Sweetened Through the Ages: Memories of a Small Town Texas Girl

By Sandy Angelle

Sweetened Through the Ages is a real life description of a nostalgic, endearing journey from ancestry to today. Born in Texas, 1940, Sandra Carruth Angelle recounts the great memories of an idyllic childhood, teenage years in the, “Happy Days”, and life filled with travel and adventures. Angelle entertains us with her humorous recollections, inspires us with her poignant life lessons, and makes us all remember the beauty in our lives. She asks us to remember a quote from Plato: “Be kind, because everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Mar 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9781532095276

Sandy Angelle

Sandra Angelle was born in Southeast Texas, August 1940. She currently resides in Arizona where she and her husband have raised 7 children and several grandchildren for over 50 years. Sandra is an avid reader, lover of stories, and has been writing and telling stories all of her life. While she is grateful for her life in Arizona, Texas will always be “home” in her heart.

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Copyright © 2020 Sandy Angelle.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-9526-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-9527-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020904203

iUniverse rev. date: 03/12/2020

CONTENTS

Foreword

Introduction

Memories

Chapter 1 Kentucky ~ Louisiana…There Was Mama’s Family

Chapter 2 Scotland…There Was Daddy’s Family

Chapter 3 My Earliest Memories

Chapter 4 This Wonderful Life

Chapter 5 Starting School

Chapter 6 Christmas at Our House

Chapter 7 Preteen Years, And Sad Times

Chapter 8 The Glorious Years of High School

Chapter 9 Life After High School

Chapter 10 The Start of Our Life Together

Chapter 11 Our Great Adventure

Chapter 12 The Move to Cajun Country

Chapter 13 Making Our Home in the Desert

Chapter 14 Row, Row, Row Your Boat…

Chapter 15 The Professional Volunteer

Chapter 16 The Founding of a New Parish

Chapter 17 The Changes in Our Life

Chapter 18 Travels with the Family

Chapter 19 Oh, How They Danced

Chapter 20 A Rose By Any Other Name

Chapter 21 Don’t Be Sad

Chapter 22 With a Little Help from My Friends

Chapter 23 Catching up on Everyone Else

Chapter 24 Pink, Pink and More Pink

Chapter 25 Where Have All the Children (and Others) Gone?

Chapter 26 The Update

Acknowledgments

FOREWORD

This book is a compilation of events in my life as they impressed me. It is not meant to be a factual historical document. The people in this book are real people; no names have been changed to protect the innocent (or guilty). However, all skeletons have been mercifully left in the closet, so family members can breathe easier as they read through these pages. I see no reason to tarnish any reputations other than my own.

Concerning some of the historical events, dates and times were researched through Grandma’s diaries, official documents that I have in my possession, Google and World Book Encyclopedia so that I might be as nearly correct as possible.

Please remember, these are my recollections only and someone else may have seen things differently, but then they will have to write their own book, I suppose.

INTRODUCTION

In the winter of 1995, as I thought of the turn of the century just around the corner, I found myself in a mood to put on paper things which I felt would be important someday to my children, and perhaps one day to their children. With the completion of the first edition of my memoirs in May of 1997, I put the book aside for twenty-two years. Now, I am returning to the story of my life in the 21st century and how I stopped to smell the roses along the way.

Everyone comments on the fact that time just seems to fly by. It used to be a sign of getting older, but even young children and teenagers are feeling this nowadays. Here I sit, one of those baby boomers who have touched, loved and been loved by people born in the 19th century! I suppose it is fortunate that I am in this position–having been born near the middle of the 20th century. Introspection and a feeling of nostalgia, of wanting to remember from whence I came and wanting my children to know their roots prompted me to begin this writing and once again continue.

In Glendale, Arizona, at 4615 W. Port au Prince Lane, I am continuing one of the most amazing, exciting, poignant journeys of my life. The people mentioned in this writing have had a profound effect in forming the person I have become and am still becoming. I believe that we are like a patchwork quilt comprised of bits and pieces of everyone who has passed through and made an impression on our lives. These people have taught me to love, to laugh, to enjoy life and each other, to learn from my successes and failures, to grow in many ways, to weep and feel pain and get through it all. The most important message I hope to convey in this writing is: To love, and to be able to accept love. And, to add to this, a feeling of gratitude for many blessings in our lives. I hope you enjoy traveling with me. This book is written with love and much pleasure.

