Kathryn Ellena Dodson
Traveling the Road of Life
My name is Ellena Kathryn Tucker Fisher Dodson. I was born at 7 a.m. in the morning on February 13, 1927. My mom stayed home a long time waiting for me to come. She had not left the house in several days. I am not for sure if I was overdue or if she just wasn't up to getting out. She had wanted to go to my Aunt Francis' home to have dinner on Sunday night. However, that Sunday morning, she woke up with contractions, and not long after, I arrived. My actual birth went without incident, but when I came out, I had a veil over my face. I was told that it looked like a leaf of lard covering my whole face. Since I was born on a farm without a doctor's assistance, my grandmother, who was helping my mother through the birth, did the only the thing she knew to do. At first, she was scared because she thought it was attached to my face, but she went ahead and took a hold of it and pulled it off. Much to her relief, it came away without any trouble, and everything was as it should have been with her new little granddaughter.
My Grandma Mahala died while we lived on that farm. She was 79 years old, which was quite old for the time. She was buried on my fourth birthday. I remember not understanding why she was lying there asleep and I couldn't wake her up. My little brother Albert was real sick with double pneumonia, and my mother was taking care of him. I felt really lost. No one explained to me what was going on. I just knew she was asleep, and I couldn't wake her up. At that time, they didn't take anyone to a funeral home; they didn't even embalm them. After you died, they left you at your home for three days and nights. They put a mirror over your mouth to make sure there wasn't any moisture, and if there wasn't, you were pronounced legally dead. Then you were laid out, washed, dressed, and placed in a homemade coffin. Finally, when the time came, you were taken away and buried.
I still recall them putting my grandma in her casket and me not knowing why. I thought to myself, "Why are they putting her in a box and shutting her up?" I knew when they did this that I wouldn't see her anymore. I stood at the window as they drove off with her. They were taking her to the church house for her funeral. I couldn't go because I was too young and had to stay with Mom. She couldn't go because my little brother was so sick. I saw them put her in the back of a pick-up truck and drive away. I never saw her again.
Farm Life
Growing up on the farm, I did pretty much anything I was big enough to do. I helped milk the cows, draw water and gather wood. Everything that had to be done all us kids had a hand in. We did all the work on the farm. I do not ever remember Dad hiring any outside help. When I got older I learned to plant corn, strip cane, ride the rake and rake hay into the stacks. One particular time, while I was riding the rake, I got into a little trouble. The horses got spooked and ran away with me. I was raking the hay as usual, and one of the horses was really jumpy about being bit by horse flies. The horse would always start to run if he got bit. Well, sure enough that day, the horse got bit, and I just happened to be the one on the back of the rake when it started running. I tried to yell to the horses to stop, but they didn't pay no mind to me. Just before, I had heard about a man from a nearby farm that had fallen off forward into the rake and was pulled under the rake for about a quarter of a mile. He was strong enough to pull the prongs far enough apart so he could get out or it would have killed him. I remembered hearing about that incident, so I threw off my lines and jumped off backwards. The horses just kept on a going. So, I sat on a stump and watched them run on. Daddy had seen the horses go and thought I was still on the rake. He started running and yelling at the horses because he was afraid for me. I just sat there and watched him run. Finally, the horses got stuck in a draw in the field by a tree, so they were forced to stop. When he saw me sitting on the stump, he was very happy because he thought I had probably been killed.
Well, besides the horse incident, there were also other things that happened on the farm. Our front door of the house was part plate glass. In the summertime, we didn't have any air conditioning, so we would leave the door open and leave the screen door shut with the screen up. We always set our ironing board behind this door. One afternoon, I was going to go to town and was getting ready in the meantime. I needed to press a skirt I had, so I was getting the iron out. I started to get the ironing board and didn't look where it was. It was always in the same place, so I just reached. I put my arm behind the door and took a hold of the ironing board, and when I did, I felt something real cold back there around it. I looked through the glass and saw a great big old snake sticking his tongue out at me and there I was with my arm around him. I jumped back and screamed. He or she didn't bite me. I don't know what gender it was. I didn't take the time to look. I went into shock and just started screaming and screaming and wouldn't stop. My dad was out on the wood pile cutting some wood, and my mother screamed out at him because she was trying to get my attention but couldn't. She screamed at Daddy to come in and help. He ran in with the ax but didn't kill the snake at first. Being country folk, we believed that if a snake charmed you, to never kill the snake until the person came out of shock or they would never come out of it. You have to bring them out of it first and then kill the snake. He came over to where I was and said something to me, but I wouldn't pay any mind to him. So he just hauled off and slapped the fire out of me, which brought me out of it. Slapping me was the best thing he could have done. It didn't make me mad in the least bit. When I came out of the trance, he asked me if I was all right. I told him I was O. K. Then he went and killed that snake. I can't remember if the snake was a blue racer or a black snake, but that snake story reminds me of another one about a blue racer.
