Sag-Ashus – Sister
This week we would like to share with our readers some memories that were written down by our only sister, who has since passed away. Just as in our stories about other friends and relatives, her poignant recollections reflect life and conditions in the early part of the past century as we experienced them in our youth. She begins:
“My childhood growing up on an isolated farm and ranch in West Texas was rather unique for my generation. Our home was located about 20 miles from Sierra Blanca, Texas on the Mexican border. My Grandma and Granddad Neely lived there too, which made it a wonderful experience for me. We raised cotton and alfalfa on the farm and originally had Angora goats on the ranch, later replaced by sheep. Through my early childhood, we had no electricity, no phones, no heating gas or running water. Our days were filled with chores – carrying water, bringing in wood, feeding the animals, gathering eggs, etc. Our drinking water was rainwater that had been filtered through gravel and sand into a deep cistern. We raised chickens, ducks, turkeys, cattle, pigs and horses. With a garden every summer, we had most of the food that we needed. The family would make occasional trips into El Paso (86 miles) for staples such as flour, sugar, salt and supplies. The trips to town were always fun, even though we would leave the ranch long before daylight and return after dark very tired.
Since we had no playmates except a few Mexican children whose parents worked on the farm, our entertainment was being with our family. In the evenings, after supper, we would listen to the news and programs like Fibber McGee and Molly and The Shadow on the battery-operated radio. We also played cards and games.
When I was about 6 years old, my uncle Joe brought a young black boy named Gordon Sanders (who was my age) to the ranch to live with Grandma and Granddad. We called him Tuffy, and he became just like a brother to me. We did the chores together and played together. (Ole Sag’s note: Gordon has lived and worked for many years for the school district in Hagerman, New Mexico and is a highly respected citizen of that community, and by the way, he is still known by his nickname, Tuffy.)
My older brother and I attended Cox School, a one-room, one-teacher school about a half-mile from our house. The teacher, Miss Moon, taught all eight grades, and the only students were my brother and me and a few Mexican children.
Some of my memories of growing up on the ranch were…
The wonderful smell of the desert after a thundershower, followed by the cactus blossoms. Going to the nearby sandhills to look for Indian arrowheads. Swimming in the Rio Grande River or the irrigation ditch, but hating to get the typhoid shots when the county nurse came. Going barefooted all summer and having to run from shade to shade to keep from burning your feet. Fear of going into Granddad’s chicken pen, where the Rhode Island rooster might attack me with his spurs. Sitting on the porch turning the crank on the Daisy churn making butter. The fun Tuffy and I had riding the donkeys and building wooden sleds for them to pull us on. Watching Grandma care for the incubator in anticipation of seeing all the baby chicks hatch. Of the fun we had when relatives came for a visit. The joy I felt when Granddad gave me a little pony to care for and train. Sitting on the kitchen table at Grandma’s, stirring the batter for her pound cakes. Riding out to the herder’s camps on the ranch to take them supplies. Sitting on Grandma’s footstool while she gave my hair a good brushing and did it in braids. When the cousins came visiting in the summer, and sitting on the haystack after dark telling ghost stories. Feeling sad when a hail storm would destroy the crops. Being able to drive as soon as your feet could reach the pedals. Sitting on the porch at night learning Mexican folk songs from the Mexican girl who lived with us. Going to dances at the schoolhouse with the whole family. Dreading the day in the fall when the milk calves would be butchered for beef. They had always become pets. Playing in the wagon of picked cotton, and going to the gin to see it processed into bales. The anxiety I felt the day I entered El Paso Junior High – it was my first experience in a public school, and it was so big and had so many students. Of milking the cows on an early winter morning when my fingers were so cold they ached. In the winter, dressing for bed by the potbellied stove in the living room and then running as fast as possible to the unheated sleeping porch and jumping into bed under a pile of quilts. The anticipation of Christmas – the relatives all arriving – holiday meals – the gift exchanges – Granddad or Dad dressed in a Santa Claus suit delivering bags of candy, fruit and nuts to all the Mexican families on the farm.
I feel very fortunate to have been raised on the ranch. because everything we did involved three family generations. We depended on each other for most everything. My brothers learned to cook, do laundry, iron and sew; and I in turn learned to do outside work. Most of all, growing up on the ranch, with my grandparents being there also, made it possible to have a very close family relationship, which provided love, stability and self-confidence.
I can still hear my grandmother say, ‘Always keep an open mind and continue to learn throughout your whole life.’ I shall always appreciate my education in the little one-room school. It provided me with a solid basis for continuing my education. An example of Grandma’s influence on me was at one of my bridal showers. The guests were given blank recipe cards and asked to give me their favorite recipe. The following was what my Grandmother wrote, which I still have in the very front of my file: ‘Be a good and loving wife, and never lose your temper. Your own life and your husband’s will be just what you make it.’”
Here’s a bit of sagacity from Mark Twain:
“It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.”
SAG