In November 2013 we purchased a brand-new SUV. It has all the things I never wanted and now couldn’t do without. One of the features I love the most is Sirius Radio. As I’m driving, I listen to a 50’s station or the Elvis station. One song that continues to play on Elvis Radio is Memories. The lyrics of that song are so meaningful to me that I decided to use it as the title of this book. The words tell my story in a beautiful way:

MEMORIES

By Elvis Presley

Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind

Memories sweetened through the ages just like wine.

Quiet thoughts come floating down and settle softly to the ground

Like golden autumn leaves around my feet.

I touched them, and they burst apart with sweet memories, sweet memories

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CHAPTER 1

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KENTUCKY ~ LOUISIANA…

THERE WAS MAMA’S FAMILY

Alexia Butaud, my great-great grandfather, was born in France in 1803. He came to Louisiana as a young man and became a farmer. In May of 1832 he married Marie Erma Lange of St. Martinsville, Louisiana ~ the daughter of Louis Phillipe Lange and Josephine Provost. Alexia and Marie had fourteen children. Their son, Philogene, was the first, born in 1833 in St. Mary Parish, Louisiana. He became my great-grandfather. Philogene met Laura Therese Bonin, born in St. Martin Parish on October 15, 1833. They were married on September 6, 1853 in Charenton, Louisiana. Laura’s parents were Pierre Clairville Bonin and Magedlaine Cidalise Borel of St. Martin, Louisiana.

According to legend, Laura Bonin’s family in France had owned a silk factory. They learned that a huge estate from this silk factory was unclaimed because the heirs were unknown. They hired a lawyer and sent him to France with proofs that she was an heir to the estate. The lawyer never returned, and they just dropped the claim since they had given him all the proofs of her eligibility. It is presumed that somehow, he must have claimed the estate for himself. The account of this legend has been handed down from generation to generation. I had heard this through the years and decided to include this story to perpetuate the legend. This account as written appeared in my cousin, Jo Marie’s autobiography. Another of the legends is that our great, great grandfather, Philogene Butaud, is said to have been a major in the Confederate Army during the Civil War.

Philogene and Laura had ten children seven boys and three girls. My grandmother, Edme` was the seventh child and the youngest of the daughters born in Abbeville on June 1, 1868. Her full name was Marie Edme`, and her sisters were Marie Laure, and Marie Zulme`–all named after their grandmother, I suppose–but all were called by their middle name.

In the heart of the Blue Grass region of Kentucky some time after the end of the Civil War, Samuel Christopher Smith was born. His official birthplace is Bardstown, Kentucky. His father was Thomas Smith and his mother was Delphine Norris.

Around 1885 or 1886, he and his brother drove a herd of mules from Kentucky in the rich, Blue Grass region to southern Louisiana near Abbeville, in the Bayou Country. It was a common occurrence to drive mules down to this area to be sold for working on the plantations. Since hard times had fallen on the tobacco farmers in Kentucky, it was more prosperous to sell the mules to the plantation owners who raised cotton and sugar cane in Louisiana.

It was on one of these trips that he met a young French girl of 17 or 18. Edme` was a sweet, petite redhead, probably only about 4'8 or 4'10, while Samuel was sturdy and over 6' tall. Edme` turned his head and captured his heart. Together, they made a strikingly handsome couple. When he was courting her, he would visit at her home and they spent many hours on the old porch swing. Samuel said he could see people watching them from inside the house. Since Edme` was the seventh of ten children, I’m sure they were all anxious to ensure that she was being properly courted. He used to recount that when he was ready to leave Edme` would ask, in her charming French accent, Mais, what’s your make-haste, Sam? It’s only four and a half o’clock.

When Samuel returned to Kentucky, he announced that he wanted to marry Edme`. His parents thought her to be beneath his station in life and warned him if he chose to marry Edme` he would not be welcome back in Kentucky. Apparently, he listened to his heart because he did, in fact, return to Edme`. Did she believe he would really return? She must have spent many long, anxious days watching the road until the day she finally saw his horse approaching her house. They were married in Vermillion Parish on June 30, 1886.

