Rural Women's Stories Archive - Page 2 of 4

My faith helps me know God is in control

My dad wanted a boy this time, and I came as a girl, but I always got along well with him. I could talk to him rather easily. I thought he understood me better, but the older I get, the more I can understand my Mother’s thoughts and actions. My sister listened better than I ever did. She was smarter than I was. I never liked school and never did well in school. I couldn’t wait to get out, and I haven’t regretted it. Believe me! But it is hard when you have kids, and you want them to do …
“Yes, you are pregnant!”

I was a simple little country girl. My parents were conservative Baptists, and never even drank alcohol. We had a dairy farm and lived thirteen miles out of town, so I didn’t get to be with my friends very often. Even though I was an afterthought, I was daddy’s favorite. He called me Sugar Plum Sunday. I had two older sisters and two older brothers. I was born on my oldest sister’s seventeenth birthday. It was a huge embarrassment for her because that meant our parents still had sex. I started kindergarten at the age of four, and I went …
First-time author at ninety – yes, nine zero

I had the honor of sharing an author table at the Loveland Public Library Local Author Showcase with a delightful, adorable, sweetheart. Her name was Pat, and she was 90 years old. She self-published her first book, Missing Pieces, A Memoir, this year, 2017, and was immediately offered a book deal by a traditional publisher, PLUS, they want a sequel. I was more than impressed. We only had a half hour to visit because her grandson called her, and since she had not heard from him in eight years, and he just graduated with a Ph.D. in physics, she was …
Since my daughter died…

Pat started her story with, “Since my daughter died, my life has been different.” After a pause she changed the topic: Having a very small family can be incredibly sad. When my dad died, I had this revelation that now nobody knows about my childhood. I was an only child, and when I asked my dad why they didn’t have other kids, he said he was afraid another child would kill my mom, so he made sure she didn’t get pregnant. Mom had Rheumatic Fever as a child, and it weakened her heart. She died when I was forty-seven. Dad …
Lord, if this is the night

I was born and raised in the small town of Oakland, Nebraska. It was 1250 population and hasn’t grown since then. I had two brothers: One ten years older and one seven years older. I was the first one to be born in a hospital. I was a nuisance to my brothers. They were mean to me, and I didn’t like them at all until I was grown. They said I was spoiled, and I probably was. I didn’t have chores except for watering the African Violets. I can still hear my mom saying, “Don’t get water on the leaves!” …
Going for a Little Walk

August 1982 Harvest was over. There were things to do, but nothing as hectic as June and July had been. Most days I had time to take a walk from the house to the Baseline Road (a half mile) then east on the Baseline another half mile and then back to the house. A leisurely two-mile walk. At least, most days it was leisurely. One afternoon I set out walking and talking to the red-winged blackbird that flew from one perch to another on the phone line and sang to me as we went along. Suddenly I spied movement in …
I was taught good values

I was the youngest of six kids, and I have a twin sister. I grew up around cattle in a small town of 800 people. I knew everyone and could count on neighbors for anything. My grandma lived up the road, and we could always go to her when we ran out of sugar, hairspray, or even toilet paper. The closest store was thirty miles away, and once a month Mom planned a trip to Wal-Mart. I remember she bought things in bulk like shampoo, shaving cream, and office supplies for my dad. We were a close family. My brothers …
We grew up learning to drive that old 28 International Truck

Born in 1930, I grew up on a farm near Marsh, Montana with two younger brothers. I did what most young people did; chores and milked cows. During WWII, when I was in my teens, help was hard to come by, and I was driving and working in the fields when I was thirteen. I thought nothing of it. I’ll never forget, I was hauling a load of wheat to town, and on the way home, as I was coming down a hill, the rear wheel came off and rolled down the hill in front of me. It was a …
It’s a wonder we didn’t kill ourselves

When I was little, my parents moved from Tribune, KS, where I was born, to Alamosa, CO, and then to Texas. In Alamosa, my dad went to school, and my parents had two more children. My mom’s brother was a cattle buyer, and he knew of a feed-truck driver job in Burlington, CO, so we loaded up and moved to a farm 15 miles south of Burlington, in the middle of nowhere. It was a blast. We had Shetland ponies and built forts in trees. We moved closer to the feedlot and rode a school bus, which was fun. I …
I would not trade how I was raised.

Raised on a farm was the best way a kid could grow up. I loved animals. I had twenty-four cats, an outside dog, inside poodle, a goat named Lucy, a horse named Bally, cows, chickens, geese, and an occasional rabbit we would catch. Every day I was able to see my grandpa and grandma, with my dad, for coffee. I could also ride the three-wheeler whenever I wanted. I learned how to bake with my mom, cook with grandma, and sew with Granny. I will cherish those memories forever. Snowstorms were the best; my brother and I would create tunnels …
My clothesline – my sanctuary

You can still see them, though they have become few and far between. Dotting the landscapes of farm yards, and even in some residential areas not governed by HOA’s. It would seem that they have become frowned upon by those that do not care to see the neighbor’s laundry hanging in the breeze to dry by the warm sun. Of course, I am talking about the clothesline. Growing up in the 60’s I don’t remember not having a clothesline in our yard, wherever we lived!! I recall helping Grandmother carry the heavy basket laden with damp bedding from …
For God’s sake, EAT!

Ready to be 75, it is hard to recollect which story would be most interesting. I would be almost four when Cindy was born, and I knew I needed to be loved by somebody. I needed differentiation from my younger sister. That has followed me most of my life. I never felt loved by Mommy. That’s not to say she didn’t love me, but I never felt love. A lot of the baggage she loaded on me, her mother loaded on her. My grandfather was a state senator, and my grandmother was entitled. She had a hired girl. She once …
My life changed when I accepted the Lord – Continued

I graduated in 1946 and began teaching at Victory School (called Fight School before WW11). School opening was delayed until October because it was the year Polio was so bad. I had whooping cough the first year as did many of the students. The board wanted to close the school, but I told them we all had it, so why not go to school. We just had a whooping good time. I was warned about Ivan, an ornery boy my sister-in-law had taught. The first day of school four first grade girls was walking around the corner of the building, …
My life changed when I accepted the Lord

I was born in 1927 in a two room house south of Akron, CO. It was a Sunday morning. My grandmother and Dr. Adams were there. My full maiden name is Erma Louise Graves, but I go by Louise. I was named after my aunt Erma. Two years later my brother Harold was born. Another brother, Donald, was born when I was ten, and a sister Velma, when I was sixteen. I started first grade when I was seven. From Akron, Columbine School was eighteen miles south, two miles east, and one mile back south. Marguerite Jenkins was our 6th-grade …
Grandma: A wonderful part of my life

“Well, good night nurse!” “Well, for peat’s sake!” My grandma had a twinkle in her eye, and she added joy to our lives. I have treasured childhood memories of grandma, most of them funny because that is how she was. She told embarrassing stories about herself. She was a great storyteller. Like the time she swerved to miss hitting a cat, with the car ending up on the side the neighbor’s barn. My first memory of being at her house happened, seemingly, every morning when we would go to grandma’s for coffee. She would cook bacon, eggs, and toast. I would …