Excerpted from Dear Christy, by Christine Cooper Moon (p.96)
One summer when I was about twelve years old, we were spending some weeks at Mama Grans house and decided to walk across the pasture to a neighbor s pond. The old people who owned the pond were really only cousins to Mama Gran, but I always called them "Aunt Hallie" and "Uncle Bruce."
Aunt Hallie came down to the pond to visit with us while we fished, saying, "Jest thought Yd saunter down to watch a spell. With that she sat down on the bank, pulled a little clay pipe from the pocket of her full-gathered skirt and, after filling it with tobacco from a small cotton sack, began puffing contentedly. Well, that was the first time in all my twelve years of life I'd seen a woman smoke and a pipe at that! I've since learned that many of the older women smoked, especially in the pioneer days, but smoking wasn't common in central Missouri in the early 1900s until women began smoking cigarettes a few years later, following World War I, Later, after we had had good luck pulling out little catfish and perch, ranging in sizes from six to twelve inches long, we decided to quit fishing. Taking our poles with their cord lines, corks and sinkers, we rolled the lines along the length of the poles, stuck the sharp fishhooks into the old corks, and leaned the poles up against the fence. Then we emptied the remainder of the fat fishing worms from the old tin can out into the pond.
Aunt Hallie said, "I jest took a fresh baking of bread out of the oven before I sauntered down, so iffen you'll come up to the house I'll give you a fresh loaf to take home with you to eat with your fish for supper."
When we got to the house Aunt Hallie cut a thick slice of still
p. 97
warm bread from the big loaf; then, placing a covered glass butterdish of homemade butter along with a black bone-handled knife near me, she said, "Now, eat your fill."
In the meantime, Mama Gran had decided to buy a pound of freshly-churned country butter from Aunt Hallie. The butter was twenty cents for a big pound-mold of butter. This mold was round and had the imprint of a flower on the top, with leaves and fancy designs around the edges. The butter was made from rich sweet cream, beyond description in its goodness. Mama Gran handed Aunt Hallie a fifty-cent piece, so Aunt Hallie went over to the old flour chest, raised the lid, rolled up her sleeve and shoved her arm, shoulder-deep, into the flour, bringing up a little drawstring money pouch from which she produced the correct change. This was something novel in the way of a hiding place for money, to say the least.
Aunt Hallie and Uncle Bruce were the quaintest and dearest little old couple imaginable. They were a childless couple who loved all children. She dressed in an old-fashioned style, even for those days of the early 1900 s. Her dresses were of the old Mother Hubbard style, hanging full and straight from the yokes of the long-sleeved waists. Over this Mother Hubbard, Aunt Hallie wore a checked gingham apron tied around her waist, the apron strings ending in a big bow at the back. On her head she usually wore an old split bonnet. Her gloves were half-handers (gloves with open finger ends), made of a black mesh-like material which was hand-knit. She carried with her a fancy little woven basket with a double handle which she could slip over her arm. She held this on her lap whenever she rode to town in the buggy.
In the basket would be a few pounds of fresh-churned, molded butter "pats" to exchange at the grocery store in turn for the few things they needed, such as salt, sugar and coffee. The farm yielded almost everything else, in one form or another. The corn for corn meal, the wheat for flour, were taken to the mill to be ground and made into these products. Even the coffee was sometimes bought as beans, while still green, then roasted and ground. Aunt Hallie was one of those housewives who clung to the old ways though they were no longer necessary. Because they had been customary when she was young, she still continued these practices. Salt was more often bought by the big barrelful on these farms.
Aunt Hallie and Uncle Bruce had developed one modern taste they both liked pineapple; and on the trips I remember, large cans of pineapple were always included on their list of things to get from the store with their butter money and the money from the case of eggs they also carried to town.