On their marriage certificate, Samuel made his mark because he was unable to read and write. His brother, B. B. Smith, who traveled with him from Kentucky, also witnessed with his mark. Edme` signed her name on the document. She related that she had attended school for only one day. Her mother, Laura, a well-educated woman, did not see the need for a girl to have an education. In fact, she had a stool built for Edme` so she could reach the sink to do dishes from the time she was a little girl. Nevertheless, she practiced writing her name for a week before her marriage and she took great pride in being able to write it on the marriage certificate. Edme`s witness was Lodice Butaud, her older brother.

As it turned out, Samuel did return to Kentucky around 1920, after they had moved to Texas. He was accompanied by his son-in-law, Homer Taylor, Homer and Amy’s daughter, Matsie, who was about 10 years old, and young Sam’s wife, Evelyn Smith. Since Samuel had gone blind shortly after their marriage, he was not able to make the trip on his own. Amy wouldn’t go, young Sam wouldn’t go and Edme` refused to go as well. When they returned, Matsie told her mama about the unusual ice cream that had been served. They had made fig ice cream and Matsie was very impressed that the ice cream was good but it had ants in it.

Samuel and Edme` lived in a community outside of Abbeville called Perry’s Bridge. The children born to Edme` and Samuel were: Amie`, Mattie, Sam, Myrtle and Maude. Maude was born on December 31, 1908. There was also a daughter born on April 21, 1888, the firstborn, who died in infancy. Her name was Delphine, and she would have been born almost two years after they were married. According to Jo Marie’s autobiography which I discovered at Daddy’s the summer of 1996; Delphine was called Mamie. The family had a hard time making ends meet since Samuel went blind shortly after the marriage, and Edme` supported them by taking in washing. Samuel also worked in the fields cutting down trees. People often asked him how he could see which way the tree was going to fall, and he said that he could feel it. It was very difficult to provide for their family.

Young Sam was something of a rebel and left home as a teenager. He went to Port Arthur, Texas where refineries were being built, said he was older than he really was and got a job working for Texas Company. After working there a while, he wrote to his family telling them where he was. He said there were lots of jobs to be had in Port Arthur because of construction of the oil refineries and the town was growing rapidly. Amie`, who was about 18 years old at the time, decided to travel to Port Arthur to see if she could find work. She had a ninth-grade education and was able to get a job as a clerk in Goldberg’s department store–a fine store run by a family who loved Amie`. (She changed the spelling of her name to Amy by this time–a more Anglicized version of the French name.) She was a hard worker and a thrifty person, so she saved every cent she could and, when she had saved enough, she went back to Louisiana and moved the family to Port Arthur. This move would have taken place around the year 1910 or 1911. Maude was two or three years old and Myrtle and Mattie were teenagers.

Amy met a handsome young man named Homer Taylor who worked for Guffy Oil Company (later to become Gulf Oil Corp.) He asked her to marry him, but she turned him down saying that she had to take care of her family. He replied, Marry me and we’ll take care of them together. Amy accepted his proposal and they were married. Homer was true to his word until the day he died, often helping family members throughout his and Amy’s life. Homer worked for Guffy Oil until he had a mastoid operation and had to quit. At that time the City of Port Arthur owned wells in what is now Port Neches Park. Port Arthur’s mayor, Pink Logan, offered Homer the job operating the water wells and the use of the caretaker’s house in the park. He accepted the offer. While they were living there, Amy was putting away money and after a while announced to Homer that she was buying a house on Llano St. in Port Neches. She paid cash for the house which was the Taylor family home until both Amy and Homer died.

While Homer was taking care of the operation of the wells, Samuel worked as a ferry tender. There was a little ferry that crossed the Neches at the end of the street. When someone signaled that they were at the ferry landing, he would go there and operate a mechanism that would engage the ferry and move it back and forth across the river. Because of his disability, Maudie would take his hand and walk him to the ferry landing and back home again.

Many times, he would come home with his boots soaking wet, complaining that Maudie walked me in the ditch again. They had to cross a footbridge on the way to the river and little Maudie would walk on the bridge and let Papa go through the ditch.

Mattie died at the age of 19 after an accident which injured her leg. As the story goes, Mattie was very beautiful and had a winning personality, so she always had many suitors calling to court her. One day she was sitting with her legs braced across a ditch and someone fell on her legs. One leg was broken because of this accident. After this, she just got progressively worse and developed a condition called White Swelling. She died shortly after.

