Vern’s Stories: Traveling North Into the Unknown
The other night as I lay on my pillow waiting for the sandman (He was a little late as usual.), I started to browse through my memory bank looking for my next story. I began to muse about the wonders of the intellect God has incorporated into these wonderful bodies He has given us. Living in the computer age as we do, I began to think along computer lines. Now what I say in the following lines should not be misconstrued as making light of computers or down playing them. Computers
are a marvel of the age, a wonderful tool in the hands of an intelligent being. In fact computers are the product of many brains working together and singularly to come up with the wonderful product we have today. I would like to have a computer to do certain things, namely for video and picture making. Who knows, if l'm around long enough, I may be dragged kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century.
As I'm not yet into computers, I know precious little about them. However, from being around some of you computer whizzes in the family, I have picked up some of the jargon and have read some about them, therefore, I learned these three things: (1) I know computers are improving so fast that when you buy one, it's almost obsolete by the time you get it home, and you have to update it or buy a new one from time to time to keep up to date. (2) It has to be programed to do certain things which are either built in or added on. (3) It has to have an intelligent being to make it work. Without someone to operate your P.C. or Apple, it is just a mass of wire, switches and electronic parts.
We humans are much like a computer, only more wonderfully complicated. We are a wonder of God's creation, the crown jewel of all His creation on earth. Our computer brain comes complete, no add-ons needed. To ride a bicycle, drive a motorcycle or operate an automobile, we don't need to buy a new program. To run the most complicated machinery or fly an airplane, we don't need any new software. To browse through our memory, I don't need a CD Rom or DVD Rom. I don't need Windows 95 or 98. I have been adding to my memory bank for over 80 years and there still seems to be plenty of room to keep adding to it.
We are endowed by our Creator with everything our brain needs to be complete. We don't get obsolete with age. We are just as complete and up-to-date as the new model just leaving the delivery room. Think of this scenario: You are driving on a mountain road; the car in front of you loses control and skids around sideways right in front of you. You are both traveling fast and you only have a split second to avert a tragedy. There is no time to reason or think. Your computer brain sees this through your eyes and takes control of your body. Your hands spin the steering wheel and your foot hits the brake. You miss the car by two inches and you stop just one foot from a 500 foot vertical drop-off. You say, "How did I do that? I didn't have time to think!" Truly, as the Bible says, we are "fearfully and wonderfully made." Our Father's love has created us this way for our happiness and enjoyment of life in this beautiful world He created for us.
I hasten to add though, life is not always a bowl of cherries; there are tears and sorrows, but if we have Jesus in our life, we can overcome. Good news, there are better times ahead. The Bible says: "Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him." What He is preparing for us will be so wonderful that our minds are unable to comprehend it. Like the fellow said about the Christian life, "It's a great way to live and it has a retirement program that is out of this world."
Well, this has been our little sermonette for today. You may have wished the sandman had come sooner. We will get into our story in a minute, but first I would like to say this. I know this story goes mostly to a big, loving, wonderful family all over the U.S.A., a family that has so many loving, committed Christians. But if there should be someone out there who reads this, who has not made this commitment, why don't you join our family and take this step? I'm sure any member of the family will be glad to help you do this.
Before the sandman put me out of commission, I came up with these headlines: "GLENN ALMOST DROWNS - GENEVlEVE ALMOST SUFFOCATES - VERNON WILL REPEAT THE SECOND GRADE." Now as I browse my memory bank without a mouse, I will download into my right arm, pen in hand and hopefully a story will evolve that you will enjoy .
When we left Southern California for the San Joaquin Valley, all our earthly belongings were loaded into our two vehicles, probably the most into the big White dump truck and the rest into the Model T truck. Our furniture was mostly the rugged type made out of steel. We did have a heavy round oak table. Our chairs were like you would find in an ice cream parlor of that day, made from steel rod, probably about three sixteenth of an inch thick and twisted into a fancy design to form the back and legs. I have a suspicion they might have come from Grandma and Grandpa Murdy's drug store that they had in Wintersburg in earlier times. Our beds were made of steel. The bed we three boys slept on was called a sanitary couch. It had two sides that folded down, and with a pad and cover on, it made sort of a settee in the daytime. When both sides were raised up, it made a double bed. Mama and Daddy's bed was made of steel. The sides were angle iron in which a conventional spring and mattress set lay. The headpiece and tailpiece were made of steel rod with a design. Where several rods came together there was a little round cast iron circle that held them together. We had a kerosene stove, kerosene lamps, a gasoline Coleman light with mantels, horrors or horrors, made of woven asbestos. The mantels were very fragile and if a bug or a kid bumped one of them, they were done for and the family had to fall back on the flickering kerosene lights. There were pots, kettles, pans, tin plates, bowls, knives, forks and spoons, along with bedding, pillows and an alarm clock, a Big Ben, of course. That was probably about it for household goods, besides our clothes. Then there was the big tent and the lumber for the floor and sides.
