Editor,
My memories of Missouri: Being born on my Grandma’s little farm in ’42, no electricity, no indoor plumbing, no phones, while my dad was in the Army, was my start in life.
In ’45, Dad, Mom, my older brother and me moved to our farm. A creek divided our land for about a mile or so and was soon my playground. Our old swinging bridge was hog wire stretched between two big oak trees and there was usually about 15-20 feet above the water. I still remember the first time I crossed by myself, like I was the first one to discover America! The creek bank had rock ledges you could fish from or skip rocks across the water. When I was about 7 or 8 I came face to face with a deadly cotton mouth moccasin, fangs and all. Only God kept me from being bitten. But I was back at my spot by the swinging bridge next day. When the threshing was done in our neighborhood, all the neighbors from miles around would brings a seine and we had a fish fry and everybody visited. We kids enjoyed the special nights playing together.
When I wasn’t at the creek, I would throw rocks or walnuts. One time my brother was walking down at the barn so I picked up an apple and threw. Perfect hit -right on his head. Took him about a week to cool down.
I’m sure I had shoes but they were for special times so I went barefooted every summer. If I wasn’t running for hours in our 40 acre field, I was running barefoot on our gravel road. DDT when we sprayed our milk cows may be why I have always been nonstop and can’t sleep.
My brother got a brand new bike for Christmas but times were tough on the farm and I never got one. So, when I was 9 or 10 I found jobs working in hay fields for neighbors and bought me a $10 used bike. Back then the bales were pretty heavy to save the twine or baling wire – about 70-80 pound Stubborn or poor I felt deprived – guess I never knew the word.
Fall was for harvesting and enjoying apple cider and for bon fires for hot dogs and marshmallows around the neighborhood.
Winters were hard but it kept us toughened up and soon if we weren’t trying to survive we learned to play. Sled rides when Dad pulled us with our old F-20 tractor or ’39 Chevy. We always had our card parties every week. That brings me up to about 12.
If I don’t forget or die I may write some more about my Missouri and freedom like it used to be!
Gary Job,
El Dorado
