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Babysitter of 1930

Story ID:5876
Written by:Monte Leon Manka (bio, contact, other stories)
Organization:retired
Story type:Story
Location:Hemet CA Usa
Year:1930
Person:Chelsea Kansas Kid, babysitter
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Babysitter of 1930

Yesterday ------ Chad

When I was about four years old, I remember my Dad and Mom left me at the babysitters. The babysitter was at my Uncle Sylvester Carterís home.

The women that were doing the housekeeping and cooking were, Sally Turner and the other one I can't remember.

There were three kids about 12, 13, and 14 years old. Sarah Turner I liked because she liked me, John didn't want anything to do with me and Hattie Turner was in the middle.

While there one time I remember that the screen door had a big hole in it and while I was eating lunch, a big sow came through the hole, grunted, and then went out. The house was probably to dirty for her, the sow I mean.

I remember for entertainment the older kids would get behind a sheet hanging from the ceiling and with the candlelight they would make different animal shadows. I thought this was about the cleverest thing I had ever seen. Later on my uncle sold the farm and sent the Turners packing and moved in with us on his second farm.

Another babysitter was Mrs. Cook a lady that lived on the north of us about 1/4 of a mile. She had about 10 kids, Doris, Chelsea, Linarau, and 7 more I can't recall.

This is where I was first introduced to a kaleidoscope, I sat for hours looking at it to see the beautiful color combinations. Mrs. Cook would bake bread every Monday and I would be there for a roll with country butter.

Mrs. Cook told me if I would churn the butter I could have a hot roll with butter. Sometimes the butter would come quickly and sometimes it took a lot longer to churn the butter but I was rewarded every time.

Once Mrs. Cook took the shotgun and was going to shoot a skunk.

Well she would shoot close behind him and every time she shot, he would spew out an odor that was putrid.

She finally hit him and he died and she and Doris came up to the farmhouse where I lived. She showed my mother her shoulder and it was solid black and blue from the shotgun kicking her every time she shot it.

The bruise was ugly and black and blue and I thought she would lose her shoulder but she didn't.

This lady would bake six loaves of white and six loaves of brown bread plus all the rolls and still had time to dig up some worms and go fishing in the walnut river about a block from her house.
(Continued)