Since we all lived together (with my cousin Joe in addition), my early memories are bound up with my grandparents as well as my mother. Children remember different things about adults, and members of a household have a different vantage point of memory.

One of my earliest memories of my grandparents was seeing them work in their garden in their bare feet. As I remember, it seems as if the only time they wore shoes during the gardening season was when going to church, but in retrospect I am sure they must have worn them more than that. No one except children went around barefoot, so this made a deep impression on me. They were careful gardeners. Grandma used to pulverize the clods of dirt with her hands before sowing the seeds. Weeds didn't have a chance with mamma, grandma and grandpa chasing after them. One of my jobs was picking potato bugs off the plants and dropping them in a can having kerosene in the bottom to kill them. With the peculiar reasoning typical of a child, I never minded picking the red ones, but I hated the black striped beetles with a passion. When the grandparents became too old to do much gardening, grandpa still insisted on going out for an hour or so each day hoeing. Mamma would try to get him to stop, because it was too much for him, but he insisted anyway. She had the bulk of the work, which also included canning and preserving as much as she possibly could, since money was scarce and this saved considerably on the food budget. She worked very hard at home, and also away.

Another early memory is that of all of us on our knees in the dining room beside our chairs, praying for all the relatives, the problems of the world, and any current matter that needed God's attention. This was done every night before bedtime. Grandma taught me my little prayer:

"Jesus, Tender Shepherd, hear me;

Bless Thy little lamb tonight.

Through the darkness be thou near me;

Keep me safe 'til morning light."

Joe and I took part in this until we became old enough to be self-conscious, and we quit. They continued until they became too frail and Grandma was sick. Then Grandpa came and knelt by her bedside and they prayed together.

Grandpa loved to sing the old hymns, and kept his voice remarkably well until his death. He knew all the verses of many of them, but his favorite was "What a Friend We Have in Jesus." I used to start at the beginning of the hymn book and play all the hymns he knew while he sat in his favorite rocker and rocked and rocked and sang them all from beginning to end.

Grandpa was a very devout and firm believer in the efficacy of prayer. One day he came into the kitchen where mamma and I were, joyfully waving aloft a $5 bill and saying, "I kept praying that God would send me some money, and when I picked up this Bible and looked through it, He answered my prayers by sending me this money." Mamma looked at me, her face a mixture of chagrin and despair. She had stashed the money there for an emergency. Neither of us had the heart to tell him how the money got there.

Grandma was a tiny little woman, toothless (Mamma said she had had all of her teeth pulled without benefit of anesthetic, and there was never enough money for false teeth.), with wispy snow-white hair done up in a little pug during the day and braided at night. She always wore a shirtwaist with a dark, long, skirt, and a clean apron. At her funeral the minister told that she had walked three miles to teach Sunday School every Sunday until the family moved to town on November 11, 1918. She had told people who questioned her walking that far in all kinds of weather "Well, the horses have worked hard all week and they need a rest too." It was also mentioned that she was the one everyone in the neighborhood turned to in case of illness.

Both Grandma and Grandpa mixed up their j's with y's as many Scandinavians have done. I especially remember that among the many Bible stories Grandma told Joe and me, one was about "Yoseph and his yealous brothers." She also affirmed over and over that God could see everything we did, and no matter how hard we would try to hid from Him, we could never escape his vigilance. One of our favorite games was to try to find a hiding place that couldn't be found by God, but no matter where we hid, Grandma assured us that God was watching and knew everything we did. This seemed almost impossible, but since Grandma said it was true it must be so. After all, Grandma and God were very close.

My earliest memory of my mother was an event that took place at my Aunt Mary Snyder's place. It was very spectacular as far as a small child was concerned, and that is why I never forgot it. I can still see mamma riding bareback down the lane with the horse galloping to get back to the barn her hair flying straight out behind her, all the hair pins having fallen out along the way. Some of the boys had bet she couldn't ride the horse, and she showed them that she could. Many of my happiest memories were of days on the farm playing with Madelyn and the younger boys. I can remember three or four of us riding old Babe, leading her out by the bag swing so we could jump off her back onto the swing and go out and back. Mamma helped Aunt Mary at threshing time, when the new house was being built, when the younger children were born (possibly before, although I think Grandma went there as long as she was able) and any time she was needed.

