Month: February 2021

A faint sound interrupted the silence as branches snapped back in place as if they had been pulled like a rubber band and released. Quick footsteps ran along the trail that wound through the woods. As they neared the edge of the trees, the sound stopped suddenly, and everything was still and quiet.

In the black of night, the figure of a man in shabby clothes and worn-out shoes cautiously emerged from the trees and bushes. If he read the signs right, it was safe. Looking around, he was on the run again in case unwanted eyes had followed his movements. He made his way to a safehouse where he was given a change of clothes before continuing his journey north. With his slave garments cast aside, he was given further instructions.

The way to freedom was a long, dangerous, and arduous road. The majority of those seeking freedom were uneducated and illiterate. They communicated by word of mouth and signs. 

An Underground Railroad Quilt Code was put in place as a sign to guide fugitives to freedom. Various blocks were used, each sending a secret message. There might be a quilt draped over a porch railing, a portion of one hanging like a flag, or even a quilt block design drawn in the dirt. A block painted on a wagon might indicate there was a secret compartment for them to hide and be transported to another location.

Each diagram had a different code to indicate if it was safe to travel, when to pack, and where to go. Some blocks served as a compass, indicating the direction they needed to go. Some quilt patterns told slaves to continue north into Canada. Others let them know where the safehouses were.

A Wagon Wheel quilt pattern signaled slaves to pack provisions for their journey. They had very few belongings and gathered only the things necessary for survival.

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The Carpenter’s Wheel design indicated it was time to go. To the slaves, the master carpenter was Christ. Slaves sang songs while working in the fields not only to worship, but also to send messages. “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot”, referred to the wagon wheel, which indicated it was time to travel. Another song used to give them the signal to go was “Steal Away.” The Carpenters Wheel pattern as well as songs they sang encouraged the slaves to “run with faith” to the northwest. Slave owners thought they sang of going to heaven, but the soulful, sometimes sorrowful, rhythmic Negro Spirituals urged their people to go northwest. The road to freedom usually took them through Cleveland, Ohio, which was the main crossroad.

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The Bear’s Paw pattern let the slaves know to follow paths of the bears or other animals. The travelers followed the trails that led through the mountains. They were not straight, but crooked paths, that led to water and safety. As most escapes took place in the time of the spring rains, it was easier to follow a bear’s paw trail as prints were left in the soft damp soil.

Along the various routes, Athens, Ohio, was a pivotal stop on the Underground Railroad. Several homes in the area were used to hide slaves making their way north to freedom. According to family history, Thomas Brewer and his wife, my 3^rd great grandparents, took part in this Underground Railroad movement. He was an advocate for the enslaved and offered aid on the slaves’ road to freedom. 

Here is a link to quilt block patterns, and their meanings, that served as a map to guide slaves to and through the Underground Railroad: 

https://page.reallygoodstuff.com/pdfs/154227.pdf  

I made this quilted table runner as a gift for friends who extended the hand of hospitality and provided us a place to stay for the night. The center block is the Carpenter’s Wheel. The star that is split on either side is what I call the Native Star, inspired by the Lakota Indian Quilt Exhibit I visited several years ago. Both of these designs represent the oppressed who sought freedom. 

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Forrest Gump said, “Life is like a box of chocolates – you never know what you’re gonna get.”  Well, I say, “friends are like a box of chocolates.”  

My sister would poke a hole or take a bite out of each chocolate so she could pick the one she wanted to eat.  She may have missed out on something good by not sampling those chocolates. 

Just like those chocolates, friends are diverse.  Some may be a bit nutty – some a bit fruity – some rich – some not as sweet– some overwhelming.  Friends come in different shapes and sizes, of different ages and various characteristics.  They each offer a different type of friendship and meet a different need in our lives. 

From an acquaintance to a “kindred spirit” friend, they each have a different aroma.

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My mom and her sister were best friends. They were fifteen months apart. My mom took it upon herself to care for her baby sister who thought the sun rose and set on her big sister. Each day when my mom came home from school, she taught her sister what she had learned in class. She continued to nurture her sister and, in many ways, took the place of their mother. 

The girls went to school together, rode horse back together, killed rattlesnakes together, went to normal school for their teaching degree together, cried together and laughed together. The bond these sisters shared was more binding than blood. 

They were the best of friends, and what a sweet fragrance that was!

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This is a tribute to the women who helped shape the West.

A wife of good character who can find?  She is worth more than all the
 gold or silver one can mine.  Her husband has full confidence in her
 and leaves everything to her care while he’s away.
  She brings him good, not harm, all of his life. 
 She tans the hides to make clothing for her children.  She is like the
traveling supply trains that bring goods and food to her family.
She is up before daylight preparing the day’s meals of beans and
hot tortillas.  She always has plenty to share with the stranger that comes
 to her door.  
She sees a good pony and buys it with the money she’s earned
sewing garments.  She sets about her work with a smile on
her face and a Spanish song on her lips.  Her arms and back are strong
for the day’s work.  She is last to lie down at night and her
lamp stays lit as she protects her family.  She opens her home to
those in need and lends an ear to her neighbor.
When the snows come, she does not fear, for her home is filled
with warmth.  She makes quilts from patched clothing for 
her beds.  The family is always dressed presentably before others.
Her husband is respected in the community.  He serves with the
judges and county leaders.  She is clothed with strength and dignity.
She laughs at days to come and does not dwell on disappointments
of the past.  She speaks words of wisdom and instructs her
children to be respectable citizens.  She watches over the
affairs of her household and always lends a hand to others.
Her children and grandchildren call her blessed.
Her husband thanks her for being his faithful companion.
Many women have done well, but Granny Brannin exceeds
them all.  Pretty words can be misleading, and beauty
can be deceiving.  But a woman who reveres the Lord and leads her 
children in the way of truth – 
She is to be held in the highest respect.
Give her the reward she has earned.  Let the life and
testimony she has lived bring honor to her memory.
May the gift of her heritage be passed on to her
future generations.

sa

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On October 3, 1955, Disney’s Mickey Mouse Club debuted on ABC. 

