A Tribute To Bertie Jane

I was born and raised in the city. When grade school was out for the summer, all my friends stayed close to home, taking occasional trips to a beach or theme park. None of them would have agreed to spend their summers the way I spent mine. I chose to spend them in the country with my cousins and uncle, and my aunt, 'Bertie Jane'.

They lived on a four hundred, twenty-five acre farm. They raised beef cattle, hogs and chickens. They also had two or three milch cows. Most of the land was either pasture for the cattle, or planted in the large wheat crop they grew each year.

Spending the summers at 'Aunt Bert's' was my own decision. I knew in advance how hard I would be expected to work in the hot fields all day. I also knew there would be no distinction made between my cousins and me. Without thinking, I even called my aunt 'Mama' a few times. The mistake embarrassed me, but not her. She just said 'What'?

Do you think an eleven or twelve year old would agree to such, today? Almost three months without wired entertainment. No television. No Play Station 2. No computer games. No forever texting friends. No burgers and fries.

My aunt was frugal out of necessity and passed it along to her children. My cousins and I never went to a store. We never had money, except for an occasional 50 cents we made picking a gallon of blackberries for someone. My uncle had a friend who came by occasionally. He always brought each of the children a stick of gum. We were thrilled. Imagine that happening today.

Bertie Jane was the mother of thirteen children. You would think all her time was spent rearing those children. She did a fine job of rearing them all, but her work did not stop there. Every day except Sunday, she was up before sunrise, putting a pan of biscuits in the oven, cooking grits and making gravy, frying eggs and side meat and brewing coffee.

After breakfast, she washed dishes and cleaned the kitchen. Time for a break? She never took one. After finishing up in the kitchen, she donned a wide brimmed straw hat, a pair of 'over alls', and a pair of plowing boots. Then she went to the fields where she worked as hard as any man until it was time to come back to the house to cook the noontime meal.

Oh, and what a meal! Corn that had been picked just that morning from her own garden, stewed in a cast iron frying pan with fat back grease. Sliced tomatoes, onions and cucumbers, fresh from the field. Green beans from one of the four to five hundred, quart and half gallon jars of vegetables she 'put up' each year. A big pan of biscuits made from the very wheat she bagged while riding on a dusty combine for hours each day in the hot sun. And just like the coal miner's wife Loretta Lynn sings about, she never complained. There was no need.

Dresses made from feed sacks? My aunt wore 'a many' of them. The sacks were also sewn into pillow slips and other useful articles. No perms, no make up or lip stick, no perfume or cologne; just a slight hint of Ivory soap. Her countenance alone spoke the truth; a faithful wife, a good mother and one of the hardest working women you would ever see.

The house sat a mile from the nearest road. Sometimes, two weeks or more would go by without seeing anyone except ourselves. I don't know how my aunt did it, but she raised contented children. When school was out, they were pretty much isolated from everything except hard work. They didn't seem to mind. They all got along well with each other.

There was time for play, and play they did, just as hard as they worked. They were an ingenious lot, making most of their own toys. I loved the time I spent with them. We raced through the pastures, climbed trees, skinny dipped and played ball, always with an ear tuned for Aunt Bert's warm and familiar voice, 'Y'all young 'uns come wash up. Supper's on the table'. To my knowledge, my aunt never spanked any of her children, and yet, they all grew up without drugs, tobacco, alcohol or confrontations with the law.

How should such a good wife and mother leave this Earth? A peaceful and painless death? A heart attack in the middle of the night while sleeping? I say 'That would be my wish'. And she left, just that way.

It's been sixty years...and I still miss you, Aunt Bert.

Those were the days.

(Photo restored by Doug, using Gimp)