Hinson Family

​Patsy Charlene Hinson Roth's Story

 

Such a nice lady—she just let me take over her purse, taking things out and putting them back in while she sat smiling sweetly at me. Try as I may, that is the earliest memory that I, as a two year old could conjure in my mind I often wondered later who that lady was that had given me full reign over one of the most personal posses­sions a woman can have. Reminiscing with Mama one day, she said it most likely was Mrs. Newton who kept me on the day of Daddy's funeral. I do seem to recall people milling around but the purse was so fascinating to me that it is highly unlike), I had any long lasting memories of sadness that day, or else time has erased them. Mother did mention the possibility that it may have been Mrs. Zicklefoose who kept me, a neighbor's name that always brought giggles from me and still brings a smile to my face. Neighbors were regarded as "pure gold" in those days, always extending a helping hand having more time or at least taking more time for social visits and seeing after one another. Mother was a "pure gold" neighbor also—I can remember so very many fun, good visits to all the neighboring families with her. Even though Mother was unfortunately left alone to rear her family, she never let that deter her from the friendliness and visitation of neighbors. Many times, more that I can recall going to others homes, Mother would have the entire neighborhood of farm families in for ice-cream socials. Oh what fun!! Everyone enjoyed stopping their labors a little early and enjoying the cool, refreshing, smoothness of homemade ice cream made from fresh eggs, milk and lots of rich cream. We kids would rollick inside, out­side, in the barn, even on top of the roof and windmill if we didn't get caught. With the large families at that time, there was always several for every age group. There was none of the business of trying to keep up with the Jones, because the Jones was no richer than anyone else. I don’t recall any of the selfishness or envying that we see so much of today. There seemed to be a high regard for one another instead of always thinking of "self."

Mama was a very nice looking young woman, slender with dark brown hair, usually cropped short or medium length. When she smiled, her whole face lit up, her blue eyes twinkled, almost mischievously. Mother always relied on Nelda to take care of her hair, and as Nelda grew older and busier, I stood on a stool to roll and comb Mother's hair,

a job I loved until the end I always slept with Mama, so snug and secure in our up­stairs bedroom with all the windows up and the gentle south breeze blowing across to cool us without any need of air-conditioning. Not once, can I ever remember Mother screaming or degrading us in any way. She was stern, being both tender Mother and a strong disciplinarian. When I was about four, one neighbor who was not "pure gold" and one who few neighbors respected, decided to help himself to one of our trailers without so much as even asking. It made Mama awfully angry and that was the first and only time I ever heard her use a bad word! I can still taste the soap when I decided to use a bad word.

 

The year 1944 was an exciting time—it was time to start to school! Mother and Mrs. Glenn took me to town, outfitted me in brown high top lace up shoes of real leather. My my, were they handsome! I strutted and walked up and down our sixteen stair steps, proving what a good buy those shoes were. Mother had been busy at the treadle sewing machine making clothes for everyone, me included. Some of the clothes were made from "feed sacks." No... ....not burlap, but beautiful printed fabrics that feed and flour came in—they would have done anyone up proud! All the other kids had similar clothes and surprisingly, none of the Mothers put fancy labels on the outside. It was so exciting to finally get to ride that huge yellow school bus, carrying my Big Chief tablet, a fat red pencil, a lunch box with an egg salad sandwich and sporting my high top brown shoes. It was a treat beyond words—knowing my sisters was always there to look after me and Benny Fry, a 16 year old neighbor who always yelled out the window in the afternoon to remind me to quit playing and get on the bus. A few weeks later, it was not quite so great when the aroma of egg salad sandwiches, perspiration, heat and the physical emanations of unknown sources nearly knocked one completely off their feet. I had and still possess an extra keen olfactory sense and I can almost rekindle the scent of those bus rides to this day.

