During that first year in school, one side of my face became paralyzed. I was an ugly sight, especially when I laughed or smiled. Half of my face would smile and the other half would just hang there, doing nothing.
The doctor prescribed some red medicine that Susie carried to school every day and poured some down me ever-so-often. It tasted awful. I was glad it was a beautiful red color. I don"t believe I could have stood it if it had been brown.
Anyway, I slowly got over most of my ailment, but I"m sure it was hard for my family to get rid of the horrible picture my condition had printed on their memories.
Unfortunately, my paralysis was not my only ugliness. I was born with a "wen" in the corner of one eye next to my nose. It was a lump about the size of the end of my thumb-that of course, depending on what age I was when you measured the end of my thumb, and how much of my thumb you included in the measurement. After all, how much of a thumb can you measure and still call it the end.
At any rate, I was far from beautiful, even before the sagging of half my face.
Not so with the rest of my family. Papa was stately, superior in quality, as generous as he was elegant, and he was a handsome man.
Mama was a lovely woman. I can remember back to when she was about 33, and I can imagine how beautiful she must have looked to Will Johnson 15 years earlier. When I was very young, I liked to watch her do her long hair up into one big plat, then coil it round and round on top of her head and pin it so it wouldn"t come down.
Frank was handsome and admirable in the eyes of a younger brother my age. Susie was a good-looking girl. However, all girls looked good to me-as they were supposed to. Earl"s presence would improve the looks of almost any group of kids. And Joel was downright pretty, that is, for a boy. Although Albert and William Robert were younger than I, and at times little more than pesky little brothers, still I could easily see that they both had something to be desired far above that which looked back at me from my mirror. And of course, Ollie Mae was as beautiful as anything I had ever seen until I became 18 and fell in love.
The unsightly wen stayed with me until I was about 17-or whenever it was I started shaving. I couldn"t bear the looks of me in the mirror as I shaved. So, one afternoon I drove over to the Stamford Sanitarium and asked a doctor to remove it. He got me on the operating table and then asked me if I wanted him to put me to sleep.
I told him, "No, I want to watch what you are going to do to me."
So he handed me a mirror and began whittling on me. And when he had finished the operation, he sewed me up, stuck a patch over the place, and told me to let someone else drive me back to Hamlin. But since it was only 22 miles, and since I had driven over there alone, and since there was no one to drive me back, I drove myself back and I"ve been disobeying doctors ever since.
But, we"re getting ahead of our story. Let"s get back to our younger days when my little sister was about two years old and she had two or three brothers who were not much older. One of those brothers noticed, as most little brothers do sooner or later, that there was a difference in his and her ways of draining water.
For example, when he had to go, he would merely stand behind a tree or go around behind the smokehouse, let it flow and watch it fall. Or he might play fireman up the side of the smokehouse wall. Or maybe aim at a beetle or a red ant and watch him struggle to survive.
On the other hand, his little sister would squat and her dress would hide the entire operation. But the day he became curious about her method of operation and got nosy enough to peep to see what was taking place, he committed the unpardonable sin. And it would have caused extreme pain in the region of the lower hind part of that small boy if his mother had learned of what he had done. What she would have done to him would have been a big price for a little boy to have to pay for a little knowledge that most little boys get for free these days. But he didn"t get caught. That was the beginning of a lot of secret things that little boy did throughout his childhood-secrets he didn"t share with anyone.
We four boys went out together most of the time, both to work and to play. But at the Exum place, Ollie Mae was getting big enough to want to go with us when we went to play. Her presence created a little problem we boys hadn"t had before, especially when there wasn"t a good hiding place.
I remember one day out in the pasture where there were no trees or bushes to hide behind, one of the smaller boys had to drain his water and he solved his problem in his own way. He simply said, "Ollie Mae, look the other way." She did, then he turned his back and minded his little business.
In the fall of the year, we often missed some schooling because of so much cotton to be picked. However, we didn"t lose as much time from school as some of the families around us. Many a time we would eat an early breakfast, go to the cotton patch and pick for an hour or two and then go directly from there to school. In the afternoons we would go directly from school to the cotton patch, pick cotton until dark and then go home for supper.
