CHILDHOOD MEMORIES of Annetta "Netta" Sophia Parsons Geil 1902 - 1977 Written by: Annetta "Netta" Sophia Parsons Geil 1902 - 1977 Submitted by: Rita K. Cobb Balch, March 22, 2002 I was only three and one-half years old and George one year (when we moved abt 1904), so it is no wonder our childhood memories are entirely of the old farm. It consisted of one hundred-sixty acres of hilly land in the beautiful state of Washington. The house was built in a valley by the creek bed and a small foot bridge spanned the creek from the house to the mill. Inside the mill were deep bins for the grains--feed for the stock in the winter and much for our own consumption. Even yet I can smell the mingled odors of the grains which were stored there. The house was built on the side hill with a dirt cellar underneath where we stored root vegetables and fruits and the aroma which greeted us as we entered this underground cavern was pndescribable. A hardy mixture of Northern Spies, Bell floweres, Wolf-River Reds, Pippins, and many others in the apple field and several types of winter pears. Then there were heaps of golden pumpkins, several types of winter squash and partly covered root vegetables such as carrots, turnips, parsnips and rutabagas, also bins of potatoes. When we children went to the cellar for apples for snacks Mother always wanted her favorite, a Northern Spy, which was a medium sized juicy crisp apple and delicious but one that is very hard to find in this modern era as are many of the other old favorites. On one side of the house was an old-fashioned garden with every imaginable flower and in the spring when the snow had gone this became a veritable fairy-land with narcissus, daffodils, baby breath and honeysuckle mingling with such beauties as moss roses with their heavenly odor to beautiful climbers----reds, pinks and whites and at one side a huge bush of baby yellow roses which in my mind has never been equalled for beauty and delicate scent but was a beast for going hog-wild in growth and stickers. A path lead through the flower garden to the apiary. My father kept many hives of bees and their house was always a hum of activity from which we kids kept our distance. But all of this so-called activity kept us well provided with delicious honey for our year round enjoyment. On the lower slope were many berry bushes, a strawberry patch and two huge Mulberry trees which made excellent shade trees and sweet juicy fruits. The berries were quite small and when ripe we would spread sheets under the trees and then shake the trees real hard and what came down was utterly delicious. Mother canned, pickled and preserved until our fruit closet was bulging with delightful goodies for the winter. Shortly after moving to the farm the stork was about to pay us another visit. Excitement! Excitement! It had been about two years since George had made his debut and there were eight by now two years apart so it was fitting that another brother or sister should arrive about now. Then came the day when an old neighbor lady arrived to spend a few days and we were all sent out to play and instructed to "stay out until called" and suddenly we heard the sound of a baby crying. Our play suddenly came to a standstill and then we were wildly excited to find if we had a new brother or sister. When we were allowed to tiptoe in to see with our own eyes Mother told us we had a new brother making us five boys and four girls and Tom the baby was the last to make his entrance into our family circle. Our family now was Harry, the eldest, James, May, Jess, Mary, Viola, Netta (that's me) then George and the new baby Tom who had come to be adored by us all and, I'm afraid, badly spoiled. About this time Zeke came into the picture and started courting May. Zeke played the flute and I adored him and was often caught hiding behind a chair or under the table listening to the beautiful music he played. I even went so far as to name my pet chicken Zeke but I haven't the vaguest idea what ever happened to Zeke. They both disappeared about the same time. We had a beautiful team of white horses, Dick and Molly, and we kids loved them dearly. Molly was so gentle we used to crawl under her belly while she was browsing in the field and she wouldn't move for fear of hurting us. One day we heard Molly moaning most pitifully as near as she could get to the house. Father found she had ruptured herself---probably jumping over a log. She had a big tear in her belly and of course there was no hope for her. We all cried and Father couldn't shoot her so Dick was saddled and one of the boys went to bring a neighbor to put her out of her misery. We buried her there in the corner of the pasture and we kids always kept fresh flowers on her grave. One of our regular visitors was the Watkins man and we stocked up on salve, horse liniment and everything from bag balm to