Alligators & Snakes (1921)

"She'd tell me stories about snakes that were big enough to knock fences down."

We ended up in Alma Nebraska at Grandfather Tillotson's place. Now we're living in their house in one room. Oh, I could draw a picture of the room. Like a living room, a bedroom, then there was another room. And a small little closet, and a kitchen. A small house – and we had to live in this one room. And that's where I started school. I guess the first grade – kindergarten, whatever. I can remember the layout of the land. They had about 40 acres I suppose. A creek went through it – all the curves in the creek – came down in the back of the house.

Forty acres was an average kind of farm that they laid out in those days. In Iowa they were all 40 acres – maybe you'd have 80, 120. My grandfather Dent was considered pretty well off. Uneducated, but he had a business [farming] and he knew how to make money. And he accumulated quite a bit of land. A lot of time they'd homestead for the railroads, you know. Railroad would go through, and they had about 10 miles on each side – the government just gave them permission to take timber, do anything they wanted to do. They had to make the ties and stuff for the railroad, so they had to homestead off the railroad. I don't understand all that stuff – it's probably in the history books how that happened. And then – the same thing in Nebraska.

Eri Tillotson Family 1903
Eri Tillotson Family 1903. From left to right, standing:
Flora, age 21, Bertha, 17, Arthur, 12, Ezra, 15, James, 10, Nora, 14, and Viola, 20.
Seated: Grandfather Eri Tillotson, 53, and his wife Mary Elizabeth Hanna Tillotson, 38.

What I remember about Grandmother Tillotson was that she liked to read to me. She had this Stanley & Livingston book. Had a lot of pictures in it. Alligators, a lot of wild animals – snakes. She'd tell me stories about snakes that were big enough to knock fences down. I could set on her. She had a big stomach – fat, you know. I wonder if she was diabetic or something – but I guess she must not have been because she lived to be pretty old. I'd set on her lap, but really I was setting on her stomach. I'd love to hear her tell me all those stories.

I guess I probably was four years old when my mother had to go up and take care of the chores of the neighbors. They were probably on vacation, or something happened and they weren't there. She had to go up and take care of and feed the animals. She wanted to light a fire in the stove – one of these pot-bellied stoves. I can't remember whether they used coal or wood. But my mother says, "Light a fire in the stove." That was a big deal to me. They had some kerosene there. Had the stuff in there inside the stove, put the kerosene on it. Lit a match, only – to get it lit I stuck my head in there, lit the thing and it went "BOOM!" like this. Singed my eyebrows. I remember that!

When I was probably four years old, I remember my mother takin' a horse and buggy to Alma, Nebraska to shop. I got lost from her on the street – I remember I was really scared. I was supposed to be followin' her, and she's gone! And that frightened the heck out of me. Another time they had a fire sale, and they bought me a pair of shoes. I guess the fire must have hardened up the leather on 'em. That hurt my foot – they had to take those back. Small thing – but that's what I remembered.

Then another time we went to a movie – first movie I've ever seen. I was probably four – could have been five, I'm not sure. All I can remember about the movie is like the inside of a building. These people comin' in and out of doors – I had no idea what it was about. I can remember that – that's all I remember is that.

That's where Kenneth started going to school. I'd go out and meet him. He always had to cut across the field, and I went out to meet him. Cut myself on barbed wire – don't know whether the scar is still there or not – should be right here [points to scar]. So I guess I was at least one grade there. I guess maybe it was first – I don't know whether I went to kindergarten or not.

Next: The Girl Across the Road (1922)

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