In my boyhood days, eating breakfast or supper in daylight was a luxury many of us couldn"t afford. Cotton picking often went on until spring and sometimes we"d have to lose a few days of schooling in the spring in order to get the last of the cotton out of the field in time for planting.
But our work was not always hard field work. Sometimes there was more pleasant work to be done, like going with Papa in the wagon to haul a load of wood, or maybe to haul a hog over to a neighbor"s.
That kind of work was more or less dangerous when too many small boys went along. So some of us smaller ones would have to stay home with Mama.
Papa always kept a box of sugar stick candy locked in the bottom of his trunk for the purpose of bribing us smaller ones on those occasions. I really shouldn"t call it bribery; rather, it was a consolation offered to us younger ones who had to stay home.
When Papa would go somewhere alone in the wagon, it didn"t hurt us so much. Mama would explain that he was going on a mission where little boys were not supposed to go, and we would accept it gracefully, since we all had to stay home. But if one or two of the boys rode away with him, that was hard for us smaller ones to bear.
But we couldn"t throw a fit, because fits were not allowed in our family. We just had to suffer the heartbreak in silence and a fair amount of dignity. And as they would drive away, it seems I can still hear Mama saying to us, "Come on, children, let"s go get a stick of candy." And of course, that would help our feelings somewhat, bless our little hearts.
Sometimes the smaller children would each get a stick of candy for staying home while the larger ones went down on the creek in Grandma"s pasture. However, wading in water in our own pasture after summer rain showers usually included all of us, the youngest and all. It was understood that the oldest of the bunch was always the boss and had the responsibility for the safety and well-being of the entire party.
Whether we were working or playing, that rule of command held true in our family. And it was not the only ironclad ruling in the Johnson family-rulings which stood through the years without question and with no thought of breaking.
We always had a set of four boxing gloves. I say always because I can"t remember when we didn"t have them. And in boxing, we obeyed the rules of not hitting in the face nor below the belt. Another strict rule was, "Don"t get mad at your opponent when he is giving you a beating. If you get mad, you mustn"t play anymore." The same held true in wrestling. If you couldn"t stand to be pinned down, you just didn"t wrestle.
You can bet your boots, we all boxed and we all wrestled. No one wanted to be left out of the action. And the only way to stay in the action was to obey the rules and take whatever the other one dished out.
This didn"t mean that the big kids were unmerciful to the little ones. There was another rule, "Don"t hurt the little ones. Don"t hold the little one down after he yells "calf rope." Back away and let him have a new start."
We all played "rough and rowdy," but always with smiles on our faces. And the rules of fair play applied to our animals also.
We had a big dog that was part Collie and part Shepherd. He grew up with us kids and became one of the family. We named him Scotch. Papa brought him to us kids at the Exum place when he was a wee, little woolly ball of bouncing, playful puppy. Papa had given five dollars for him, which was a lot of money for our family in those days. He was the only dog our family ever owned.
According to his bloodlines, he was half Collie and half Shepherd, but according to us Johnson kids, he was just all dog- a gentleman canine of the highest order, a true friend, guardian and protector of children, truly a little boy"s best friend.
We were taught never to abuse Old Scotch while he was a puppy, and as he grew older, we couldn"t abuse him, he wouldn"t allow it. And we were told never to call him without a good reason, such as to feed him, play with him or let him go hunting with us. Papa told us that if the dog trusted us, he would obey us better.
I guess that was good advice. At any rate, Old Scotch obeyed orders and commands better and more promptly than any other dog I have ever seen, either in or out of the movies. He even obeyed requests which were not meant as commands.
We kids didn"t really know how to train the dog. We just let him grow up with us and by the time he was a year old, he was smarter and better looking than most of us kids.
However, we did teach Old Scotch to do a few simple little tricks- -nothing spectacular. He would sit down when we told him to. And he would hold still while we placed a small stick on top of his nose, and remain still until we counted to three. Then at the count of three, he would quickly flip it off his nose and catch it in his mouth. Then of course, he expected a pat of congratulations and a kind word or two.
We taught him to keep the chickens off the porch and out of the yard. That was an easy job. He soon learned to do it without having to be told.
