Memories . . .

So many memories run through your mind when your child has a birthday. But July 24, 1958 when my only daughter, Jo Hannah Chrest, was born brings back special ones.  They go back to the days I told you about, when times were really tough, like when I made my first trip from Holly Grove, West Virginia that I wrote about. 

A few years after returning home, my husband Hector Chrest Sr. was able to find a pretty good job, driving a truck, hauling coal from high on the mountain to the Kanawha River where it was loaded into barges.  As a young boy he had always wanted to be a truck driver.  We finally were able to buy a nice house.  It was new three bedrooms and bath, full basement, more then we had ever dreamed about.  We had our three sweet little boys but Hector and the boys wanted a little girl.  After giving it a lot of thought we decided to try one more time.  It wasn't long until the obvious happened.  Of course back then you had to wait to know the sex. 

Things were "looking up" until Feb 22.  The day started like everything was wonderful.  There was a heavy snow on the ground.  Hector and I were up early getting breakfast and packing his lunch, the boys still asleep.  There just seemed to be a special closeness as he was leaving.  We held each other a little longer.  I watched as he cleaned the snow off the car until he left.  The whole morning seemed to go so well as I started the laundry.  The boys were up getting ready for school.  It just seemed that "all was well".  The school was just across the corner from our house.  The same one that I had gone to as a child.  It was about 10:30, as I was making up the bed.  My mother and a neighbor came in.  I said the usual thing "come on in and have a seat".  They didn't say a word.  I knew something wasn't right, but never dreamed what they had to tell me.  Mother finally spoke "Hector has been killed"!!  A train had hit his truck as he was coming across after dumping his load of coal.  My first thought was I can't handle this.  Then I looked at those three little boys,9, 8 and 6 and my growing tummy and realized I had no choice.  I had something to look forward to, knowing that a part of him was yet to be seen.  When Jo Hannah was born and they said "it's a girl", I didn't believe them.  I just didn't think I could have a girl.  The saddest part is that he never got to see the little girl that he wanted so much.  She was the first granddaughter on the Chrest side of the family and was named Hannah after Hector's mother and Jo after his only brother.  She was everybody's little Princess.  She fell in love with Clyde Rorrer when she was a young teenager.  After they were married and had three children, Clyde decided he had had enough of coal mining and went to Medical School and became a very successful Doctor.  They have been married thirty six years and have three beautiful grandchildren and live in Point Pleasant, West Virginia. 

Strange how when bad things happen, we never know how many other lives it may involve, or change.

email from Aunt Lois
dated July 24, 2012

Berry Pickin'

Summer brings so many memories, too many to even talk about.  Some of the really special ones are the fresh vegetables and BERRIES, just picked from the mountains surrounding our little town of Holly Grove.  It was a family chore to go blackberry or huckleberry [better know as wild blueberries] pickin'.  My mother always made biscuits for breakfast.  I can't ever remember having toast.  Anyway, there isn't anything better than hot berries over hot buttered biscuits in the morning. 

This brings me to something that happened to me while Richard and I were living at Brentwood in Elkhart, a few years ago.  The apartment there was facing a wooded area.  We had a big picture window with sliding side windows that we could open.  We had bird houses and feeders outside.  Squirrels would eat off the window sills where we would put cracked corn out for them.  The deer would come up and eat out of our hands.  We had to go out and around the side of the building to take care of these things.  There was a pathway,not too wide, to walk then it was steep over sort of an embankment. In the spring I noticed berry blooms, no idea what kind.  Well they turned out to be BLACK RASPBERRIES, my very favorites.  I knew I shouldn't try to get to them, but the memory was too much.  At Brentwood we were only given one meal a day, dinner Monday thru Friday, lunch Saturday and Sunday.  I always cooked breakfast. I couldn't resist -- I took along a cane so I could watch for snakes and steady myself to keep from falling over the bank.  I got by with it a couple of times 'til one evening there I was with my 2 quart Tupperware bowl with a handle, probably a quart of berries when Richard came around on his scooter to check on me. He noticed a leaf or something on my back and reached to pick it off and his scooter turned over.  I've heard how your life passes before you when something like this happens.  Well,in a split second my mind went in so many directions.  I can't remember in what order.  Richard is going to be hurt; how long will we lay here before someone finds us; the berries are going in all directions; this time I hope somebody is watching; I'll never be able to retrieve the berries.  Most of them were under me anyway.  I guess I must have broken Richards fall because he ended up on top of me.  He managed to get up right away and turned the scooter upright and was able to help me to my feet as I held on to the empty tupperware bowl.  My clothes were a nice shade of purple and my back was a little irritated from all the brier sticks.  It's a funny story to tell but we were very lucky that we survived the "roll in the rasberries" without any injuries other than our pride. 

Needless to say, I didn't pick any more berries unless I could reach them from the path.

emailed from Aunt Lois on June 28, 2012

Memories of Brant and Irene

June 8, 2012

Today my mind goes back to so many memories of these two special people.  I was pretty young when Brant met this beautiful young blond girl, who moved to Holly Grove along with her mom and dad, Mr.Harry and Mrs.Betty Young and her three sisters, you could never meet a nicer family.

