Connie Irene Stinson Marlow Hale, 1945-2020
1945 was momentous for America AND 709 East Rosewood. VE Day, May 8, 1945 marked the end of WWII in Europe. VJ Day, August 15, 1945, marked the surrender of Japan. And a spring tornado had blown down a huge oak tree on the east side of our house. How that fits comes later. Connie, the only one of us to be born in a hospital, was born between those momentous dates, on July 25, 1945. Our parents had celebrated 19 years of marriage two days before. On the 25th, the day Connie was born, Mother celebrated her 37th birthday, what a birthday present. Our brother, Richard, Sonny to most, was 12 the day after Connie came into our lives. I doubt he saw another small child to help care for as a gift. He already had the full care of the cow. When I was born Mother had said "with number six I hoped the cradle would fall to sticks", too much of a good thing? Sometimes I wondered how Connie took that when mother chanted her rhyme.
Number 7—a number denoting completeness by numerologists…for sure in our family. The elephant in the room was "what's her name?" There was much and lengthy discussion…for months. Her original birth certificate Mother said had all the needed information except a name. That line was left blank. Finally she was named for both parents, Connie for Conley, Irene after Mother's middle name. During the lengthy gap before she was named, she got tagged with a nickname she grew to hate. A comic strip called "Little LuLu" gave someone the idea to call her LuLu. It wasn't funny to her and for many years she felt humiliated by that name. Connie was sensitive and shy to an extreme. Matters worsened when she and I crossed the alley to play with Kenneth and Michael Brown at Grandma Hill's house. Grandma Hill had a wind-up Victrola, needles and 78s. We chose from her Country-Western classics. Anyone remember "Hang out the front door key", "Wabash Cannonball" and the source of her humiliation which started" You can bring Jane with a walking cane, but don't bring Lulu"? We weren't kind. We played it over and over.
I have one childhood memory without her in it. We were the only playmates for each other… mostly. You see, we lived at the end of Rosewood, the location of which Mother laughingly called Plum and Nearly…Plum down to the end of the road and nearly out of town. On occasion Donna and Alice Anne Shirley came to visit their Grandma Hutchings who lived across the street. You know what happens when more than two play together. We tried, we really did. When we finished damming up the ditch or fishing for crawdads, we kinda got out of sorts. Then Connie and I would go home in a huff and resort to our pets, which had been provided by the kindness of strangers.
Because we lived near the end of Rosewood which intersected a numbered street that was not a through street and so far out, Daddy had hired a bull dozer to push the huge stump from the tree felled by the tornado onto the east side of the 8th street right-of –way at that intersection. Did you get that? Watching the bulldozer move the stump is my only early childhood memory without Connie in it. Anyway, that stump provided shelter for every abandoned pregnant animal in the world! Our Mother could hear the faintest squeak of a newborn animal at a much greater distance than 1/2 a block! The mother animal was coaxed to our house with fresh milk from Sonny's cow. Viola! Connie and I always had pets provided by the kindness of strangers.
About the time I was 7 and Connie 4, Mother began to use cake mixes. A tablespoonful of batter in the sections of a child size muffin tin (show) would cook in about two minutes. She showed us how to mix a tiny bit of milk with powdered sugar and drizzle icing on tiny cakes. Those six iced cakes arranged with fresh china berries or dandelion blooms on our plastic footed cake plate/lazysusan made a beautiful display for the many cats to have a happy birthday party. Let us not overlook how fashionable our doll clothes made the cats look. Poor things. Those cats would never stay in the doll cradles we had inherited from Jollye and Patsy.
With seven kids to feed and care for, each child was expected to work according to their abilities. Chores were pretty much divided into male and female assignments with some overlaps. On a warm enough wash day Connie and I drug a dishpan filled with small freshly washed items to the hog wire fence surrounding the back door garden. Each 6 inch by 6 inch section of fence was draped with a sock, child's underwear, doily, washrag or such until the spaces were filled; if items outnumbered the spaces the rest of small items were spread on the grass until dry when we brought them in, folded them and put them away.
One chore waited until Daddy was home. Digging potatoes was his job…he didn't trust any of us to not jab a potato with the digging fork. Our job was sacking potatoes. Daddy dug them, rubbed the moist soil off and tossed them into loose piles along the row to let them dry overnight. The next day whether he was there to oversee or not, Connie and I put those potatoes into tow sacks followed by an older child who could close the sacks with twine. An even older child would lift the sacks into the wheel barrow and take them to the barn. Everyone had to shell those everlasting black-eyed peas, even Howard. And chickens! Does anyone remember how bad chickens stink even before one is scalded? Connie and I were afraid of them but the eggs had to be gathered. Patsy, our older sister, liked to tease about not dropping our gum in the chicken yard. For pity's sake, if we had gum it would be safe on the bedpost, not in the chicken yard. Do you know what had to happen before you had that wonderful fried chicken dinner? At our house Mother caught the chicken, cut its head off; when it was through flopping around getting used to being headless she gutted it, then, scalded it. Plucking feathers and cleaning gizzards were mine and Connie's to do. Scorching the pin feathers and the rest of preparation was Mother's job. The stink was forgotten when we got the pully bone.
Connie was especially fond of the baby pigs that were part of Sonny's FFA project. One runt, Scrubby, her favorite had pink skin and white hair like her. Daddy helped her pet it. Howard liked to torment us about almost everything and picked a particularly destructive way. At a family meal where fresh pork was served he told Connie the meat was Scrubby. She was overwrought. That memory stayed with her when other things faded.
We shared household chores each Saturday morning: stripping the beds sheets for wash day, dust-mopping the floors, shaking throw rugs and dusting the ten million what-nots Mother had. Her nick-name was Boots and everyone she knew gave her boots for her collection, actually anything from baby shoes to Dutch wooden shoes to Japanese thonged getas included. I do not have what-nots in my house. We ironed too, with this (show iron). Doilies, handkerchiefs, head scarfs and dozens of starched pillow cases like these. You may be wondering how little girls could reach an ironing board. My mother was the make-do queen of Choctaw County. Our ironing board was a 6 foot long by 1 foot wide by 2 inches thick solid plank with a carved dull point at one end all wrapped in pillow ticking and held in place by heavy twine, sewing the edges together on the underside. When not in use it was my daddy's denim jumper coat rack. When needed for wrinkle removal the ironing board was placed in the seat of two dining chairs, 4 feet apart, just the right height for a little girl to stand and iron all the afore mentioned items. When we grew a bit the ironing board was balanced on the bench Connie and I shared at mealtime. Connie took it to the lake house.
Connie was smaller and needed help to finish cleaning her half of the house in time to be paid the 25 cents we earned to go to the movie. 10 cents admission, 10 cents for popcorn, 5 cents a drink…or save 15 cents and hope to get to go to Sunday afternoon movie, too. Getting paid…what an ordeal. Our daddy was not an easily approached man. Once chores were finished I had to report to Daddy and ask for the money. Remember…Connie was shy and sensitive. The yoyo event I hated began. I told him we had finished. He said "Go ask your Mother if you have done everything". I asked Mother. After going down the list she said she guessed so. "She said we're through and to come tell you" I told Daddy. After digging in his pocket and coming out with fingers spread to prove an empty hand Daddy would dig again to find two quarters. That money was tied into the corner of a cotton handkerchief so it didn't get lost. Now, to walk to the movie theater by 12:45 p.m. Mother didn't drive until she was 62 and anyway the Chevrolet would have been parked at the depot or roundhouse if Daddy was on a railroad run. The exception was if Daddy was home Mother would time the grocery and animal feed buying trip to the theater opening.