We left Southern California and headed north over the ridge route, Daddy in the big White and our brave little Mama driving the Model T. I don't think Mama could have had much driving experience at this time because we hadn't had two vehicles for very long, but she was a true pioneer. She pushed her fears to one side and did whatever was necessary to keep thing moving forward .
The ridge route of that day wasn't the nice wide almost straight Interstate 5 that we have today. The ridge route of the early 1920's was what the name implied, a narrow two-lane, twisty, windy road that wound around up and down ridges and canyons, to finally descend to the valley floor, coming into Bakersfield. From Bakersfield we traveled to Fresno, where we turned off of 99 and headed southwest to a little town called Firebaugh. Here we would settle for a spell. We arrived in Firebaugh on a balmy late spring day, just in time to see the local town drunk kick the windshield out of the Dodge car in which the local constable was hauling him off to jail. The lawman seemed unperturbed by the crashing glass as if it happened quite frequently.
As we drove through and came to the edge of town, Daddy spotted a nice grassy spot on a canal bank that looked ideal for a campsite. Without permits or a vote by the city council we were soon in our new home. Everything seemed very handy. There were food stores nearby and there was ample water flowing for drinking, cooking, washing and bathing and restrooms in a little park nearby. I suppose by today's mind-set, we would have been considered underprivileged and deprived of a normal childhood and any mischief we got into would be excusable because of our deprived lives. Daddy had a different idea about kids who didn't mind their parents. He considered the plump little extrusion on our hinder part was put there by our Creator for a good reason. It was the seat of correction, if administrated by a firm hand, and what a hand he had. It was as big as a small ham and his arm was all muscle. When he laid that hand on you with 265 pounds behind it, you weren't sure that you would survive. I guess he was right as to what it was for because although you didn't feel like sitting down for awhile, in a few minutes everything returned to normal and there were no after effects. After one of those correctional procedures, you got the idea that the best plan was to straighten up and fly right. Daddy never abused us by kicking, punching slapping or shaking us. He never used a strap or a paddle, just that big hand. We felt that he loved us and cared enough about us to mold our young lives so we would grow up to be responsible adults. We kids didn't realize that we were underprivileged; we thought we were having a ball. Seemed like we had everything we needed to be happy, a nice home, everything convenient and loving parents.
The county was paving about 30 miles of road through several of these small towns and all the gravel had to shipped in by rail. Uncle Charlie had the contract to unload the gravel from the railroad cars into the dump trucks which then hauled it out to the job site. There was a fleet of trucks hauling the gravel. Most of them were new Sterlings; Daddy's was the only White on the job. A long string of loaded rail cars called gondolas had to be pulled down the track to where the steam shovel could unload them. Daddy was so proud of his White because he could pull more cars down the track at one time than any of the Sterlings which were newer trucks.
As the work progressed on the road, we would move along to another town. The next town we moved to was Mendota where I would repeat the second grade. We lived in a nice house in Mendota on the edge of town. The beautiful San Joaquin River was nearby where we sometimes went fishing. The river wound around through the countryside. It was pretty; all lined with trees and wide sandy beaches in places along the shore. Sometimes we would go down to the river at night and build a big bonfire on the sandy beach. The firelight would attract the catfish and we would catch a nice string of fish to take home.
Miller and Lux was the big corporate farmers in the area. There were big rice fields around Mendota flooded by large irrigation canals that came from the river. The rice fields were a haven for all kinds of water fowl. Daddy and other men on the job had a great time duck hunting southwest of where we lived. On the edge of town was a large expanse of undeveloped desert-type land. We kids played around in this area quite often. One day we heard that a little neighbor boy died after being bitten by a sidewinder rattlesnake before they could get him to the doctor. I think we avoided this desert area for awhile after that.
