REMEMBERING A GRANDMOTHER

A few weeks ago I wrote a blog about one of my grandfathers and what I remembered about him that was special to me.  Many people said they enjoyed the story. What occurred to me was that maybe I could write something about one of my grandmothers whom I had the privilege of knowing for 45 years.

Jessie Hawes Wampler was born in the small, unincorporated village of Raglesville, Indiana, in 1887.  In 1870, Raglesville had a population of 53 souls and at the height of its population later numbered 140.  Early in her life, Jessie moved with her father, Francis Marion Wampler, and her mother, Martha Wadsworth, to an even smaller dot on the map, Tunnel Switch, Indiana.  Her father managed a poor coal mine there and operated a general store for the miners and their families. There was no electricity and no running water. Jessie worked in the store and helped take care of her baby sister, and later, her mother.  About the age of 16, Jessie’s mother died of Tuberculosis and Jessie looked for a way out of Tunnel Switch.

She found an opportunity in Indianapolis, Indiana. A family there wanted a live-in housekeeper and Jessie told the lady of the house that she could only take the job if she could bring her younger sister, Vonda, age 9, along with her.  I don’t remember her telling me how she made the connection in Indianapolis.  What I know is that she and her sister moved in with the family and the girls were treated very well.

The two girls came from a poor family background and lived a simple life with only the necessities.  The lady of the household loaned Jessie a coat so she could go to church, which she did regularly. She met a man at church who was looking for a woman to help him raise two young children as their mother, also named Jessie, had died recently. That man, O.E. (Orlando Ernestus) Ketring, and the new Jessie were married in 1907 in Indianapolis.  The two children, Roy and Aletha, were soon joined by three more, Edna, born in 1909, Cecil, my mother, born in 1913 and Gayle, born in 1915.  The family of seven moved to a farm in southwestern Ohio, not far from the Indiana border. There they carved out a living while the children were growing up.  They all worked hard and one by one got married and moved away. Jessie and Orly, as O.E. was known, then left the farm and opened a general store in Eldorado, Ohio, which they operated successfully for many years.

Whenever I visited Jessie and Orly, I became part of their early-to-bed, early-to-rise philosophy and off to work in the store every day but Sunday.  They lived within walking distance of the store. Their house was across a street from the railroad tracks where several freight and passenger trains ran every day.  Jessie introduced me to the postmaster who allowed me to go with him to watch one of the trains extend a metal bar, grab a mail pouch from a metal stand next to the tracks, without slowing down, and at the same time throw out a bag of mail which I carried back to the post office.  Many passenger trains in those days had mail cars, a rolling post office that delivered and picked up mail from villages and towns without stopping.  They sorted the mail while en route to the next city or town.

Jessie gave me numerous opportunities to learn from others including Mr. Hawley, a blacksmith who lived across the street from my grandparents.  He worked with iron, including making horseshoes and tools such as plows, hoes, and rakes.  I remember the heat from his forge becoming intense as he used the bellows to raise the temperature to be able to hammer the iron into different shapes.  I was allowed to work in the general store, waiting on customers, and helping to stock the shelves.  The store was arranged so that groceries were on the left side, dry goods on the right and the candy counter was at the front of the store.  Meat and dairy were in the back in refrigerated cases.  She asked me frequently if I wanted some “Adam’s ale” her name for the water that came from their well.

When my grandparents liquidated the store, they moved 15 miles north of where they lived to be closer to a daughter, my mother.  When my grandfather, died, Jessie moved to an apartment a few blocks from our house and then to the St. Clair home, a kind of assisted living facility.  Some of my last memories of Jessie are sitting with her there, either in the big common living room or on the front porch, and asking her to tell me more stories of her life and work.  She always had another good one.  When my Dad died in 1979, I remember her saying how much he and my mother had done for her.  She said, “This is not right. I should be the one to die. Your Dad was too good and too young to die.”  At the time, my father was 67, Jessie was 92 and she died 7 years later in 1986 age 98, 7 months before her 99^th birthday.

Jessie lived from horse and buggy days past the first man on the moon and in her lifetime saw and endured two world wars and the Great Depression.  She endured a life of hard work, demonstrated ethical and principled behavior, and was a good neighbor and friend to many. She, and my mother, were wonderful models and examples for me to learn the principles of a good work ethic, kindness and compassion, and strong family values.  She, and my mother, also showed me the importance of a good sense of humor and laughter.  I am blessed and grateful.