Uncle Bruce was just as picturesque as Aunt Hallie. He had white chin whiskers that grew on up the sides of his face; and about all of his face that could be seen were his big kind eyes, his nose, and his lips that were full and rosy-red above the whiskers. He wore homemade blue gingham shirts, and galluses (suspenders) to hold up the old, nondescript black wool trousers that had probably not been pressed for years. These were his "going-to-town pants." For everyday wear he wore black cotton trousers of a washable material, which Aunt Hallie kept "done up." On his head in summer he wore a wide-brimmed, cheap straw hat; and in winter he wore an old black plush cap, turned brownish from age.
Every Saturday it was their custom to go over to town three miles away, driving in their old buggy pulled by one old horse that plodded along the road with its head hanging dejectedly low. Neither they nor the horse ever seemed to get in a hurry, and every Saturday, rain, or shine, they stopped by Mama Grans house to see if she would like anything from town. Whether Mama Gran had sent for anything or not, they always drove up near the back door when they returned to visit awhile. They just sat with folded arms in their buggy while they talked. On days when I would be visiting at Mama Grans, there would also be a little paper sack of horehound candy they had gotten in town for me.
Excerpt contributed by Nancy (47219916)
One summer when I was about twelve years old, we were spending some weeks at Mama Grans house and decided to walk across the pasture to a neighbor s pond. The old people who owned the pond were really only cousins to Mama Gran, but I always called them "Aunt Hallie" and "Uncle Bruce."
Aunt Hallie came down to the pond to visit with us while we fished, saying, "Jest thought Yd saunter down to watch a spell. With that she sat down on the bank, pulled a little clay pipe from the pocket of her full-gathered skirt and, after filling it with tobacco from a small cotton sack, began puffing contentedly. Well, that was the first time in all my twelve years of life I'd seen a woman smoke and a pipe at that! I've since learned that many of the older women smoked, especially in the pioneer days, but smoking wasn't common in central Missouri in the early 1900s until women began smoking cigarettes a few years later, following World War I, Later, after we had had good luck pulling out little catfish and perch, ranging in sizes from six to twelve inches long, we decided to quit fishing. Taking our poles with their cord lines, corks and sinkers, we rolled the lines along the length of the poles, stuck the sharp fishhooks into the old corks, and leaned the poles up against the fence. Then we emptied the remainder of the fat fishing worms from the old tin can out into the pond.
Aunt Hallie said, "I jest took a fresh baking of bread out of the oven before I sauntered down, so iffen you'll come up to the house I'll give you a fresh loaf to take home with you to eat with your fish for supper."
When we got to the house Aunt Hallie cut a thick slice of still
p. 97
warm bread from the big loaf; then, placing a covered glass butterdish of homemade butter along with a black bone-handled knife near me, she said, "Now, eat your fill."
In the meantime, Mama Gran had decided to buy a pound of freshly-churned country butter from Aunt Hallie. The butter was twenty cents for a big pound-mold of butter. This mold was round and had the imprint of a flower on the top, with leaves and fancy designs around the edges. The butter was made from rich sweet cream, beyond description in its goodness. Mama Gran handed Aunt Hallie a fifty-cent piece, so Aunt Hallie went over to the old flour chest, raised the lid, rolled up her sleeve and shoved her arm, shoulder-deep, into the flour, bringing up a little drawstring money pouch from which she produced the correct change. This was something novel in the way of a hiding place for money, to say the least.
Aunt Hallie and Uncle Bruce were the quaintest and dearest little old couple imaginable. They were a childless couple who loved all children. She dressed in an old-fashioned style, even for those days of the early 1900 s. Her dresses were of the old Mother Hubbard style, hanging full and straight from the yokes of the long-sleeved waists. Over this Mother Hubbard, Aunt Hallie wore a checked gingham apron tied around her waist, the apron strings ending in a big bow at the back. On her head she usually wore an old split bonnet. Her gloves were half-handers (gloves with open finger ends), made of a black mesh-like material which was hand-knit. She carried with her a fancy little woven basket with a double handle which she could slip over her arm. She held this on her lap whenever she rode to town in the buggy.
