Today has been an awfully lonesome day. I haven't done anything much except read. Read the Ladies Home Journal for June. I got three letters, one from Dorothy -- Neil is in Topeka this week; one from Babe and one from Aunt Bessie -- she asked me to stop there on my way home. She also said Lawrence Sillin & his wife finally had a baby that is living. Aunt Jennie got a letter from Grandma and Uncle Jim's "late" wife has left him. It makes a person want to do something for him and the boys. I wrote letters to Jonesie and Lassemores, also one to Dorothy tonight. I have gotten two letters from John this week, but both were written last week. He sent me ten "bucks".
I went into town yesterday; Aunt Jennie & I walked. Mrs. Hitchins' daughter Maud & two boys, Robert, five, and Rex, two, were there -- came for a visit from Illinois. The older one doesn't mind very well. Earl H. is home -- came this a.m., I guess. Uncle Ed said he killed a rattlesnake on his way home '' "we" killd one other since I've been here, one morning on our way to town. Other "things" around here are centipedes (very dangerous, but I haven't seen one yet), and lizards (saw one Sunday when we were getting rock), and prairie dogs -- they are funny looking little things -- sitting on top of their holes looking at you, turning their earless heads this way and that.
Tuesday, July 29, 1924
We went east to the hills for a load of wood Sunday morning. We went out on a high peak & looked over east to the sheep camp in the valley. It was quite a spectacle I wish I had my Kodak here. I sure held my breath, coming home, once. We were going on a very steep hill, sidewise, it seemed as though we just must tip over. But we didn't. Then we went for a load of rock, too. We went for a load of rock two weeks ago Sunday, too. We saw a lot of peculiar rock formations. There are a lot of sort of round rocks with a honeycomb surface. They look like petrified turtles. Then there are rocks that look exactly like petrified tree stumps. There there are white crystal-like stones that are quite pretty.
I brought along my June magazines to read. And I have read Irving Bacheller's "The Man for the Ages" concerning Lincoln; Carolyn Wells' "Wheels Within Wheels" and I am reading Gene S. Porter's "Her Father's Daughter." In the last, the heroine is too good, but all Mrs. Porter's heroines are.
Aunt Jennie goes with Uncle Ed about four mornings a week to haul water home. She "keeps" the store while he goes for the water and then she brings it home. I have been going along; have stayed home twice.
I have gotten about eight letters from John since I've been here and about six from Mama, two from Dorothy & one from Bernice. Zella took Jackie (Paul & Buster, too) & went home with Bernice & Ed. She was supposed to have come home Sunday, but I haven't heard whether they did or not. One of Mama's ltters worried me, because she had had no help with the kids one Saturday night. So I wrote & asked John to help a bit and as a consequence, he took Bricky & kept her this past week. I guess Neil misses me. Mama seemed to think he was homesick for me. After all the stew Uncle Ralph & Aunt Rena had about Dorothy keeping house for the bunch at 616 Polk St., she finally got to dit it anyway, which suited everyone concerned.
There have been three birthdays since I left. Jackie was a year old on the 10th, John was twenty-eight on the 24th and Babe was twenty-one on the 25th. I sent John some cigars and Babe a dollar bill.
I wrote Emily Davis a letter last night and Helen Symons one Sunday.
Last Saturday, a week ago, we had quite a lark. Uncle Ed got the old car started & took Aunt J., Cecil, Grandfather Wilkes and me to Thatcher to a sale. Uncle Ed auctioneered it -- he's quite keen at it. It took him about three hours and he made ten dollars -- not so bad. Aunt Jennie & I bought some books -- about fifteen for a dollar, some of them were: David Copperfield, Silas Marner, Ancient Mariner, Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, Daddy Long Legs & some "lesser lights."
Then a week ago Sunday, Delhi had a picnic. The two stores had a joint stand. We sold pop and Raymonds sold ice cream. I helped Aunt Jennie sell pop. It was hot, dusty & windy. They had a little baseball before dinner & afterwards some horse races, kid races, etc.
Sometimes, in the afternoon, Aunt Jennie, Cecil and I "take to the hills" as Cecil says. Aunt Jennie & I take our reading material along. We find the highest spot on the windiest side and sit in a bed of pine needles and read. The other day I lay down, face up, and watched some magic, white billowy clouds drifting and shifting. It brought back childhood memories of similar stunts and vague recollections of the day-dreams the act inspired. It brought to mind an urge I have had for some time -- to live out from the city a ways where we could see something and the children could have the right chance.