One day on Daddy's day off, we were all in our Model T, driving on a country road. Daddy was driving, Mama was sitting beside him, holding little Genevieve (about a year old) and we boys were in our special seat perched on the bed of the truck. I remember there were some letters on the side of our seat, partially scratched off but still readable, something about a goat farm. Perhaps it said something like Billy and Nanny's Goat Farm. Well, no, I don't know, just kidding; all I remember was Goat Farm. Anyway as we were driving along through a farming district, all at once baby Genevieve went limp in Mama's arms. It seems the exhaust pipe had sprung a leak and our baby sister had been overcome with carbon monoxide. Daddy pulled quickly to the side of the road near an irrigation pipe that was pouring a large stream of water into the air. Grabbing little Genevieve in his arms, he ran to the gusher of water and doused her in the cold fluid. The sudden shock caused her to take a breath of fresh air and brought her back to life. Daddy always was a quick thinker in an emergency, like the time when I was a baby and I pulled a bowl of boiling hot gravy over on top of my head from the table. He grabbed me so quickly and stuck me under the cold water faucet in the sink, that I still have my hair to this day. (some, that is)
Back to the trucking job: the nature of the work was such that when they moved to a new location along the road the haul would be short. As the paving progressed, the haul would get longer and longer from that location. The way the pay was set up for the hauling, it all paid the same whether it was a long or short haul. It was a flat rate, so much a load. They did well on the shorter hauls but when they got to the long hauls, they hardly broke even. The haulers complained that they were working for nothing on these longer hauls but the superintendent of the job figured it averaged out over all. This didn't set too well with the men when they worked hard all day and hardly paid expenses, but they couldn't quit on the longer hauls or they would lose their jobs. During one of these times, Daddy was disgusted and didn't feel like working so he took his fishing pole and bait with him on his first load out. On the way back after dumping his load, the road crossed the river at a place called White’s Bridge. Crossing the bridge Daddy pulled to the side of the road, got out, took the left hand drive chain off of the truck (his truck was a chain drive), took his fishing pole and went down under White's Bridge and fished all day. If the superintendent came along, he would be thinking: 'That poor man has broken a chain. That's too bad. He will probably have to go all the way lo Fresno to get one.'
Well, as the road progressed, it was time to move on again. This time we were moving to a place called Oxalis. It is not much more than a railroad siding, a water tank and cattle-loading chutes and corrals. There is no housing so we will be living in our tent house. During this time Grandma and Grandpa Murdy came to visit us and we all went swimming in a large canal nearby. We kids were all splashing around having fun when all of a sudden I noticed that Glenn was missing. Looking downstream, I saw him being carried away with the current. He had gotten out too far
where there was a sudden drop-off and he had gone in over his head. I shouted at Daddy and pointed at Glenn, bobbing up and down, being carried swiftly downstream. Daddy and Grandpa began running down the bank towards Glenn. The bank was very rough with mounds of dirt and Daddy tripped and fell, hitting his chest on one of the mounds, knocking all the wind out of him. He just rolled off into the water and started swimming. Daddy was a good swimmer and he got to Glenn before he got his breath back. Glenn was OK and hadn't gotten any water in his lungs. It was remarkable! Although he was only five and hadn't yet learned how to swim, he had presence of mind enough to hold his breath every time he went under and gulped as much air as possible when he came up. He had grabbed some cattails along the way but was pulled under by the strong current and had to release his grip. You can imagine how happy he was to feel his Daddy's strong arms around him. It was close; if he hadn't been missed for just a little longer he would have been out of sight around a bend and we would not have known what happened to him. Well, all's well that ends well and we were one happy family again.
The road job was now finished. Daddy got a job with his two trucks for a few weeks, hauling sacks of grain out of the fields for Miller and Lux from their threshing machine. Which reminds me of a little story about Mama. Daddy hired a man to drive the T Model. When the hauling was finished, the man wanted to take his pay and board the stage for Fresno. The stage came right by our place about l I A. M. and it came by just once a day. Only one problem, the folks didn't have enough cash on hand to pay the poor man off. Mama would have to make a run to the bank in the morning to get the money as he wanted cash. Mama knew it would be close as the bank didn't open until 10 A.M. and it was 10 miles to the little town of Dos Palos where the bank was located. l went along and when we got to the bank, the line wasn't too long and it looked like we were going to make it in time.
We were heading back and we were about three miles from camp. Mama looked back and the stage was coming far back but was closing in fast. Mama pulled the throttle all the way down, urging the T Model forward. The Ford thundered into action, mustering all it's 24 horses forward. It was shaking and vibrating from stem to stern. The radiator was in a full rolling boil and it was groaning like it was giving its last full measure of devotion to the cause. In spite of all this, the stage was overtaking us fast and was getting ready to pass. l think Mama in her mind was saying, "Oh no you don't." Mama swung the Ford to the left and cut him off. He was blasting her with his horn but whether he went right or left, she stayed right in front of him and wouldn't let him pass. He kept blasting her with his horn, but her jaw was set---he wasn't going to pass. By now the camp was in sight; our man Friday was standing out on the edge of the road with his best go-to-meeting clothes on, his suitcase by his side. Mama waved the stage driver over to the right, pointing to the man. As the stage pulled over to pick up the man, Mama swung into the driveway, jumped out, ran to the hired man, counted out his money and he was ready to board for Fresno. Marna saved his day and he was happy. The stage driver seemed more amused than angry when he realized why this wild woman driver wouldn't let him pass. Everybody had a good laugh and they were on their way.
Uncle Charlie now had a new contract for his steam shovel farther north near Merced, but surprise --- I guess Daddy and Mama were tired of chasing a steam shovel around the state and decided to quit and return to Daddy's ancestral home, Santa Monica, California. So again we loaded up all our earthly belongings and headed south. Well, that will be another story next time. Santa Monica, here we come!
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