In the basket would be a few pounds of fresh-churned, molded butter "pats" to exchange at the grocery store in turn for the few things they needed, such as salt, sugar and coffee. The farm yielded almost everything else, in one form or another. The corn for corn meal, the wheat for flour, were taken to the mill to be ground and made into these products. Even the coffee was sometimes bought as beans, while still green, then roasted and ground. Aunt Hallie was one of those housewives who clung to the old ways though they were no longer necessary. Because they had been customary when she was young, she still continued these practices. Salt was more often bought by the big barrelful on these farms.
Aunt Hallie and Uncle Bruce had developed one modern taste they both liked pineapple; and on the trips I remember, large cans of pineapple were always included on their list of things to get from the store with their butter money and the money from the case of eggs they also carried to town.
Uncle Bruce was just as picturesque as Aunt Hallie. He had white chin whiskers that grew on up the sides of his face; and about all of his face that could be seen were his big kind eyes, his nose, and his lips that were full and rosy-red above the whiskers. He wore homemade blue gingham shirts, and galluses (suspenders) to hold up the old, nondescript black wool trousers that had probably not been pressed for years. These were his "going-to-town pants." For everyday wear he wore black cotton trousers of a washable material, which Aunt Hallie kept "done up." On his head in summer he wore a wide-brimmed, cheap straw hat; and in winter he wore an old black plush cap, turned brownish from age.
Every Saturday it was their custom to go over to town three miles away, driving in their old buggy pulled by one old horse that plodded along the road with its head hanging dejectedly low. Neither they nor the horse ever seemed to get in a hurry, and every Saturday, rain, or shine, they stopped by Mama Grans house to see if she would like anything from town. Whether Mama Gran had sent for anything or not, they always drove up near the back door when they returned to visit awhile. They just sat with folded arms in their buggy while they talked. On days when I would be visiting at Mama Grans, there would also be a little paper sack of horehound candy they had gotten in town for me.
Excerpt contributed by Nancy (47219916)
Excerpted from Dear Christy, by Christine Cooper Moon (p.96)
One summer when I was about twelve years old, we were spending some weeks at Mama Grans house and decided to walk across the pasture to a neighbor s pond. The old people who owned the pond were really only cousins to Mama Gran, but I always called them "Aunt Hallie" and "Uncle Bruce."
Aunt Hallie came down to the pond to visit with us while we fished, saying, "Jest thought Yd saunter down to watch a spell. With that she sat down on the bank, pulled a little clay pipe from the pocket of her full-gathered skirt and, after filling it with tobacco from a small cotton sack, began puffing contentedly. Well, that was the first time in all my twelve years of life I'd seen a woman smoke and a pipe at that! I've since learned that many of the older women smoked, especially in the pioneer days, but smoking wasn't common in central Missouri in the early 1900s until women began smoking cigarettes a few years later, following World War I, Later, after we had had good luck pulling out little catfish and perch, ranging in sizes from six to twelve inches long, we decided to quit fishing. Taking our poles with their cord lines, corks and sinkers, we rolled the lines along the length of the poles, stuck the sharp fishhooks into the old corks, and leaned the poles up against the fence. Then we emptied the remainder of the fat fishing worms from the old tin can out into the pond.
Aunt Hallie said, "I jest took a fresh baking of bread out of the oven before I sauntered down, so iffen you'll come up to the house I'll give you a fresh loaf to take home with you to eat with your fish for supper."
When we got to the house Aunt Hallie cut a thick slice of still
p. 97
warm bread from the big loaf; then, placing a covered glass butterdish of homemade butter along with a black bone-handled knife near me, she said, "Now, eat your fill."
