A Brief and Incomplete Sketch of My Life

At approximately 5:00 p.m. on Tuesday, September 14, 1933, in a dilapidated farmhouse a few miles out in the country from Warner/Porum my 42 year old mother gave birth to me, her 11^th child and ninth daughter. It had been six years since the birth of child number ten, my sister Peggy, and it had been both the assumption (because of Mama’s age) and the fervent hope of the whole family that there would be no more children. Needless to say, I was not exactly a welcome addition.

To make matters worse my mother had a very long and arduous labor and delivery followed by several days of being extremely ill and unable to care for me. My two oldest sisters, Katie and Tressye, were already married and ‘out of the nest’ so my care fell to sister number three, Irene. I know it did not happen exactly like this, but the picture I have in my mind is my mama handing me (or tossing me if I’m really feeling sorry for myself) to Irene and saying, “Here, name her”. I always tell people that by the ninth daughter my mama had run out of Irish names, but in actuality it was the name of Irene’s best friend at school.

I am unsure whether my memories of my pre-school years are real or whether they just seem real because I have heard them told so often, so I will omit those years saving them for a more complete account of my life. I do have one vivid memory that happened in my early school years-sometime in grades one through three.

By this time we lived out in the country (of course) several miles northeast of Checotah and went to a two-room country school named Mt. Zion. The school had grades one through four in one room and five through eight in the other. Peggy and I were the only ones who had to walk the approximately two miles to and from the school each day as the older children still at home and in school walked the other direction and caught the bus into Checotah High School.

Mama always ran late about getting us off to school. In actuality she ran late with almost everything. She never seemed to get in a hurry no matter what she was doing. Anyway, we were always late getting to school with everybody turning to look at us and the teacher reprimanding us. Well, Peggy came up with what she thought was a brilliant idea. We would lie in a ditch right down the hill from the school until recess, then we would go up, mingle with the other kids and walk in with them as though we had been there all along, we thought the teacher would not realize we were just getting there. We forgot about the fact that she ’took roll’ first thing in the morning long before recess. Needless to say, it did not work.

In keeping with the ’brief and incomplete’, somewhere in this time period Papa left for California, ostensibly to find work but as it turned out he never lived at home again except for brief visits. Because of unpaid debts, we had to move. The farm we moved to was in another school district so I went to 4^th grade at Central High School which was not just a high school but included grades one through twelve. I don’t remember much about my time there but I do remember the school lunches. We had always brought our lunch from home before but this school provided free ’hot’ lunches-government sponsored I’m sure. Much of the time-at least in my memory-it consisted of oatmeal that had been cooked too long and/or set too long before serving. You had to be pretty hungry to get it down.

It was during this time period that my brother joined the Navy. He decided he preferred that to being drafted into the army as there would be less marching. In actuality I understand he could have received an exemption from the draft because he was an ‘only son’. His death in 1944 caused a grief my mother never got over. His heroism is covered in many different books so I will not dwell any more on it here.

After my brother left Lucille was really the only one left to help much with the major farm work. Peggy had polio when she was around three years old which left one of her legs shorter than the other and much weaker. I was still too young to be of much use except to gather the eggs, slop the pigs, feed the chickens and do chores of that nature. We were forced to move once again because of inability to pay the rent. That house was the only house that I ever remember living in during my “growing up” years that was actually painted.

This move put us in the Checotah school district and both Peggy and I were able to go there until we graduated high school. We moved in early winter so I entered fifth grade in the middle of the term. I had the measles right after I entered school there and was really sick. I missed about two weeks of school but was able to ’catch up’ without too much trouble. My school years were fairly uneventful. I made decent grades, liked most of my teachers, made friends, some of whom I felt comfortable enough with to invite to my home.

To say our house was dilapidated can’t adequately describe it. Whoever originally built the house evidently had a plan in mind as it had three fireplaces which shared one chimney-you can see them in some of the pictures taken inside the house. Anyway, I was ashamed to invite most people to my home or to ask a date to pick me up there. My sister Katie and her family lived ’in town’ so I usually stayed with them if I wanted to participate in after school activities. Their daughter Joan was just a year younger than me so we grew up more like sisters than aunt and niece.

In the summer before my senior year I went to Corpus Christi, Texas where my sisters Irene and Lucille lived. Irene’s neighbors were a navy couple stationed at the Naval Air Station there. They took me for a tour of the base and he later arranged a blind date for me with a buddy of his named Dave Rush. Well, that blind date led to a long distance courtship and a marriage that lasted almost 54 years. Actually, when I went back home at the end of the summer I never really expected to see Dave Rush again, thinking of our times together as a nice little “summer romance”. Dave, however had other ideas and ‘hitch-hiked ’ (he didn’t have a car) up to see me within a month. This was followed by letters and more hitch-hiking visits and a proposal. Anybody who knew Dave Rush knew he could be very persistent and so we were married in April before I graduated in May.

Thus began twenty-four years of temporary homes, either from “Navy transfers”, or, after Dave went to work for Kaman Aircraft, from “contract assignments”. The Navy only contracted for six months at a time so we lived with uncertainty. Three years in Italy and two years in Iran were the longest we ever lived in one place until Dave resigned from Kaman in 1976. Muskogee has been our home ever since.

Each of our children was born either in a different state or different country.

Son number one, David Stephen, was born in Checotah, Oklahoma while Dave was away on sea duty.

Son number two, Paul Randolph, was born at the Naval Training Center in Millington, Tennessee while Dave was in a school there.

Son number three, James Michael, was born at the Naval Air Test Facility at Pawtuxet River, Maryland where Dave was stationed.

Son number four, Jeffrey Brian was born in Fredericksburg, Virginia. We moved there after Dave had gone to work for Kaman and was assigned to the marine base at Quantico, Va. Then, when he was reassigned to basically island hop around to various bases in the South Pacific which were receiving Kaman helicopters, the family stayed in Fredericksburg to have the new baby, and await his return. The neighborhood we lived in had mostly young couples so I had many friends to help out if I needed it.

Son number five, Mark Christopher, was born in Naples, Italy. Even though Dave was a civilian at this time, the Navy’s contract with Kaman allowed us to have some military family privileges including using the Naval Hospital, for which I was very thankful.

The next ten years were very insecure as Kaman and the whole aircraft industry were having financial and contract problems. Our assignment in Iran was during this time. Even though it was a very insecure time for Dave, as a family we found it a very interesting place to live. We were able to visit a few other cities and some historical sites in the desert. We learned much about the culture but never really got to know any Iranians personally, only those we did business with in the market, in our home, restaurants, etc. To say it was different is an understatement. It certainly made us appreciate the USA.

The sons are all now adults have been married- some still are- with children and grandchildren. Dave lived to see all his grandchildren and three of his great grandchildren.
Dave had his first stroke in 1995 which totally paralyzed his right side. He was able to recover to an amazing extent with good care, and a lot of determination. He lived ten more years before he succumbed to a series of massive strokes on his birthday in 2005. During those ten years we made four trips to Europe, one to Ireland, one to England, Scotland and Wales and two to Italy.

I have been a ’widow’ for five years now and I still haven’t got “the hang of it”. In those five years I have also seen the death of four of my sisters.