Grandmother Paul

                                                                Great Dane

My grandmothers were both pretty amazing: raised on the frontier, strong, tough, able to ride a horse or work a mule. Both cooked on a wood burning stove, raising their own fruit and vegetables, butchering and curing meat, making their own butter and soap. They were their family’s seamstress, teacher, and sometimes even entertainment. My mother Wenonah said that Mamma was always telling them stories, and quoting maxims, and they followed her from room to room as she worked.   

I spent a lot of time with each of my grandmothers, but I know more about my grandmother Paul, because of the stories my mother Wenonah told me, and from the stories she told and wrote herself. 

Grandmother Paul loved dogs, and as I told in “Wenonah’s Story” her first dog was a Great Dane named “Watch.” She and her sisters played with him, and he was also their protector. In “Wenonah’s Story” I told of how he once saved them from being attacked by wolves. In a letter to Wenonah in 1948 she told the story of Watch’s death. Grandmother was probably 7 or 8 years old at the time and the family was living in Arkansas, the last place they lived on their journey across the country from Georgia after the Civil War, before finally settling in Indian Territory in 1888. 

I told Kaliteyo (Wenonah’s older sister) about seeing Brother Tom come in at the door. it was snowing & he & Wach had been hunting & Tom had great big wolly gloves on & had his gun hugged up in his arms & cap on with ear flaps. When he opened the door he said “Mother I killed wach.” He was crying. & Mother was sewing. She just got up & spilled her sewing on the floor & screamed & we all did. Papa got up and said, “quiette down. It was just a dog,” but what a Dog. He was our Life guard. Tom never claimed another dog as long as he lived. Watch was his. Don’t think that I am morbid, because things have come to me before when I wasen’t leaste expecting anything.

(Scrapb 2 P 74)

 No dog could take Watch’s place, but Grandmother told of other dogs from her childhood. There was the dog that got lost. I never knew his name. Every few years Pappa would move the family further west. He would load up the wagon, hitch up Old Bet the ox, and off they would go, but this time, when they called for the dog, he was nowhere to be found. They called to him and searched the area around their cabin, to no avail. Finally they started off anyway thinking he would catch up, but a day passed, and then another, but no dog. After about a week they decided that he had been killed or had taken up with another family. It was about a month later he showed up. He couldn’t tell them where he had been or how he was able to follow them after so long a time, but it was a happy reunion. 

Grandmother wrote about another dog in a letter to Aunt Oteka. She had just returned from a trip to Arkansas. 

Dear Oteka,

It is going to rain. but the Birds are singing. & I have put feed out for them & fed my pets in the House. My Pidgeons on my Porch are a pare, because one crokes & the other does not. it is so cloudy and damp. I hope it will save my Arkansas Rose bushes. I am glad I got to go back to Palmer Station. I must have been tirable happy there. I don’t believe that we were on the rite place where Eula was Buried. They have changed those Roads & I don’t believe that we were far enough out. They had Country Roads & not verry good ones at that. We went to Mr Scruses grave all rite the House that Sister Cora lived in, also. but I think Papa’s place was on the opside (opposite?) Side of the road. That is still a cotton country. Some day if I live I am going back. This was a flying visit. It sure made old memories come alive. In early spring will be a good time to go. Haskell is just as anxious as I am. I would have to be there several days because things have changed and people have passed away, but that old cypress will remain the same. Henry Morris who married Sister Cora was born & raised in Marvil & his people are burried there. I love those first memories. Sister Cora lived in Hide Park & Kittie Staid with her & went to School at Hide Park. & I was alway jellous because I did (not?) Get to go there too. Papa had a Friend by name of Fitzpatric who lived in Helena. He is the (one?) Who sent me the little Bantam Chickens. We also had a little dog. I think that he was lost & came to our House. His master had died & Papa sent little Forkerberry to the man’s wife & we cride kissed little Forkerberry goodbye.

(Box 1, File folder: News clippings, misc.)