Once the movie was over Connie began begging me to ask the ticket sales person to use the phone to call Daddy to come get us because she "was so tired". I never relented. I had had my big dose of stress asking him for money. The walk was about 1 mile from the Erie Theater to 709 E. Rosewood and Connie bawled the whole way even while we window shopped at Lambeth's, later Woody Williams. She was especially scared when we passed the Three C Café and grocery store, especially if there was a rummage sale down by the pawn shop. Hugo was segregated and we had no interaction with the black population otherwise. She had to stop at the southwest corner of Main and Third to rest on the concrete wall. She had to stop at Laurel and Third and rest on the curb before we crossed over to Fourth to cross at Bissell and Fourth. She rested at the stone benchworks at the Lions Club wading pool in order to make it down to 709 E. Rosewood. She was a pain but the movie had given us fodder for pretend episodes for another week. The stump in the cow lot was our stage, our foray into show business.
During the next week while we were pretending to be someone we had seen in the movie, Jackie and Ronnie Hutchings would come to our yard uninvited. Boys didn't care about toy plastic goblets with matching dessert plates. One of them would try to turn the base of our lazysusan cake plate hard enough to twist it off while the other tried to break our matching pitcher. Right after these priceless accessories were thrown over the fence into the cow manure pile we told Momma on them and they got sent home. Those boys had bad pennies in their pants because they always came back. Mother and Pat Hutchings had some loud words from time to time.
Our oldest sister, Jollye, had a job at Mrs. Grahams dress shop and she was conscious of our wardrobe. She bought us nice Easter dresses and patent leather shoes, lace trimmed anklets, (socks if you don't know the term) and our first nylon panties. Since Connie was a blue eyed blonde she was dressed in pink and yellow pastels. The freckle faced redhead got green and blue, later brown…BROWN?
Connie's shyness was extreme at age six, the age when you have to leave home and be put in the care of someone else and mix with strangers all day. Her first grade teacher told Mother that she feared that Connie just couldn't function in class because of shyness. That teacher's delicate encouragement helped Connie begin making friendships with people who still care. You know who you are.
The difference in age made no difference as we learned to roller skate using hand- me- down skates. The paved area surrounding the Lion's Club wading pool provided a perfect roller rink near a familiar place where we had learned to "swim." Learning to keep our balance on wheels provided good experience to handle the new bicycles. Our family went to a Frisco Railroad safety meeting where Daddy won a boys bicycle. Howard already had one so Daddy went to Otasco and traded the boys for a girls and bought a second girls. They were blue and alike so he had the Otasco clerk put red reflective tape initials on each back fender. An R for me and an L for her, not a C mind you, an " L". Not good! She tried to scrape it off but it just scarred the paint. She was mad at Daddy over that for as long as I can remember.
We had lots of adventures in the woods just inside the fence along 8th street but the bigger kids didn't want us there. Connie and I really preferred to go to the ditch on the south side of the cemetery where Mr. Johnny Robinson put the funeral wreaths once they had wilted. You may laugh about the ditch but once we learned to climb the wall at the cemetery gates all you could do was walk the top of the wall or sit there. That ditch held a vast multi-color assortment of satin or open weave ribbons from wreaths. Do you know how many yards were in a bow on a wreath in the early 1950's? Satin ribbon was at least four inches wide, the open weave a bit narrower. What was a little rust from wire that held the bow to the wilted wreath to fashion designers? PICTURE : A band of ribbon around the forehead, another around the chest, a band around the waist; strips of ribbon of many colors tucked through the bands all around the body; envision many strips of ribbon flowing from the chest band, over shoulders and draped over arms, dozens of strips flowing all around the waist…at no cost. Raw elegance! Edith Head never had it so good!
Alas, Childhood was fleeting. Grade school was the beginning of greater independence. I wasn't required so much responsibility for Connie, teachers would do that. She finally had other playmates as did I. Junior high and high school changed both our lives. As had the other siblings before me, I left home. She graduated and went to a finishing school which gave her confidence and taught her how to dress. Business school prepared her for job applications in Oklahoma City. My family grew and we spent little time together as her family also grew. Neither of us had money, making visits few. Things changed when I read Steamboat Gothic, a book about southern Louisiana Carol Sue recommended. After a family gathering Mother, Jollye, Gaye, Connie and I decided to take a spring trip to Natchez, Miss. together, the first of several. We had to save and go on the cheap but close sharing cemented relationships that lasted until each of my sisters' health limitations made travel impossible.
Long after her COPD diagnosis Connie let me go with her to a doctor's appointment that included information about changing breathing aides. She needed something stronger. He told her what would help and began writing. She nodded and abruptly asked if he thought Biotin would help stop her hair from thinning. Dr. Carnahan leaned on his desk, and in disbelief said," Let me get this straight…you can't breathe but you are worried about thinning hair?" She told him she had not breathed her last and she didn't want to die bald.
After several ER visits her a doctor prescribed Home Health, capable caring nurses who kept close track of vitals. Sometimes she called and asked us to come. She really wanted a fish dinner from a particular place. This event started when the TV volume was loud and I asked Connie if she really needed it so loud. She laughed and told this story on herself. STORY ABOUT URINE/HEARING. ANY CHANGES IN YOUR URINE? Connie had sharp wit. (TELL HOSPITAL CHICKEN STORY)
PAUSE
Connie, like every mother here, was a flawed mother but never doubt that she loved her children in ways gifted from each child, tucked away, firmly placed in early memory, retrieved for her comfort and secured for each child. PAUSE
Connie was a many facetted woman. Connie felt tenderness for animals. Animal Planet was a favorite T.V. show. She enjoyed delicate household ornaments. Though I never understood, she enjoyed whimsy with a nod to frogs. Birds, most blooming plants, especially her saucer magnolia, a variety named Jane gave her contentment. She appreciated the blessing of December blooming daffodils in her back yard. Darci Brewer's unflinching friendship was often in conversation. Connie was not a great communicator because telephone conversation used too much breath. Texting was useful. I used it to do what Mother had told me to do even as children when she said I was to take care of Connie. Connie was a pain as a child, a trusted friend and challenge in her last years. In these efforts I said she was stubborn; she said she was standing her ground. I said she was secretive; she said she was private. I said she was closed minded; she said she would not be bullied. We were different in many ways and alike in that she wanted to be accepted as she was. Don't we all? Connie was my last sibling. She was my baby sister and I loved her.∼Connie Hale of Ardmore, OK, passed away on December 25, 2020.