 

We all looked forward to Saturdays at the Hinson farm—there was definitely no sleeping late! Everyone rose early, had a big breakfast together of fried ham, eggs, homemade biscuits and gravy—and then began the Saturday chores. Juanita always opted to clean the yard and chicken house over house work. Nelda seemed to choose the housework while Mary and I were assigned the chore of dusting and beating the rugs on the clothes line. Mary was excellent at ironing and always took such pride in perfecting the starched pressed clothes. After bathing in the communal #3 wash tub, washing our hair with lye soap and then curling our hair with a hair curler heated over an open carbide or butane flame, we declared ourselves presentable to go to town. Mother always took pride in how we looked, expecting us to look as neat and tidy as possible. I heard her say many times, "You don't have to be rich to be clean." Even at the age of 90, when she passed away, we girls talked of how immaculate she always kept herself. She always looked forward to her daily bath, dusting with a good powder and spraying a little Avon perfume on for the finishing touch. After we were spit and polished we loaded up in a 1937 black four door car and proceeded happily to town for an afternoon of sitting and visiting on Main street and then to the grocery store. If we were lucky and got there early enough we could usually find a parking place in front of the dime storewere all the activity took place. Women and children milled around the variety store and drug store, while it seems the men probably congregated on the courthouse lawn in the shade to spit, whittle and visit. Mother usually let us all buy a little something for ourselves in the dime store where her good friends, Vera Lambert and Lorena Autry worked. My goodness, that was a splendid place to dawdle around for an hour or so.....much interesting stuff and it was all waist high, so even the smallest could reach, handle and even play with nearly anything, if they didn't get their hands slapped first! After a time of inspecting everything and becoming a little bored with it, I always took off across the street to the jail (beside the courthouse) to visit my friend Jan Hoffacket. Her grandfather, the Sheriff and his wife had their own quarters on the lower floor of the jailhouse. He was an extremely stern looking man, rarely smiling, but was unusually kind to Jan and myself. I never knew why Jan was always at his house every Saturday, but I was so glad of the arrangement. We would run all around the jail, but were forbidden to go to a certain area. Growing bored withthat within a short while, we would go to the courthouse, run up and down the stone steps, play on the grass and play Red-Rover or Kick-the-Can with the other children playing on the lawn. All too soon, about 4:00, either Mama or one of my sisters would come and get me and say we needed to go to the grocery store "before it gets too late."

 

Grocery shopping was always done at a small, but well-stocked store belonging to Roy Cox and Eldon Hughes. It was war-time; many items were scarce, if not un­obtainable. Mama was always careful to take the ration books with her, doling out a given number of stamps for sugar, flour and coffee, which were not always plentiful. It seems that sometimes she and her friends or family would trade stamps for given items. Mother was forever consistent in planting a garden, growing nearly all of our vegetables for the table and for canning. Spring gardens were especially appreci­ated after a winter of mostly canned food Oh the treat, of the first garden yield—Mama knew just how to flavor the yellow squash and especially the black-eyed peas with salt bacon for seasoning. Finish that up with fried chicken on Sunday and a hearty helping of Mama's special coconut cake—surely that is the feast of a King!

 

Shoes and clothes were also expensive and hard to come by during those days, when all resources went first to the factories to clothe our armed services. We always were told to change clothes and shoes when we returned from school. First, to preserve the wear and also to cut down on washing and ironing. I don't recall any of us arguing with Mama about that—perhaps it was an inner feeling knowing that each of us should do everything we could to help the war effort. Everyone was fiercely patriotic, even the very young! As though it were yesterday and I as a child playing in the front yard, can almost look up and still see a service man walking down the road toward our house. The bus would let them out at the highway, they would walk to our house and Edwin would always be more than happy to take the neighbor soldier or sailor to their family home. After a refreshment with us of course, so many times I would run to meet that serviceman without any fear whatsoever and walk back to our house with them. If the soldier or sailor happened to be Gid Browne or Joe Davis, they would drop their duffle bag and sweep me up in their arms.  We were all family during the war.

 

Life was interesting on the farm, not very many bought toys, and those we had were treated with tender loving care. Seems like the whole year was spent outside under a shade tree playing house and dolls.  Mother permitted us to take our good toys outside on nice days —Juanita had a doll-sized green high-chair, Mary and I had a small baby bed and a wonderful little table and chairs (which she has now). We had a very good small roll-top desk which proudly has its place in my home. Nelda didn't play too much with us, she was always lady like, growing up and en­joyed doing things inside the house. Juanita was a tom-boy and wanted nothing to do with the inside work, choosing instead to clean the yard and hen-house, which was a horrible job, I thought. Mary played with me some, but she too out grew me and loved to cook and experiment with food! Her favorite snack was a mustard sand­wich accompanied by a large sour pickle, a treat she still enjoys. I would pester her to make me a snack, although I wasn't particularly fond of her mustard sandwiches. To hush me up and for a diversion, she would make me her specialty, sprinkled very liberally with sugar. I suppose I developed a liking to them, having eaten quite a few, but I wince at the very thought...