Mother would get upset when Brant would be coming home from work and supper would be ready, because he always stopped to talk to Irene before coming on to the house.  They became so much in love, that never changed in the years they had together, except maybe became stronger.  Even though we were taught dancing was evil, they danced.  One of their favorite songs was Dancing Cheek to Cheek.

When they first married they lived in a little two room house that was at the edge of her parents property.  I think it had been a small store, before my time.

When the war started and Brant was drafted into the Navy, he was stationed in Chicago.  Irene would have me go along when she went, by train, to visit him.  One of the times when "Little" Brant was a baby, I went along to help with him.  We stayed at the Milner Hotel.  There was a drug store across the street, they kept sending me to get banana splits, actually I could never figure how anyone could eat so many.  Go figure!

I'm surprised I didn't get in trouble, one time when Tom was staying with us during the summer.  We were going to the movie at Gallagher.  We missed the show bus and instead of going back home, we decided to walk to the theatre.  I had a dime so we bought a pack of cigarettes and there we went just PUFFIN' away, when a car pulled up behind us and we heard a voice say "get in the car".  You should have seen us flippin' those cigarettes over the bank.  It was Brant and Irene.  They drove us to the theatre and never even asked what we were up to.

So many memories of the little house on Jacksonville Hill, with the big walnut tree and swing in the front yard.  Everyone welcome and always the best food.  I bet you remember the time we went exploring to the Indian Cave.  I think there were 12 of us, including Irene and me.  There were my kids, her kids, and Walters girls.  We walked to Hansford along the railroad track and up the mountain [seemed like a long way].  We decided to come around the mountain to get back home, not thinking there was no way back down to the RR tracks because of the high cliffs.  We were having so much fun, laughing, taking pictures and such, we didn't realize that it was getting close to dark.  Meanwhile Walter, Hector, and others had gotten worried and had called off church and were forming a search party.  We finally got to a mine path off the hill.  The folks waiting weren't too happy but were glad we were safe.

Brant and Irene were always helping others, no matter who or what the need.  When Hector was killed, they were by my side through it all.  A few days after it happened.  Irene took me aside and told me that she and Brant had talked it over and wanted me to know, if something happened to me that they would raise my children.  Words can't express how much that meant to me.

When Brant died at such a young age, what a loss to all of us.  To this day, when I hear Taps being played it takes me back to Holly Grove cemetery, and how our hearts were broken that day.  I can speak for every niece, nephew and everyone who knew them, there is nobody more special then Uncle Brant and Aunt Irene.

Irene has carried on with such dignity and grace, caring for her children and grandchildren.  I know that if Brant hasn't been looking down all these years, Irene is filling him in on all that has happened.  I hope they are DANCING!!!

Though I can't be there at this time, please know I am there in spirit, with so much love for each of you.

Aunt Lois

Memories of Playing Games and Spending Time with Grandma

The games people played, I mean the ones when I was young. There was hop scotch, I've forgotten what the thing we tossed was called. Anyway,  we just used a piece of broken glass and stick to draw the lines. There wasn't much grass in the yards then.  That was before lawn mowers.  We just swept most of the yard. That also made it better for playing marbles. That was very popular, even with the grown men on a Sunday afternoon. We could play "jacks", if we could find 10 small rocks and a little rubber ball. Usually you could find a rope somewhere around the barn to play jump rope. Sometimes several of us would jump at the same time, if the rope was long enough.

I lived only a few yards from the one room school where I went through 3rd grade. One game that all of us liked to play was throwing a ball over the building, yelling "Andy over, the pigs in the clover, can't get him out 'til the ball goes over". I don't remember what the goal was, but then we would change sides.

I remember that there was always noise and laughter on that play ground. Even though it was just a stones throw away from our house once in a while mother would let me take my lunch, that consisted of a biscuit with "cow" butter and home made jelly, packed in a lard bucket.   Boy I felt like "big stuff".

My cousin and I spent so much time with our grandma.  She let us make a little more mess than our moms would.  We played Paper People, cutting pictures out of Sears and Roebucks' catalog.  No store bought paper dolls but we enjoyed ourselves.  We had furniture and everything. The only restrictions were we had to put all of our mess under the bed when we were finished.

I loved spending nights at grandmas.  She had a three room house but only used two of them.  The third was kept neat and clean in case she had company. The "front" room was for sleeping and sitting. She slept in the big bed.  There was another small bed that my grandpa had named "the dog bed".  I don't know why because they never had a dog. The mattress, if you could call it that, was made of shredded corn shucks.  My cousin slept with grandma and I got the dog bed. The walls were papered with newspapers.  In the evening we would play a game by trying to guess what each other was looking at. She lived just across the road from us.  She was my dads mother. Some nights she would tell ghost stories then send me home in the dark.  It was just a few steps, but it seemed like a long way.  I was always so scared. My grandpa, everybody called him Uncle Bud Seacrist, died when I was three.

I think it was April 1941, I stayed home from school because of a tooth ache.  I was twelve.  I spent the day with grandma and read to her. The next day when I came home, was so sad to learn that she had had a stroke and passed away the next day. That was one tooth ache I have always been thankful for. She has such a special place in my memory.

So much for memories of old times.  One thing for sure, the young people today don't know what they are missing.