An informal memorial service was on May 8, 2021 at 2:00pm
at Church of Christ , 4th and Jackson, Hugo, OK
Connie graduated from Hugo High School, Hugo, OK in 1963
1945 was momentous for America AND 709 East Rosewood. VE Day, May 8, 1945 marked the end of WWII in Europe. VJ Day, August 15, 1945, marked the surrender of Japan. And a spring tornado had blown down a huge oak tree on the east side of our house. How that fits comes later. Connie, the only one of us to be born in a hospital, was born between those momentous dates, on July 25, 1945. Our parents had celebrated 19 years of marriage two days before. On the 25th, the day Connie was born, Mother celebrated her 37th birthday, what a birthday present. Our brother, Richard, Sonny to most, was 12 the day after Connie came into our lives. I doubt he saw another small child to help care for as a gift. He already had the full care of the cow. When I was born Mother had said "with number six I hoped the cradle would fall to sticks", too much of a good thing? Sometimes I wondered how Connie took that when mother chanted her rhyme.
Number 7—a number denoting completeness by numerologists…for sure in our family. The elephant in the room was "what's her name?" There was much and lengthy discussion…for months. Her original birth certificate Mother said had all the needed information except a name. That line was left blank. Finally she was named for both parents, Connie for Conley, Irene after Mother's middle name. During the lengthy gap before she was named, she got tagged with a nickname she grew to hate. A comic strip called "Little LuLu" gave someone the idea to call her LuLu. It wasn't funny to her and for many years she felt humiliated by that name. Connie was sensitive and shy to an extreme. Matters worsened when she and I crossed the alley to play with Kenneth and Michael Brown at Grandma Hill's house. Grandma Hill had a wind-up Victrola, needles and 78s. We chose from her Country-Western classics. Anyone remember "Hang out the front door key", "Wabash Cannonball" and the source of her humiliation which started" You can bring Jane with a walking cane, but don't bring Lulu"? We weren't kind. We played it over and over.
I have one childhood memory without her in it. We were the only playmates for each other… mostly. You see, we lived at the end of Rosewood, the location of which Mother laughingly called Plum and Nearly…Plum down to the end of the road and nearly out of town. On occasion Donna and Alice Anne Shirley came to visit their Grandma Hutchings who lived across the street. You know what happens when more than two play together. We tried, we really did. When we finished damming up the ditch or fishing for crawdads, we kinda got out of sorts. Then Connie and I would go home in a huff and resort to our pets, which had been provided by the kindness of strangers.
Because we lived near the end of Rosewood which intersected a numbered street that was not a through street and so far out, Daddy had hired a bull dozer to push the huge stump from the tree felled by the tornado onto the east side of the 8th street right-of –way at that intersection. Did you get that? Watching the bulldozer move the stump is my only early childhood memory without Connie in it. Anyway, that stump provided shelter for every abandoned pregnant animal in the world! Our Mother could hear the faintest squeak of a newborn animal at a much greater distance than 1/2 a block! The mother animal was coaxed to our house with fresh milk from Sonny's cow. Viola! Connie and I always had pets provided by the kindness of strangers.
About the time I was 7 and Connie 4, Mother began to use cake mixes. A tablespoonful of batter in the sections of a child size muffin tin (show) would cook in about two minutes. She showed us how to mix a tiny bit of milk with powdered sugar and drizzle icing on tiny cakes. Those six iced cakes arranged with fresh china berries or dandelion blooms on our plastic footed cake plate/lazysusan made a beautiful display for the many cats to have a happy birthday party. Let us not overlook how fashionable our doll clothes made the cats look. Poor things. Those cats would never stay in the doll cradles we had inherited from Jollye and Patsy.
With seven kids to feed and care for, each child was expected to work according to their abilities. Chores were pretty much divided into male and female assignments with some overlaps. On a warm enough wash day Connie and I drug a dishpan filled with small freshly washed items to the hog wire fence surrounding the back door garden. Each 6 inch by 6 inch section of fence was draped with a sock, child's underwear, doily, washrag or such until the spaces were filled; if items outnumbered the spaces the rest of small items were spread on the grass until dry when we brought them in, folded them and put them away.
One chore waited until Daddy was home. Digging potatoes was his job…he didn't trust any of us to not jab a potato with the digging fork. Our job was sacking potatoes. Daddy dug them, rubbed the moist soil off and tossed them into loose piles along the row to let them dry overnight. The next day whether he was there to oversee or not, Connie and I put those potatoes into tow sacks followed by an older child who could close the sacks with twine. An even older child would lift the sacks into the wheel barrow and take them to the barn. Everyone had to shell those everlasting black-eyed peas, even Howard. And chickens! Does anyone remember how bad chickens stink even before one is scalded? Connie and I were afraid of them but the eggs had to be gathered. Patsy, our older sister, liked to tease about not dropping our gum in the chicken yard. For pity's sake, if we had gum it would be safe on the bedpost, not in the chicken yard. Do you know what had to happen before you had that wonderful fried chicken dinner? At our house Mother caught the chicken, cut its head off; when it was through flopping around getting used to being headless she gutted it, then, scalded it. Plucking feathers and cleaning gizzards were mine and Connie's to do. Scorching the pin feathers and the rest of preparation was Mother's job. The stink was forgotten when we got the pully bone.
Connie was especially fond of the baby pigs that were part of Sonny's FFA project. One runt, Scrubby, her favorite had pink skin and white hair like her. Daddy helped her pet it. Howard liked to torment us about almost everything and picked a particularly destructive way. At a family meal where fresh pork was served he told Connie the meat was Scrubby. She was overwrought. That memory stayed with her when other things faded.
We shared household chores each Saturday morning: stripping the beds sheets for wash day, dust-mopping the floors, shaking throw rugs and dusting the ten million what-nots Mother had. Her nick-name was Boots and everyone she knew gave her boots for her collection, actually anything from baby shoes to Dutch wooden shoes to Japanese thonged getas included. I do not have what-nots in my house. We ironed too, with this (show iron). Doilies, handkerchiefs, head scarfs and dozens of starched pillow cases like these. You may be wondering how little girls could reach an ironing board. My mother was the make-do queen of Choctaw County. Our ironing board was a 6 foot long by 1 foot wide by 2 inches thick solid plank with a carved dull point at one end all wrapped in pillow ticking and held in place by heavy twine, sewing the edges together on the underside. When not in use it was my daddy's denim jumper coat rack. When needed for wrinkle removal the ironing board was placed in the seat of two dining chairs, 4 feet apart, just the right height for a little girl to stand and iron all the afore mentioned items. When we grew a bit the ironing board was balanced on the bench Connie and I shared at mealtime. Connie took it to the lake house.
Connie was smaller and needed help to finish cleaning her half of the house in time to be paid the 25 cents we earned to go to the movie. 10 cents admission, 10 cents for popcorn, 5 cents a drink…or save 15 cents and hope to get to go to Sunday afternoon movie, too. Getting paid…what an ordeal. Our daddy was not an easily approached man. Once chores were finished I had to report to Daddy and ask for the money. Remember…Connie was shy and sensitive. The yoyo event I hated began. I told him we had finished. He said "Go ask your Mother if you have done everything". I asked Mother. After going down the list she said she guessed so. "She said we're through and to come tell you" I told Daddy. After digging in his pocket and coming out with fingers spread to prove an empty hand Daddy would dig again to find two quarters. That money was tied into the corner of a cotton handkerchief so it didn't get lost. Now, to walk to the movie theater by 12:45 p.m. Mother didn't drive until she was 62 and anyway the Chevrolet would have been parked at the depot or roundhouse if Daddy was on a railroad run. The exception was if Daddy was home Mother would time the grocery and animal feed buying trip to the theater opening.