          

Mother and Edwin hired Spanish families during the summer to help clear the fields of weeds and to assist in gathering the cotton crops in the fall. Mary and I nearly always had their children to play with, even though they knew no English and we knew only a few words in Spanish. We saw that as no determent at all and became fast friends with them in their short visits.

 

Cold weather invariably came, but not with any length. When some really cold days appeared, the neighbors were called in and hog-killing began. I don't look back on it as being gruesome, just something normal that had to be done. After the workers reached a certain stage, the sausage needed to be  seasoned Me, being the most dispensable, was sent numerous times to the house to fry sausage patties so that the workers might determine the desired seasoning. Ahhhhh, that everyone might experience that wonderful aroma, especially when hungry and on a bone-chilling day. The hams were cured with a brown-sugar mixture that surely wafted all the way to heaven. When the tiring day was complete, the assorted meats were hung in a special building to cure, everyone anxiously waiting the appointed time to sample a baked ham, or fresh cured bacon or sausage. Mama knew just how to tempt any visitor into staying with just the mere mention of the meats and home-made biscuits, topped with her delicious onion gravy. Mama was one of the most generous women I have ever known, always desiring to share with family, friends or drop-ins. No one ever has topped her pecan pies, with the flaky crust that were always just perfect. Mama loved to bake, but seemed to take special joy in making her pecan pies for Charles and Beth.

 

After a while, it was more difficult to get seasonal help for the crops and we girls began to help Edwin chop cotton. At first, it was exciting to me, and he paid us too—I had great dreams of getting rich! It proved to be tiring, but there were conversations along the way and Edwin, being the wonderful brother that he was, insisted we stop every so often and rest. Sometimes, but not often enough to be expected, we would look up and see Mama walking down the long turn-row bringing us freshly made fudge and a large jar of cold iced tea What a rarity,

so special, and a very special deed from our sweet Mama. I would still opt for that treat any day over McDonalds or the likes thereof!

 

Margaret helped in the fields also, and I can't remember if Charles and Billy stayed with Mama or if they played around the cotton patch with us. They were always delightful and it was a pleasure to play with them. When I wasn't in school or doing something else, Charles and I would play "Cops & Robbers" or pin colored leaves on us for camouflage and play "War" with pretend guns. War wasn't very far from anyone 's mind, even the children—I was reminded of it often when the radio was on and also when Mama would receive a letter from David, Jack or Pete. She would read their letters wipe her eyes and weep—I never knew if she were sad or just so happy to hear from her "boys" as she called them. Soon, the war was over and I still remember the shouting and happiness of everyone, but especially our dear Mama who had given and suffered so much.

 

Uncle Sy (Sydney Wilburn Smith, mama's brother) came fairly often to visit us, staying a week or so at a time. He was a bachelor and an authority on child-rearing, so mama said, with her mischievous smile. She did love him dearly and they seemed very close—we kids eyed him with a little suspicion, because he didn't quite fit the norm in our minds. He told us stories we had never heard of places we had never been and all about Hollywood stars, with whom he corresponded He was plagued with asthma and we kids remember him best for sitting on the porch burning some awful smelling stuff like sage and inhaling. The best thing he did for me, which, I shall be eternally grateful was to introduce me to our Lord Jesus Christ, of whomI knew so little. He described heaven with streets of gold, where everyone loved each other with a pure love and the lion would one day lie down with the lamb. It was almost more than I could imagine and I could hardly wait to die and see for myself! He taught me to pray and it became an automatic and precious thing to me. He seemed fond of us although I really can't say the same of Grandmother Smith, my only grand-parent who was still living. I don't recall her touching or hugging me, much less telling me she loved me. I really can't remember anyone telling me they loved me, even Mama, unless I asked her. It is my impression now, that love just wasn't expressed openly. Perhaps that is why the love of this "Jesus" became so exciting and alive to me. Seems like I always knew He loved me, even if no one else did, or at least never told me. Mother later in life told me she loved me every time we talked on the phone or said goodbye. Most of my friends have related that love was never expressed verbally in their families either, but we all knew beyond a shadow of a doubt we were loved dearly. Grandmother Smith's mother died when she was very young and her father remarried a woman with two children. He reared the woman's children, but adopted his own children or put them in an orphan's home. Grandmother was bitter about that and to me it truly showed by her lack of affection to others. We kids always giggled when we said Grandmother's full name, Ida Ann Lavenia Holmes Thorne Smith—quite a mouth full and we tried to say it real fast. Thorne was her adopted name and she later named a son Thorne. He was a wonderful uncle and very good to we children. He had been in the service and was a prisoner of war in France, I think. He was journalist and always worked as a writer for newspapers. I can still see him in my mind's eye, laughing and smiling with the same twinkle as Mama—they were very close. Grandmother Smith was an artist and did beautiful, creative needlework. I suppose I inherited my love of art from her. She made each one of us a quilt top and created several quilts that captured first prize in two state fairs.