I brought along my June magazines to read. And I have read Irving Bacheller's "The Man for the Ages" concerning Lincoln; Carolyn Wells' "Wheels Within Wheels" and I am reading Gene S. Porter's "Her Father's Daughter." In the last, the heroine is too good, but all Mrs. Porter's heroines are.
Aunt Jennie goes with Uncle Ed about four mornings a week to haul water home. She "keeps" the store while he goes for the water and then she brings it home. I have been going along; have stayed home twice.
I have gotten about eight letters from John since I've been here and about six from Mama, two from Dorothy & one from Bernice. Zella took Jackie (Paul & Buster, too) & went home with Bernice & Ed. She was supposed to have come home Sunday, but I haven't heard whether they did or not. One of Mama's ltters worried me, because she had had no help with the kids one Saturday night. So I wrote & asked John to help a bit and as a consequence, he took Bricky & kept her this past week. I guess Neil misses me. Mama seemed to think he was homesick for me. After all the stew Uncle Ralph & Aunt Rena had about Dorothy keeping house for the bunch at 616 Polk St., she finally got to dit it anyway, which suited everyone concerned.
There have been three birthdays since I left. Jackie was a year old on the 10th, John was twenty-eight on the 24th and Babe was twenty-one on the 25th. I sent John some cigars and Babe a dollar bill.
I wrote Emily Davis a letter last night and Helen Symons one Sunday.
Last Saturday, a week ago, we had quite a lark. Uncle Ed got the old car started & took Aunt J., Cecil, Grandfather Wilkes and me to Thatcher to a sale. Uncle Ed auctioneered it -- he's quite keen at it. It took him about three hours and he made ten dollars -- not so bad. Aunt Jennie & I bought some books -- about fifteen for a dollar, some of them were: David Copperfield, Silas Marner, Ancient Mariner, Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, Daddy Long Legs & some "lesser lights."
Then a week ago Sunday, Delhi had a picnic. The two stores had a joint stand. We sold pop and Raymonds sold ice cream. I helped Aunt Jennie sell pop. It was hot, dusty & windy. They had a little baseball before dinner & afterwards some horse races, kid races, etc.
Sometimes, in the afternoon, Aunt Jennie, Cecil and I "take to the hills" as Cecil says. Aunt Jennie & I take our reading material along. We find the highest spot on the windiest side and sit in a bed of pine needles and read. The other day I lay down, face up, and watched some magic, white billowy clouds drifting and shifting. It brought back childhood memories of similar stunts and vague recollections of the day-dreams the act inspired. It brought to mind an urge I have had for some time -- to live out from the city a ways where we could see something and the children could have the right chance.
Monday, July 28, 1924
I can't seem to really feel an "urge' to write, so I'll write without it. Consequently, it probably will not be a very systematic history of events, nor will it b as interesting as it would be if I felt "inspired." I wanted to describe as well as I can the place here and also the manner of living prevalent around here. Of course, it's all claims and the people are all pioneers. Uncle Ed & Aunt Jennie have a half section with only about 80 acres that could be cultivated. They have no well, but they could have if they could afford one. I guess, even as dry as it is, there is a little spring water in the big canyon east of the house. There are some range horses that make their habitat here on Aunt J's & Uncle Ed's place. The leader, a stallion of course, is a noble looking black horse whom people around here have named "Cyclone." They say he has never been caught.
The house here is about fourteen feet square, built of rock, quarried by Uncle Ed & Aunt Jennie from their own hills & put together by them with a mortar made from a dust called gyp also from their land. They have just a dirt floor which Aunt Jennie has covered with these heavy pasteboard boxes flattened. Then she has little rugs on that -- one fair sized square one in the center of the floor & several smaller ones, all made by Aunt Jennie. They have a little stove in which they burn cedar & pine -- also from their hills. They have a sanitary couch* which Cecil & I sleep on; an old dresser, the rest of the furniture is made from boxes. Oh, a trunk with an oil cloth serves as a wash stand, and Uncle Ed made the table. So you can see they are just as truly pioneers as the pilgrims, a rather startling thought. The house roof is made of logs with dirt & brush over the top. The barn is built of logs with brush & dirt for a ceiling. They have three horses: Fanny, Prince, both big, well fed (as Uncle Ed's livestock always is), the other one is a little gray thing, Babe, a colt of the rough bunch. It had gotten into a canyon & old Cyclone had forced its mother to leave it. So Aunt Jennie & Uncle Ed brought it up. Then they have a cave which is a storeroom & it also has a sanitary cot that Uncle Ed & Aunt J. sleep on. Then there is a chicken coop, also built of rock. Right at present, they have only two hens, a rooster & two dozen baby chickens. Oh, yes, Cecil has a Banty Hen. Aunt Jennie is raising rabbits to eat, instead. She has quite a bunch -- three bucks -- two browns & a black; five does -- one black, two browns and two yellows; about sixteen half-growns; and thirteen small ones -- between two mothers. there are only two white ones among them & I want to take them home for my kids.