In the meantime, Mama Gran had decided to buy a pound of freshly-churned country butter from Aunt Hallie. The butter was twenty cents for a big pound-mold of butter. This mold was round and had the imprint of a flower on the top, with leaves and fancy designs around the edges. The butter was made from rich sweet cream, beyond description in its goodness. Mama Gran handed Aunt Hallie a fifty-cent piece, so Aunt Hallie went over to the old flour chest, raised the lid, rolled up her sleeve and shoved her arm, shoulder-deep, into the flour, bringing up a little drawstring money pouch from which she produced the correct change. This was something novel in the way of a hiding place for money, to say the least.
Aunt Hallie and Uncle Bruce were the quaintest and dearest little old couple imaginable. They were a childless couple who loved all children. She dressed in an old-fashioned style, even for those days of the early 1900 s. Her dresses were of the old Mother Hubbard style, hanging full and straight from the yokes of the long-sleeved waists. Over this Mother Hubbard, Aunt Hallie wore a checked gingham apron tied around her waist, the apron strings ending in a big bow at the back. On her head she usually wore an old split bonnet. Her gloves were half-handers (gloves with open finger ends), made of a black mesh-like material which was hand-knit. She carried with her a fancy little woven basket with a double handle which she could slip over her arm. She held this on her lap whenever she rode to town in the buggy.
In the basket would be a few pounds of fresh-churned, molded butter "pats" to exchange at the grocery store in turn for the few things they needed, such as salt, sugar and coffee. The farm yielded almost everything else, in one form or another. The corn for corn meal, the wheat for flour, were taken to the mill to be ground and made into these products. Even the coffee was sometimes bought as beans, while still green, then roasted and ground. Aunt Hallie was one of those housewives who clung to the old ways though they were no longer necessary. Because they had been customary when she was young, she still continued these practices. Salt was more often bought by the big barrelful on these farms.
Aunt Hallie and Uncle Bruce had developed one modern taste they both liked pineapple; and on the trips I remember, large cans of pineapple were always included on their list of things to get from the store with their butter money and the money from the case of eggs they also carried to town.
Uncle Bruce was just as picturesque as Aunt Hallie. He had white chin whiskers that grew on up the sides of his face; and about all of his face that could be seen were his big kind eyes, his nose, and his lips that were full and rosy-red above the whiskers. He wore homemade blue gingham shirts, and galluses (suspenders) to hold up the old, nondescript black wool trousers that had probably not been pressed for years. These were his "going-to-town pants." For everyday wear he wore black cotton trousers of a washable material, which Aunt Hallie kept "done up." On his head in summer he wore a wide-brimmed, cheap straw hat; and in winter he wore an old black plush cap, turned brownish from age.
Every Saturday it was their custom to go over to town three miles away, driving in their old buggy pulled by one old horse that plodded along the road with its head hanging dejectedly low. Neither they nor the horse ever seemed to get in a hurry, and every Saturday, rain, or shine, they stopped by Mama Grans house to see if she would like anything from town. Whether Mama Gran had sent for anything or not, they always drove up near the back door when they returned to visit awhile. They just sat with folded arms in their buggy while they talked. On days when I would be visiting at Mama Grans, there would also be a little paper sack of horehound candy they had gotten in town for me.
Excerpt contributed by Nancy (47219916)
One summer when I was about twelve years old, we were spending some weeks at Mama Grans house and decided to walk across the pasture to a neighbor s pond. The old people who owned the pond were really only cousins to Mama Gran, but I always called them "Aunt Hallie" and "Uncle Bruce."
Aunt Hallie came down to the pond to visit with us while we fished, saying, "Jest thought Yd saunter down to watch a spell. With that she sat down on the bank, pulled a little clay pipe from the pocket of her full-gathered skirt and, after filling it with tobacco from a small cotton sack, began puffing contentedly. Well, that was the first time in all my twelve years of life I'd seen a woman smoke and a pipe at that! I've since learned that many of the older women smoked, especially in the pioneer days, but smoking wasn't common in central Missouri in the early 1900s until women began smoking cigarettes a few years later, following World War I, Later, after we had had good luck pulling out little catfish and perch, ranging in sizes from six to twelve inches long, we decided to quit fishing. Taking our poles with their cord lines, corks and sinkers, we rolled the lines along the length of the poles, stuck the sharp fishhooks into the old corks, and leaned the poles up against the fence. Then we emptied the remainder of the fat fishing worms from the old tin can out into the pond.