 

Daddy's father, Grandfather Hinson died in 1927, so I did not know him, but there is a picture of me in the hotel lobby with his second wife, affectionately called "Big Mama." Grandfather Hinson must have made a good living for his family because he owned the Rails Hotel, which was a well-known landmark in the area at that time. Apparently he also owned several farms at various times and places. Pictures of them and the hotel are in the Rails Museum along with the hotel guest register including the signature of Laurence Welk Mother spoke tenderly and respectfully for Grandfather and his second wife Olive, whom she said was always extremely kind to her. Grandfather had lost his first wife Martha when she died in childbirth after having given birth to little Martha, who died exactly one month to the day after her mother died A set of twins, Onie and Otis had died two years prior to Martha's death, so Grandfather was not without much sorrow. Speaking of dying, it is surprising we all survived childhood, the way we climbed trees, the roof and the windmill. We were not taken to the Doctor except on rare occasions when we were young. Mother usually cured every ill with Dr. Caldwell's Syrup Pepsin, Vicks Salve or would paint our throats with Metholate. It must have worked because I remember plenty of sore throats, but no extended periods of missed school. It was such fun when we had heavy snows and school was canceled We made home made snow ice cream, popped popcorn, played paper dolls or read I don't think we listened to the radio for entertainment except to laugh with Fiber McGee and Mollie. Margaret faithfully listened each morning to Arthur Godfrey as he interviewed people and played his famous ukulele. It brought a smile to our faces as she chuckled so merrily to his program.

 

One of the most exciting times for us was when Sissy, Bob, Beth, Bobby and Troy would drive home from Albuquerque for Christmas. We kids, especially Mary and I, could hardly wait for them to arrive. Christmas was so special, very few gifts but plenty of good food and Mother of course always baked her famous coconut cake which still remains my favorite dessert. If time permitted and if pecans were available at a reasonable cost, she would also prepare a 5 lb. fruitcake. As could be expected on the farm we always had an abundance of meat, so a huge baked ham was in order, also turkey and dressing, pumpkin pie, fruit salad and several vegetables. Margaret always made her delicious homemade rolls and later Juanita became expert in making them. It was a special treat to pick out a real live Christmas tree, sometimes shivering in the cold to find just that perfect one. The whole family participated in the decoration, not deeming perfection necessary. The tree ornaments were of beautiful hand blown glass which is now a decorator’s delight. I remember all of us sort of itching afterwards from the spun angel hair that was draped over the tree to give it an ethereal look. Mama warned us that we could not pay a lot for the tree—seems like the going price for a fairly nice one was $1.25 to $2.50. There was always room at Mama's house for extra company, usually the •boys and their families, Uncle Joe, Corrine and their family or Bob's brother and his family. I don't ever remember hearing Mama complain about the crowds—everyone was always welcome at her home. We drew names so there was one present for each, sometimes an extra gift or two, always little glass jars of candy or small glass lamps and of course fruit and nuts. Food, goodies and decorating were prepared in much anticipation for the joyful reunion of our large and happy family.

