These blog stories are in no particular order, so it’s hard for me to remember which ones I’ve told and which I haven’t. I had to leave a lot out of my book, a lot of stories and a lot of documents which I’d like to preserve, so I’m going to try and record them in the blog, with explanations, to make them easier to understand by future generations. I’m starting with Grandmother Paul. I have a lot of documents, letters, and memories about her, and she’s important. I’m so fortunate to have known her, a person who was actually a pioneer, travelling across the country in an ox drawn wagon, living in a log cabin, depending on her father and brother’s hunting skills to bring in meat, and her mother’s sewing to provide clothing for the family.
There were dangers. My grandmother, Victoria, said that the first thing her father would do when they settled in a new location, was to plow the ground around their cabin to protect it from fire. The girls learned to stay close to home and always take with them their faithful Great Dane, Watch, to warn them of prowling wolves. They had to learn to recognize the giant king snake, who was said to be a protection against rattlers. There was always the specter of infectious diseases: pneumonia, meningitis, malaria, typhoid and polio, which her mother faced with only poultices and prayer. Victoria lost a brother, Luther, and a sister, Eula to infections, and sometimes, on clear summer nights, they would lie out on the ground, look up at the sky, and pick out stars that had become the resting places of their little brother and sister.
They had to provide their own entertainment in those times, telling stories by candle light, singing and dancing. They had a melodeon, which Victoria and her sisters learned to play, and they would get an occasional visit from families who lived nearby, from an old bachelor who played the fiddle, or from a traveling salesman who brought new shoes, and sewing fabric and thread, as well as news from the outside world. There was an occasional letter from relatives in Georgia or Alabama.
One of Victoria’s most vivid memories from childhood was of the Passenger Pigeons, now extinct. She said the birds were so numerous as they migrated across the prairie, that they blocked the light from the sun, causing it to be dark outside for days.
The girls learned to read from their mother, and to figure from Grandpa, and when they lived near Palmer Station, Arkansas, Lillie and Kittie, Victoria’s older sisters, got to go to school in Hyde Park, another town several miles away. Victoria said she was jealous of her sisters, because she was too young to go with them.
The little Rosser family lived in Palmer station for most of Victoria’s childhood, and she loved it there, in spite of the hardships. Years later, Aunt Oteka took her back for a visit. Hyde Park no longer exists, but there are still a few houses around the train depot at Palmer – “Station” has since been dropped from the town’s name. She tried to identify the old familiar places: the places where Luther and Eula were buried, the place where her oldest sister Cora lived. Cora was married there. They took pictures, and Victoria, always armed with her little shovel, dug up wild flowers that she remembered from childhood, to transplant to her yard back in Pauls Valley.
Here is part of a letter that Victoria wrote to Oteka after she got home.
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 Ark 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 Burried 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 Papas 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 to. 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 mans wife & we cride kissed little Forkerberry goodbye.
My cousin Steve went with his mother, Oteka, on her trip with Victoria back to Palmer Station, and he told about a strange event that occurred as they were leaving. I hesitate to tell the story because it’s a little bizarre, but Victoria was 81 at the time and perhaps getting a little senile and impulsive. The incident does reveal something about her character though. She was always charming and she never met a stranger.
They had checked out of the motel, eaten breakfast, and were on the highway heading back to Oklahoma when they heard a siren. It was a police car. Aunt Oteka was puzzled because she hadn’t been speeding and couldn’t figure out why she was being stopped. Anyway, the officer didn’t cite her for any traffic violation, but rather asked to see inside the trunk of her car. On opening the trunk, he began to go through the luggage. When he got to Victoria’s suitcase, they found it filled with framed pictures taken from the wall of the motel. The police reclaimed the pictures and instructed Aunt Oteka to turn around and follow them back to the motel. Victoria didn’t seem upset, only disappointed.
They were met at the
motel by the owner, who was relieved but puzzled by Victoria’s theft. She
explained that she had grown up near the old Palmer Station and just wanted
something to remember it by. The motel owner had lived in the area all his
life, and as Victoria talked about her memories, he realized that they had
known some of the same people. Soon they were reminiscing and sharing stories. It was a relief for Steve, who was imagining his mother and grandmother being thrown in jail
for larceny.