If you are not careful, a blue racer will chase you for no obvious reason. At least that is what Albert and I learned one time. We were playing around one day following our cows around with some new wheels and paddles that we had made recently. All at once, I heard something behind me in the dirt. I turned around to see what it was, and sure enough, it was a snake. I guess the snake had started chasing me because I had alarmed it with the sound of my wheel. All I know is that it decided to chase me. I knew what to do though. Growing up on the farm, kids tend to be a lot smarter then you would think. I think the thing was mad because I jumped off to the side of the road, and he didn't have sense enough to jump off, too. He just kept on a going. I hollered at Albert to jump off as well. I was always real protective of Albert. I grabbed up a rock and threw it at the snake, and it went over to the side of the road I was on and went up a tree. Course me and my brother had full intentions of killing that snake. I don't know why we just didn't run off from it. We threw every rock on that hillside trying to hit that snake. That snake was lying up there and would snap at the rocks as they passed over it. We weren't that good of a shot with the rocks. We kept on missing.
Finally, we had to go on the other side and throw the same rocks back. Eventually, one of us hit that snake's head, and down it came. We then went over to where it landed and killed it. After that, we went on playing and following after our cows.
We had quite a few adventures with snakes. Where we lived was copperhead territory, and they are definitely poisonous. We just lucked out and never got bit by one. Dad told us how to watch out for snakes and be real careful not to step on one. We all listened and did what he said. No matter where you went, you always looked around and made sure there wasn't a snake hanging around. Even if it was to the outhouse, you made sure there wasn't one there either, cause they might bite you when you sat down to do your business.
Snakes weren't the only entertainment on the farm. Sometimes some of the other animals we tended after could be just as challenging. One time, I was trying to get the cows up to the house for Daddy and had a little bit of trouble doing it. One of the older cows wouldn't budge. So, I got me a rock and threw it at her. I wasn't usually that good at throwing, but this time I lucked out, and I smacked her right between the eyes. Well, much to my horror, she went straight down to her knees. I thought to myself, "Oh no! I killed her, and she's a good milk cow. Daddy's gonna tan my hide." She was a good milk cow. She gave about five gallons a day. I was just a quivering with fear, until she got up off her knees and shook her head and promptly started moving. So, I got her to move, but I sure didn't tell Dad how.
Drinking
For the most part of my life, my parents were Christians, so I wasn't greatly exposed to alcohol or anything resembling a beer joint. My father had drunk a little before he had met my mother, but after they both started going to church, he stopped. I was probably around twenty or twenty-one, the first time I went to a beer joint. I don't remember how old you had to be then to get in, but I know I was old enough. I didn't have to lie about my age that time. Of course, all you had to do anyway was just tell them you were old enough, and they believed you. You never had to show any ID.
I remember my first time at a beer joint very well, even though I don't remember the name of the place. I was on a double date with a friend of mine, and we decided to try it out. It felt really odd being there since it was way different a place than I was used to. I had always been taught that it was wrong to do things like that, but I was curious and wanted to see what it was like. While I was there, I was even a little scared. It was like looking through a fence and not knowing what you will find. Since I was brought up in church, I didn't know what to expect. It was another part of life that I wanted to experience a little of. I wasn't scared of the people that were there. I was more afraid of what might happen to me after I left. I thought to myself, "What if I die and do not have the chance to repent? I know this is wrong."
Well, temptation usually wins over reason, and it did then, too. I tried alcohol that first time, and I liked it. I really liked the taste of beer. I drank four beers that first time and got drunk. That was the first time I got drunk, and since then there have only been two other times. I drank more since then but never as much. When I did get drunk, I would either be a crying drunk that was sad about everything, stupid, or I was just happy-go-lucky. The first time I was definitely a crying drunk because I was feeling guilty. I knew my mother would not have approved of what I was doing. I started telling my friends to take me home to see my mom, even though that was the last thing I needed to do. The next morning I also got to experience the other side of drinking. I don't know if you would call it a hangover or not, but I sure didn't feel well. I quickly learned anytime I drank to pace myself.
Herbert
I met my husband-to-be in Kansas City. The first time I saw him was at my friend Doris' house. I had met Doris at a church I had started going to. By this time in my life, I had stopped going to beer joints and gone back to church. Doris and I got acquainted and became friends. Herbert had seen me one time and was interested in going out with me. I didn't know anything about it at the time. I found out later that Doris was his cousin, and they planned out our first meeting without me knowing. Before that, she had never mentioned him to me. So when she invited me home with her for dinner one night, I went very innocently, thinking I was just going to eat over at her house. About the time dinner was over, guess who should drive up, but Herbert. I wasn't looking for a serious boyfriend at the time, and besides that, he wasn't the type of guy I was used to dating.