Once the movie was over Connie began begging me to ask the ticket sales person to use the phone to call Daddy to come get us because she "was so tired". I never relented. I had had my big dose of stress asking him for money. The walk was about 1 mile from the Erie Theater to 709 E. Rosewood and Connie bawled the whole way even while we window shopped at Lambeth's, later Woody Williams. She was especially scared when we passed the Three C Café and grocery store, especially if there was a rummage sale down by the pawn shop. Hugo was segregated and we had no interaction with the black population otherwise. She had to stop at the southwest corner of Main and Third to rest on the concrete wall. She had to stop at Laurel and Third and rest on the curb before we crossed over to Fourth to cross at Bissell and Fourth. She rested at the stone benchworks at the Lions Club wading pool in order to make it down to 709 E. Rosewood. She was a pain but the movie had given us fodder for pretend episodes for another week. The stump in the cow lot was our stage, our foray into show business.
During the next week while we were pretending to be someone we had seen in the movie, Jackie and Ronnie Hutchings would come to our yard uninvited. Boys didn't care about toy plastic goblets with matching dessert plates. One of them would try to turn the base of our lazysusan cake plate hard enough to twist it off while the other tried to break our matching pitcher. Right after these priceless accessories were thrown over the fence into the cow manure pile we told Momma on them and they got sent home. Those boys had bad pennies in their pants because they always came back. Mother and Pat Hutchings had some loud words from time to time.
Our oldest sister, Jollye, had a job at Mrs. Grahams dress shop and she was conscious of our wardrobe. She bought us nice Easter dresses and patent leather shoes, lace trimmed anklets, (socks if you don't know the term) and our first nylon panties. Since Connie was a blue eyed blonde she was dressed in pink and yellow pastels. The freckle faced redhead got green and blue, later brown…BROWN?
Connie's shyness was extreme at age six, the age when you have to leave home and be put in the care of someone else and mix with strangers all day. Her first grade teacher told Mother that she feared that Connie just couldn't function in class because of shyness. That teacher's delicate encouragement helped Connie begin making friendships with people who still care. You know who you are.
The difference in age made no difference as we learned to roller skate using hand- me- down skates. The paved area surrounding the Lion's Club wading pool provided a perfect roller rink near a familiar place where we had learned to "swim." Learning to keep our balance on wheels provided good experience to handle the new bicycles. Our family went to a Frisco Railroad safety meeting where Daddy won a boys bicycle. Howard already had one so Daddy went to Otasco and traded the boys for a girls and bought a second girls. They were blue and alike so he had the Otasco clerk put red reflective tape initials on each back fender. An R for me and an L for her, not a C mind you, an " L". Not good! She tried to scrape it off but it just scarred the paint. She was mad at Daddy over that for as long as I can remember.
We had lots of adventures in the woods just inside the fence along 8th street but the bigger kids didn't want us there. Connie and I really preferred to go to the ditch on the south side of the cemetery where Mr. Johnny Robinson put the funeral wreaths once they had wilted. You may laugh about the ditch but once we learned to climb the wall at the cemetery gates all you could do was walk the top of the wall or sit there. That ditch held a vast multi-color assortment of satin or open weave ribbons from wreaths. Do you know how many yards were in a bow on a wreath in the early 1950's? Satin ribbon was at least four inches wide, the open weave a bit narrower. What was a little rust from wire that held the bow to the wilted wreath to fashion designers? PICTURE : A band of ribbon around the forehead, another around the chest, a band around the waist; strips of ribbon of many colors tucked through the bands all around the body; envision many strips of ribbon flowing from the chest band, over shoulders and draped over arms, dozens of strips flowing all around the waist…at no cost. Raw elegance! Edith Head never had it so good!
Alas, Childhood was fleeting. Grade school was the beginning of greater independence. I wasn't required so much responsibility for Connie, teachers would do that. She finally had other playmates as did I. Junior high and high school changed both our lives. As had the other siblings before me, I left home. She graduated and went to a finishing school which gave her confidence and taught her how to dress. Business school prepared her for job applications in Oklahoma City. My family grew and we spent little time together as her family also grew. Neither of us had money, making visits few. Things changed when I read Steamboat Gothic, a book about southern Louisiana Carol Sue recommended. After a family gathering Mother, Jollye, Gaye, Connie and I decided to take a spring trip to Natchez, Miss. together, the first of several. We had to save and go on the cheap but close sharing cemented relationships that lasted until each of my sisters' health limitations made travel impossible.
Long after her COPD diagnosis Connie let me go with her to a doctor's appointment that included information about changing breathing aides. She needed something stronger. He told her what would help and began writing. She nodded and abruptly asked if he thought Biotin would help stop her hair from thinning. Dr. Carnahan leaned on his desk, and in disbelief said," Let me get this straight…you can't breathe but you are worried about thinning hair?" She told him she had not breathed her last and she didn't want to die bald.
After several ER visits her a doctor prescribed Home Health, capable caring nurses who kept close track of vitals. Sometimes she called and asked us to come. She really wanted a fish dinner from a particular place. This event started when the TV volume was loud and I asked Connie if she really needed it so loud. She laughed and told this story on herself. STORY ABOUT URINE/HEARING. ANY CHANGES IN YOUR URINE? Connie had sharp wit. (TELL HOSPITAL CHICKEN STORY)
PAUSE
Connie, like every mother here, was a flawed mother but never doubt that she loved her children in ways gifted from each child, tucked away, firmly placed in early memory, retrieved for her comfort and secured for each child. PAUSE
Connie was a many facetted woman. Connie felt tenderness for animals. Animal Planet was a favorite T.V. show. She enjoyed delicate household ornaments. Though I never understood, she enjoyed whimsy with a nod to frogs. Birds, most blooming plants, especially her saucer magnolia, a variety named Jane gave her contentment. She appreciated the blessing of December blooming daffodils in her back yard. Darci Brewer's unflinching friendship was often in conversation. Connie was not a great communicator because telephone conversation used too much breath. Texting was useful. I used it to do what Mother had told me to do even as children when she said I was to take care of Connie. Connie was a pain as a child, a trusted friend and challenge in her last years. In these efforts I said she was stubborn; she said she was standing her ground. I said she was secretive; she said she was private. I said she was closed minded; she said she would not be bullied. We were different in many ways and alike in that she wanted to be accepted as she was. Don't we all? Connie was my last sibling. She was my baby sister and I loved her.∼Connie Hale of Ardmore, OK, passed away on December 25, 2020.