Homer bought a dairy in Port Neches and ran that for several years and was also successful in being elected Constable in his precinct for several terms. They held a respected position in the community. Their house was at 825 Llano. Their children were all girls: Jo Marie, nicknamed Cootsie; Mattie Louise, called Boobie by Papa and her family, but Matsie by friends; and Edna Mae, nicknamed Snookie. I had always believed that their father had blessed them with the nicknames; however, Snookie corrected this notion with the fact that Papa, their grandfather, had been the one to so name them. These nicknames carried through into their adult lives–much to their embarrassment in many instances. Mama was close to the same ages as Amy and Homer’s children and because of this, she was raised like their sister instead of their aunt; and naturally, since Little Mama and Papa lived there, so did she. Aunt Amy’s daughters were my first cousins but were more like aunts to me and their children were my first and only playmates for much of my early life.

As I remember the house, I realize that it must have been very crowded when all the family lived there. It was a small home with three small bedrooms and one bathroom. Those living there all at one time would have been Little Mama and Papa with Mama just a little girl; Aunt Amy and Uncle Homer with Matsie, Cootsie and Snookie.

There were also stories of Ku Klux Klan meetings being held in the park which was adjacent to their property and the girls would hide in the bushes and watch. I’m sure it was an exciting, forbidden adventure for four little girls.

Sam married Evelyn Hardy. He worked at the Texas Company, an oil refinery later to become Texaco. They lived in Port Acres for a while, and then moved to a home in the Groves that Homer and Amy had bought from Myrtle and her husband, Herman Hopper. The Groves was a community outside of Port Arthur that had been built in pecan groves. This is where the name came from and it is still called the Groves by the original residents even though it is now a city itself. Sam and Evelyn’s children were boys: Frank Homer, named after Homer Taylor, and Homer Harold, also named after Homer Taylor.

Myrtle seemed to get around a lot. Her first husband was from a traveling circus. She ran away with him when the circus was passing through. This didn’t last very long, however, and she married again, and again, and again, and finally married Herman VanRiper Hopper, a dashing sea captain in the Merchant Marines. This one seemed to take and she was with him until her death. They had no children.

Maude graduated from Port Neches High School when she was only 15 years old and attended Port Arthur Business College. She won awards for her grades. The one she was most proud of was the medal for first place in the Spelling Bee. After graduating from PABC, she went to work for Merchants National Bank in Port Arthur. She excelled in typing, shorthand and all the skills that went into making a good stenographer. While working there, Maude, who was a petite redhead like her mother, met another redhead, Bruce Carruth, who was working at the bank as a teller.

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Samuel Christopher Smith and Edme` Butaud, circa 1886.

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CHAPTER 2

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SCOTLAND…THERE WAS

DADDY’S FAMILY

In a stone house in Glasgow, Scotland on July 9, 1868, Alexander Cameron Carruth was born. The address was 2 Clyde St. He was the oldest of nine children. His father was also Alexander Carruth and his mother was Catherine Maitland. When Alexander was about 19, he joined the Scottish Highlanders, an army regiment, and was sent to India–a colony of the British Empire. He stayed there, not keeping in touch with his family, for several years. It is said that when he returned to Glasgow, his parents had died, and his brothers and sisters had emigrated to America. Alexander went to Liverpool, England and sailed aboard the Sythia to Boston, arriving on May 14, 1893. He was 25 years of age. He was able to reconnect with his siblings living near Boston, Massachusetts, in Clinton.

It must have soon after arriving in America that he met a young girl named Lena Patterson. They were married on July 24, 1894. A child was born on January 17, 1895. The baby girl was named Carolina M. Patterson. Lena died on June 27, 1895 when Carolina was only 6 months old. Apparently the baby was given to Lena’s parents and she was raised as Carolina Patterson.

Later he met a lovely little Scottish lass named Mary Boyle. Mary had been born in Johnstone, Scotland at 3 Campbell St., just a stone’s throw from Glasgow, on June 13, 1878. She also emigrated to America with her mother, Agnes Boyle and sisters, Agnes, Jenny and Isabel. Mary was about 11 or 12 years old when they arrived in Boston. A brother, Angus was born after they came to Boston. The girls were known for their beautiful voices, Mary was a contralto, and they frequently sang as a quartet. Could that be when Alexander first saw her? According to the Boston census, Mary and her siblings worked in a shoe factory.

