TIE A TODDLER ROUND THE OLD PINE TREE

After my mother’s remains were discovered and it was evident that her baby, now about 1.5 years old, would be raised by my grandmother. My father, Charles, was a Merchant Marine captain of oil tankers with Socony Vacuum. His job took him all over the world; he was “at sea” for three months and home for one. His family from Boston was not willing to take on a toddler. Miss Dolly would not even broach the subject of her NOT raising me and made it clear to my dad that she would do whatever it took to take me in as her own child. Her one caveat was the she wanted to legally adopt me as she knew that my father could be, at times, a stereotypical sailor living a very rootless life and had a dangerous job. My father agreed as long as Miss Dolly would not change my last name. He also promised that if she would leave the dirt farm where she had been for nearly twenty years she would never have money worries again. While he was on compassionate leave, he went into Woodville, purchased a house, bought a car, set up a bank account, and sent word to Miss Dolly that everything was done. All she needed to do was go the bank and pick up house keys and the car was waiting at the Ford dealership.

Miss Dolly had remarried in 1931 to a Mr. Sturrock. He was widower farmer and owned a bit land outside of Colmesneil, Texas which is about 10 miles from Woodville. He was not a very good farmer and they lived a “pillar to post” on this isolated farm. Her surviving son was career military and stationed in Europe under the Marshall Plan. She told Mr. Sturrock that she was going to take me to Woodville and he was welcome to come. From what I learned over the years with Miss Dolly theirs was marriage of convenience with very little, if any, affection. He refused to go and did not understand why she would leave. No inside water, out house, no electricity, no money, and a falling down house. I mean really who could turn that down? He told her he would not allow her to leave and how I would have liked to have heard her response. Miss Dolly filed for divorce and took nothing from her former husband, like land. She packed two suitcases, two bottles, diapers, tied me to her back, and proceeded to walk to the main highway which was about three miles. When she got to the main highway and was walking to Colmesneil, about 5 miles, a farmer friend picked her up with me in tow. He drove her to the Ford place where she picked up the car: PAID FOR! Then to the banks where she received the keys for the house also PAID FOR from good ole’ Mr. Feagan. He had to tell her where it was. Thank goodness my father had the bank turn on the electricity and prime the water well. We drove to our first home on Cobb Mill Road and thus the tale gets to the point.

Miss Dolly was 54 years old at this time, going through menopause which meant the health industry had yet to create medicines to help women through this thing. She was, according to her, very undernourished and just plain exhausted. She set about getting some furniture, got a milk goat as I was allergic to cow’s milk. Got some chickens, planted a little garden, and made a nice little home for us. She found her church and we began the routine of being in church three times per week. She would sell eggs and cow’s milk to get her collection plate money. All other expenses were being paid by my father. There’s an entire story yet to be written on Miss Dolly and her stewardship of my dad’s money. But on with the story…

I sure many of you will not be shocked to know that I was a “handful” as a toddler. I wore leg braces until I was almost two and once I was able to move, I moved! (oh! How I’ve changed .) Miss Dolly said she could not take her eyes off of me for even a minute and I refused to take a nap. (another change from then) We had no A/C and in the summer she had to move us outside under these towering pine trees. She would try to watch me, but fall asleep on the front porch from the exhaustion. At one point, the neighbors found me walking with my dog down the street. Mortified and scared, she had to come up with a solution. We had no fence and she would not authorize one being built on my dad’s “dime.” So, her solution…Get ready! Call CPS!

She took small rope of about 20 feet. Tied it around the tree closest to the porch. She then proceeded to tie me with the rope. She configured some type of metal thing that allowed me to circle the tree without getting tangled up. She built a sand box and put some toys under the tree. I could get on the porch if I so desired. If you cannot get the visual, think of an outside dog in the country who is tied to a tree and then runs in circles until the grass is gone around the tree. Miss Dolly would be on a quilt with her Bible and would try to read. I don’t think she ever made it past Genesis on the third day of creation! She would sleep for a couple of hours. Me, I was as happy as a little piglet In the yard. Mr. Harvey from across the road would walk over and check on us. After a year of “tie Twitchell around the tree,” she had a nice fence built with my father’s permission. No more tree…no more freedom

Women in those days had to make things work. There was no day care, no Mommy and Me play group, no intricate toys or wooden playground sets, no IPhone/IPad…it was the mom alone with the children. I don’t know how she managed, being as “ill” as she was “going through the change” to feed, clothe, clean me and the house, take care of the animals and property. She just did it. Women from that time period who had endured the Great Depression and World War Two faced almost insurmountable issues. They did not shirk their duty often to their own detriment. They were independent women when they had to be and God help anyone who stood in their way. Someone reminded me that the movie “Places in the Heart” is a good representation of those women and Miss Dolly. In spite of being tied to a tree, I turned out just fine. Or, at least I think I did.