Uncle Ed and Aunt Jennie certainly get along nicely & seem to love each other, which makes them pleasant people to live with. Evidently they have the three requirements of a happy marriage: "a sense of honor, a sense of proportion and a sense of humor." In exchanging ideas with Aunt Jennie since I've been here, I find that we think alike on a great many things -- well, all the major things, but sometimes differ on little things as the taste in curtains, dress goods etc.
Aunt Jennie is studying to take the Exams. She has the school here if she can get a certificate. It seems to me it takes a lot of grit to "study up" after twenty five years. We are always excusing ourselves to each other for having such dull minds and finding expressions in our reading that describes them One that I remember, a man referred to his intellect as a "vague rumor." How's that?
I can't tell yet whether the dry air is doing my nose any good or not, but I sorta think it is. I am helping the altitude by using vaporub & Aunt J & I are taking a tonic, too. I weighed 88 when I left Kansas. A week after I'd been here, I weighed 90. Some of this may have been a difference in the scales, But in another week I weighed 91 and the end of the third week I weighed the same. Altho' my mind isn't as clear as it used to be when I went to school, still some days I don't have the headache.
*I looked up "sanitary cot". Apparently they were metal framed beds with canvas sides that could be folded down, that could be used as a couch during the day and bed at night. One guess as to the name suggests that Victorians thought metal was easier to clean than wood and therefore sanitary.
The house here is about fourteen feet square, built of rock, quarried by Uncle Ed & Aunt Jennie from their own hills & put together by them with a mortar made from a dust called gyp also from their land. They have just a dirt floor which Aunt Jennie has covered with these heavy pasteboard boxes flattened. Then she has little rugs on that -- one fair sized square one in the center of the floor & several smaller ones, all made by Aunt Jennie. They have a little stove in which they burn cedar & pine -- also from their hills. They have a sanitary couch* which Cecil & I sleep on; an old dresser, the rest of the furniture is made from boxes. Oh, a trunk with an oil cloth serves as a wash stand, and Uncle Ed made the table. So you can see they are just as truly pioneers as the pilgrims, a rather startling thought. The house roof is made of logs with dirt & brush over the top. The barn is built of logs with brush & dirt for a ceiling. They have three horses: Fanny, Prince, both big, well fed (as Uncle Ed's livestock always is), the other one is a little gray thing, Babe, a colt of the rough bunch. It had gotten into a canyon & old Cyclone had forced its mother to leave it. So Aunt Jennie & Uncle Ed brought it up. Then they have a cave which is a storeroom & it also has a sanitary cot that Uncle Ed & Aunt J. sleep on. Then there is a chicken coop, also built of rock. Right at present, they have only two hens, a rooster & two dozen baby chickens. Oh, yes, Cecil has a Banty Hen. Aunt Jennie is raising rabbits to eat, instead. She has quite a bunch -- three bucks -- two browns & a black; five does -- one black, two browns and two yellows; about sixteen half-growns; and thirteen small ones -- between two mothers. there are only two white ones among them & I want to take them home for my kids.
Uncle Ed and Aunt Jennie certainly get along nicely & seem to love each other, which makes them pleasant people to live with. Evidently they have the three requirements of a happy marriage: "a sense of honor, a sense of proportion and a sense of humor." In exchanging ideas with Aunt Jennie since I've been here, I find that we think alike on a great many things -- well, all the major things, but sometimes differ on little things as the taste in curtains, dress goods etc.
Aunt Jennie is studying to take the Exams. She has the school here if she can get a certificate. It seems to me it takes a lot of grit to "study up" after twenty five years. We are always excusing ourselves to each other for having such dull minds and finding expressions in our reading that describes them One that I remember, a man referred to his intellect as a "vague rumor." How's that?
I can't tell yet whether the dry air is doing my nose any good or not, but I sorta think it is. I am helping the altitude by using vaporub & Aunt J & I are taking a tonic, too. I weighed 88 when I left Kansas. A week after I'd been here, I weighed 90. Some of this may have been a difference in the scales, But in another week I weighed 91 and the end of the third week I weighed the same. Altho' my mind isn't as clear as it used to be when I went to school, still some days I don't have the headache.