 

We always observed holidays, Christmas being most special when all the family came home if possible, if not, they tried to be home for Thanksgiving or Easter. Birthdays were special, but not for gifts—they were rarely given. Dorothy Kauffman, Mary's friend and a favorite of the family, loved to cook and would come over and bake each of us a birthday cake or brownies. Her brownies were the tastiest ever—fit for the angels! We gathered around a large wooden table for these occasions. Mother always insisted on a fresh starched table cloth and nice dishes. She had several sets of very pretty dishes, then of course the special Sunday dishes. Dinner around the noisy table of a farm family was all the more enjoyable than the picture perfect arrangements we see today. The laughter was healing and helped minimize troubles and cares. Family togetherness was truly a blessing to individuals and certainly should be sought after today. Sundays usually always meant company at our house. Aunt Agnes and Uncle Noel were frequent visitors, as well as Uncle Thorne and his family—how well I can recall the laughter shared on those occasions. The grown-ups always ate first and then the kids, sometimes there was a limited selection by the time we ale. There was always plenty to fill our tummies to satisfaction though!!

 

Usually twice a week the ice man would deliver a huge chunk of ice and place it in our wooden ice box lined with metal. As I remember, the ice would keep for several days enabling us to enjoy cold drinks during the summer. Ice tea never tasted as good as it did on the farm—perhaps because it was brewed and made with well water, or because ice was not taken for granted but truly appreciated. Many times the ice pick would be missing and Mother would say, "Wonder where it can be—do you suppose the ice man accidentally took it?" That would be an automatic queue for Mary and I, on our own to hide behind the back door and spy on him to see if he would take the new pick After all, the little man did have sort of beady-looking eyes. We never saw him take anything and invariably would begin giggling even before he left the kitchen. Sometimes he would look behind the door, give us a disgusted look and walk out.

 

In time after we were blessed with electricity, we enjoyed indoor plumbing in the bathroom and kitchen. No more heating water and communal baths!! Next to go was our wood burning stove to be replaced with several butane heaters throughout the house. In replacing these items along with carpet for linoleum, we never found a modern convenience that could keep out the west Texas sand. There were times when the skies were red and the wind blew sand for days without ceasing. Most of the time the sand and wind would blow all day and settle after sundown or later in the night. If it ceased before bedtime, Mother would have all of us pitch in, run the sweeper, dust and clean the window seals. We all slept better, especially Mama, knowing the house was clean and fresh again. Summer brought some pretty extreme temperatures, but with all the windows opened and an abundance of shade trees, there usually seemed to be a gentle breeze to keep us comfortable. Porches on three sides of the house played a significant part in the coolness. They proved a perfect place for day dreaming, reading, or preparing fruits and vegetables for canning and especially to keep cool. Several grandchildren found this spot ideal for sleeping on hot nights and a place to play on lazy summer dog days. The porch was used to shuck the delicious corn Edwin had grown and also for shelling the bushels of black-eyed peas we canned each year. The back porch housed our cream separator and churn where hours were spent making delicious rich butter, some to be sold or traded at the grocery store. Later the back south porch held our new International deep freeze that was so convenient and eliminated much of the laborious work of canning.

 

After cool weather and hogs were slaughtered, tallow (fat) was rendered in the big black wash pot. Other stored fat was added along with lye and in short time, we had soap to last six months to a year. I loved to watch Mama ladle the cool mixture into boxes to harden and the next day we would cut the soap into bars. It cut like firm butter and was appreciated for cleaning almost everything from pots and pans to washing clothes, bathing and shampooing hair. Being reared on the farm certainly instilled the work ethic in each family member. No one had to be reminded there was work to be done and they were expected to shoulder their responsibilities and carry their own weight' part of the family.

 

Spring and fall rains came filling the lake and one could find us girls wading on the edges searching for tad poles. It was exciting to find those and snail shells. Seems we always walked to the lake after a thunderstorm, waded in ankle deep water and admired in full view the beautiful rainbows. Often we would ride our horse Lady to the lake or to the neighbor's houses. There might be three of us on Lady at one time—she was such a gently horse with us and through the days of most of the grandchildren. When she was found ailing in the pasture one day, our whole family grieved for her, but especially Mama. She said Lady had helped her and Daddy in being able to hold on to the farm and she would always have a place as long as she was alive. I think she was buried in the pasture. Mama and Daddy also had a couple of mules they loved dearly—their names being Buck and Mollie Bea. We also had a faithful collie dog named Rover that accompanied we kids everywhere. As the family worked around the field and often walked in the cool evening we could enjoy the fragrance of the lilacs as they .made their annual appearance in the spring. For two weeks they permeated the air and could be smelled up to one-half mile away. I still can never pass a lilac bush without stopping to smell the flowers and reminisce.