Jim's Narrow Escape

Right after Jim's kindergarten year, Mamma and Pappa moved the family to San Antonio, Texas. Pappa was going into business with one of his cousins selling real estate down in Tampico, Mexico, on the Gulf coast.

Jim loved San Antonio. She loved the lush vegetation and the daily afternoon rains, the zoo at Breckinridge Park, the old Buckhorn Saloon downtown with its fascinating collection of mounted horns and all kinds of stuffed animals, from huge bears and moose, to deer, armadillos and rattle snakes. She loved to sit on the balcony of their Spanish style house and watch the people walking down the street. She loved the smell of fresh tamales when the tamale man rolled his cart down the street every afternoon, and she loved the taste of the figs that grew on a tree in their yard. She loved to play with her brother Bob in their back yard. They would catch horny toads and tie strings to their little horns. Jim loved to imagine that she was a fairy and could have adventures riding on the backs of the tiny reptiles.

Pappa's business didn't take off though. 1919 wasn't a good year for real estate. What with Pancho Villa raiding the countryside and American troops stationed in San Antonio ready to protect the border, it was hard to get people interested in buying property down in Mexico.

So the family moved back to Pauls Valley. Since their house in town had been sold, they moved into the old house at the farm, the same house that Pappa had been born in back in 1876. The old house was run down, and Mamma went right to work cleaning out trash and plugging holes in the walls to cut out the draft. Luckily it was springtime.

She school year was about over, and Jim had missed so much school she was put back a year. It was humiliating, being in class with children younger than her, and seeing her friends from kindergarten advance to the second grade.

It wasn't long before the spring rains came. The land that Jim's grandfather Sam Paul had given to the Santa Fe Railroad back in 1887 for a depot, and for the town of Pauls Valley, was right in the fork between Rush Creek and the Washita River. The area was relatively low, so the town flooded every spring. The flood of 1921 wasn't the worst in history, but it was certainly memorable for the Paul family.

The afternoon it started to rain Mamma began to get worried. The children were still in school in Pauls Valley, and they would have to cross Rush Creek to get back out to the farm. Rush Creek was aptly named. Although usually placid, a downpour could quickly transform it into a raging torrent. I witnessed Rush Creek's behavior during my childhood. The churning brown water would dig into its soft mud banks, undermining bridge supports and even the road.

The Trimmer family's house was next to the road from town to the Rush Creek Bridge, so Mamma called Mrs Trimmer and asked her to intercept the children on their way home from school. Jim and Bob were walking home with their older brother Haskell that day. Mrs Trimmer met the children as they walked by her house, brought them inside and dried them off. The Trimmers had built a play room for their children in the barn. The room was warm and cozy so Mrs Trimmer decided to fix palates for the children there for the night.

While the Trimmers were getting organized to host their little visitors, there was a knock at the front door. It was Jim's oldest brother Willie. Mamma had sent him with the wagon to see if it was safe to cross the bridge. Willie reported that he had come across it without any trouble on the way there, so he thought it would be okay to take the children home.

So Jim, Bob, and Haskell gathered up their school books and piled into the wagon. Jim had some pretty new shoes and she was especially careful not to scuff them as she climbed in. Willie stopped along the way to pick up Fred Snyder, a neighbor boy who also needed to cross Rush Creek to get home. Then he hurried to get back to the bridge before the water rose higher.

When the little party got to the Rush Creek Bridge, the park on the town side of the bridge was flooded, and the bridge itself, which had no railings, had disappeared under the water. Men were standing on either side of the creek to mark the location of the bridge for those wanting to cross.

Willie stopped near the bridge and talked to the men standing next to the bank. They assured him that he would be fine. The bridge was only a couple of inches under water. So Willie urged the horses, Mack and Maggie, out onto the invisible bridge. The horses slowly advanced, and as the wheels sunk deeper and deeper into the water Willie began to realize that the men had misjudged the depth of the water, but it was too late. Then wagon started to slip sideways. There was no turning back. Jim remembered the men yelling: "Keep to the right! Keep to the right!" Willie was standing now, yelling at the horses, urging them on and pulling on the reins with all his strength to steer them to the right.

The wagon had been made for hauling dirt, Jim said, and the boards in its bed were loose so they could be released to dump loads of dirt. As the water rose, the boards just floated away. Suddenly Jim found herself in the water. The experience was surreal. At first she was more fascinated than frightened. She saw her six year old brother Bob clinging to Fred Snyder as he tried to swim to the bank. It was a comical sight. Bob had his arms wrapped around Fred's head, covering his eyes so that he couldn't see. Jim looked back towards Willie, but all she could see above the water was the horses' ears. Then her head went under.

