And, now....About Wilma, my mother...

My mother was born at the very turn of the century, in 1899. She was 4th in line of 5 children - Daisy Maude, Herbert Eugene, Bertha Mae, my mother Wilma, and then her younger sister, Helen Jenette. Below is a photo of my mother as an infant, at the age of 6 months.

Wilma was born on a farm, near Plover, Iowa, in the spring of 1899. This photo was taken when she was 6 months old.

 Wilma at about age 3.

 Wilma at age 4.

According to her life story, taken from comments she made about it, this is how it happened...

"It was a morning in 1899 that my parents, George and Maggie Barrett, discovered me under a cabbage plant in their garden. At least, that is what they told me about my origin. At that time they lived on a farm near Plover, Iowa.

"In a few years they left the farm and went into the hotel business in Sac City, Iowa. I was three or four years old then.

"I think the hotel was called The Central House, but was later called The Park House. It may have been the only hotel in Sac City at that time - the early 1900s.

"I remember my father had a bus he used to meet the trains and bring travelers to the hotel. It was drawn by a team of horses and had seats along the sides for probably 10 or 12 passengers. There were few automobiles in those days so travelers usually went by train.

"There was an opera house in Sac City and traveling show troupes performed plays and vaudeville acts. I remember one group of show people who came to stay at our hotel. I was dazzled by the beautiful girls and as they went up the stairs to their rooms, I perched on the wide stair-steps and gazed in wonder at them until my parents took me away.

"I went to the show that evening and, although I probably didn't understand the play, I can still see the girls in their beautiful dresses on stage.

"Another event I remember when we lived in the hotel was a celebration of the 4th of July and a parade marching down the hill and through the Main Street with a band playing martial music."

The depot in Sac City. Below is the Park House Hotel, the same hotel my grandparents ran in the early 1900s.

 It is possible that the wagon on the right side of this photo was similar to the 'bus' my grandfather took to the depot to pick up people who were going to stay at his hotel.

"I think I was an adventurer at age 3 or 4 because I pushed a navy bean up one side of my nose to see what would become of it. It began to swell and hurt, and I had to confess to my mother what I had done. She took me to Dr. Adams whose office was just down the street and the doctor's wife held me while her husband extracted the bean somehow.

"A traveling salesman gave me a nickel and I put it in my mouth, and 'lo..!' I swallowed it! Mother had me do my bathroom chores in a pail for awhile, and the nickel finally appeared. The traveling man later asked me what I had used the money for, and I told him, "but," I said, "it reappeared in the pail."

"A family who lived next door to the hotel  had a daughter probably about 13 who liked to play with me. Her name was Mary McKasky. We played with her paper dolls and she liked to comb my hair. Her mother was a nice lady who had a large, permanent lump on her forehead. It was an object of interest to me. Mary had an older brother named Jim.

"I think the hotel business was hard for my mother. She did the cooking for the guests and I remember her having severe headaches. So they gave up operating the hotel and moved back to a farm in northwest Iowa.

"My father rented farms and we moved quite often from one farm to another. I think he always thought it was 'greener on the other side of the fence.'

"As automobiles gradually came into use, F.C. Hoyt, a photographer in Sac City, owned one of the first cars in town. Daisy and George Neal, my sister and brother-in-law who lived in Sac City, rented F.C. Hoyt's two-seated car and drove to visit us on the farm. They made the trip (around 50 miles) quite well for it must have been a dry spell and the dirt roads were quite passable. But while they were at our place, it began to rain and the roads became quagmires. Daisy and George must have taken the train back to Sac City, but they left the car in the driveway between two corn cribs on our farm. I don't know how long the car was there but I remember I used to go out and get in the car and play I was driving -- a big thrill for a country girl in that day! I squeezed the big black bulb horn. It would let out a blast, and bring Mother out to make me get out of the car for fear I would do some damage.

"I think that was the farm where we lived when I 'fell in love' with my teacher in the country school I attended. Her name was Nellie Easton and she lived in Curlew, Iowa, a nearby town. She gave me a beautiful book of poetry. It was white with red and white roses painted on the cover. The name of the book was One Thousand and One Gems. The preface to the book was written in 1884. It was published by Hurst and Co., New York. (At the time of the writing of this biography, Wilma still owned the book. I do not know what has happened to this book.)