tooth brushes. We always looked forward to his call. Another regular was an old Jewish peddler who travelled on foot. He came by steamboat from Portland to Stella and brought four or five huge canvas packs of goods. He would carry one so far and put it beside the road, return and bring pack #2 and carry it beyond #1, return for pack #3 and so on. We lived a good mile and one-half from the County road but we could always expect a visit from this wonderful old man once a year and he looked like Santa Clause when he arrived. He would sit in the middle of our living room and we kids would be all goggle eyed at the beautiful things which came out of those packs. And even though we might end up with nothing more than long underwear and black stockings (they were "the thing" in those days) we had the joy of looking at all of the gorgeous underwear and blouses etc. Mother and May might purchase a pretty scarf or a beautifully embroidered blouse. He never urged more and was as gracious as if we had purchased half his stock. He always carried his own food and sometimes he would share his bread with us kids and tell us stories of Portland and all that went on in the big city. We enjoyed his bread but it didn't come anywhere near Mother's home baked bread fresh from the oven, dripping with home churned butter. No wonder we were a chubby lot---except George. He was always the skinny one. Stella was our trading post and Father or one of the older boys, James or Harry delivered the mail for the countryside. But to get to Stella we had to go down Stella Hill and it was so steep it was really fearsome to go up or down. The general store was called Struckmeier and Oxen. We made a day of it when we went to Stella as it was quite a day's trip with horse and buggy. We dressed in our prettiest clothes, girls in sun bonnets and boys in straw hats and, of ocourse, we stopped at neighbors along the way to see if they needed anything so we always stopped both directions to pick up and deliver. But oh! What a day! When we came to the top of the hill Mother made us all pile out and walk down and Father put the brake on and drove slowly and carefully. I used to have nightmares about the horses running down that hill and into the Columbia River which was right at the bottom. Stella was right on the bank of this big river and as I recall it consisted of the store, a blacksmith shop, about three saloons and the grange hall. The store smelled of everything from leather (saddles and such)to the mingled odors of groceries. We were in gloryland for sure as we followed Mother and Father as they did their shopping but the beautiful jars of stick candy held our attention the longest. Mother would get calico prints for school dresses--bright ribbons for hairbows and high button shoes which allways squeeked 'til the newness wore off which seemed to happen about the time we were ready for a new pair. On the return trip we walked up the hill so the poor horses wouldn't have such a load to carry and because the road was so narrow we could always imagine horses and wagons going over the brink. Snow came early in our hill country and sent us kids into spasms of joy. It was so beautiful and clean. Soon all the home made sleds and toboggins were out and in use. We had hills all around us and so could be dare devils or panty waist--I guess I was a panty waist as I always preferred the gentle slopes. When the cold got us finally we would shake and brush the snow off and then troop into the kitchen and huddle around the big old kitchen range. If we were lucky there would be some hot bread fresh out of the oven heaped with fresh butter to tear into--what unutterable bliss! The school house was about a mile from our house and, of course, the kids all walked (no school busses in those days). It was a one room school with a big round stove in the back which we hovered around to eat our lunch which we carried in a five pound lard pail. When I was in the first grade there were only two of us, a girl named Hazel and me. The teacher gave us easy jobs to do between hearing us recite and we had lots of play periods the older ones didn't have. We loved our teacher very much. Her name was Miss Helen Jefferson, I remember her well. The next year a new building was built with two rooms and we had two teachers. It was nearer our home and that is where George and Tom had their first years in school. Dr. Rue was our family doctor and he made calls on horseback or in a little one-horse cart. He was a widower as his wife and baby had died in childbirth. We thought he was wonderful and we were very lucky to have such a handsome young doctor care for us. He had a little pointed goatee. One morning I didn't feel very well and I was all yellow, even my eyes. Mother was making a new red dress and she said we would go see Dr. Rue. But the double joy of getting a new dress