They were married in Boston and that is where their sons were born: Bruce Francis, born on December 21, 1906 (or by other accounts January 4, 1907) and Victor, born three years later. They made their way west stopping for a while in Oklahoma, then on to Globe, Arizona, and to Bakersfield, California, by way of Whittier and Los Angeles. Alec, as Mary called him, a machinist, worked for the copper mines and for the railroad in these towns. In Bakersfield, their only girl, Marian Bessie, was born on December 1, 1912. At that time, they were living on Cottage Court. Then they moved to Kentucky Street in Bakersfield.

After Bakersfield they moved to Houston, Texas, where Alec worked for Southern Pacific Railroad. Bruce was old enough in Houston to have a paper route and many of his old times tales are about his adventures with the neighborhood ruffians while delivering his papers in the Fifth Ward. His nemesis was the gang called the Dirty Dozen from the Bloody Fifth, but after they finally had a showdown and duked it out the gang no longer bothered him and allowed him to cross their territory to deliver his papers. Alec moved the family to Port Arthur, Texas, in 1920, where the Texas Company had recently built an oil refinery. He went to work there as a machinist and worked for this company until he retired.

In Port Arthur, Bruce, Victor and Marian attended Franklin and DeQueen schools. Bruce spent his free time swimming in Sabine Lake–winter, spring, summer and fall. There was also the indoor public pool called the Natatorium where he swam. He was interested in boxing and working out at a local gym. He left school to go to work as a teller at Merchant’s National Bank where he met a pretty redhead, Maude Smith.

The Interurban Train ran between Nederland and Port Arthur taking commuters to and from jobs in downtown Port Arthur. This was Maude’s transportation to work. Often Bruce would offer to drive her home or would take her to the train station and wait until she boarded the train. She had another boyfriend who would wait for her on the other end of the line. Once, as the story goes, she rode the train home and was met at the station by her boyfriend, but Bruce had driven to the station in Nederland and discouraged this relationship. It wasn’t too long after that he presented Maude with an engagement ring and her beautiful cedar chest as an engagement gift.

On October 29, 1928, Maude and Bruce were married in a private ceremony in the rectory at St. James Church in Port Arthur. After a honeymoon to Dallas, they returned to settle in a home Bruce had built at 3848 7th Street in Port Arthur. Their first child, Bruce Francis, Jr., was born on July 29, 1929. On October 24th of that year, now known as Black Thursday, stock market prices began to plummet. On Tuesday, October 29, Maude and Bruce’s first anniversary, the record for shares of stock sold was set. This was to begin the period of history called the Great Depression. Although many banks closed and businesses failed, Bruce, fortunately, was never out of work.

About this time Atlantic Refining Co. of Philadelphia was building a refinery and pipeline on the Neches River. Bruce went to work for Atlantic Pipeline. On May 3, 1931, JoAnn was born. Since both Maude and Bruce were redheads, it would follow that all their children would also have red hair, although each a different shade. On August 8, 1940 I made my appearance in the world. It is said that I was born during a hurricane. I suppose that explains my penchant for inclement weather.

I was baptized at St. Charles Church in Nederland where Father Hardy was pastor. I know he was related to Aunt Evelyn, but I’m not sure how. Anyway, when the group arrived for my Baptism, Father Hardy asked Mama what I was to be named and she replied, Sandra Lynne. He informed her that neither of these names were saints names and they weren’t acceptable. Mama wouldn’t change my name, so he suggested that she choose another name to add to the other two. She pulled the name Elizabeth out of the hat. Therefore, on my Baptismal certificate the name appears as Sandra Lynne Elizabeth Carruth. Later, I remember reciting the whole string of names when someone would ask what my name was. After I was confirmed, I would also throw in my Confirmation name, Agnes. That, though, was only when I was trying to impress someone.

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Alexander Cameron Carruth (left) with companion,

in a Scottish regiment in India, circa 1890.

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Carruth house on 7th Street. Port Arthur, Texas, circa 1928.