An informal memorial service was on May 8, 2021 at 2:00pm
at Church of Christ , 4th and Jackson, Hugo, OK
Connie graduated from Hugo High School, Hugo, OK in 1963
Connie Irene Stinson Marlow Hale, 1945-2020
1945 was momentous for America AND 709 East Rosewood. VE Day, May 8, 1945 marked the end of WWII in Europe. VJ Day, August 15, 1945, marked the surrender of Japan. And a spring tornado had blown down a huge oak tree on the east side of our house. How that fits comes later. Connie, the only one of us to be born in a hospital, was born between those momentous dates, on July 25, 1945. Our parents had celebrated 19 years of marriage two days before. On the 25th, the day Connie was born, Mother celebrated her 37th birthday, what a birthday present. Our brother, Richard, Sonny to most, was 12 the day after Connie came into our lives. I doubt he saw another small child to help care for as a gift. He already had the full care of the cow. When I was born Mother had said "with number six I hoped the cradle would fall to sticks", too much of a good thing? Sometimes I wondered how Connie took that when mother chanted her rhyme.
Number 7—a number denoting completeness by numerologists…for sure in our family. The elephant in the room was "what's her name?" There was much and lengthy discussion…for months. Her original birth certificate Mother said had all the needed information except a name. That line was left blank. Finally she was named for both parents, Connie for Conley, Irene after Mother's middle name. During the lengthy gap before she was named, she got tagged with a nickname she grew to hate. A comic strip called "Little LuLu" gave someone the idea to call her LuLu. It wasn't funny to her and for many years she felt humiliated by that name. Connie was sensitive and shy to an extreme. Matters worsened when she and I crossed the alley to play with Kenneth and Michael Brown at Grandma Hill's house. Grandma Hill had a wind-up Victrola, needles and 78s. We chose from her Country-Western classics. Anyone remember "Hang out the front door key", "Wabash Cannonball" and the source of her humiliation which started" You can bring Jane with a walking cane, but don't bring Lulu"? We weren't kind. We played it over and over.
I have one childhood memory without her in it. We were the only playmates for each other… mostly. You see, we lived at the end of Rosewood, the location of which Mother laughingly called Plum and Nearly…Plum down to the end of the road and nearly out of town. On occasion Donna and Alice Anne Shirley came to visit their Grandma Hutchings who lived across the street. You know what happens when more than two play together. We tried, we really did. When we finished damming up the ditch or fishing for crawdads, we kinda got out of sorts. Then Connie and I would go home in a huff and resort to our pets, which had been provided by the kindness of strangers.
Because we lived near the end of Rosewood which intersected a numbered street that was not a through street and so far out, Daddy had hired a bull dozer to push the huge stump from the tree felled by the tornado onto the east side of the 8th street right-of –way at that intersection. Did you get that? Watching the bulldozer move the stump is my only early childhood memory without Connie in it. Anyway, that stump provided shelter for every abandoned pregnant animal in the world! Our Mother could hear the faintest squeak of a newborn animal at a much greater distance than 1/2 a block! The mother animal was coaxed to our house with fresh milk from Sonny's cow. Viola! Connie and I always had pets provided by the kindness of strangers.
About the time I was 7 and Connie 4, Mother began to use cake mixes. A tablespoonful of batter in the sections of a child size muffin tin (show) would cook in about two minutes. She showed us how to mix a tiny bit of milk with powdered sugar and drizzle icing on tiny cakes. Those six iced cakes arranged with fresh china berries or dandelion blooms on our plastic footed cake plate/lazysusan made a beautiful display for the many cats to have a happy birthday party. Let us not overlook how fashionable our doll clothes made the cats look. Poor things. Those cats would never stay in the doll cradles we had inherited from Jollye and Patsy.
With seven kids to feed and care for, each child was expected to work according to their abilities. Chores were pretty much divided into male and female assignments with some overlaps. On a warm enough wash day Connie and I drug a dishpan filled with small freshly washed items to the hog wire fence surrounding the back door garden. Each 6 inch by 6 inch section of fence was draped with a sock, child's underwear, doily, washrag or such until the spaces were filled; if items outnumbered the spaces the rest of small items were spread on the grass until dry when we brought them in, folded them and put them away.
One chore waited until Daddy was home. Digging potatoes was his job…he didn't trust any of us to not jab a potato with the digging fork. Our job was sacking potatoes. Daddy dug them, rubbed the moist soil off and tossed them into loose piles along the row to let them dry overnight. The next day whether he was there to oversee or not, Connie and I put those potatoes into tow sacks followed by an older child who could close the sacks with twine. An even older child would lift the sacks into the wheel barrow and take them to the barn. Everyone had to shell those everlasting black-eyed peas, even Howard. And chickens! Does anyone remember how bad chickens stink even before one is scalded? Connie and I were afraid of them but the eggs had to be gathered. Patsy, our older sister, liked to tease about not dropping our gum in the chicken yard. For pity's sake, if we had gum it would be safe on the bedpost, not in the chicken yard. Do you know what had to happen before you had that wonderful fried chicken dinner? At our house Mother caught the chicken, cut its head off; when it was through flopping around getting used to being headless she gutted it, then, scalded it. Plucking feathers and cleaning gizzards were mine and Connie's to do. Scorching the pin feathers and the rest of preparation was Mother's job. The stink was forgotten when we got the pully bone.
Connie was especially fond of the baby pigs that were part of Sonny's FFA project. One runt, Scrubby, her favorite had pink skin and white hair like her. Daddy helped her pet it. Howard liked to torment us about almost everything and picked a particularly destructive way. At a family meal where fresh pork was served he told Connie the meat was Scrubby. She was overwrought. That memory stayed with her when other things faded.
We shared household chores each Saturday morning: stripping the beds sheets for wash day, dust-mopping the floors, shaking throw rugs and dusting the ten million what-nots Mother had. Her nick-name was Boots and everyone she knew gave her boots for her collection, actually anything from baby shoes to Dutch wooden shoes to Japanese thonged getas included. I do not have what-nots in my house. We ironed too, with this (show iron). Doilies, handkerchiefs, head scarfs and dozens of starched pillow cases like these. You may be wondering how little girls could reach an ironing board. My mother was the make-do queen of Choctaw County. Our ironing board was a 6 foot long by 1 foot wide by 2 inches thick solid plank with a carved dull point at one end all wrapped in pillow ticking and held in place by heavy twine, sewing the edges together on the underside. When not in use it was my daddy's denim jumper coat rack. When needed for wrinkle removal the ironing board was placed in the seat of two dining chairs, 4 feet apart, just the right height for a little girl to stand and iron all the afore mentioned items. When we grew a bit the ironing board was balanced on the bench Connie and I shared at mealtime. Connie took it to the lake house.
Connie was smaller and needed help to finish cleaning her half of the house in time to be paid the 25 cents we earned to go to the movie. 10 cents admission, 10 cents for popcorn, 5 cents a drink…or save 15 cents and hope to get to go to Sunday afternoon movie, too. Getting paid…what an ordeal. Our daddy was not an easily approached man. Once chores were finished I had to report to Daddy and ask for the money. Remember…Connie was shy and sensitive. The yoyo event I hated began. I told him we had finished. He said "Go ask your Mother if you have done everything". I asked Mother. After going down the list she said she guessed so. "She said we're through and to come tell you" I told Daddy. After digging in his pocket and coming out with fingers spread to prove an empty hand Daddy would dig again to find two quarters. That money was tied into the corner of a cotton handkerchief so it didn't get lost. Now, to walk to the movie theater by 12:45 p.m. Mother didn't drive until she was 62 and anyway the Chevrolet would have been parked at the depot or roundhouse if Daddy was on a railroad run. The exception was if Daddy was home Mother would time the grocery and animal feed buying trip to the theater opening.