"One time I invited my teacher to have supper at my house. I think I teased her into coming. But, my mother knew nothing about it until we arrived home from school and she was rather surprised. Afterward she lectured me about inviting people without her permission as she was not prepared for guests.

"The next farm I remember was the 'Johnson place' near Mallard. There were quite a few ponds and lakes in that area before wide-spread tiling and drainage ditches were used, so several towns around were named after waterfowl or birds -- Mallard, Plover, Curlew and others.

"When we drove our team of horses in a two-seated surrey with a top (I don't know if it had fringe or not... I can't remember that detail), my parents sat in front and I sat on the back seat alone and my feet didn't reach the floor, so I kept sliding off the seat. The upholstery was not made of fabric but was probably leather. One time when it was very cold, Mother put a cape around me on top of my coat to keep me warm, but I had so much trouble slipping off the seat, that I couldn't keep warm. I suppose we lived four or five miles from town -- not a great distance -- but with horse power it took awhile. But finally we reached town to buy groceries.

"When Mother paid the grocery man for her purchases he gave me some candy in a little red and white striped bag. We usually had a case of eggs to trade in on the groceries.

"One time Mother and I went to Struble and Maurice (Iowa) to visit her sisters, Annie Giese and Kate Vanderwicken. Aunt Annie operated a hotel in Struble. I remember that in the lobby there was a candy case with glass on the sides. One thing I especially liked was a tiny tin skillet filled with candy that looked like a fried egg. It had a yellow center surrounded by white. You got a tiny spoon to eat it with.

 My mother's aunt and uncle, Annie (Weis) and Henry Giese who lived at Le Mars in the western part of the state. Annie was my grandmother's sister, and is mentioned in the story above. I have not yet found a photo of my great-aunt Kate (Weis) Vanderwicken.

Left to right: My grandmother's brother, Uncle Michael Weis; my mother Wilma Cooper; my grandmother Maggie Barrett; my mother's cousin - Lena Weis; and Aunt Lizzie, my grandmother's sister-in-law.

"Mother always had me say my 'lay me down to sleep' prayer before going to bed and I knelt at her knee and said my prayer while we were at Annie's place. Aunt Annie said to Mother, "Mag, how come you always have such pretty kids?" The fact that I can remember that comment shows how vanity enters in even at prayer time.

"It was on the farm near Mallard that on May 5, when I was about 9 years old, my sister Helen was born. She was delivered by the doctor in his black bag -- or so I was told. My Aunt Lizzie Weis, who lived in the area, came to help out for a few days. The day of the birth I had to stay outdoors for a long time -- which I couldn't understand. (Luckily, Helen was born in May, so the temperatures probably were not that chilly.) But, at last I could go and see the new arrival. In those days babies always wore a tight belly band until the cord fell off. The ones Mother had made probably were made of woolen material, and maybe that was why Helen cried a lot at first. She might have been itching on her tummy. Everyone thought she had 'six months colic.' I remember once I rocked her in my small rocker and she went to sleep. I felt so proud, but she soon woke up and started crying again.

 Helen Jenette Barrett, about age 1

"I don't remember what farm we lived on when my sister Daisy was married to George Neal. I am not sure whether they were married or whether they had already 'tied the knot' and had been making us a visit. My father and brother Herbert took them to town in a bobsled because there was a lot of snow on the ground. I suppose they boarded a train in town to go on their wedding trip. Anyway, I was worried because it was dark and snowing and my father and brother were out in the dark on the road. Mother assured me that they would find their way home, and I guess they did.

Daisy and George Neal (I have not located any photos of them at younger ages. This was taken when they lived in Pauma Valley, California.)

"I went to a school about a quarter of a mile down the road. I liked a curly-haired boy by the name of Victor Whitmore. I also attended church in that same schoolhouse. It was a 'Dunkard' congregation, and the women wore little black bonnets. I think the men wore hats similar to those worn by the Amish. One of the things I remember about church there is that they had a ceremony which included washing one anothers feet. I was not a member, so I did not participate. (This is probably symbolic of the instance mentioned in the Bible when Jesus washed his disciples feet, in an act of humility.)