Before that, another Mouse Club ruled the halls of Sweet Grass High School. It was a very exclusive group – girls only – that had one strict requirement: you could not be afraid of mice, living or dead.

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B J was not afraid of mice and neither were her friends, sisters Jean and Betty. That was the extent of the membership of their club.

B J grew up handling mice. When just a youngster, her great uncles trapped mice to give to B J for her cat. There was a catch – a price to be paid. The uncles said, “Go say, ‘damn the old ladies’, and we will give you a mouse.” B J walked out to where the “old ladies” were and paid her dues. True to their word, the uncles rewarded her a dead mouse for her cat.

When she started school, she got a live mouse and gently put it in a match box and took it to school. She must have been proud when she placed the little box on the teacher’s desk. The teacher slid back the box top and out jumped the mouse. She was not impressed, nor did she share B J’s fascination with mice. I do not know if they had Show and Tell that day, but I am sure it was Show and Yell!

The mouse-capades continued in high school when B J was joined by her two accomplices. A classmate of the three girl Mouse Club was deathly afraid of mice. How silly! The girl might as well have shouted a dare from the top of her lungs. Her fear of mice was the only fuel needed for the Mouse Club to jump into action. The plan was in place.

After capturing an unsuspecting furry creature to be offered as a gift, it was packaged up. It was suggested by one source that some of the boys might have taken part in the caper. This account was given by one of the Mouse Club members in later years who said they gave the mouse to the boys who did the deed. That is not the way I previously heard the mouse tale. I tend to think that version of the story was merely a diversion in an attempt to deflect blame.

The story as told to me through the years was that the club members put the mouse in the girl’s locker. When the girl opened her locker and looked in the box, she let out a shriek, you know, like a loud resounding scream. The principal got involved and accused the boys of the dastardly deed.

A few years ago, the sister of one of the Mouse Club members snitched to the mouse recipient and revealed the source of the girl’s teenage trauma. It might not have been the best gift, but it’s the thought that counts. Hmmm, maybe that’s not always the case. 

One thing plentiful at Ward & Parker Sawmill was sawdust. It floated in their summer iced drinks, served as a burial ground for the bantam hen and Sister Ellen’s doll, insulated the icehouse, and tracked through the house and into the attic. 

There was also a secret purpose for sawdust. It was a weapon – arsenal for old grumpy Englishmen. Not everyone knew how to unleash the secret weapon, but Sister Ellen did. She waited for just the opportune moment to discharge the artillery.

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The suitable time arose after the kids’ grandfather arrived from across the big water. He called Sister Ellen “Sookie” and commanded her to “do this” or “do that”, which Sister Ellen did not take kindly to. Grandfather fell and broke his leg which made him grumpier than his usual grumpiness. He stayed in the bedroom that had the attic overhead.

When the kids’ mama went to the garden, she gave them instructions. Sister Ellen’s brother was to mind his big sister and she was not to bother their grandfather. That was a prescription for disaster and spelled T-R-O-U-B-L-E. 

It was not long before Sister Ellen formulated her plan. The kids crept up the attic steps and peeked through the knothole above Grandfather’s bed. He grumbled, “What are you kids doing up there?” “Nothing.” Sister Ellen commanded her brother to stomp when he walked. Hadn’t his mother told him to mind his sister? The two made quite a racket to which Grandfather complained even louder. 

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Now in the attic was, you guessed it, bits of sawdust that was strategically located near the knot hole along with regular dust and bits of paper. Somehow, the tiny missiles made their way through the hole and onto a red-faced British grandfather. He hollered and yelled and threatened to tell their mother. Would he do that? 

They slithered down the steps and made peace. When their mother came in, they were playing calmly on the front porch. Grandfather lay content on his bed with a little smile on his face. Both opposing sides thought they won that battle, and I guess maybe they did, but the war was not over yet.

There was a song we sung when I was a kid:

Froggy went a-courtin’ and he did ride, M-hm M-hm
Froggy went a-courtin’ and he did ride, M-hm M-hm
Froggy went a-courtin’ and he did ride,
Sword and pistol by his side, M-hm, M-hm

He rode up to Miss Mousie’s door, M-hm, M-hm
He rode up to Miss Mousie’s door, M-hm, M-hm
He rode up to Miss Mousie’s door,
where he’d often been before, M-hm, M-hm

He said Miss Mousie will you marry me, M-hm, M-hm
He said Miss Mousie will you marry me, M-hm, M-hm
He said Miss Mousie will you marry me,
And how happy we will be, M-hm, M-hm.

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I don’t know if my grandmother knew that tune or not, but she knew something about courtin’.

Margueritte was said to be a tremendous horsewoman. She could ride with the best and handle a team like nobody’s business. When she set eyes on the man of her dreams, she was no less determined and boldly made her move.

The man she set her sights on was 9 years her senior. He had a batchin’ partner, John. The two guys had traveled the prairies working the harvests from Montana into Canada. Margueritte thought it was about time he settled down.

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She showed up at their house on the prairie from time to time. One day when she came to their door it was suppertime. The guys used a pie plate as a lid. That night they had boiled potatoes for supper. Bee drained the taters and flipped them out on the pie pan lid on the table. 

Margueritte looked a bit surprised. That made her determined to tame that unrefined wanderer. He needed a wife! She lassoed him and Bee’s wandering days came to an end. The two were married in the fall of ’26.

And so began another series of adventures….