BY HELEN JEWETT
When the Spanish American war came along, I was 10 and lived in the country. I recall the sobbing between my mother and my aunt when they heard the bank had failed and they had lost all their money.
When I was 18, I eloped and was married.
By the time the first World War was over, my husband and I had a comfortable home and four children. He was a skilled tool and die maker and was needed for munitions dies.
He earned $18 a week, but couldn’t save any money because of our growing family . We had seven children by 1925.
One bitter cold afternoon in February, the house caught fire. The oldest child was in bed with asthma and the others were playing around the house.
At the time I was busy baking and cooking up a big kettle of beef stew for supper.
As soon as I noticed the fire, I told dad to take the children next door while I ran over the bridge to call the fire truck. I missed the bridge and dived head first into the snow packed, frozen brook.
Finally, I was able to make contact with the fire station and the truck was on its way in minutes. I heard they got stuck in a big snow drift.
Finally they came on foot, lugging the fire extinguishers by hand. We lost everything.
That night friends and neighbors took us in. We spent the next two years rebuilding our home. By the time our baby was one year old, we moved back out there.
My husband started a business making builder’s hardware. The oldest boy worked days and attended law school at night.
Oh, those terrible 30s. How we suffered. The business failed.
Richard got his law degree. Two of the boys went to Ford Trade School and a third son started an apprenticeship there.
For nearly a year we lived on vegetable discards and bits of cheap meat. We bought stale bread by the burlap sack and skimmed milk for 10 cents a gallon.
During the last part of the winter, a stalwart farmer arrived in our neighborhood with a farm wagon loaded with meats, cheeses and butter.
I told him I had no money, but he replied, ‘You take anything you need and you can pay me later.?
The trade school paid the boys five dollars every two weeks. As soon as they had the money, they brought it home to me and said, ‘Mother, what do you have to pay this week??
We would put the money in a box. When Mr. Steel returned, we paid him.
Thus, a beautiful friendship (which was to last for many years) began. He would take some of the boys home with him and bed them down in his hayloft with warm blankets.
Everyone helped and during these trying times our family was drawn closer together.
The creamery, owned by Senator Couzens, provided us with milk.
By the senator’s words, ‘Wherever there are children in a house, make sure they keep getting their milk.?
We paid back the milk bill, the farmer, the finance company and all the back rent.
Then the War to End All Wars came along and the family was scattered.
Although many of my life experiences have been disheartening, I don’t regret any of them because I have a close and loving family and for the people whose kindness and openheartedness touched my life.