and seeing our Dr. Rue proved my undoing for I began to dance and sing and so Mother said, "Well, if you feel that good we won't have to go, I'll just call him up". So call him she did and he said it was yellow jaundice and to keep me in until it cleared up. Mother worked with Dr. Rue many times as a practical nurse and helped him bring many babies into the world. She also did the job all by herself on many occasions. She was never too busy with her own huge brood to help neighbors in time of trouble. Years later when both Dr. Rue and our family had moved into Kelso he still called Mother for help and said he'd rather work with her than any nurse he'd ever worked with. Father, too, always helped out if there was butchering, haying or well digging. Neighbors were neighbors in those days. Father had two brothers who lived close to us. Uncle Harry was an old bachelor all his life and lived alone with his dog "Cap". They were good friends and I'm sure Cap was great company for him. We would go to see him now and then and Mother would clean his house and bake up some goodies for him. She also did a bit of canning for him when fruit was ripe which he greatly appreciated. Uncle Bill was married to Aunt Abbie who was a first cousin of my Mother. They had five boys and one girl, Emily. Emily (age of James) was always "a real lady" from my earliest recollections. She carried herself with a regal air--all she needed was a crown. The brothers were Ben, John, Charlie, Alfred and Sam--the youngest. One day we kids were playing in the front yard when we heard the gate open and close and looked up to see a Chinese man, queue and slanted eyes and all. He was smiling at us but we couldn't have been more frightened if it had been an Indian waving a tomahawk at us. You see we had never seen a Chinese before so Viola grabbed Tom in her arms and away we went as fast as we could run for the house. Mother was away from home and May was in charge as we came tearing into the house. She shushed us as he rapped at the door and we all ran and hid. She bravely opened the door and his first words were "Me no hurtee children, me no hurtee children". He felt so badly that he'd frightened us. He asked if we had any "chikees--peep-peep" or "pigees--oink-oink" to sell. My sister told him we didn't have either at the time to sell so he went on his way. And so life returned to normal once more. In our upper field were two baby graves with white picket fences around them. We always grieved for those babies and when ever we could we children kept flowers on them. Halfway up this field was a spring of ice cold water and we kids would carry water to the menfolk when haying season was on. A flume was built from this down to our creek and Father built a little cover over it and it became our ice house or cooler. It was so nice to keep crocks of butter and things meant to stay cool--like watermelon, whenever we were lucky enough to get one. Then Father built a dam in the creek and when he wanted to use the mill he would open the dam and the water would turn the old mill wheel. We kids would get in the wheel and walk round and round as it turned. We usually ended up a bit damp but it was loads of fun. The creek was full of crawfish and they were easily caught by tying a piece of meat to a string and dropping it in the water. Or sometimes we found them by turning over rocks to find them in their hideouts. They were very tasty cooked in a spiced brew my Mother fixed. Then there were nice speckled trout that lay in wait in the deeper pools and were easily caught even with a bent pin and a wiggly worm. We built rafts and made like Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer but we had our jobs too like keeping the weeds from taking over the garden. They always seemed to grow faster than the vegetables for some reason. We had cousins Helen, Erma and *Pete Hooper who lived with us much of their young lives and were very much a part of our household. Mary (youngest of Aunt Alta & Uncle Jim Hooper) and Helen palled together and Viola and Erma were inseparable. That left Pete to me, we were the same age, and that was really something as he was a real dare devil and I was always just the opposite. He could always get me into the darndest scrapes when he would show up as the hero. Like the time the raft we were on almost got away from us where a tree had fallen across the creek. We would pole up to the tree--drop the poles climb over and back on the raft. This particular time I had dropped my pole--grabbed the tree to climb over and that old raft kept moving and before I got back on it was almost gone. Pete was hollering "let go--let go"-- I hollered back "I can't--I can't" all the time stretching out further and further until the inevitable, into the water I went. The water was deep. I couldn't swim and I was sputtering and splashing. Pete