In 1950, it wasn't real common for girls my age to be single. Most people usually got married by eighteen. So when I told Mom that I wasn't going to marry anyone, I really meant it. I believed it would be better that way. Would you believe, though, that I went home the next night and that guy, Herbert, drove up to my door. He told me there was a rodeo in town, and he wanted me to go with him. I told him I didn't want to go. I know I gave him every excuse in the world. He was persistent. Finally, he said, "Well, how long would it take to get ready?" Just being silly, I answered, "One hour!" Then he tried to get me hooked by saying he would give me thirty minutes. I told him, "Oh no, I need at least forty-five," trying my best to get him to give up. He didn't. I gave up and told him I would go. I figured it wouldn't be that big of a deal since my sister and Doris were going also. So, I went upstairs, got dressed, and we went to the rodeo.
A week after that, I started going out with him every night. I found that he was a really nice guy, and he did have a really good personality, not to mention he was really good-looking. After a week of dating, he asked me to marry him. I went on a total seven dates with him and said yes. I told him I would marry him, and then I went with him for four more weeks. It lacked two days from being five weeks exactly, when we got married.
In the four years I was married to Herbert, I only found one fault with him. He was too much of a Momma's boy. Our relationship was wonderful, and I worshipped the ground he walked on, especially after we had a child of our own. We were married two years when I had a baby boy, whom we named Stanley Edward. We tried to be happy together, but his mother, Lena, gave us a lot of trouble. He was an only child, and she didn't intend on anyone taking her baby. So she interfered all the time. I can't think of one argument that she wasn't the cause of. If his mom said anything to him, it was true and you better agree to it. She was the type that showed her authority. Besides loving her so much, he was also afraid to make her mad. I often wonder what things would have been like if she had not been around.
I never got a chance to find out if he ever would have stood up to his mother. After my having lived with him for only three years and eleven months, he was killed. One night, he went back to work, and I never saw him again. He worked at Kansas City Power and Light shoveling coal into chutes. Something happened at the plant that was going to cause them to work later, but at 3:30, he came home as usual. I asked him what had happened. He told me his boss had said to eat, relax with your family a little, and be back up to work at 7 p.m. We ate, and then he thought it would be best if he took me and our son to my sister Reva's house. After he dropped me off and was getting ready to drive off, he said something that I have never forgotten. He said, "Babe, I'll see you, but I don't know when." He made it to work by 7 p.m., and at 7:30, he was killed.
The next night we went over to view the body, and my little boy was there with me. I wouldn't let him go too far from me because I felt like he was a little part of Herbert that I had a hold of. I loved my little boy so much, and at that time I couldn't let him go. He had to be wherever I was. He had to be right there with me. I took him up in my arms and was showing him his daddy. He took his little hand, reached out and touched his face. He cried out "Ahh" when he felt his daddy. He recognized his daddy and couldn't figure out why he was lying in that casket. I started crying, and they took him away from me because they knew I couldn't handle it. Years later, he told me where they took him, and I couldn't believe it. I thought he was too young to remember where he went. So, I asked my brother Ed and my brother-in-law Tom if where he said they had taken him was right, and sure enough, it was. How he can remember back so far, I don't know. He was only two at the time. But he told me himself, before they did, that they took him across the street to a bowling alley to get him to quit crying.
When Herbert was killed, it broke his mother's heart. She did have good qualities about her. I can't say she was all bad. If she had not been my mother-in-law, I probably would have liked her. It was because I was her son's wife that she gave me so much trouble. Eventually, years later, she even came to see me after I had moved to Arkansas. She sat at my kitchen table, cried, and apologized to me for the way she had treated me. I finally made things right with her after all those years had passed. So that is all water under the bridge now.
Conclusion
I felt the same way when Mom, Dad, Edgar, and Herbert died. At this time, it is in the past, and I am learning to live with them. Right now is a peaceful time for me. I love all my family. I do not bother my sons or their families. I do my best not to bother my daughters-in-law. I really love them both. When they need me, all they have to do is call on me, and if I need them, I will call. I know it would be a perfect world if nothing changed from the way it is now. If all my children stayed healthy and my grandchildren all stayed home, that would be great. In my heart though, I know it can't be that way. For the most part I am happy with the way things turned out, and I know I can't change anything, even if I wanted to.
If I could pass on any bit of knowledge or insight to my family, or anyone for that matter, it would be to enjoy life as much as possible. I did and I am not sorry for it. I would say though to be careful what you do. Don't go so far across a bridge that you can't get back across. With that in mind, enjoy life to the fullest because you only get one chance at it. When it is over, it is over.
I also have a little advice to all mothers-in-law. Keep your mouth shut no matter what you see or what you hear. Keep out of your daughter-in-law's business, and they will probably love and respect you for it. You can aggravate them, and they will probably hate you until the day you die.
