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Show THE Page 12 OGDEN VALLEY NEWS Volume XIII Issue IX February 15, 2006 g cont. from page 11 I collected my tools, which consisted of a broken hammer, knives, and pieces of iron I salvaged from the junk pile. I chose the site for my mine, not for its mineral content, but because it sloped to the south and was warm and comfortable. In the warm sunshine I set to work. Several times over the next few days, my mother questioned me about the dirt on my clothes but I didn’t tell her about the mine because I wanted to surprise her. I now had the hole deep enough so that I could craw! into it, turn around, and crawl out. The clay that came out of the hole, I spread at the mouth of the tunnel and had a level place of several square feet. I was lying on the dump when mother put in an appearance. She inspected the project and was not particularly impressed. She was critical of the way I was wearing out the knees of my overalls and the toes of my shoes. When I asked her what her thoughts on the project were, she said she could see no great future in it but if 1 would take my shoes off when I worked in the mine and would promise not to go any deeper into the hill, she could see no harm in it. I enjoyed the solitude of the cave as I listened to the songs of the water fowls and the never ending drone of the millions of frogs in the swamp below. The railroad tracks that cut our pasture in two pieces also provided the Stallings kids with recreation. The purpose of one of our railroad games was to see who could walk furtherest on the steel rails without falling off. We became skillful at this and at times walked the rails for several hundred yards before the contest was decided. There were many culverts and pipes through the grade that let the water pass under the tracks. My two sisters and | played follow the leader along the tracks, under the bridge, and through iron pipes. We thought it was great fun to be in one of the pipes when a freight train rumbled over the top of us. The noise was deafening and the element of danger added spice to the adventure. Some of the pipes were small and I didn’t dare to crawl through them. I was afraid I would get stuck and the water would come through and drown me. I still have reoccurring nightmares about being caught in a culvert and drownin: Across the tracks from our sheep corral was a large section of land where the willow growth was so thick that it was almost impossible to penetrate it. There we decided to build our playhouse. With brush clippers and hatchets we cut away the brush and made not one but several rooms connected by narrow hallways. Like a castle of the middle ages, we were surrounded on all sides by water. To get to our castle, we had to cross a slow moving brackish stream of water several feet wide. The crossing was made on a large willow that had fallen across the stream and continued to grow. Because of the difficulty of reaching the castle, we felt secure. The girls raked the leaves from the camp ground and very shortly it was packed as hard as concrete. We made chairs and tables from packing boxes. Many things from our junk pile were used in furnishing the house. I put my tab ents to work and dug a well. It was about two feet deep and within an hour the water had risen to within a few inches of the top of the ground. I put a staple keg around the well, a windless on top and completed it with bucket and rope. Everyone liked the well and thought it was a fine addition to the house but it served no purpose as no one would drink the water. We had great fun here climbing trees, digging holes in the ground, and wading in the water away from the prying eyes of the adult world. wo silent, devoted companions accompanied us on most of our adventures. They were our two loyal dog friends Shep and Jack. Shep was a large shepherd dog and Jack was a mixture of several varieties. He had short hair and long floppy ears. The two had entirely different personalities. Shep was aggressive and domineering. Jack was submissive and reticent. The same relationship existed between the dogs as existed between lord of the manor and the lowest serf. Shep was truly a king. Jack accepted him as a superior being and paid homage to him. On the trail, Jack walked or ran two or three steps behind Shep. At feeding time, Jack would lay several steps behind Shep and wait for the king to finish, then he was allowed to approach the dish and eat. If he approached the dish without permission, Shep would grab him by the snout and hold him for a minute with thunder rising in his throat. At times, for the smallest infraction of the code, Shep would grab him by the foot or the ear and force Jack to beg for mercy. Jack was not allowed to receive affection from us children. If we petted him or spoke kindly to him, a rumbling in Shep’s throat sent Jack, tail between his legs, to the shadows. Class distinction was forgotten when it came to protecting the Stallings” children. believed each would have given his life for us. We did not however, and often played shoddy tricks on them. At times, if we were playing on a hill, we would pretend to fall and roll down the hill screaming for help, to lie still at the bottom. The dogs would race to the scene whimpering and crying, they would nuzzle us and beg for some sign of life. When we finally got to our feet, they would bark happily a UO for jJoy. Many times, in fun, I conned into saving me from drowning. In the ee part of the swimming hole, I would flail the water, cry for help, and go under the water. The dogs would hit the water with a splash and swim to me. Pretending to be almost done in, I would put my arms over their shoulders and with eight Hes flailing in the water, I would be taxied to shore. My father pulled Shep from the swift water of the North Fork River. Someone had tried to drown him by tying a large can to his tail. My father was rewarded for this kindness by many years of loyal service to the family. I do not know how Jack became attached to the family. Even though he was just a serf, I loved him dearly and cried when he died a violent death in middle age. He went to sleep under the wheel of a wagon loaded with hay. The wheel passed over his chest, killing him instantly. younger family members mourned for days when Shep died of old age. We dug a grave on the clay hill and gave him a king’s burial — ing a head board with his name carved o: I have often wondered what would happen if all an a sudden, the modern recreation facilities What if there televisions, video een record players, or pin ball machines. What ere were no hamia stands, no Rei Fried Chicken, or Pizza Hut’s. The kids of Swineville never heard of any of these things but we had a great time none the less. In the evening, when the chores were done and the dishes were washed, the call went out for ball players. If enough players responded, we chose sides and played rounders. If there were only four or five players, we played One Old Cat. Hit the ball, run to first oO PLACE base, and back before someone fielded the ball and got it to the catcher at home base. Once in a while, my father played with us. We w very happy when he would be the batter or the pitcher. Mostly, he was just too busy to play with us. Our favorite playground was Lester Froerer’s pasture. It was a beautiful green meadow near the railroad station. Like a modern day park, this grass was close cropped and beautiful. The only drawback was that you had to watch where you stepped. After all, it was a cow pasture. How wonderful it was to take off our shoes and socks and run and jump on the cool green grass. This group of kids, ranging in age from 6 to 15 years old, represented four or five families, namely the George and Lester Froerer families and the Parkinson and Stallings families. They added up to no fewer than zen kids. “Pump, Pump Away” was the game I liked best because I was successful at it. I was quick and could run fast and was usually the last one to be caught. We played many games in this beautiful meadow. Run Sheep Run, Cheese It, Tag, and others that I have forgotten after sixty five years. As darkness fell, we heard the call from our mother and went reluctantly home. Mother was always tired when night time came. She worked hard all day but was never too tired to do things that pleased her family. On spring and summer evenings, especially moonlight nights, we—Maude, Annie and I—would go out in the yard and lie with mother on a quilt. Mother had a wealth of stories that she told. We liked to watch the fire flies light their tiny lanterns over the meadow. The night sounds made beautiful background music for the stories she told. The monotonous drone of the crickets filled the air. This blended with the croaking of frogs from a dozen different ponds, produced a symphony of sound. The plaintive call of the love and the whirring, chiMaeing sound a the =~ Oo MOFFET ing over head i in pursuit of insects added mystery to the stories. If we were bored, we always had books to read. I read with relish the stories of Jack London and James Oliver Curwood. These authors wrote wonderful stories of the North Country and I still enjoy stories of the frozen north. JACKSON FORK INN, LLC INVITES YOU TO CELEBRATE OUR 18TH YEAR! Cut out the attached coupon and come see us. 10% 3 ackson Fork Inn, LLC j9% Off Receive 10% off Dinner or Brunch when you dine with us. 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