Poor but Rich: A Story of Seven Sisters

By Melvyn Louis

My life has been an interesting journey. I have traveled all over the world, met many people, done many things, and most of the time, I was happy. Although, to be perfectly honest, there were many times when suicide seemed like the best answer. During those times, Im sure it was my faith in God that pulled me through. I am a strong believer in God. I am not a person who goes to churchhavent been to church in many a year, except for weddings and funeralsbut I do believe in God and prayer. Now, if you would like to share some of my experiences with me, just hold on. I will tell all and hope you enjoy the story of my life with my sistersas I remember.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 27, 2010
• ISBN: 9781453562895

Book preview

Contents

Preface

The Beginning

My Mother

My Father

About Me

My Memories of Pearl Harbor and World War II

Bud’s Story

Life during the WWII

Lewis’s Story

Memories from the WWII

Welton’s Story

Lady’s Story

Tincy’s Story

Move to Edna

School in Edna

My First Love

Mother’s Day

Going to Work at Fourteen

Deane’s Story

Ditty’s Story

Back in Houston

Back to Edna

Life in Dallas

My Marriage

Jdeane’s story

On the Move Again

Gracie’s Story

Moving to Lynwood

Back to Gracie

Faye’s Story

Move to Florida

Living in Florida

Deane’s Good-bye

Back to the Sisters

Afterword

My Family History

Dedication

To all my sisters—without them there would not be a book of memories.

I especially dedicate this book to my sister Lady—she was my rock, my reason for living, my other mother, the one whom I admired, whose strength I borrowed at every opportunity. She was the one I called when I needed support or to tell a family secret. She comforted me in my fears and shared my accomplishments.

A very special thanks to my daughter, Jdeane, for helping me edit. She is my pride and joy.

My life has been an interesting journey. I have traveled all over the world, met many people, done many things, and most of the time was happy. Although, to be perfectly honest, there were many times when suicide seemed like the best answer. During those times, I’m sure it was my faith in God that pulled me through. I am a strong believer in God. I am not a person who goes to church—haven’t been to church in many a year, except for weddings and funerals—but I do believe in God and prayer.

Now, if you would like to share some of my experiences with me, just hold on. I will tell all and hope you enjoy the story of my life with my sisters—as I remember.

A poem written by my granddaughter, Parker, when she was fifteen. She loves the beach. Somehow, she captured my soul with this poem.

As waves pass by and crash ashore

Breezy winds are pushing in fast

Catch waves as they go by

Dive into another and watch the sky

Ever since a wave began

Fishes are in front of them

Great amounts of fishes play in the waves

Hurry and scatter as they see a big fish

Iridescent colors bounce from the sky

Just as another wave goes crashing by

Keeping up with the noise

Losing sight of the shore

Marking the time a wave crashes and is no more

Not knowing when another may pass

Only to catch the glimpse for the one that was last

Plowing waves keep crashing in

Quickly to subside

Roaring to the shore

Silent no more

Twinkling ripples

Under a clear blue sky

Very beautiful to look at

While time passes by

X-tra caution is needed

Yell when you see

Zoom . . . a big fish goes flying by

Preface

One of the most interesting things I have discovered in my life is memories. Some people have them, some don’t. Others have what I call a selective memory—meaning they only remember what they want to. I happen to have been blessed with an exceptional memory. That is how I have managed to make it through life. Although another thing about memories is it’s funny how the bad, painful stuff gets softened in memories! Sometimes I wish I didn’t remember, as memories can be very painful as well as sweet. Everyone has a memory, and everyone’s memory is different. Next time you think about it, ask someone to describe something to you that both of you experienced and see how differently they remember it than you!

Background and circumstances influence each of our lives. It is up to each of us to determine our future. I call it choice, and we all make our own choices. The happiest of people do not necessarily have the best of everything, and the richest of people are not necessarily the happiest. Because you are born poor does not mean that you should not seize every opportunity presented to you and make the best of it.

We are all born into this world equal. Equal means to me that we are all born naked. Having equal opportunities is a constitutional right, but unfortunately, that is not always the case. I am writing this story to tell of how equal has many meanings regardless of color, race, religion, or sex.

While gathering data from my sisters and others mentioned by name, it really occurred to me how different memories can be. So to my sisters and all others mentioned, I do not intend to offend—that is just the way I remember.

The Beginning

My Story

There is a big knot in my throat, and I can barely choke back the tears as I try and finish this story that I started several years ago about all my sisters who are now leaving me one by one. My worst fear is to be the last one standing.

We began our lives as seven sisters, three brothers. Ten children! Two boys from our mother’s first husband, seven girls by Daddy, and miracle of all miracles, along came our baby brother! Oh, what fun we had! Life just passed too quickly, and now we are three sisters and one brother. The last to leave for the Grand Place was my sister Ditty, whose real name is Anna.

We lived in the country, on an acre of land surrounded by pastures with cows and bulls, ranches and farms until I was twelve. My dad built the house we lived in. There were no concrete foundations available to us at that time. The house was built about two to three feet off the ground on stilts. I was told that it would be cooler with air circling underneath, and we did live in a high-risk flood area. We had three bedrooms and a giant living room. The kitchen dining area was also very large, running the length of the house. A large wooden potbellied stove sat in the center of the room, heating the area. There were no modern conveniences, like no electricity, no plumbing. We had a porch across the front of the house. Daddy eventually closed it in. It became a bedroom for the young ones. And at one end, he closed in the space to rent as an extra room. The outhouse was behind the barn about one hundred yards away.

