A Light in Small Places

By Beth Ann

Step into the lost world of northeast Missouri, circa 1902...
One woman’s journal records first-hand stories seen through different eyes. Each entry the great-granddaughter of Hannibal, Missouri’s founder tells opens a window into early rural Midwest life. As Mary Estrella Eagon McCoy grows up, she becomes busy with the seasonal tasks of rural life, times of plenty and times of want. Through each moment Mary strives to weave time for hobbies and her love of music with keeping up the expected social life of a bygone age. The everyday life she records is experienced as an adventure beckoning to be lived. As she writes, her pen captures the personalities and talents of people in her life from a time now vanished. The land she describes is one of great untamed rivers where the spirit and knowledge of Native Americans, voyagers, and early settlers is not too far distant.
Three generations of family and friends have long enjoyed her style of storytelling. Now, over a century later, they would like to share her stories with you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beth Ann
• Release date: Nov 28, 2019

Beth Ann

Beth is a retired nurse who lives with her husband in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. The town was named back in history because one of the natural mineral springs made a chugging sound that reminded people of the sound of a steamboat going up a river. Together, they have enjoyed living here for many years and love spending time outdoors, hiking and cycling. In winter, they enjoy skate skiing, backcountry ski touring, and downhill skiing.In Her Own Words...“When we were young, my cousins, Carol, Tami, and I would spend a couple weeks during summer staying with our grandparents, Merryl and Mary McCoy, in the farmhouse on Locust Hill near the Fox River. On summer evenings after dinner, we would play outdoors while Grandpa McCoy played the banjo on the front porch. Grandma McCoy taught us the notes on the piano, how to embroider, how to tat lace, and how to make throw rugs on the loom. Our grandparents also helped us find geodes along the river. At Christmas time, when we all got together at the farm, we would get to ice skate on the Fox River and go sledding down Locust Hill. Now that I’m retired, I’ve had time to reminisce and remember Grandma’s stories, and time to compile her stories into a memoir.”

Book preview

A Light in Small Places

A Memoir

Beth Ann

© 2019 by Beth Ann

All rights reserved. Copyright under Berne Copyright Convention, Universal Copyright Convention, and Pan-American Copyright Convention. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

Preface by Mary E. McCoy

The Seasons of our lives are like the seasons of Nature.

We are born into the season of Spring,

As youth, we grow in knowledge and stature,

Our lives are protected,

We dream when we’re young,

We have energy like lambs.

Then comes the summer of our lives,

Dreams take form,

And are nurtured like growing grain.

Then the adult rests,

And remembers to praise God,

For the toil of the seasons,

For the harvest we have reaped.

We live in gratitude and peace,

For this time of growing,

And the time of celebration.

We have wept and laughed,

Let us Thank God,

For all the joys and laughter,

For the pains of birth,

For the mourning of loved ones,

For all the seasons of our lives.

The Lord has not seen

A sinner he could not save,

A disease he could not heal,

A person he could not love,

Thank you Lord, for Jesus our Savior.

Dedication:

In May of 1978, my granddaughter, Beth Ann, brought me this leather covered journal to write the things I remember and am reminded of in conversation with others. I have journaled as I was inspired by memories.

The Light in Small Places is for all my children who have been my life.

Chapter 1: Childhood

I loved to spend time with my Grandma Brammer. As soon as school was out for the summer, my sisters and our cousins Josie, Lulu, and Leota would gather at Grandma’s for a vacation. We had good times together. The only problem was, we all wanted to sleep with Grandma. And what did that dear old soul do? She let us all climb into her bed. We bigger ones slept at the foot with someone’s big toe in our face or getting a kick in the stomach. There was a lot of giggling. I never knew if Grandma got any sleep.

My Grandma, Mary Elizabeth Brammer, lived about five miles west of Wayland on the old Walker place which had belonged to her father, William Walker. The place lies between Wayland and Kahoka.

I never met Grandpa George Brammer who was born in Louisa County, Virginia in 1825 and died in Clark County in 1893. He married my grandmother, Mary Elizabeth, in 1857. Twelve children blessed this union, and maybe that’s why Grandma was so patient with us kids, and I loved visiting her.

Uncle George helped Grandma on the farm. She and Uncle believed in everyone eating breakfast together. Breakfast was at 5:30 am because Uncle had to get to the fields. So, no matter the age we were, from one to ten, we all got up with the sun and gathered around the breakfast table.

Grandma had an old horse named Snip and a colt named Snookims. I could ride Snip to the field and take Uncle George his lunch. His favorite sandwich was cornbread spread with butter and Grandma’s homemade catsup. Well, this sandwich became a favorite of mine too.

I’d stay with Grandma as long as my folks would let me, and I was willing to do anything to help around the farm. One day as he left for the field, Uncle told Grandma to come to the field later on and bring the popcorn seed with her, and we’d get it planted. As a kid who really enjoyed popcorn, this was a happy adventure. After lunch, we hitched up old Snip to the buggy, brought along a hoe, a jug of water, sandwiches, and the popcorn seed. The seed was in a crock, wrapped in a gunny sack so it would stay cool. We rode in the buggy through the pasture and by a hayfield along Sugar Creek to a small patch of ground Uncle was discing. I got out of the buggy and ran after Uncle and the team of horses pulling the disc. When I got tired, I sat down in some shade. Beside me on the ground was the crock full of cool water