finally hauled me aboard and I went home soaking wet from the skin out and Pete came out as the big hero who had saved my life. (Pete later became world champ log-roller in national "roleos") Our family, with cousins and friends who made our home their home for a week at a time, was getting so large father built a new house across the creek from the old house. It was much larger than the other one and when we had a telephone installed and new Aladin lamps we felt quite modern. Our farm was just about the center of the community, and over our carriage house we had a dance hall which was also used for roller skating. Every Saturday night the neighbors all came from round-a-bout to two-step, waltz, and schottische. We younger kids sat in the corner by the stove and watched the dancers swing and sway on the dance floor. Sometimes we'd try a little dancing on our own down in our end of the hall and then too weary to keep our eyes open any longer we'd stretch out on the benches and go to sleep. We'd always end up in our own beds next morning. Many nights some of the girls stayed over and we'd find them sleeping all over the house. The boys would take quilts and go to the hayloft. Next day would be picknicing with potato salad, fried chicken, hot bread and butter, cake, pie etc. and then croquet on a field behind the dance hall and roller skating in the dance hall. We kids loved to watch them--they were so beautiful. Cousin Alfred would swoop one of us up in his arms and skate with us. We loved him very much and our sorrow was very great when he died very young. Guess who worked, slaved, cooked for all the family, cousins and visitors and who was right in the middle of everything. My darling Mother of course, and she was never happier than when she was doing for others. I do not know how she could possibly do all that she did and I guess we just took it all for granted. Of course she had help but the greater burden by far rested on her shoulders. Not only did she doctor humans when they called her but all the animals and fowls we had running around. I remember one time an old duck hid out her nest and was setting on her eggs and a mink got her by the head and literally scalped her. Mother put some Watkins salve on a scrap of silk and slapped it over her head and took several stitches around it to hold it on and that old duck wore her cap around until she died a natural death several years later. The Berg's moved into our community about the time we moved into our new house. He was an expert mechanical engineer and was to work at the shop about one-half mile from us but there was no house available for them there so Father rented them our old house 'til they could get nearer his work. They were from Norway and couldn't speak English so their son, Gunnar, who was Jess' age did all their translating for them. They also had a little girl named Ella who was very cute. We all became very good friends and later when little Jennie made her entrance into this world it was my Mother who officiated at this important event. Evenings we would gather round the table and Mother would tell us stories of her childhood and often sang songs which one never hears now days. There was no radio or TV for entertaiment so we had to provide our own. Sometimes we read aloud. Then one beautiful day Father came home with a phonograph with a great big morning glory horn. How we enjoyed that music--John Phillip Sousa marches and John McCormack and his beautiful voice. We just about played those old cylindrical records to death, I'm sure. We always kept about twelve to fourteen milk cows which provided us with our milk, butter, cheese etc. and then Mother sold milk, butter and eggs to the logging camp above our place. The track cut through our property and Harry, James and even Dad in off seasons at the farmm could always work at camp. There were other attractions up there. The White family Mother, Dad, Lillian, Lenora, and baby Edith lived up there during the summer. The Mother and kids returned to Portland for the winter so the girls could get their schooling there. Harry was quite smitten with Lillian and James with Lenora and the girls spent much time with us expecially over weekends. Halloween was always a time for parties--with ghosts and gobblins and apple bobbing. Then Easter, also a time for celebration, we hid out eggs and stole others we found and came Easter day we ate eggs all day long in every shape and form. Thanksgiving was also a time for eating, sometimes if we were lucky there would be a turkey but usually it was goose, duck or chicken but always mashed potatoes, gravey, stuffing and all the trimmings--pumpkin pie and all. But Christmas was the best time of all with a huge tree at school and the program and a bag of hard candy and nuts and an orange for every child. Our gifts for each other were always simple and, of