July 24, 2008

• July 24, 1925

  My Dear Bobbie,

       Is it hot there in Ava? We have been suffering terrible here at Brixey with a prolonged spell of drouthy conditions, but things are looking brighter this week. Last evening lightning and thunder filled the air, and before they subsided, the countryside was soaked and washed fresh and clean. It is a relief today to breathe cooler, fresher air.

       The storm is not the only news of yesterday. I believe you will be happy to learn that Frank and I have been blessed with a new baby girl. She was born in the morning, when the sun was coming up, long before those storm clouds gathered. I expect her to have a disposition to go along with the view out our bedroom window when she was coming into this old world.

       Our tiny daughter is to be called Julia Anna, after my dear departed mother. I am thirty-seven years of age and fully expect this to be our last child. Mama was forty-four years when she bore me, and I came along well after she intended on adding to the family. Your dearly beloved husband Landon was already seven years of age when I showed up at the back door, and brother Baxter was the ripe age of eleven, so Mama had despaired of ever having a little dolly to dress up. I felt much the same way before this little angel came along. I believe that I know how my own mother felt to be given a little girl late in life. So it seems fitting that I shall call her for Mama.

       Ruskin and Lois seem happy to share our affections for this small child. Lois has already been such a help to me in this confinement, bringing me whatever she can and seeing to the baby’s needs as much as a girl of seven can do. Ruskin thinks he is much too old to be catering to an infant, but I’ve noticed the tender glances he gives her, and he has even soothed her when I was ill this morning. He has now gone to chore for me, and Lois will see to the kitchen as best she can.

       I must tell you that I truly wished for my dear Mama on the day before yesterday. As the hours extended into the evening and the baby refused to be born, I could not help but think of my grandmother, Katie, who travailed with twins, those many years ago back in Indiana. To labor and labor, to see tiny girls, one after the other, finally come into the world demanding food and protection, and then to simply not be able to live to provide it must have been heart-rending, indeed. It defies imagination to know how Grandfather Brown managed to keep the little orphans alive.

       And then to think of how he bravely tucked them into the old black kettle, placed them aboard the old wooden wagon and started forth for a new land, with them not yet walking or even creeping, is more than I can think of. After arriving in these dark, forbidding hills and finding no home, only a cave in which to take shelter that first winter, Grandfather must have been mighty happy to see the spring of 1846 arrive. I believe Mama must have been made of stern stuff to have survived such a difficult beginning! It is my prayer that my own little one, now bearing her name, will be cut from the same cloth.

       Frank has gone to his mother’s this morning, to see to her needs. As you know, she is not slack in making demands on her nearest and favorite child. Mother Mahan does have some trouble with her eyes, making it unpleasant for her to be alone. She consented to come to our home two days ago, to assist with bringing this little one forth, so I should not begrudge his help to her. I felt unwell all that day, and Frank fetched her here at dusk, believing the birth to be imminent. It happened to be a long night of travail, and by sunrise of yesterday I was nearly done for. Thankfully, I was able to produce the child in good health. I am still ill and will be, I am certain, for many days.

       I can see through the window that my garden has revived since the rain. With so much work to be done in July, I am wondering how I can possibly ignore the tasks that await me. But await me, they must, for Mother Mahan says I must lie abed for two weeks, after which time I will surely be ready to rouse, if I can only do so.

       I’m sure you know that Baxter and Nan came on Sunday, driving down from Ava in their new motor car, which was of the greatest interest to Ruskin. He declares he will have one once he goes off to college and becames a professor. Since he keeps his nose in a book most nights, I believe he will succeed in his dream.

       I butchered two fat roosters and made a kettle full of chicken and dumplings. That, along with truck from the garden, fed us very well. As I was feeling like swooning with the heat, Nan did up the dishes, letting me rest my swollen feet.

       Lyda and Byron came down from Rockbridge, too, and brought little Billy. Lyda can scarcely let the little fellow out of her sight, but after seeing her lose the older three children to measles, I know her fear. The tales of the cholera that is raging around this nation frighten me to the bone, and I’ve asked Frank to tend the hogs instead of letting Ruskin do it.

       It is my fondest desire that you and Landon will be able to make the trip to visit us sometime soon, to meet your niece. Nan told me of the beautiful stock of goods you have in the store this season, and perhaps you’d bring a yard or two for a new little dress for Julia Anna.

       Speaking of making dresses, I spent all day Tuesday, the 21st, sewing burial garments for the late Mrs. Smith of Souder. She succumbed that morning, and because of the extreme heat, the burial must needs take place immediately. Her young grandson rode his mare over with the family’’s request, and there was nothing to be done but sew while he waited. The beans got themselves canned while stitches were made.

       I’m hoping the cabbages will survive in the cellar until I am back on my feet. There will be no kraut cutting for a while!

       Bobbie, you and my brother must try and stay indoors during the middle of the day so as to not get overly heated. We’ve heard of many heat strokes among the neighbors who are threshing. Frank says they will be here within two weeks. I must be able to cook for the men by that time.

  Your loving sister-in-law,

  Mary Frances

                   

  Happy Birthday to my dear Mother-in-Law, Julia Anna Mahan Taber, 7-23-25, daughter of the equally dear Mary Frances Gaulding Mahan, who was born 7-07-1888 and passed away 5-29-1980. She would have been 120 on her last birthday.

   

   

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