Once the movie was over Connie began begging me to ask the ticket sales person to use the phone to call Daddy to come get us because she "was so tired". I never relented. I had had my big dose of stress asking him for money. The walk was about 1 mile from the Erie Theater to 709 E. Rosewood and Connie bawled the whole way even while we window shopped at Lambeth's, later Woody Williams. She was especially scared when we passed the Three C Café and grocery store, especially if there was a rummage sale down by the pawn shop. Hugo was segregated and we had no interaction with the black population otherwise. She had to stop at the southwest corner of Main and Third to rest on the concrete wall. She had to stop at Laurel and Third and rest on the curb before we crossed over to Fourth to cross at Bissell and Fourth. She rested at the stone benchworks at the Lions Club wading pool in order to make it down to 709 E. Rosewood. She was a pain but the movie had given us fodder for pretend episodes for another week. The stump in the cow lot was our stage, our foray into show business.
During the next week while we were pretending to be someone we had seen in the movie, Jackie and Ronnie Hutchings would come to our yard uninvited. Boys didn't care about toy plastic goblets with matching dessert plates. One of them would try to turn the base of our lazysusan cake plate hard enough to twist it off while the other tried to break our matching pitcher. Right after these priceless accessories were thrown over the fence into the cow manure pile we told Momma on them and they got sent home. Those boys had bad pennies in their pants because they always came back. Mother and Pat Hutchings had some loud words from time to time.
Our oldest sister, Jollye, had a job at Mrs. Grahams dress shop and she was conscious of our wardrobe. She bought us nice Easter dresses and patent leather shoes, lace trimmed anklets, (socks if you don't know the term) and our first nylon panties. Since Connie was a blue eyed blonde she was dressed in pink and yellow pastels. The freckle faced redhead got green and blue, later brown…BROWN?
Connie's shyness was extreme at age six, the age when you have to leave home and be put in the care of someone else and mix with strangers all day. Her first grade teacher told Mother that she feared that Connie just couldn't function in class because of shyness. That teacher's delicate encouragement helped Connie begin making friendships with people who still care. You know who you are.
The difference in age made no difference as we learned to roller skate using hand- me- down skates. The paved area surrounding the Lion's Club wading pool provided a perfect roller rink near a familiar place where we had learned to "swim." Learning to keep our balance on wheels provided good experience to handle the new bicycles. Our family went to a Frisco Railroad safety meeting where Daddy won a boys bicycle. Howard already had one so Daddy went to Otasco and traded the boys for a girls and bought a second girls. They were blue and alike so he had the Otasco clerk put red reflective tape initials on each back fender. An R for me and an L for her, not a C mind you, an " L". Not good! She tried to scrape it off but it just scarred the paint. She was mad at Daddy over that for as long as I can remember.
We had lots of adventures in the woods just inside the fence along 8th street but the bigger kids didn't want us there. Connie and I really preferred to go to the ditch on the south side of the cemetery where Mr. Johnny Robinson put the funeral wreaths once they had wilted. You may laugh about the ditch but once we learned to climb the wall at the cemetery gates all you could do was walk the top of the wall or sit there. That ditch held a vast multi-color assortment of satin or open weave ribbons from wreaths. Do you know how many yards were in a bow on a wreath in the early 1950's? Satin ribbon was at least four inches wide, the open weave a bit narrower. What was a little rust from wire that held the bow to the wilted wreath to fashion designers? PICTURE : A band of ribbon around the forehead, another around the chest, a band around the waist; strips of ribbon of many colors tucked through the bands all around the body; envision many strips of ribbon flowing from the chest band, over shoulders and draped over arms, dozens of strips flowing all around the waist…at no cost. Raw elegance! Edith Head never had it so good!
Alas, Childhood was fleeting. Grade school was the beginning of greater independence. I wasn't required so much responsibility for Connie, teachers would do that. She finally had other playmates as did I. Junior high and high school changed both our lives. As had the other siblings before me, I left home. She graduated and went to a finishing school which gave her confidence and taught her how to dress. Business school prepared her for job applications in Oklahoma City. My family grew and we spent little time together as her family also grew. Neither of us had money, making visits few. Things changed when I read Steamboat Gothic, a book about southern Louisiana Carol Sue recommended. After a family gathering Mother, Jollye, Gaye, Connie and I decided to take a spring trip to Natchez, Miss. together, the first of several. We had to save and go on the cheap but close sharing cemented relationships that lasted until each of my sisters' health limitations made travel impossible.
Long after her COPD diagnosis Connie let me go with her to a doctor's appointment that included information about changing breathing aides. She needed something stronger. He told her what would help and began writing. She nodded and abruptly asked if he thought Biotin would help stop her hair from thinning. Dr. Carnahan leaned on his desk, and in disbelief said," Let me get this straight…you can't breathe but you are worried about thinning hair?" She told him she had not breathed her last and she didn't want to die bald.
After several ER visits her a doctor prescribed Home Health, capable caring nurses who kept close track of vitals. Sometimes she called and asked us to come. She really wanted a fish dinner from a particular place. This event started when the TV volume was loud and I asked Connie if she really needed it so loud. She laughed and told this story on herself. STORY ABOUT URINE/HEARING. ANY CHANGES IN YOUR URINE? Connie had sharp wit. (TELL HOSPITAL CHICKEN STORY)
PAUSE
Connie, like every mother here, was a flawed mother but never doubt that she loved her children in ways gifted from each child, tucked away, firmly placed in early memory, retrieved for her comfort and secured for each child. PAUSE
Connie was a many facetted woman. Connie felt tenderness for animals. Animal Planet was a favorite T.V. show. She enjoyed delicate household ornaments. Though I never understood, she enjoyed whimsy with a nod to frogs. Birds, most blooming plants, especially her saucer magnolia, a variety named Jane gave her contentment. She appreciated the blessing of December blooming daffodils in her back yard. Darci Brewer's unflinching friendship was often in conversation. Connie was not a great communicator because telephone conversation used too much breath. Texting was useful. I used it to do what Mother had told me to do even as children when she said I was to take care of Connie. Connie was a pain as a child, a trusted friend and challenge in her last years. In these efforts I said she was stubborn; she said she was standing her ground. I said she was secretive; she said she was private. I said she was closed minded; she said she would not be bullied. We were different in many ways and alike in that she wanted to be accepted as she was. Don't we all? Connie was my last sibling. She was my baby sister and I loved her.∼Connie Hale of Ardmore, OK, passed away on December 25, 2020.