course, homemade but it was always such a joyous occasion we never thought we missed a thing. Mrs Peterson lived up over the hill from us with only a path from our house to hers unless we took the long way around. She was alone most of the time as her husband was dead and her son Ernest was away at school. Once in a while we kids, plus cousins, would suddenly decide it was time to go see Mrs Peterson so we'd change our dresses--wash up and away we'd go. We always had a feeling she knew we were coming as there were always sweet things fresh from her oven to greet us with a big glass of frothy milk. She always made us feel so welcome we loved visiting with her. Tom was always such a busy little guy and kept us all running after him. One time Father had bought a new cow who was soon to have her first calf. The farmer warned Father not to let the children near her as she could be mean. Well, she had her calf and was in the barnyard with it and we missed Tom. Somehow he'd gotten over the fence and was in there with Pansey and her new calf. Pansey was lying down and Tom was cuddled up to her loving and patting her with "Nice old Pansey". Well we got him out of there in a hurry but we never were afraid of Pansy after that. She was a real pet. George and Tom were great pals and, of course, had many mishaps along the way. Like the time Father and Mother brought them a new little red hatchet. They were warned to be careful or they could get hurt. Well, Tom came to Mother and asked for a rag and Mother said, "What do you want a rag for"? He said "To tie up a tree to make it grow. He had seen Father tying limbs on trees, of course, but Mother was suspicious and soon located George hiding out with a cut finger. Then there was the time they were in the garden and found a nice big angle worm. Tom said, "George, let's eat it". George said, "No--they aren't good to eat". Tom said, "Yes they are May eats them". May had been going around the house singing,"Nobody loves me, everybody hates me. I'm going to the garden and eat worms". Viola and I were only two years apart and so we were very close. She was always willing to fight anyone who picked on us smaller ones--I think she would have tackled a wild cat in our defense if she had to. Mary and George were the sickly ones. George had to miss a lot of schooling because he was always having colds and was always so "puny". Mary had what we think might have been rheumatic fever though at that time we didn't know what it was. Father and Mother had to take her to Kelso for treatments quite a lot, and we envied her all these trips with them but in the long run it probably saved her from being a cripple for life. Soon May married Lennie Clark who had come to our dances from Kelso with a friend or two. They moved to Kelso and soon became the parents of a baby girl whom they named Bernis. We were thrilled to be aunts and uncles at our young ages. James was the second to marry and *found his girl in Portland. She was tiny and cute and was a dancer at one of the old Portland theaters--the Lyric, I think. They also decided to make their home in Kelso near May and Lennie. Then they started their family with Lennie, and then Earl. And May and Lennie added a son Leroy. Father decided we should sell the farm and move to Kelso where we could get better schooling. Jess had gone through the ninth grade in our local school and should be in High School. At first we were jubilant--school where each grade had a separate room--streets and sidewalks to walk on. But ere long nostalgia set in and has remained with us all, I'm sure, throughout the years. Many things have happened since our leaving the farm and the family has grown as families have a way of doing but whenever we get together our talk always turns to our happy times on the farm. *NOTES: cousin Pete's given name was Harold Raymond Hooper. Jim Parsons married Jessie Belle Flint of Seattle (his only wife), she was 16 when they married, and not the dancer from Portland, that may have been another sister-in-law. Annetta Sophia Parsons was born to Leverett and Mary Elizabeth Lauria (Hooper) Parsons November 2, 1902 in Stella Washington, she married William Hudson Geil January 2, 1920 in Cowlitz County, she died January 26, 1977 and is buried in Willamette National Cemetery, Portland, Oregon Annetta's siblings were: Harry Alexander Parsons, James "Jim" William Parsons, Addie May "May" Parsons (married Lennie Charles Clark, married 2nd Godfrey Beeler, married 3rd Robert Marcellus White), Jesse Stanhope Parsons, Mary Lucinda Parsons (married Thomas "Earl" Bradburn who was killed in action in France in 1918 and is buried at Meuse-Argonne American Cemetery, Romagne, France, married 2nd James Andrew Moore) Edna Viola "Vi" Parsons (married John Lewis Mason, married 2nd George Ernest Schmelzer), George Leverett Parsons and Thomas Haywood Parsons