Our school was a two-room schoolhouse, first grade through fifth grade in one room, fifth through tenth grade in the other. I was in the third grade before I learned how to read. My teacher taught us how to sing, dance, and act instead of educating us. She also taught us social graces. We learned to bow and curtsy. We learned to walk with a book on our heads for poise and grace. Her main subject was Emily Post. This education was equally important to us as learning the three Rs. Obviously, these activities were very important to her. She was a Southern lady. I remain eternally grateful to Mrs. Watson for her gentle teachings to poor country folks.

We walked a couple of miles on dirt roads and across creeks and encountered wild animals. A shortcut would have been through a pasture, and that meant we might have come head-to-head with a Brahma bull or a wild boar. Or it could have been worse—a pack of wild dogs.

This is how it is today—ten children reproduced twenty-six children and seven stepchildren. Looks like we met the old quota—two and a half kids per family routine. The twenty-six children reproduced forty-one children, and that is as far as I am able to count! With that many relatives, it is difficult to keep in touch with them all, although I am truly impressed with how many we actually do communicate with.

I’m truly proud of the way we all turned out. Call it destiny, fate, or choice. None of us ever got into any serious trouble. We all became upstanding citizens in the communities we chose to live in. We are all financially comfortable and have wonderful families. We are all very proud of our children. Our children are all well adjusted, well educated, and have good jobs.

My sisters and my brothers all have pretty much the same values that were instilled in us by our parents. I could go on for hours about how our values were taught to us. For example,

You get out of life what you put into it. You must earn your way in this world. Be patriotic, law-abiding citizens. Be honest, truthful, and kind to your fellow man. To be respected you must be respectful. Don’t judge a book by its cover. These are just to name a few. We were not famous, not rich monetarily, just ordinary good citizens. Yes, we know the meaning of discrimination, not because of our color, race, religion, or ethnic background, but because we were born poor and lived on the wrong side of the tracks. There are many kinds of discrimination in this world, and they are all painful.

Isn’t it a shame that people are judged by how much money they have, or where they live, or what their last name is? Yeah, we were monetarily poor but so rich in so many ways. I would not trade my childhood with any of my grandchildren! We lived in the country, so what? We only had one dress and one pair of shoes, so what? We all loved one another and still do to this day. We all grew up to be good American citizens and with values you don’t find too often anymore. I have taken each member of the family and remembered how they interacted with my life.

My Mother

Let me begin by telling you about my parents. My mother was born Martha Jane Hudson in May 1898 in Llano, Texas. She was a third-generation Texan. In fact, there is a town in Texas, Click, named after my mother’s family. Mama’s mother was Nancy Jane Click, born in Santa Ana, Texas. Her grandmother was a captured bride of a Comanche Indian.

My grandfather was born Cornelious Washington Hudson, born in Missouri. He was a doctor and practiced medicine until he was no longer able to travel around the countryside.

As best as I recall, she had three sisters (Mary, Ellen, and Becky) and two brothers (Click and Jake). I only remember one, Aunt Mary. For some reason unknown to me, she was not very close to her family. Her mother died when she was thirteen from what was called consumption; it is now known as tuberculosis. Mama always said When you lose your mother, you lose the greatest treasure on earth. I think you really always know this; it only becomes a reality when your mother is gone.

Mama had long straight black hair, which she wore in a braid down her back, and had chiseled cheekbones that resembled Indian features. She had big round blue eyes that could stare right through your soul. Mama was very pretty to me although she never did anything to enhance her beauty. She never shaved her legs or underarms. I never remember seeing her with any makeup on except lipstick. She told me until Lady was born, she had long black hair that she wore in a single braid down her back. One day after washing it, she was having a hard time combing it and asked Daddy for help. He took the scissors and cut her braid off at the nape! He thought it was funny! She said she cried and cried and tried to glue it back together. That was the meanest thing anyone could have done! It always made me cry and extremely angry with Daddy. She never let her hair grow long after that. It was always short. She used to tell us girls Take care of your hair, it is your crowning glory!

I remember her telling us stories of how mean she was treated by her older sisters; one example was while they were walking to school, they would make her walk across a creek on a log. When she was in the middle of the log, one would get at each end and spin the log while she was still on it. To the day she died she was afraid of water and passed that fear along to all of us. None of us ever learned to swim!

She was a strong disciplinarian and had very strong Christian beliefs and lived her life that way. By the time I was old enough to remember, she was a little overweight, and no wonder, she had given birth to seven children before me! She was warm but distant and rarely laughed; she could not catch on to a joke. She loved her children and her husband better than life itself. She was my companion while I was in high school—my best friend. I leaned on her very heavily sometimes, and she had strong shoulders. She always told me, Sweet thang, never get anything so heavy on your heart you can’t kick it off with your heels! Made sense to me at the time; now, I have no idea what that was supposed to mean. The way I deciphered it was don’t let your heart be so burdened you can’t take time to laugh or kick up your heels with delight. That’s pretty much been my motto as long as I can remember. We shared a lot together. I always felt fortunate that I was close to the last of the kids; I probably got some of the best of our mother. She was thirty-seven when I was born, which made her in her fifties while I was a teenager. There are still days, even though she has been gone for more than thirty years, when I would give most anything to sit and chat with her. There really is nothing like a chat with your mother.

I don’t know a lot about my mother. I don’t think I ever knew her favorite color. I am so sorry; I wish I had known her better. She was just Mama, the woman who gave me life and is now responsible for taking care of me. She was never judging, never criticizing. Just Mama. When I still lived at home, we used to sit and have coffee and a cigarette together. She had a remarkable ability to have the longest ash on her cigarette without dropping it! I marveled at that because most of the time she had the shakes. She actually never smoked until I came home from California and lit up a cigarette. I was so scared; however, I was never one to keep a secret from my mother. Deane and I had taken up smoking while Faye and I were in California. Mama always hated