Mamma worked out for people, in early years mostly farm people, but in later years for town people, and for a while at Aamodt's cafe, making a dozen or so pies every morning before breakfast. When I was very small I felt desolate when she was gone, and I can remember sobbing bitterly as she left. During the depression years she worked for 15 cents an hour, doing the hardest kinds of housecleaning. At that time Grandpa's little house in the north part of town and his little store building on main street weren't rented, so there was no income from that. He held a second mortgage on the farm north of town, but the buyers were unable to make the payments, Grandpa wasn't able to pay off the first mortgage, so he lost everything there. Mamma was the mainstay of the house at that time although various relatives were kind with food and meat when they butchered.

My earliest memories of Christmas are about the Christmas Eve services at the church. I can remember relatives coming for Christmas dinner when I was very young, and one particular Christmas about 1922 when the weather was unseasonably warm and the men stood outside in their suit coats. This was contrary to usual, when the ground was covered with snow and the air was chilled. One year Mamma popped enough corn to fill a flour sack 3/4 full. It took a long time. The old kitchen range was fired with corn cobs from the Snyder farm, and it took a lot of cobs before she was through. On Christmas Eve I was allowed to leave off my long winter underwear so I could wear a short-sleeved dress when I said my "piece" at the church program. The air felt deliciously cool as we walked on the crunchy snow, with the sound of sleigh bells in the air as the country people arrived at the church. The tree in front of the church was beautiful, decorated with tinsel, baubles, and candles. Honey-combed bells hung from the lights. After the program Santa passed out cunning little boxes covered with Christmas figures, and with little tape handles so one could carry them like little suitcases. They were filled with Christmas candies. Adults each received an apple. (Another early memory of church was of Mrs. Mary Cahoon tiptoeing about during the service to give a candy peppermint to any child who coughed, and I was the recipient of her largess often.) Christmas gifts were usually articles of clothing that were needed. Occasionally there would be a simple toy. We never had trees, for some reason, and never hung up a stocking.

We always went to all the church services. It was so ingrained it never occurred to any of us to stay home. One day, however, marked the end of Grandma's church going. As we were coming home, she slipped on the ice and broke her hip. My grandfather must have been nearing 80, but he carried her the block and-a-half to our home. Mamma had all the care of Grandma during this time and during the succeeding deterioration of mind and health which occurred over several years. This was physically and emotionally debilitating. Grandpa and Grandma were able to listen to church services on the radio when they could no longer go to church, and this was a tremendous boon to them.

We never had much money while I was growing up, but I never was made to feel poor - we were just short of money. Mamma always managed a little money for wallpaper and paint which she put on the house, and everything was kept neat and tidy. Our clothes were clean and we always looked presentable. Mamma could make a little money go a long way.

Mamma never spoke of my father. Whatever happened between them she kept to herself. The few years she had when married to Earl Castle in Washington were happy years, and it is sad to think they were so few. She always liked order in her life, and during the years I was working she would clean all my cupboards, the basement, storage areas, and generally put things right. When we got a new furnace, she and Allen took an axe and knocked down the old coal bin. I used to sew clothes for the girls each August to be ready for school, and she used to do all the handwork for me, the hemming, sewing on of buttons, and pressing. After coming to live with us she kept all the magazines and papers in order, picking up after Glenn and me as we left things strewn about. She watered the plants, dried the dishes, folded laundry, ironed Glenn's handkerchiefs, looked after her own room, and deplored the fact she couldn't do much more. She lived by a stern code - one always got up, cleaned up and dressed, made the bed, and stayed up the rest of the day. (It was permissible to nap a bit on the couch if necessary, but not as a regular habit). She did this until just a few days before she died. She was made of "strong steel" and was proud of "carrying her own weight" and not being in the way.

I will always remember Mamma, Grandma and Grandpa.

Evelyn Kennicott