The Ggma Chronicles, Part 14: Her Faith Built Our New World
Ozark Memories from the Last Century
This was written by my maternal grandmother, Alice Green-Kollenborn (1911-2005), and was published in an unknown newspaper.
HER FAITH BUILT OUR NEW WORLD
It was October 9, 1916. A beautiful day, typical of early Autumn in the Ozarks. I was nearly five years old. That day is etched in my memory like letters chiseled in stone. That was the day that Papa left Mama and seven of us children to build a new life without him.
The day of the funeral, I rode on a high-wheeled wagon tucked securely between Papa’s brothers, Mort and Silas. Smoothly shaven except for dark mustaches, wearing neatly-pressed dark serge suits, they sat straight and tall on the big spring-wagon seat.
Two shiny black horses, nostrils flaring from excitement, crunched gravel beneath their newly-shod hoofs as they slowly drew the wagon bearing the long black box across the creek to the nearby country cemetery.
The aroma of lingering goldenrods and wild asters wafted across the dusty lane and the whir of grasshopper wings echoed in the tall dry grass.
As we neared the church, I was petrified with fear, wanting desperately to rush away from this sea of strange faces with their frightening stares. If only I could dash back to the refuge of our friendly kitchen and find our family all gathered around the big kitchen table enjoying our time together as we always did. I often snuggled in Papa’s lap after chore time, feeling secure in my own small world. I could feel Papa’s reassuring arms folding around me now, saying, “Wake up little one, this is only a bad dream.” But I knew it wasn’t a dream this time. It was real. My world had fallen apart and I felt as though nothing would ever be right again.
Mama was a widow at thirty-five. She would now have to be both mother and father to all seven of us children. Well-meaning friends and relatives offered to adopt some of us children.
“Let me take little Alice and Andrew, Belle. You can never manage seven children alone,” begged Aunt Mary, who had no children of her own.
“The Lord will show us the way, Mary,” Mama said firmly. “He has never let me down yet. My children are all staying together. Tommy worked hard for this farm so we would have a home, and I’m staying here.”
A few weeks after Papa’s death, Mama had a farm auction, a dreadful experience for the whole family. It was almost like breaking up the family itself. Papa left the farm well-stocked with livestock. Too many horses, cows, and hogs for Mama and the older children to handle. Besides, there were big debts to be taken care of.
The day of the auction, the animals were confined to the corral where the horses whinnied and the cows lowed softly, knowing something unusual was about to happen. The auctioneer came early dressed in a dark suit, white shirt, and cowboy boots. A big black cowboy hat was pushed back on his head, exposing very blue eyes and locks of honey-colored hair. His gold teeth glistened, matching his shiny watch and gold chain looped across his est. Mary and I peeked curiously through the corral fence, fascinated at his fancy clothing. His clothes didn’t look anything like Papa or our neighbors wore.
People swarmed from miles around the countryside, some climbing over and others sprawling on the corral fence. Some inspected the horses’ teeth and feet. They rubbed their hands across the horses’ necks and hips.
“They’re looking for blemishes,” my nine-year-old brother James said, looking wise and grown-up. He knows all about animals, I thought, as we watched others rub the cows’ udders and measure their girth.
There goes Piney and Daisy, calves following beside them, bellowing as they were led away by strangers. The auctioneer kept up his regular chant. “Forty, who'll make if forty-five, forty-five, let’s hear fifty,” etc. My seven-year-old sister Mary and I huddled speechless and frightened, holding hands as we watched our favorite animals being led away unwillingly from their familiar corral. Like the animals, not quite understanding, we feared that we too might have to be separated and leave our old farm home.
After the strange intruders were finally gone with our beloved animals and farm equipment, we had Beck and George, two work horses; Pink and Brindle, our milk cows; and a pasture of hogs and chickens.
The corrals and stalls looked lonely and quiet. Papa’s dog, Shep, howled mournfully as he searched for his master. We tried to reconcile ourselves to our new world. No more horses galloping over the pastures, biting at each other, kicking and whispering in each other’s ears. The cows mooed wistfully for their young companions. Mary and I held hands and cried with the animals.
“What will we do now, Mama?” my older sister Ruth asked as Mama wiped her big brown eyes on the corner of her calico apron.
“We’ll stay here on the farm. This is our home and what our Papa wanted for us,” Mama said with determination in her voice.
With Mama’s faith and the Lord’s help, we built a new world together. Not like our old world, but Mama kept her promise to Papa and us children to keep us all together. We all grew up there with Mama as our guiding hand.
Many times we were hungry and had few luxuries in life, but we were happy together. She left us a legacy of love and appreciation for the simple things in life.
Mama never made headlines nor became a great lady except to seven lucky children. She never lost her supreme faith. She always found something to be thankful for. Mama was like that.