We kids liked to sit under the steering wheel of our car and pretend we were driving. Soon Old Scotch was doing the same thing. Sometimes when we kids opened the car door, we would have to hurry or Old Scotch would beat us to the steering wheel. He was only playing with us kids when he did that. He wouldn"t do Papa that way.
One of his favorite games was to take a stick in his mouth and challenge us to a game of wolf-over-the-river. He liked for us to try to catch him and take the stick. He also liked to play catch-but only with a rubber ball. We would pitch the ball to him and he would catch it and return it to us. However, there was a strict rule in this game-never throw a hard ball to him, because that would hurt his teeth and he would begin to distrust and disobey us.
He learned not to trust some of the neighbor kids. They sometimes threw him a hard ball. They didn"t "Do unto Old Scotch as they would have Old Scotch do unto them."
At times we would offer the dog something to eat that he had never seen nor tasted before, and if he wasn"t sure of it, he might reject it. But he seemed to have enough faith in us boys to think that, if he could see us eat some of it, then he would not be afraid to try it. So, we would let him see us eat some of it, or at least we would pretend to eat it.
Our dog didn"t have the long Collie-like nose, but rather a beautiful short nose like the Alaskan Husky. Nor was his coat long and stringy but was short and heavy, more like the wool of a sheep before shearing. His color was a deep reddish brown, with just the right touches of white about the head. His body was round and full. His shoulders and hips were broad, as though somewhere in his ancestry there was most certainly a St. Bernard.
Old Scotch couldn"t bear the sound of thunder. During a thunderstorm he wanted to go in the house and get under a bed. That"s the only time we ever let him in the house. The noise must have hurt his ears. Firecrackers affected him the same way. He would tolerate the noise of a rifle when he was out hunting with us, but he wouldn"t allow even his best friends to aim anything at him.
Needless to say, we would never aim a gun at him any more than we would aim one at each other. But a broomstick or a hoe handle was like a gun to Old Scotch. When we aimed something at him, he wouldn"t bite us to really tear us apart, but he would certainly bite hard enough to make us drop the object we were pointing at him. He would growl in a way that told us for sure that he would not allow anyone to point anything at him.
Old Scotch saved us many a step and earned his keep many times over. We kept our milk-pen calves in the lot through the day. Then we kept our milk cows in the lot at night and let the calves run out to graze. Next morning we would tell Old Scotch to go get the calves and he would. He wouldn"t get the horses nor the other cows-only the milk-pen calves.
After we ate breakfast and did the morning ch.o.r.es and were ready to harness the horses for plowing, we would send Old Scotch after the horses and he would get only the horses, no cows nor calves. In the afternoon we would tell him to go get the milk cows and he would bring only the cows, no horses.
When we called our dog, we didn"t say, "Here, Scotch! Here, here, here." The word we used wasn"t "here," it was "how." And no matter how far away he was, he would come immediately when he heard us call. He only paused long enough to make sure it was one of our family calling him and to get the direction from which the call came.
And when he came to us, he didn"t come walking nor trotting, but loping. And he didn"t stop a few steps away nor lower his head and ears, nor did he approach with his tail down. He bounced right up beside us, full of life and gusto as if to ask, "Oh boy! What kind of excitement do you have planned for me this time?"
It"s a common thing to see a two-car family in the 1970"s, but we were a two-car family as early as 1916. We still had the Reo and Papa bought a Big Six seven-pa.s.senger Buick touring car. Old Scotch knew that Buick by sound. Uncle Robert had a Little Six Buick that sounded almost like the Big Six. Our dog could recognize the sound of those Buicks a half-mile away.
When other cars drove by along the road, Old Scotch would pay no attention to them. We had taught him not to chase cars. But when either of those Buicks came along, he would run out to greet it a quarter-mile away. He also accepted Robert as a personal friend as well as a friend to our family.
Then one day Old Scotch didn"t come when we called him. Nor did he come the next day. We had no idea where he had gone nor why. Of course, we kept hoping that some day he would return. But days became weeks and weeks became months and the dog was still missing. By this time we had given up all hope of ever seeing him again.