Neighbor Ananias

No doubt the fellow had a proper name yet in our home be bore the unenviable name of Ananias.  Undoubtedly he had earned that name because of versions of the truth, entertaining though they were.  That natural ability made him a welcome visitor in our farm home.

The man’s work in a slaughter house located three quarters of a mile away allowed him to acquire from time to time some small knife or other tool that he kindly offered to my mother.  She felt some uncertainty  about accepting these ‘maybe’ gifts.  Possibly she offered some small item in return.

When one of her daughters became quarantined with a case of Scarlet Fever, Ananias appeared with a copy of the Sunday comic’s and a magazine or two.  He valued our good opinion, and we saw no harm in showing friendship.  We hoped he would not intrude on our neighborliness.

Random Notes

Margaret – some type of concern – health, family, safety etc.

Papa seemed never to have enough time unless he was driving a team and showing us the contents of his trunk.  He tended to consume his food so he could keep going.  “If I just had 40 men.”  Where’ve you been all the forenoon*?

Mama, too, pushed herself.  First things followed by next things, and yet more things.  All along her busy mind kept planning, deciding, and accomplishing.

Dear Grace coping as best she could, ever fearful through not foolishly.  Such a dear friend.

Chick, the neighbor with grand hopes to be a car owner, a dog breeder

*at least I think she wrote forenoon. It was written along the edge of the page and I cant be sure of the spelling.

My Role Model

Not being conscious of having a hero, I’ll settle for a role model.  Not many are qualified for such a responsible position, but without a doubt my mother filled that position.

With better than average education and considerable ability, Mama gave her family the image of a courageous woman, well mannered, and talented.  By the time I was old enough to remember her she served as doctor, teacher and entertainer.  She was a source of anecdotes, stories, fun and games, and book lore.  She served our clothes, cut our hair, and baked our bread.

Life was fascinating as we accompanied her to the country school where she taught.  She and Papa ‘broke’ the young horses, chopped trees, and trapped muskrats.  A gun was kept within reach to control chicken hawks by day or late travelers at night when Papa was gone.  We harvested wild mushrooms, raised ducklings from wild duck eggs, and came to the rescue when the neighbor’s pet bear had entered their house and was vandalizing it.

I treasure several samples of her literary offerings.  Creativity was always searching for expression in her busy life