Aunt Hallie said, "I jest took a fresh baking of bread out of the oven before I sauntered down, so iffen you'll come up to the house I'll give you a fresh loaf to take home with you to eat with your fish for supper."
When we got to the house Aunt Hallie cut a thick slice of still
p. 97
warm bread from the big loaf; then, placing a covered glass butterdish of homemade butter along with a black bone-handled knife near me, she said, "Now, eat your fill."
In the meantime, Mama Gran had decided to buy a pound of freshly-churned country butter from Aunt Hallie. The butter was twenty cents for a big pound-mold of butter. This mold was round and had the imprint of a flower on the top, with leaves and fancy designs around the edges. The butter was made from rich sweet cream, beyond description in its goodness. Mama Gran handed Aunt Hallie a fifty-cent piece, so Aunt Hallie went over to the old flour chest, raised the lid, rolled up her sleeve and shoved her arm, shoulder-deep, into the flour, bringing up a little drawstring money pouch from which she produced the correct change. This was something novel in the way of a hiding place for money, to say the least.
Aunt Hallie and Uncle Bruce were the quaintest and dearest little old couple imaginable. They were a childless couple who loved all children. She dressed in an old-fashioned style, even for those days of the early 1900 s. Her dresses were of the old Mother Hubbard style, hanging full and straight from the yokes of the long-sleeved waists. Over this Mother Hubbard, Aunt Hallie wore a checked gingham apron tied around her waist, the apron strings ending in a big bow at the back. On her head she usually wore an old split bonnet. Her gloves were half-handers (gloves with open finger ends), made of a black mesh-like material which was hand-knit. She carried with her a fancy little woven basket with a double handle which she could slip over her arm. She held this on her lap whenever she rode to town in the buggy.
In the basket would be a few pounds of fresh-churned, molded butter "pats" to exchange at the grocery store in turn for the few things they needed, such as salt, sugar and coffee. The farm yielded almost everything else, in one form or another. The corn for corn meal, the wheat for flour, were taken to the mill to be ground and made into these products. Even the coffee was sometimes bought as beans, while still green, then roasted and ground. Aunt Hallie was one of those housewives who clung to the old ways though they were no longer necessary. Because they had been customary when she was young, she still continued these practices. Salt was more often bought by the big barrelful on these farms.
Aunt Hallie and Uncle Bruce had developed one modern taste they both liked pineapple; and on the trips I remember, large cans of pineapple were always included on their list of things to get from the store with their butter money and the money from the case of eggs they also carried to town.
Uncle Bruce was just as picturesque as Aunt Hallie. He had white chin whiskers that grew on up the sides of his face; and about all of his face that could be seen were his big kind eyes, his nose, and his lips that were full and rosy-red above the whiskers. He wore homemade blue gingham shirts, and galluses (suspenders) to hold up the old, nondescript black wool trousers that had probably not been pressed for years. These were his "going-to-town pants." For everyday wear he wore black cotton trousers of a washable material, which Aunt Hallie kept "done up." On his head in summer he wore a wide-brimmed, cheap straw hat; and in winter he wore an old black plush cap, turned brownish from age.
Every Saturday it was their custom to go over to town three miles away, driving in their old buggy pulled by one old horse that plodded along the road with its head hanging dejectedly low. Neither they nor the horse ever seemed to get in a hurry, and every Saturday, rain, or shine, they stopped by Mama Grans house to see if she would like anything from town. Whether Mama Gran had sent for anything or not, they always drove up near the back door when they returned to visit awhile. They just sat with folded arms in their buggy while they talked. On days when I would be visiting at Mama Grans, there would also be a little paper sack of horehound candy they had gotten in town for me.
Excerpt contributed by Nancy (47219916)
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