The Life of Me | Page 8

memories concerning the Gaddies. In
later years I had a desire to learn more about my mother's people. But
as I began digging into census records, I soon found that Grandma
Gaddie had a first cousin by the name of Jesse James- -yes, that's
right--"The" Jesse James. So my desire suddenly changed to fear and I
gave up digging into records.

CHAPTER 2
EARLY CHILDHOOD AT THE FLINT FARM
The first farm we owned, the one where I was born, is still spoken of as
the Flint place, because we sold it to a family named Flint. So at times I
may refer back to it as the Flint place.
Since I was only five when we moved away from the Flint place, I
remember only a few things which took place while we lived there.
I remember we had old hens that laid eggs for us to go gather up and
take to the house in a bucket. Sometimes the bucket would get so heavy
I couldn't carry it. And sometimes we had to get eggs out from under
old setting hens that wouldn't get off their nests. They would peck me
to keep me away. I was too little to get those eggs. Mama or some of
the bigger kids would have to get them.

But if the old setting hen was off the nest, I knew which eggs to get and
which ones to leave in the nest. The ones she was setting on to hatch
out little chickens were marked all over with a lead pencil. The ones
that didn't have marks on them were fresh eggs that had been laid that
day.
Some city folks are confused at times about some of the words we
farmers use. For instance, take the words sitting and setting. The truth
is, if an old hen is on an egg that she has just laid, and if she is planning
to go away in a minute or two, she is just sitting on the egg. But if she
is on the egg or eggs with the intention of hatching out little chickens,
then she is not sitting, she is setting.
Even some people who are supposed to be smart don't know farm
words. In college English, the teacher had us making sentences using
certain double words like, "Look up a word in the dictionary." And
"Hand over your gun."
I made a sentence like, "The cow wouldn't give down her milk."
The teacher gave me a zero on the sentence. And when I asked her why,
she said, "A cow can not hold up her milk nor give down her milk."
I told her, "Lady, you may know your English, but you sure don't know
milk cows."
Now back to the Flint farm.
I was so little that, when I would throw out corn and maize seed to feed
the chickens, I couldn't throw it far enough away from me. Some of it
would fall at my feet. So the big chickens would crowd around my feet
to pick up the grains and I was afraid of so many big hens so close to
me. And I really got scared when they started pecking the feed out of
my feed bucket. Sometimes I would drop the bucket and run away.
I remember seeing Papa digging up big trees where he was going to
make a field. It wasn't far from our house. Sometimes I would go take
him a drink of water. And sometimes Mama would send me to tell Papa

dinner was ready.
While Papa was drinking his water and resting a bit, I liked to get down
in the big hole he dug around the bottom of a big tree. The dirt was
damp and cool in the hole. Some of the holes were so big and deep it
was hard for me to crawl back out.
Sometimes our old surley (bull) was close by and I was afraid of him,
so Mama would leave me at the house to watch after Albert while she
took Papa a drink. But if the cows were way over in the other side of
the pasture, I wasn't afraid to go.
I remember our garden just outside our yard. I was big enough to pick
fresh beans and peas. The older ones in the family taught me how to
break the peas off the vines without breaking the vines. Mama could
pick them so easily, with just the right twist of her hands. But I had to
hold the vine with one hand while I twisted the peas off with the other
hand.
I had the smartest Mama. She could do so many things, and she could
do them so easily.
I especially remember one little incident that took place in