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Alex Carruth (left), Mary Boyle Carruth (right), and Amy

Smith Taylor (center). Picnic on Cow Bayou, circa 1949.

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Grandma Carruth at picnic on Caw Bayou, circa 1949.

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CHAPTER 3

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MY EARLIEST MEMORIES

Before moving to Orange County, the family lived in Port Arthur, where I was born. They lived in the house at 3848 7th Street in Model Addition. The Texas Company, where Grandpa worked as a machinist, had developed this housing for its employees. Grandpa and Grandma had a house on 7th Street also, but several blocks south of Mama and Daddy’s. The house where we were living when I was born is the house Daddy had purchased before he and Mama got married in 1928. Grandma and Grandpa’s (Carruth) house at 3325 7th Street was built and occupied in 1920 when Daddy was 14 years old and Aunt Marian was 8 years old. They also had a brother, Victor, who was 11 years old. Victor died when he was 21 from diabetes, which no one knew he had.

As far back as I can remember–probably when I was about two or three years of age–we lived on Round Bunch Road in Bridge City, Texas….

When the family made this move, in the summer of 1942, Bridge City was simply referred to as Orange County and the community was called Prairie View. Until the Port Arthur Bridge was built in 1938 the only way people from Jefferson County could get to Prairie View was via ferry or by way of Beaumont. After the Port Arthur/Orange Bridge was opened, the community changed the name to Bridge City because of its location between the Neches River and Cow Bayou. At the time of our move, it was a move to the country. Today, however, Bridge City is a thriving municipality and is fast becoming a choice location for people who don’t mind commuting to work either in Beaumont, Port Arthur or Orange.

When we moved to Bridge City there were several businesses along the main road through the town, Highway 87. Many of the business owners also lived on the same property as their business. Starting at Cow Bayou bridge on the east side of the highway was Joe Bailey’s. This was a popular night spot with a bar and dance floor with jukebox. They also rented boats and had a small grocery store on the property. The next business was Well’s Humble service station. Down the road a bit was Dupuis service station which is the one business from the early days that is still in business with the sons taking over from their parents. Then at the corner of Highway 87 and Round Bunch Road was St. Paul Methodist church. That was always the reference point when giving people directions to our house. There were no more businesses on that side of the highway until you got to the other end of town where B.O. Sparkle Club was located…another popular night spot with bar and dance floor. It was the largest venue in town so was often used for other gatherings. St. Henry parish held their fund-raising dinners there during the daytime hours.

Most of the town’s businesses were located on the west side of Highway 87 beginning at Cow Bayou. The first was the Buccaneer Café owned by Jimmy and Ivy LeBlanc. It was a very popular restaurant with good seafood, and the only restaurant in town for a long time. Next to that was Prince Liquor store owned by Mr. & Mrs. Percy Prince. Then Hopper Drug which Aunt Myrtle and Uncle Herman owned…the only drug store in town. It also became the office of Dr. Frank Keith who came out from Port Arthur a couple of days a week. Next to the drug store was Gary’s Hardware. Mr. and Mrs. Gary lived next to the store. The Bridge movie theater owned by the Billeaud family was near the corner of Round Bunch Road and Highway 87. The entire Billeaud family worked in the theater: in the ticket booth, concession stand, projection room and cleaning. It also had the only stage in town. Our dance recital was held there. On the opposite corner was Carter’s Grocery Store, then Dell’s Dry Goods. JoAnn worked there when she was in high school. Next was Caldwell Lumber Company then the post office and next to that was Brown’s Gulf service station. The last business on the south end of town was Wingate Meat Packing and Cold Storage. These hometown businesses served the basic needs of our little community, but the main shopping was done in downtown Port Arthur or occasionally in Orange.

Our property was on a narrow, shell road one mile east of Highway 87. The house was a simple, two-story structure (box-like) with no porches or decorations of any kind. It seemed that Daddy was always painting the house which meant that there was always an elaborate structure of scaffolding on one side or the other. The house was stark white and the chimney on the west side was red brick. I remember it having a roof made of wooden shingles with a greenish tint, which was normal construction for the era.