The next thing Jim knew, a hand reached out and pulled her head out of the water. It was her brother Haskell. She panicked and tried to fight him, but he was stronger than she was, and he finally managed to get her to the bank. Jim finally calmed down when she was able to get her feet under her and stand. As she followed Haskell up the bank, their feet sinking deep into the mud, one of her new shoes came off. She tried to go back for it but Haskell wouldn't let her.

After everyone was safely out of the water, Willie took the children, the horses and what was left of the wagon over to the Bradley house on the far side of the creek. Mrs Bradley cleaned the children up, put them in dry clothes, and then her husband drove everyone home to Mamma.

Jim's narrow escape was probably the most frightening experience of her life, and it left her forever afraid of the water, but what bothered her most at the time, she told me later, was losing her pretty new shoe.

We Cried and Kissed Little Forkerberry Goodbye

While I'm writing stories for this blog I'm also working on a larger story about our family. This is what my mother wanted me to do, and it's why she spent so much time dredging up her memories, some of which were painful to her.

Right now I'm working on a chapter about Jim's mother, or "Mamma." Jim's life and those of her other siblings too, were largely shaped by their mother's influence. Jim said to me once, "Mamma was my moral compass."

I found a scrap of paper among Jim's keepsakes entitled "My Creed." It was in Mamma's handwriting.

My creed in life is to be independant. & not be any trouble to any one. Be good to animals. such as Birds, Squirrels, & doggs. I like children. I love art. & flowers. love friends. I've just finished reading The Case of the Velvet Claugh by Earl Stanley Gardner.

And that's just how Mamma was. I don't think anyone could improve on her own description of herself.

Mamma spent most of her childhood, from the age of about seven until she was eleven, on a farm near Palmer Station, Arkansas. Mamma was like Jim in that she could remember vividly details from her past, and she especially loved to tell stories about Arkansas. Jim said, "We were always trying to get Mamma to tell us stories about her childhood."

All of Mamma's children were devoted to her. Every summer Jim's younger sister Oteka would drive up to Pauls Valley from Texas with her younger son Steve, and they would spend a couple of weeks there with Mamma. Of course while they were there the rest of us would go down to visit also. In the summer of 1958 Aunt Oteka and Steve made their usual trip to Pauls Valley, but this year they had a special plan. They were going to take Mamma to Palmer Station, Arkansas, her childhood home.

Mamma was excited about the trip. She wanted to find her father's farm, her older sister Cora's home - Cora was married while they lived there - and she wanted to see if she could find any descendents of the old pioneers she remembered. Mamma was anxious to visit the cemetery to look for the graves of her brother Luther and her sister Eula who had died there. Last but not least, she wanted to take some plants back with her to Pauls Valley that would remind her of Arkansas, like Jack-in-the-pulpits, blackberries, and paw paws.

So Mamma made arrangements with Uncle Haskell to feed her chickens, her dog Spot, and her parakeet, and after she made sure the gas was turned off, the little group left for Palmer Station. When they arrived they discovered there was no longer a town there, just a fork in the road with a couple of houses, so they got rooms at a motel in nearby Searcy and started asking around to locate land marks and old timers. The landmarks Mamma remembered, like houses, big trees and hills, were either long gone or impossible to identify. They did find an old cemetery that might have contained Luther and Eula's graves, but there were no identifiable markers.

Nothing, howeve, could dampen Mamma's enthusiasm. She talked to everyone she met, asking about the old houses, the old cemetery and the old pioneers. Steve said that she filled their trunk with plants. Mamma would see a plant at the side of the road and yell for Oteka to stop. Then they would all get out of the car and wade through the bushes to get to the plant that Mamma wanted. Steve said that one time Mamma disturbed a snake with her shovel, causing the little party to high tail it back to the car while the snake slithered off into the grass.

To me the best thing about the trip was how it pleased Mamma to be 'home' again. Here is a letter that she wrote to Oteka shortly after returning to Pauls Valley. You can just feel the excitement in her words as her memories of Arkansas gush forth.

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.

More Loose Ends

Looking back on my last few posts, they don't seem any more connected than my first few. I guess it's part of the grieving process, but memories of my mother keep popping into my head kind of at random. Hopefully it's not too confusing to skip around like this. It might be a good way to get across the idea that Jim was a very complicated multifaceted person.

I had intended to go back and talk about the family's origins, to kind of follow up on my post about our Indian heritage, but I started thinking about the strength of Jim's character, and how she was able to give a feeling of security to me as a child, as well as to my kids, as illustrated by the story of Donald's nightmare about the lions.

I did then get back to the subject of our family history, summarizing the stories Jim told me when I was little, when she was trying to instill in me the same pride she felt in our ancestors.

