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a crop for the coming year.
My parents moved in with his
mother and lived there until
four little children were born
to them — a boy and three
girls.
1 was three when my Father
bought more land with a small
house on it. adjoining his other
property. We were very happy
to move up on the big road, as
we called it then. There was
one automobile in the commu
nity and from our porch we
could see it drive by occasion
ally. It belonged to Dr. Hef
lin. our family physician. A
1910 Buick — painted a beau
teous red. We liked to sit out
and hear him come chugging
up the road.
By 1912. 1 heard Father say
to Mother. “Lilia, now we’ve
saved up about a thousand dol
lars since we paid for the farm.
1 want to build you a new
house.”
He cut his own logs, hauled
them to the mill and brought
them back in beautifully
smooth lumber. And our
house was under way. They
hired three carpenters in the
community, paying them $1.50
a day for their labor. They
added on to our old house,
making a seven-room with a
big hall down the center, with
a big porch all the way on one
side and half way around the
other.
My, what fun we had on the
porch in the summer time. 1
remember quite well when my
Mother anti Father went to the
city and bought new furniture
for the guest room, or front
room, we called it. And a pi
ano and davenport, with nice
chairs and even a soft rug for
the parlor. 1 can hear Father
now saying: "Now you can
really have company, can’t
you Lilia?”
And we did. But the ones
that 1 remember best were the
old Jewish peddlers who
would come down the road
with a big black leather pack
on their back. I can just see
those old kind faces, their pret
ty brown eyes shining, some
with long beards. Their Eng
lish very broken. They talked
mostly with their kind expres
sion anyway, so dialect did not
matter.
My parents were so kind to
them. If it was near mealtime,
they would ask them to eat,
and if near night time, they
would ask them to spend the
night. We enjoyed having
The Southern Israelite
them with us so much. We
would sit around the fire at
night and they would tell us
about their old country. At
the table, mv Father would al
ways ask the blessing and they
would say “amen.”
I have seen many sights in
mv travels from here to Cali
fornia many times, but I can’t
think of anything that thrilled
me more than when the old
Jewish peddlers would spread
out the big leather pack there
in the back end of our hall.
My! the pretty laces, combs
and jewelry. And all kinds of
jewelry, fans, dress materials,
dresser scarfs, table cloths, pil
low cases and shawls. Even a
pacifier for the babies. And the
best thing, they would give us
a present out of the pack and
tell us thank you for letting
them share our home and fire.
Always when they would
leave, they would add “God
bless you.”
My father told us one night
when one of the old Jewish
peddlers was spending the
night, he got up before day
light one day and went up on
the hill to feed his stock. He
came upon the old man. At
first he was frightened and
asked: “What are you doing
up here so early this morning.”
The old gentleman replied
“This is when 1 do my praying
—early in the morning is best.’
So as I write this in the year
1955 — a good year with the
Jewish people — God’s Chosen
treasure, I am aware that
God’s blessings have rested
upon my family in an unusual
manner down through the
years. We have not been rich
m wealth although we’ve al
ways had plenty. My father is
now HO and my mother is 70.
They are still living in the
: ame house they shared with
their Jewish visitors. They’re
in their right mind, able to
take care of themselves. Death
has not touched them in any
way. Their six children all
live nearby. Surely God heard
and has answered the old
man’s prayers for our families.
Sometimes now I wander
about the old home place, and
I can almost feel the presence
of the man Father surprised
one morning . . . and hear his
“This is when I do my pray
ing. Early morning is always
best ...”
And God’s words come to
me anew . . .
“I wiil bless them who bless
thee ...”
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