*I looked up "sanitary cot". Apparently they were metal framed beds with canvas sides that could be folded down, that could be used as a couch during the day and bed at night. One guess as to the name suggests that Victorians thought metal was easier to clean than wood and therefore sanitary.
Saturday, July 26, 1924
I intended to keep a daily diary during this vacation of mine, but you see, I haven't. I left Topeka three weeks ago this noon. Bernice & Ed took me to Topeka from Burlingame in the morning. John, Jack & Zella went along. It wasn't so bad bidding Neil "goodbye". He was rather unconcerned. Bricky was asleep yet, and when I kissed her, she smiled in her sleep. I had to fight the tears then, for I had never been away from her over night in all her three years. I hated to leave my Baby Jackie for he was a little sick and his little eyes looks so sick. But I guess Zella soon had him all right again. And, of course, I had to fight tears when I told "Daddy" goodbye.
It certainly was a novel feeling after the train started to be all alone and not to have to feel responsible for another soul but myself. Uncle Ed met me, and as Grandfather Wilkes here says, it does rather look like the "jumping off" place out here. Delhi is some town. There is a depot, and the Agent lives in a house (?) made of two box cars. But the section boss has a real nice little house -- rather unfair. Then there is a concrete bunkhouse for the section men, mostly Mexicans.
There are two stores and one contains a "newspaper." One store and newspaper are run by the Raymonds. The Mrs. is a Southern Democrat from way back. Has raised a large family of her own. One son, Ben, helps her here. She also has two grandchildren with her -- Netta & Orville. I feel rather sorry for the former. She's not much for looks & needs her eyes attended to & has to work quite hard, for a thirteen year old girl. Mrs. Raymond has some orphans with her at different times. One is visiting her now -- Thelma, a dark. Aunt Jennie thinks she's part Mexican. She lives in New Mexico with her husband & baby. The latter is about my baby's age & he has a lot of dark hair that is pretty & curly.
The other store, Uncle Ed is the manager of. It is owned by Grandfather Wilkes & daughter, Mrs. Hitchins. She is also Assistant Post Mistress. Her son, Earl, is Post Master, but at present he is in the harvest fields of Kansas. Mrs. H. sure goes around sloppy. She has holes in her hose, and she wears an old khaki shirt that hangs at least a foot longer in the rear. It wouldn't seem so bad, but she pretends to be so nice. She comes from Chicago & has one daughter learning to be a dietician, Helen whom she thinks is some pumpkin! She also has a married daughter, Maud, and a husband. I suppose he can't stand her terribly officious ways. She looks over all the mail that comes in & makes remarks concerning it. Aunt Jennie & I get lots of kicks out of her peculiarities.
The morning of my arrival, Earl & Grandfather Wilkes brought us out in an old car, which is a wonder in junk. I have seen much better looking cars in junk piles -- but it goes. The door hinges are off & they have put springs from screen doors on them. The stuffings are all coming out of the upholstering. The radiator cover is lacking which exposes all of its "innards."
Aunt Jennie & Uncle Ed's place is about two miles from Delhi. It's a wee bit higher, too. We are about 5,300 feet here. This place is almost completely surrounded by hills -- steep ones that it winds you to climb. There are pines & cedars & rocks on these hills. The trees are not all big, in fact, they are mostly scrubs. At first, I could smell them, but I have become accustomed to them. Now, I don't unless I am up in the hills amongst them.
At first I noticed the altitude -- my ears rang with the silence, but I am accustomed to that, too. I notice the dryness of the air -- especially on hot days. Most of the days have been hot since I came, too. Aunt Jennie put in a crop of Kaffis, I think 40 acres, but it has been so dry, very little has come up. The soil is quite alkali anyway. They have a half section & they have just proved up. There is "oil" excitement around here every now & then.
[This is the start of another new journal. Winnie has gone west to stay with her mother's sister, Jennie (Jane Louisa Hayson) and her husband (Augustus Edward Cones) out in southwest Colorado. I believe the famous train line, The Atchison, Topeka & the Santa Fe, had something to do with Aunt Jennie & Uncle Ed's move there as it was on the train's route, though I don't know that he ever worked for the railroad. They appeared regularly in Winnie's journals from her early teens in Kansas, so their move west must have happened in the late teens or early 1920's.
