grandparents
My grandfather turns 94 next month. He's in tremendous health, still drives, and still takes care of my grandmother, to whom he's been married for 70+ years. They've lived in Kansas City since the universe was created.
They're tremendously kind people, respected in their community, and have terrific, biting senses of humor (particularly the grandmother). They taught me to play poker before I was 10 and send me a check every year on my birthday. My grandfather's been retired almost as long as he worked. If you're sitting in their kitchen at 5pm Central time, my grandfather will make you a martini to go along with his. gin, on the rocks, olives.
For some reason, I don't know that much about my family; as Midwesterners, we don't talk a lot. (My brother and I are currently seeking substantiation on a rumor that my parents smoked pot before we were born; b/c they haven't trucked with that sort of horse manure in recent years.) So I've always seen my grandfather as a kind old man who used to work for John Deere, took me fishing, and had a pool table and a slot machine in his basement (they'd spend a month out of the year in Vegas).
So it was a treat to get another perspective of him recently when my family sent along a transcription of some my grandparents' remembrances from years ago. I've included a few stories that give a good glimpse of how you might've spent your time during the Depression in the Midwest.
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Joe (cousin) and I were always looking for a way to make a dollar or two, or 50 cents. Anyway, around 1932 or 33, some guy gave us this old horse, and the horse was to a point where he was no good for work, and we knew we could sell him in the rendering works in Topeka [25 miles], so we had to get a way to get there. So we went out to the junk pile where farmers had discarded machinery, and we got two iron wheels off of an old cultivator; and we took some sticks and made a pair of shafts for this cultivator thing and fixed it so we could sit on a board seat and the horse would pull us. We got about half way to Topeka, and that horse got tired…he could hardly move. So we unhitched him and tied him where he could eat grass for a while. Some hitchhiker came by and wondered what we were doing, and we told him we were travelling across country with that horse, and we just stopped for a rest stop. I think Joe had brought along a pot of beans or something, so we were eating. The horse got rested up, and we drove on to east Topeka where this rendering works was. We got about a block from the place and we unhooked the horse from the cultivator wheels, and pushed that off to the side and left it sitting on the street, and walked the horse over. And I think we got three dollars. We hitchhiked back to St. Mary’s.
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We had an old truck. And Joe’s father had a big hog he wanted to sell, and he wanted me to haul it to Topeka. Well, I got to Topeka and we got over to the packing house, and the hog was laying down – he got too hot in the back of the truck; and they said they wouldn’t take the hog, we had to take him home. They wouldn’t take him there because they would be delayed; it might be a half day before they could butcher him, and he was overheated and probably would have died. They said he’d be all right if we just stabbed him, cut his throat; bleed him now and then butcher him when you got home. So I borrowed a big pocket knife from some guy, got in there and cut the hog’s throat in the truck. Had blood all over the inside of the truck. We hauled him back home, and I helped butcher him.
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Uncle Joe, dad’s alcoholic brother, had money. He worked as a mechanic at the Santa Fe shop, but he invested money somehow… probably with his brother, who was an investor.
He had bailed this guy out who was in jail in Topeka, and the guy disappeared. I can’t remember why he was in jail. They found him in Jackson, Mississippi, and we had a certain number of hours to pick him up. So Joe drove up to St. Mary’s and asked me if I would drive down to Jackson, Mississippi, with him [about 750 miles]. Of course, I had to drive 99% of the way.
We left in the afternoon, sometime late, and drove all night. We had a flat tire in one town. We had a spare, but we were afraid to put the spare on. There was a filling station close there, and we took the tire apart, patched the tire, put it back on and pumped it up at the filling station. We still had a spare with us. We got back in the car and Uncle Joe said, “Where did you get that patch?” I said, out of that box, and he said “I had all my money in there.” But we looked, and it was still in there.
So we drove on, and we picked up a girl hitchhiker. We asked her where she lived, and she said “Jackson, Mississippi.” We didn’t tell her where we were going; we were going to wait and see what she was like. But she was real nice. We stopped to eat, sometime in the middle of the night, and then we told here there that we were going to Jackson. She was so happy, and said “now I can go ahead and eat more food now,” and spent the rest of her money. And we took her and dropped her off. She said “Don’t dare come by my house.” She said, “I’ve got to walk into my house.”
So we went and got the prisoner, put him in the back seat with handcuffs. And we drove on … we hadn’t slept yet. Finally we decided we had to go to bed, and we got a room in a hotel. We took the prisoner over to the city jail; he had papers, so they put him in jail. Uncle Joe talked someone at the hotel into getting him some whiskey, which was bootleg then, nothing legal. They got him some whiskey, and they asked him where his car was parked, and he said “Over there at the police station.” Anyway, he got his whiskey.
The next morning we gathered the prisoner, put him in the back seat, and we picked up two girl hitchhikers – I don’t know why, and they sat in the back. And when they saw those handcuffs, they about went berserk. They rode along until we got to where they wanted to go. When we got to Kansas City, Uncle Joe was, oh, he was terribly thirsty. Well, I knew where to buy whiskey because I had been to Kansas City. So we went down the the city market and got some whiskey. I drank some of it, and Uncle Joe said, “I better be driving; you’ve had that whiskey.” And he was feeding it to the prisoner, too, and the prisoner was sitting in his handcuffs. When we got to Topeka, took him to the jail, and the prisoner was drunk when we turned him back in; but Joe got his bond money back.