An informal memorial service was on May 8, 2021 at 2:00pm
at Church of Christ , 4th and Jackson, Hugo, OK
Connie graduated from Hugo High School, Hugo, OK in 1963
1945 was momentous for America AND 709 East Rosewood. VE Day, May 8, 1945 marked the end of WWII in Europe. VJ Day, August 15, 1945, marked the surrender of Japan. And a spring tornado had blown down a huge oak tree on the east side of our house. How that fits comes later. Connie, the only one of us to be born in a hospital, was born between those momentous dates, on July 25, 1945. Our parents had celebrated 19 years of marriage two days before. On the 25th, the day Connie was born, Mother celebrated her 37th birthday, what a birthday present. Our brother, Richard, Sonny to most, was 12 the day after Connie came into our lives. I doubt he saw another small child to help care for as a gift. He already had the full care of the cow. When I was born Mother had said "with number six I hoped the cradle would fall to sticks", too much of a good thing? Sometimes I wondered how Connie took that when mother chanted her rhyme.
Number 7—a number denoting completeness by numerologists…for sure in our family. The elephant in the room was "what's her name?" There was much and lengthy discussion…for months. Her original birth certificate Mother said had all the needed information except a name. That line was left blank. Finally she was named for both parents, Connie for Conley, Irene after Mother's middle name. During the lengthy gap before she was named, she got tagged with a nickname she grew to hate. A comic strip called "Little LuLu" gave someone the idea to call her LuLu. It wasn't funny to her and for many years she felt humiliated by that name. Connie was sensitive and shy to an extreme. Matters worsened when she and I crossed the alley to play with Kenneth and Michael Brown at Grandma Hill's house. Grandma Hill had a wind-up Victrola, needles and 78s. We chose from her Country-Western classics. Anyone remember "Hang out the front door key", "Wabash Cannonball" and the source of her humiliation which started" You can bring Jane with a walking cane, but don't bring Lulu"? We weren't kind. We played it over and over.
I have one childhood memory without her in it. We were the only playmates for each other… mostly. You see, we lived at the end of Rosewood, the location of which Mother laughingly called Plum and Nearly…Plum down to the end of the road and nearly out of town. On occasion Donna and Alice Anne Shirley came to visit their Grandma Hutchings who lived across the street. You know what happens when more than two play together. We tried, we really did. When we finished damming up the ditch or fishing for crawdads, we kinda got out of sorts. Then Connie and I would go home in a huff and resort to our pets, which had been provided by the kindness of strangers.
Because we lived near the end of Rosewood which intersected a numbered street that was not a through street and so far out, Daddy had hired a bull dozer to push the huge stump from the tree felled by the tornado onto the east side of the 8th street right-of –way at that intersection. Did you get that? Watching the bulldozer move the stump is my only early childhood memory without Connie in it. Anyway, that stump provided shelter for every abandoned pregnant animal in the world! Our Mother could hear the faintest squeak of a newborn animal at a much greater distance than 1/2 a block! The mother animal was coaxed to our house with fresh milk from Sonny's cow. Viola! Connie and I always had pets provided by the kindness of strangers.
About the time I was 7 and Connie 4, Mother began to use cake mixes. A tablespoonful of batter in the sections of a child size muffin tin (show) would cook in about two minutes. She showed us how to mix a tiny bit of milk with powdered sugar and drizzle icing on tiny cakes. Those six iced cakes arranged with fresh china berries or dandelion blooms on our plastic footed cake plate/lazysusan made a beautiful display for the many cats to have a happy birthday party. Let us not overlook how fashionable our doll clothes made the cats look. Poor things. Those cats would never stay in the doll cradles we had inherited from Jollye and Patsy.
With seven kids to feed and care for, each child was expected to work according to their abilities. Chores were pretty much divided into male and female assignments with some overlaps. On a warm enough wash day Connie and I drug a dishpan filled with small freshly washed items to the hog wire fence surrounding the back door garden. Each 6 inch by 6 inch section of fence was draped with a sock, child's underwear, doily, washrag or such until the spaces were filled; if items outnumbered the spaces the rest of small items were spread on the grass until dry when we brought them in, folded them and put them away.
One chore waited until Daddy was home. Digging potatoes was his job…he didn't trust any of us to not jab a potato with the digging fork. Our job was sacking potatoes. Daddy dug them, rubbed the moist soil off and tossed them into loose piles along the row to let them dry overnight. The next day whether he was there to oversee or not, Connie and I put those potatoes into tow sacks followed by an older child who could close the sacks with twine. An even older child would lift the sacks into the wheel barrow and take them to the barn. Everyone had to shell those everlasting black-eyed peas, even Howard. And chickens! Does anyone remember how bad chickens stink even before one is scalded? Connie and I were afraid of them but the eggs had to be gathered. Patsy, our older sister, liked to tease about not dropping our gum in the chicken yard. For pity's sake, if we had gum it would be safe on the bedpost, not in the chicken yard. Do you know what had to happen before you had that wonderful fried chicken dinner? At our house Mother caught the chicken, cut its head off; when it was through flopping around getting used to being headless she gutted it, then, scalded it. Plucking feathers and cleaning gizzards were mine and Connie's to do. Scorching the pin feathers and the rest of preparation was Mother's job. The stink was forgotten when we got the pully bone.
Connie was especially fond of the baby pigs that were part of Sonny's FFA project. One runt, Scrubby, her favorite had pink skin and white hair like her. Daddy helped her pet it. Howard liked to torment us about almost everything and picked a particularly destructive way. At a family meal where fresh pork was served he told Connie the meat was Scrubby. She was overwrought. That memory stayed with her when other things faded.
We shared household chores each Saturday morning: stripping the beds sheets for wash day, dust-mopping the floors, shaking throw rugs and dusting the ten million what-nots Mother had. Her nick-name was Boots and everyone she knew gave her boots for her collection, actually anything from baby shoes to Dutch wooden shoes to Japanese thonged getas included. I do not have what-nots in my house. We ironed too, with this (show iron). Doilies, handkerchiefs, head scarfs and dozens of starched pillow cases like these. You may be wondering how little girls could reach an ironing board. My mother was the make-do queen of Choctaw County. Our ironing board was a 6 foot long by 1 foot wide by 2 inches thick solid plank with a carved dull point at one end all wrapped in pillow ticking and held in place by heavy twine, sewing the edges together on the underside. When not in use it was my daddy's denim jumper coat rack. When needed for wrinkle removal the ironing board was placed in the seat of two dining chairs, 4 feet apart, just the right height for a little girl to stand and iron all the afore mentioned items. When we grew a bit the ironing board was balanced on the bench Connie and I shared at mealtime. Connie took it to the lake house.
Connie was smaller and needed help to finish cleaning her half of the house in time to be paid the 25 cents we earned to go to the movie. 10 cents admission, 10 cents for popcorn, 5 cents a drink…or save 15 cents and hope to get to go to Sunday afternoon movie, too. Getting paid…what an ordeal. Our daddy was not an easily approached man. Once chores were finished I had to report to Daddy and ask for the money. Remember…Connie was shy and sensitive. The yoyo event I hated began. I told him we had finished. He said "Go ask your Mother if you have done everything". I asked Mother. After going down the list she said she guessed so. "She said we're through and to come tell you" I told Daddy. After digging in his pocket and coming out with fingers spread to prove an empty hand Daddy would dig again to find two quarters. That money was tied into the corner of a cotton handkerchief so it didn't get lost. Now, to walk to the movie theater by 12:45 p.m. Mother didn't drive until she was 62 and anyway the Chevrolet would have been parked at the depot or roundhouse if Daddy was on a railroad run. The exception was if Daddy was home Mother would time the grocery and animal feed buying trip to the theater opening.
