When I was at Chilocco
my detail was to be an aide to Mrs. Hayworth, who was the journalism
teacher. At the time the print shop worked with her to constantly
journal all activities at the school. Those who attended remember our
Chiloccoan Journal newspaper that came out weekly. At the time the
boys at the print shop were trained to operate the linotype machines.
When I asked Mrs. Hayworth why we didn't use so many commas she told
me,
"Every time there is a
comma the linotype machine has to change into a different mode." To
make a long story short, I didn't learn to use the correct usage of
commas or some other parts of English grammer, and spelling I just
don't have. At this age I'm having to go back and study. With this
slipping memory it is harde, while I have o read over and over, and
then, sometimes forget. The ending of the story is that my ghost
writer who graduated from Chilocco, but then, went on to get her
masters in English is having to patiently work with me. This is when
the subject of bulldozer came up. I was using bull dozer, and
she reminded me it was not bull dozer. I misunderstood, of course,
because in my background a lady doesn't use the word "bull." It had
nothing to do with that at all. In reality a bull - dozer is a
sleeping bull, but the machine it is one word, "bulldozer."
Talk about slow, I must
be worse than a turtle, more like a snail as I slide along ruining the
King's English (not Oklahoma's). However, my spirits aren't dampened
as I am determined to record the meat of my stories which is, to me,
very much like this paragraph sent to me by Gayle Templeton. Something
about these stories give me such a special feeling for ancestors that
had the courage to go ahead, never feeling sorry for themselves. Gayle
gave me permission to use it here:
Gayla wrote:
Well, Donna, my dad
operated a bulldozer for 70 years and never called it anything else. I
think folks that read you would be ok with that word. LOL Yes,
actually he did work on one that long. He dropped out of school in the
third grade when his dad had a heart attack He and my grandmother
worked with the horse drawn implements and he worked part time until
he was 80. He died shortly after building a pond for a neighbor. I
have pics of my grandma riding a horse drawn plow wearing overalls and
a sun bonnet. She had a baby 4 months old and my aunt Etta left
school, being a 5th grader so she could keep house, care for my sick
grandpa and carry my uncle to the fields to be nursed every 3-4 hours.
I've heard Grandma say that she could hear that baby crying for his
dinner as my little auntie carried him over the furrows. They were
able to save the farm, only to lose it during the dust bowl days. My
dad was a whiz at reading engineering stakes and helped build nearly
every federal reservoir and highway in Kansas. He could do math in his
head faster than we children could with a paper and pencil. I guess
he is an example of making lemonade when life gives you lemons and you
are absolutely right in calling his tractors bulldozers. LOL
Blessings Gayla