They're tremendously kind people, respected in their community, and have terrific, biting senses of humor (particularly the grandmother). They taught me to play poker before I was 10 and send me a check every year on my birthday. My grandfather's been retired almost as long as he worked. If you're sitting in their kitchen at 5pm Central time, my grandfather will make you a martini to go along with his. gin, on the rocks, olives.
For some reason, I don't know that much about my family; as Midwesterners, we don't talk a lot. (My brother and I are currently seeking substantiation on a rumor that my parents smoked pot before we were born; b/c they haven't trucked with that sort of horse manure in recent years.) So I've always seen my grandfather as a kind old man who used to work for John Deere, took me fishing, and had a pool table and a slot machine in his basement (they'd spend a month out of the year in Vegas).
So it was a treat to get another perspective of him recently when my family sent along a transcription of some my grandparents' remembrances from years ago. I've included a few stories that give a good glimpse of how you might've spent your time during the Depression in the Midwest.
------------------------
Joe (cousin) and I were always looking for a way to make a dollar or two, or 50 cents. Anyway, around 1932 or 33, some guy gave us this old horse, and the horse was to a point where he was no good for work, and we knew we could sell him in the rendering works in Topeka [25 miles], so we had to get a way to get there. So we went out to the junk pile where farmers had discarded machinery, and we got two iron wheels off of an old cultivator; and we took some sticks and made a pair of shafts for this cultivator thing and fixed it so we could sit on a board seat and the horse would pull us. We got about half way to Topeka, and that horse got tired…he could hardly move. So we unhitched him and tied him where he could eat grass for a while. Some hitchhiker came by and wondered what we were doing, and we told him we were travelling across country with that horse, and we just stopped for a rest stop. I think Joe had brought along a pot of beans or something, so we were eating. The horse got rested up, and we drove on to east Topeka where this rendering works was. We got about a block from the place and we unhooked the horse from the cultivator wheels, and pushed that off to the side and left it sitting on the street, and walked the horse over. And I think we got three dollars. We hitchhiked back to St. Mary’s.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
We had an old truck. And Joe’s father had a big hog he wanted to sell, and he wanted me to haul it to Topeka. Well, I got to Topeka and we got over to the packing house, and the hog was laying down – he got too hot in the back of the truck; and they said they wouldn’t take the hog, we had to take him home. They wouldn’t take him there because they would be delayed; it might be a half day before they could butcher him, and he was overheated and probably would have died. They said he’d be all right if we just stabbed him, cut his throat; bleed him now and then butcher him when you got home. So I borrowed a big pocket knife from some guy, got in there and cut the hog’s throat in the truck. Had blood all over the inside of the truck. We hauled him back home, and I helped butcher him.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Uncle Joe, dad’s alcoholic brother, had money. He worked as a mechanic at the Santa Fe shop, but he invested money somehow… probably with his brother, who was an investor.
He had bailed this guy out who was in jail in Topeka, and the guy disappeared. I can’t remember why he was in jail. They found him in Jackson, Mississippi, and we had a certain number of hours to pick him up. So Joe drove up to St. Mary’s and asked me if I would drive down to Jackson, Mississippi, with him [about 750 miles]. Of course, I had to drive 99% of the way.
We left in the afternoon, sometime late, and drove all night. We had a flat tire in one town. We had a spare, but we were afraid to put the spare on. There was a filling station close there, and we took the tire apart, patched the tire, put it back on and pumped it up at the filling station. We still had a spare with us. We got back in the car and Uncle Joe said, “Where did you get that patch?” I said, out of that box, and he said “I had all my money in there.” But we looked, and it was still in there.
So we drove on, and we picked up a girl hitchhiker. We asked her where she lived, and she said “Jackson, Mississippi.” We didn’t tell her where we were going; we were going to wait and see what she was like. But she was real nice. We stopped to eat, sometime in the middle of the night, and then we told here there that we were going to Jackson. She was so happy, and said “now I can go ahead and eat more food now,” and spent the rest of her money. And we took her and dropped her off. She said “Don’t dare come by my house.” She said, “I’ve got to walk into my house.”
So we went and got the prisoner, put him in the back seat with handcuffs. And we drove on … we hadn’t slept yet. Finally we decided we had to go to bed, and we got a room in a hotel. We took the prisoner over to the city jail; he had papers, so they put him in jail. Uncle Joe talked someone at the hotel into getting him some whiskey, which was bootleg then, nothing legal. They got him some whiskey, and they asked him where his car was parked, and he said “Over there at the police station.” Anyway, he got his whiskey.
The next morning we gathered the prisoner, put him in the back seat, and we picked up two girl hitchhikers – I don’t know why, and they sat in the back. And when they saw those handcuffs, they about went berserk. They rode along until we got to where they wanted to go. When we got to Kansas City, Uncle Joe was, oh, he was terribly thirsty. Well, I knew where to buy whiskey because I had been to Kansas City. So we went down the the city market and got some whiskey. I drank some of it, and Uncle Joe said, “I better be driving; you’ve had that whiskey.” And he was feeding it to the prisoner, too, and the prisoner was sitting in his handcuffs. When we got to Topeka, took him to the jail, and the prisoner was drunk when we turned him back in; but Joe got his bond money back.
posted by stinkrock at 9:16 PM
1 Comments:
"And when there was no crawdad to be found, we ate sand."
Fucking awesome post! More please.
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