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Rod and I moved to
Stillwater, Oklahoma during a rain storm that dropped eleven inches of
water on the little college town in only one day and the realization of
why the town was named still water was being made clear to us. We almost
didn't want to tell the utility people our name: “Flood.” This was
before the town had cleared the grown-up tree lined creeks. A surge such
as this caused the streams to flood and spread out over the lowest areas
of the town. This was certainly a dank, damp, difference than where we had
been living atop a hill in Osage County on the prairie. Guaranteed, no
floods ever ravished that area. Rodney was having to take alternate routes
around the town to avoid under water streets. My mind was not wishing to
accept these conditions but the decision had been made for my husband to
get an education so I kept quiet and did not complain.
http://gallery.future-i.com/FirstdaysStillwaterOk/
The overseer of the small
Stillwater congregation brought over a young couple and their new baby so
they could find shelter with us away from their rain soaked area. This
young mother had to stay with me for a day until they could get back into
their flooded trailer. I couldn't even imagine how miserable it was to go
back into that tiny, soaked place but they wouldn't accept our offers for
them to stay overnight. She was a tall, lovely, willowy looking girl with
an aristocratic bearing but she didn’t seem to be overly nervous about her
predicament. Our hide-a-bed in the living room would have been comfortably
dry for the couple. These were youthful people and already the philosophy,
“stand on your own feet,” must have been implanted into their thinking
because my hospitality was politely refused.
Rodney applied for the G.I.
bill. It wouldn't come through right away and was only 175.00 a month. I
went to work at a dry good store rather than work as a reporter on the
paper but I had no camera which was necessary for that work . Rodney
brought Rhonda to me on my breaks so I could nurse her. His uncle Ross
gave him a job on Saturdays at his cattle sales lot. It paid ten dollars a
day so that added another forty dollars a month to our income.
http://www.wrestlinghalloffame.org/awards/?dm&honoree=26
I was still not strong and
was battling infections after the difficult birth. Sometimes, it was hard
for me to get through a chore without having to stop, sit down and wait
until the pain subsided. Diapers were washed by hand since we had no
machine. I learned the sun would bleach them white. Youth, strength and
will, along with antibiotics soon allowed me to get better.
Mother saw how we were
struggling so she moved us to a bigger house. She and Dad took care of the
rent which was then, sixty dollars a month. The rental property our land
lady purchased just for that purpose had evidently been part of a farm.
The lady whose husband who had owned the farm must have supported her
industriousness for keeping and putting up produce. The cellar was filled
with all sorts of good canned fruits and vegetables. When the new owner
came to collect the rent, I showed her the cellar and asked if we could
use the food. Mrs. Wigley was agreeable and admitted to not knowing it was
there. She said she wouldn't use it anyway. The frugal farmer's wife who
once owned the house had even canned bean sprouts and they were delicious
besides being good for us.
Another farmer left corn at
the edge of the field for gleaners as people used to do. Rodney asked him
if we could pick it and the man was okay with that. The corn was totally
dried and hard. Husks were already dried and rattled while we stripped it
from the stalks. The farmers used dried corn on the cob like this to feed
his stock. Mother taught me how to break the husk with lye sprinkled into
a tub of water. She always used the dangerous solution of potassium
hydroxide which can burn skin or blind a person if it splashes up into an
eye. After many washing’s, while wearing rubber gloves, the corn became
hominy and it was better than any I had ever tasted. Since there was a
quantity of it we canned many jars.
Rhonda was still not
strong. She couldn't hold down breast milk, at times. There must have been
pain. She cried a lot. Many nights were spent in the little, found, rickety rocking chair. We loved her though, and did everything to make her
comfortable. She enjoyed warm baths, so I always gave her a number of
baths a day. Today she has her own spa. The warm, moving water is relaxing
to her. The baby couldn't hold her head up and couldn't sit up at all but
I sewed for her and she always looked like a little princess.
Rodney's mother sewed, too,
She made me three beautiful light cotton dresses of dark, lovely colors
which I wore, Sundays, to the meetings. When we had to attend
conventions, I sewed my own clothes. Life was good and I never felt
impoverished.
There were only eleven of
us in attendance for the meetings at the small upstairs room.. Mother, my
little sister and brother, along with four couples all met together. We
were the pioneers of the, now, large, elegant Stillwater congregation.
Navigating the long, steep steps with baby, diaper bag, and study
material, I remember, was a challenge. In the group was the young couple
we had met when their trailer was flooded so we already felt we had
friends. Our following the songs without accompaniment by an instrument
might have been laughable if each and every one of us wasn’t trying so
hard to stay on tune with our singing. While engaged in presenting one of
the six minute speeches I was counseled for saying, “uhhh” 16 times. I
guess the ministry school conductor had been counting them.
The overseer and his wife
were past their youth but still very active. He was a stocky man, with
partially graying hair who dressed in conservative clothes. The man was
not tall but his health and pleasant manner made him a likable person. His
wife was a tiny bit of a woman about the size of a twelve year old girl.
We became friends with the overseer and his spouse and spent many hours
enjoying their companionship in one activity or another. They invited us
to dinner one evening in their unbelievably, small, camper trailer which
was parked in a vacant lot. The rich overgrowth of trees made the space
like a hidden, little secret garden nicely tucked into a private area
someone of wealth might have paid a great fortune to enjoy. A tiny radio
with the volume turned low played nice music and seemed to be in the
background, although, in reality it was in the same room with us. For
our meal this tiny little woman cooked two potatoes for the four of us.
One can of Tuna fish for a sandwich, a sliced up onion on our plate along
with iced tea and it was wonderful, I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed any
food or association as much.
Pictures of teardrop
trailers similar to the Cooper’s.
http://www.mikenchell.com/halloffame.html |
