys by the light of the oil lamp and prayed. Thankfully all of my brothers returned safely. They served well and made our family proud.
I do remember when they came home. It was such a happy time. And 78 years later I still have most of the things they sent to me while they were away. A green glass paperweight with a tiny white rabbit inside, a pink linen dress from Italy, a woven basket with my name and the date “1945” from the Philippines and pink pajamas from Japan. One day the mailman brought a big box addressed to me. It was from my brother Fred. Inside was a grown up doll – an Army nurse dressed in Red, White and Blue. I thought she was the prettiest doll I had ever seen.
My older brothers and sisters soon married and moved away. Some went North and some went South to find better jobs. Only Dad, Mom, my youngest brother Carl, my youngest sister Pearl, and I were left at home. Although I was young, I realized there had been some kind of threat to our country and to our family. But with the faith of a child, I felt safe and secure in our little house in the deep hollow with Dad, Mom, my brother and my sister watching over me. God surely blessed our family.
During World War II sugar, coffee, any food in tin cans, and many other products were rationed. We missed the sugar, but Dad had honeybees, so we had plenty of honey – and always molasses. Instead of coffee Mom and Dad drank Postum. It was a mixture of wheat germ and molasses. We canned our own food and were unaffected by gas rations, as we did not have a vehicle.