"There was an organ that you pumped with your feet in that school. On Fridays during school we always had singing in the afternoon. We sang rondos like Row, Row, Row Your Boat, Are You Sleeping, Brother John?, and songs like Comin' Through the Rye, My Old Kentucky Home, Annie Laurie, My Country 'Tis of Thee, and other songs of the time.

"Our family had a nice black mare named Dolly that was a favorite of the family. She became ill and died -- I think when giving birth to a colt. A sadness came over us when my father came in the house to tell us she was dead, and I recall my father shed some tears in the telling.

"We left the farm near Mallard and moved to a farm in Coon Valley township in Sac County. It was not far from the Raccoon River. I walked about a mile to school and one of my good friends was Genevieve Callahan. She was a couple of years older than me. She later went to school at Ames and got a degree in 'domestic science' and became an editor for Better Homes & Gardens food department.

"In those days there were peddlers who drove a sort of covered wagon pulled by one horse. They would have their wagons stacked with all kinds of household articles such as cooking utensils, brooms, mops, cleaning supplies, and I think they had spices and extracts, and a few bolts of calico. One such peddler came to our place and traded an aluminum pan for a live hen and some eggs. Aluminum was just coming into use for cooking and we thought this pan was very special. It really was because it had an inset with openings for little pans for poaching eggs. 

"Mother always raised chickens for food and for eggs to sell. She would watch her hens and when one acted 'broody' -- like she was a 'setting' hen by setting on a nest in the chicken house a lot of the time -- Mother would put a dozen or so eggs in the nest and the hen would sit on them 2 or 3 weeks, I think. She would leave just long enough to eat and go back on the nest so the eggs would not get cold. After the chicks were hatched, they would follow the mother around as she found food for herself and her brood.

"As the chicks grew, I remember one time a few of the young chicks didn't seem to have enough feathers. Since we had a cold spell that spring, and because the other chickens would pick at the featherless ones, Mother made little calico dresses for the bare ones to keep them warm, and to protect them from the other chickens. They looked funny going around with red and blue calico bodies. I don't remember if they ever got feathers, or outgrew their dresses.

"When I was about nine years old, I was very ill one summer with what was then called 'cholera morbus' -- a severe diarrhea with very high fever. I heard Mother say later that she didn't go to bed at night for about a week, but kept giving me sponge baths for the fever. I was delirious at times.

"We bought a small farm on the western edge of Sac City when I was about 11 years old, I think. I thought it was a lovely place. It had a nice two-story house with a kitchen, dining room, parlor and bedroom on the first floor, and three bedrooms upstairs. There was a large yard with lots of evergreen trees and some apple trees.

"I took piano lessons from a young woman who lived on a farm across the road. Her name was Ida Harrison. But, I didn't like to practice my lessons.

"On my 11th birthday, I had a party and about ten of my friends were invited for ice cream and cake. Mother's good friend, Mrs. Shannon, helped her make the ice cream. When it was served, however, it was too salty. The little spot of rust on the bottom of the freezer can had worn through while it was turning, and salt got into the mixture inside. I'm sure Mother felt badly about that! For my birthday, my friends went together and bought me a little gold locket and chain with my name engraved on the locket." (At the time of the printing of this book, Wilma still had that locket, but I do not know where it ended up.) 

Great-Uncle Mike Weis, my grandmother's brother, taken when he was Marshall of Mallard, Iowa. Notice the badge on his overalls! (My grandmother wrote the caption on the bottom of the photo...notice the misspelling of the word 'marshle' which my mother corrected - always the school teacher!)

My grandmother, Margaret Barrett, and a lady that I do not know.

My grandfather, George B. McCullan Barrett

My grandmother, Margaret 'Maggie' (Weis) Barrett
The photos above were probably taken at the time of their marriage. My grandmother was 16 when she got married, and my grandfather was 19.

From this point on, my mother's story gets a bit sad. I will save that telling for another day....