Once the movie was over Connie began begging me to ask the ticket sales person to use the phone to call Daddy to come get us because she "was so tired". I never relented. I had had my big dose of stress asking him for money. The walk was about 1 mile from the Erie Theater to 709 E. Rosewood and Connie bawled the whole way even while we window shopped at Lambeth's, later Woody Williams. She was especially scared when we passed the Three C Café and grocery store, especially if there was a rummage sale down by the pawn shop. Hugo was segregated and we had no interaction with the black population otherwise. She had to stop at the southwest corner of Main and Third to rest on the concrete wall. She had to stop at Laurel and Third and rest on the curb before we crossed over to Fourth to cross at Bissell and Fourth. She rested at the stone benchworks at the Lions Club wading pool in order to make it down to 709 E. Rosewood. She was a pain but the movie had given us fodder for pretend episodes for another week. The stump in the cow lot was our stage, our foray into show business.
During the next week while we were pretending to be someone we had seen in the movie, Jackie and Ronnie Hutchings would come to our yard uninvited. Boys didn't care about toy plastic goblets with matching dessert plates. One of them would try to turn the base of our lazysusan cake plate hard enough to twist it off while the other tried to break our matching pitcher. Right after these priceless accessories were thrown over the fence into the cow manure pile we told Momma on them and they got sent home. Those boys had bad pennies in their pants because they always came back. Mother and Pat Hutchings had some loud words from time to time.
Our oldest sister, Jollye, had a job at Mrs. Grahams dress shop and she was conscious of our wardrobe. She bought us nice Easter dresses and patent leather shoes, lace trimmed anklets, (socks if you don't know the term) and our first nylon panties. Since Connie was a blue eyed blonde she was dressed in pink and yellow pastels. The freckle faced redhead got green and blue, later brown…BROWN?
Connie's shyness was extreme at age six, the age when you have to leave home and be put in the care of someone else and mix with strangers all day. Her first grade teacher told Mother that she feared that Connie just couldn't function in class because of shyness. That teacher's delicate encouragement helped Connie begin making friendships with people who still care. You know who you are.
The difference in age made no difference as we learned to roller skate using hand- me- down skates. The paved area surrounding the Lion's Club wading pool provided a perfect roller rink near a familiar place where we had learned to "swim." Learning to keep our balance on wheels provided good experience to handle the new bicycles. Our family went to a Frisco Railroad safety meeting where Daddy won a boys bicycle. Howard already had one so Daddy went to Otasco and traded the boys for a girls and bought a second girls. They were blue and alike so he had the Otasco clerk put red reflective tape initials on each back fender. An R for me and an L for her, not a C mind you, an " L". Not good! She tried to scrape it off but it just scarred the paint. She was mad at Daddy over that for as long as I can remember.
We had lots of adventures in the woods just inside the fence along 8th street but the bigger kids didn't want us there. Connie and I really preferred to go to the ditch on the south side of the cemetery where Mr. Johnny Robinson put the funeral wreaths once they had wilted. You may laugh about the ditch but once we learned to climb the wall at the cemetery gates all you could do was walk the top of the wall or sit there. That ditch held a vast multi-color assortment of satin or open weave ribbons from wreaths. Do you know how many yards were in a bow on a wreath in the early 1950's? Satin ribbon was at least four inches wide, the open weave a bit narrower. What was a little rust from wire that held the bow to the wilted wreath to fashion designers? PICTURE : A band of ribbon around the forehead, another around the chest, a band around the waist; strips of ribbon of many colors tucked through the bands all around the body; envision many strips of ribbon flowing from the chest band, over shoulders and draped over arms, dozens of strips flowing all around the waist…at no cost. Raw elegance! Edith Head never had it so good!
Alas, Childhood was fleeting. Grade school was the beginning of greater independence. I wasn't required so much responsibility for Connie, teachers would do that. She finally had other playmates as did I. Junior high and high school changed both our lives. As had the other siblings before me, I left home. She graduated and went to a finishing school which gave her confidence and taught her how to dress. Business school prepared her for job applications in Oklahoma City. My family grew and we spent little time together as her family also grew. Neither of us had money, making visits few. Things changed when I read Steamboat Gothic, a book about southern Louisiana Carol Sue recommended. After a family gathering Mother, Jollye, Gaye, Connie and I decided to take a spring trip to Natchez, Miss. together, the first of several. We had to save and go on the cheap but close sharing cemented relationships that lasted until each of my sisters' health limitations made travel impossible.
Long after her COPD diagnosis Connie let me go with her to a doctor's appointment that included information about changing breathing aides. She needed something stronger. He told her what would help and began writing. She nodded and abruptly asked if he thought Biotin would help stop her hair from thinning. Dr. Carnahan leaned on his desk, and in disbelief said," Let me get this straight…you can't breathe but you are worried about thinning hair?" She told him she had not breathed her last and she didn't want to die bald.
After several ER visits her a doctor prescribed Home Health, capable caring nurses who kept close track of vitals. Sometimes she called and asked us to come. She really wanted a fish dinner from a particular place. This event started when the TV volume was loud and I asked Connie if she really needed it so loud. She laughed and told this story on herself. STORY ABOUT URINE/HEARING. ANY CHANGES IN YOUR URINE? Connie had sharp wit. (TELL HOSPITAL CHICKEN STORY)
PAUSE
Connie, like every mother here, was a flawed mother but never doubt that she loved her children in ways gifted from each child, tucked away, firmly placed in early memory, retrieved for her comfort and secured for each child. PAUSE
Connie was a many facetted woman. Connie felt tenderness for animals. Animal Planet was a favorite T.V. show. She enjoyed delicate household ornaments. Though I never understood, she enjoyed whimsy with a nod to frogs. Birds, most blooming plants, especially her saucer magnolia, a variety named Jane gave her contentment. She appreciated the blessing of December blooming daffodils in her back yard. Darci Brewer's unflinching friendship was often in conversation. Connie was not a great communicator because telephone conversation used too much breath. Texting was useful. I used it to do what Mother had told me to do even as children when she said I was to take care of Connie. Connie was a pain as a child, a trusted friend and challenge in her last years. In these efforts I said she was stubborn; she said she was standing her ground. I said she was secretive; she said she was private. I said she was closed minded; she said she would not be bullied. We were different in many ways and alike in that she wanted to be accepted as she was. Don't we all? Connie was my last sibling. She was my baby sister and I loved her.∼Connie Hale of Ardmore, OK, passed away on December 25, 2020.
An informal memorial service was on May 8, 2021 at 2:00pm
at Church of Christ , 4th and Jackson, Hugo, OK
Connie graduated from Hugo High School, Hugo, OK in 1963
Inscription
Connie loved all creatures great and small.
Family Members
Sponsored by Ancestry
Advertisement
Explore more
Sponsored by Ancestry
Advertisement