Aunt Jennie and Uncle Ed never had children, though at least for a time, Cecil Hayson, the son of Jim & Lula Cramer Hayson, lived with them after Lula died in childbirth in 1923.
I don't think I've really read this diary before, or not wholly. My recollection is that Winnie is taking the trip out west for her health as she's been suffering from headaches and sinus troubles. I wonder too now if post-partum depression may have played a role. In summer 1924, Neil was 5 1/2, Bricky was just 3, and Jack turned 1 on July 10th -- kp]
It certainly was a novel feeling after the train started to be all alone and not to have to feel responsible for another soul but myself. Uncle Ed met me, and as Grandfather Wilkes here says, it does rather look like the "jumping off" place out here. Delhi is some town. There is a depot, and the Agent lives in a house (?) made of two box cars. But the section boss has a real nice little house -- rather unfair. Then there is a concrete bunkhouse for the section men, mostly Mexicans.
There are two stores and one contains a "newspaper." One store and newspaper are run by the Raymonds. The Mrs. is a Southern Democrat from way back. Has raised a large family of her own. One son, Ben, helps her here. She also has two grandchildren with her -- Netta & Orville. I feel rather sorry for the former. She's not much for looks & needs her eyes attended to & has to work quite hard, for a thirteen year old girl. Mrs. Raymond has some orphans with her at different times. One is visiting her now -- Thelma, a dark. Aunt Jennie thinks she's part Mexican. She lives in New Mexico with her husband & baby. The latter is about my baby's age & he has a lot of dark hair that is pretty & curly.
The other store, Uncle Ed is the manager of. It is owned by Grandfather Wilkes & daughter, Mrs. Hitchins. She is also Assistant Post Mistress. Her son, Earl, is Post Master, but at present he is in the harvest fields of Kansas. Mrs. H. sure goes around sloppy. She has holes in her hose, and she wears an old khaki shirt that hangs at least a foot longer in the rear. It wouldn't seem so bad, but she pretends to be so nice. She comes from Chicago & has one daughter learning to be a dietician, Helen whom she thinks is some pumpkin! She also has a married daughter, Maud, and a husband. I suppose he can't stand her terribly officious ways. She looks over all the mail that comes in & makes remarks concerning it. Aunt Jennie & I get lots of kicks out of her peculiarities.
The morning of my arrival, Earl & Grandfather Wilkes brought us out in an old car, which is a wonder in junk. I have seen much better looking cars in junk piles -- but it goes. The door hinges are off & they have put springs from screen doors on them. The stuffings are all coming out of the upholstering. The radiator cover is lacking which exposes all of its "innards."
Aunt Jennie & Uncle Ed's place is about two miles from Delhi. It's a wee bit higher, too. We are about 5,300 feet here. This place is almost completely surrounded by hills -- steep ones that it winds you to climb. There are pines & cedars & rocks on these hills. The trees are not all big, in fact, they are mostly scrubs. At first, I could smell them, but I have become accustomed to them. Now, I don't unless I am up in the hills amongst them.
At first I noticed the altitude -- my ears rang with the silence, but I am accustomed to that, too. I notice the dryness of the air -- especially on hot days. Most of the days have been hot since I came, too. Aunt Jennie put in a crop of Kaffis, I think 40 acres, but it has been so dry, very little has come up. The soil is quite alkali anyway. They have a half section & they have just proved up. There is "oil" excitement around here every now & then.
[This is the start of another new journal. Winnie has gone west to stay with her mother's sister, Jennie (Jane Louisa Hayson) and her husband (Augustus Edward Cones) out in southwest Colorado. I believe the famous train line, The Atchison, Topeka & the Santa Fe, had something to do with Aunt Jennie & Uncle Ed's move there as it was on the train's route, though I don't know that he ever worked for the railroad. They appeared regularly in Winnie's journals from her early teens in Kansas, so their move west must have happened in the late teens or early 1920's.
Aunt Jennie and Uncle Ed never had children, though at least for a time, Cecil Hayson, the son of Jim & Lula Cramer Hayson, lived with them after Lula died in childbirth in 1923.
I don't think I've really read this diary before, or not wholly. My recollection is that Winnie is taking the trip out west for her health as she's been suffering from headaches and sinus troubles. I wonder too now if post-partum depression may have played a role. In summer 1924, Neil was 5 1/2, Bricky was just 3, and Jack turned 1 on July 10th -- kp]
Bricky & Jack, Topeka, 1924
Bricky & Jack right about the time that Granny is writing in her diary as a young mother.
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