The house was situated quite a distance from the road on the northeast two acres of an eight-acre parcel of land. The yard was separated from the road by a cattle guard to keep our cows from wandering away from the property. All the rest of the property was pastureland with pens for pigs, a barn for horses, cows and chickens, a good-sized vegetable garden and a few scrawny live oak and tallow trees planted by Grandpa and me and chewed down several times by the cows when they would get out of the pasture. I celebrated my second birthday two months after we moved to Bridge City.

Daddy was working for the Atlantic Pipeline Co. just across the Neches River in Jefferson County and Mama worked for Consolidated Shipbuilding Co. near the Naval Base in Orange–the nearest town to the east of us.

There was my brother, Bruce, who was 13 when we moved there and my sister, JoAnn, who was 11 years old. The house had three bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs and living room, dining room, kitchen and a half-bath downstairs. Since the master bedroom was so large–about 12' x 26', my crib was in that room; JoAnn had the front bedroom and Bruce had the back bedroom.

The only heat in the house was from the fireplace in the living room, the potbelly stove (the one on our patio now) in the kitchen and a coal-burning furnace in the dining room. These were more than adequate and, since heat rises, in the winter we had to keep the bedroom doors closed to keep them from getting too warm to sleep comfortably at night. Coal was delivered regularly and dumped into a wooden coal bin that Daddy had built. We also got a cord of oak firewood once a year and used that each winter in the fireplace. We would have to take a coal scuttle and fill it at the coal bin; making sure there was kindling wood and firewood for the fireplace at night, so we didn’t have to do this on cold winter mornings. I use the term we here, but of course I was too little to do these chores; I was just aware that they had to be done and tagged along with Daddy all the time.

In the spring and summer, it was cooler at our house than anywhere else. We had lots of windows and nothing to block the breeze from blowing through. We rarely used fans and air-conditioning was not available for homes yet. All the time I lived at home–until I married at 19—neither the house nor any of our cars were air conditioned.

Mama often gave me a bath in a #3 washtub in the kitchen on winter nights, so it would be warm for me. I remember many winter nights when, after my bath in the washtub, Mama would put on my flannel nightgown (which Grandma had made), lay a square of flannel over the fireplace screen to warm, grease my chest with Vick’s Vaporub and pin the warm flannel inside my nightgown. You really knew you were getting treated with this remedy.

Bruce, who was a Jr., was always called Little Bruce and Daddy was called Big Bruce. Even when Little Bruce had reached over 6' tall and was a few inches taller than Big Bruce, the name stuck. I guess it was O.K. with him, because his best friend, his cousin, Homer Smith, was called Little Homer, having been named after Aunt Amy’s husband, Homer Taylor. I don’t remember that anyone called him Big Homer, though. We just called him Uncle Homer.

During the first few years after moving to this place–Orange County–Daddy was building his livestock herd. We had milk cows; two Jerseys named Rita and Belle, who produced all the milk, butter, cream and buttermilk we could use. We had a flock of chickens–about 25–which produced more eggs than we could eat and give to relatives. Grandma and Grandpa bought our chickens and delivered them to us in groups. They seemed to enjoy the farm life as much as the rest of us did. According to Grandma’s diaries, they spent much time making frequent visits to see us and their friends, the Goodlads, who lived down the road from us.

Even some of the chickens had names. Someone gave us a pair of Bantam chickens, the hen was called Rose and the rooster was Dominic, after some friends of Mama and Daddy’s. If I remember correctly, Rose and Dominic Montalban are the ones who gave us these chickens. Rose would disappear for a time and then come into the barnyard with a brood of little chicks. The rest of the chickens, some Rhode Island Reds and the others, White Leghorns, were not named. When Paula and Jenny were little (much later, after I had married and gone) they had a rooster named Footpecker for obvious reasons.

There were beef cattle–Herefords–brown with white faces, which Daddy and I used to go to auction to buy. The first three I remember we named Firestone, Butane and Goodrich because we passed those refineries on the way home from the auction in Beaumont. After that, we named calves after the month they were born in–Juney, Julius, Augustine, etc. Of course, the problem with naming these cows was that after they were on the table, it was difficult to eat the beef.

We also had some very large pigs–Chester Whites–which blessed us with many little ones. There’s nothing quite as cute as a little pink piglet running after its mother. One very memorable event, however, was when a sow stepped on one of her piglets and cut his side open with her hoof. Daddy and I were the only ones home. I was about five years old. It was cold, and we had a fire