In the middle of these entries I made a trip home to deal with Jim's estate, to decide what to save and what to sell, so I posted a blog about how hard it was to part with anything that was hers.

The stories Jim told me about her childhood are my favorites. They tell about her life when she was still a carefree child, before her life was burdened by hardship and struck by tragedy, but I don't have many pictures of Jim as a child. The family picture taken when she refused to stand with her brothers and sister is therefore a special treasure, so I wanted to show it. I think it says something about Jim's personality, and it gave me an opportunity to give a brief description of each member of her family at that time.

I could hardly show the picture of Jim as a child without telling about some of her adventures. It was always hard for me to imagine Jim as an ornery undisciplined little tomboy because she was always so strict and disciplined as a mother.

Telling about Jim's fights led me to a description of Mamma's methods of discipline. I didn't want to give the impression that Jim and Bob misbehaved without being punished. Actually Jim claimed that Mamma was quite strict, and that she and her brothers and sisters were usually polite and well behaved.

Be that as it may, none of the Paul children were inhibited in any way. As my cousin Steve put it, "They all had strong personalities."

Earliest Memories

This picture was taken in about 1917, when Jim, or "Jamie" as she was called then, was about 4 years old. It's one of my favorite pictures of my mother. She had just refused to join the other children for a family portrait. She had climbed up on the porch thinking she was out of the picture, but the photographer - Pappa? - included her anyway. Actually there's another picture taken later, after Jim had been coaxed down to join the group, but I like this one better.

The other children are - starting from the left - Haskell age 10, Bob age 2, Kaliteyo age 7, and Homer (Snip) age 13. Absent from the picture is Jim's oldest brother Willie, who was 16 at the time this picture was taken. He was away at military school in Alton, Illinois.

Haskell was Mamma's "Angel boy." He was neat, studious, and shy. Once when he was little a teacher prejudiced against Indians kept him in after school, and Pappa made a visit the superintendent. Haskell was changed to a different class. Mamma's comment was, "If you don't like Indians you shouldn't live in Indian country."

Bob was a toddler at this time but he would soon become Jim's favorite playmate. They climbed trees together, and played on top of the family's two story house. They went to the farm, about three miles from town, and rode the horses, and they fought. Jim said, "The glass window in the back door was always broken from being slammed when Bob and I chased each other."

Kaliteyo and Jim had completely different personalities. As Jim put it, "Mamma tried to make a lady out of Kaliteyo." Actually Mamma kept Kaliteyo inside most of the time because she was 'sickly' instead of letting her run and play with the other children. Kaliteyo was four years older than Jim, and Mamma made her take Jim along when she visited her friends. Kaliteyo eventually came to think of Jim as a pest. The two sisters had to sleep together though until Kaliteyo went off to college. Jim recalled, "I would try to snuggle up to Kaliteyo when it was cold. I can still feel her elbow in my ribs."

Jim's other brother, Homer, nicknamed "Snip" because his baby picture had a corner snipped off, was as opposite from Haskell as Jim was from Kaliteyo. Snip was outgoing and popular in school but he never studied. Jim said, "When Snip graduated from high school Mamma said she wanted to go out on the front porch and yell Hallelujah!" Snip loved animals and he always had several pets.

At this time Jim's "Grandpa" lived with the family. Jim, his namesake, was his favorite, and she remembers him singing to her and telling her stories. Grandpa always had several pins stuck in his lapel that he had picked up off the floor so the children wouldn't step on them. He chewed tobacco and spit into a spittoon which sat in the living room. Stuck in every roll of tobacco was a pin with the figure of a donkey on the end. Jim cherished the collection of donkeys that Grandpa had given her. Every day after breakfast Grandpa would put on his hat - he never seemed to know where it was even though it was always in the punch bowl where he had thrown it the day before - and walked down town to visit with his 'cronies.'

Mamma and Pappa were having conflicts by this time, but it seems that the family had adjusted to it. Pappa drank, but his drinking was in sprees and Jim said that he was never drunk at home. He got dressed every morning in a suit and tie; went out and revved up his Model A Ford, - Jim said he loved to race the motor - and drove off to his real estate office downtown.

In spite of her parents' conflicts Jim said, "Mamma and Pappa always loved each other." Pappa never had affairs with other women, and Mamma kept getting pregnant. Mamma had ten children all together, and Jim's youngest brother Tom was a "change of life" baby. Mamma devoted herself to her children. Jim said, "When I think of Mamma, I think of babies." Once when Mamma had just returned from picking up Pappa stranded after one of his "toots," she recalled, "I was sitting in the train on the way to Oklahoma City, and I kept thinking that something was missing. Finally I realized it was because I wasn't holding a baby."