By Ruth Doty Thornley, Grandaughter

Sunday afternoon we children waited and watched for Jinny, a black horse pulling a black buggy. When it finally trotted up the wide street of Richmond, Cache County, Utah, and turned into our place, we all ran out to greet Grandma, Uncle John McCarrey and Earl.

Grandma, in her dark silk dress with a white collar, carefully guarded the full swishing skirt from the muddy wheels, alighted from the carriage; and we all received a sweet juicy kiss, sometimes a piece of hardtack or a dime. Inside the house, she put on a long white waist-apron adorned on the bottom with a four-inch edging of lace she had crocheted. This protected her lovely dress and indicated her willingness or desire to help.

Grandma's slender frame with her sloping shoulders was probably 5 feet plus a couple of inches tall. Her black hair with a few silver streaks was swept up with a bob on top of her head. Black eyes flashed from her classic face, yet those eyes were soulful and kind. She always had a big smile, and in later years, I was fascinated by her dentures which we called false teeth. In that day, dentures did not always fit as well as they clicked.

Grandma, Uncle John and Earl had come for Sunday dinner. They had done this for many years. Uncle John's wife, Gustina Roggencamp, had died leaving John alone with his adopted son, Earl to raise. So, Grandma, widowed for so many years, moved in to housekeep and help care for Earl. One year to show her appreciation for the Sunday dinners, Grandma bought new linoleum for our kitchen.

Grandma was a hard worker, frugal but generous. I remember when she cooked a chicken, she always washed the chicken feet very clean and put them in the pot to boil. The skin became very soft and would pull back, leaving the edible part. I never found out how it tasted as it didn't appeal to me.

We kids, mother too, were squeamish about the gray wiggly worms that made big nests in the eight apple trees which adorned our lawn. The worms, called "Ugly Nest Caterpillers", would hang on long strands of silky threads from the branches across our sidewalk, and I would open an umbrella, hold it carefully over me as I hurried out to the street. If any worms got on us, we would all scream in terror.

Grandma got a brush and a dustpan, walked along our wrought iron fence when the worms were thick and crawly, and nonchalantly brushed them into the dustpan, and then into the fire. She worked a long time trying to get rid of those despised worms. I think inside of her, she quivered just as we did, but she was determined to teach us that worms wouldn't hurt anyone and that we should courageously tackle our problems.

One day, one of us children coming in from the cold gave Mother a hug. She cried, "Oh, don't put your cold hands on my neck."

"Come here! Grandma likes cold hands on her neck," was Grandma's comforting plea.

My brother, Ben Doty said Grandma made him eat egg shells saying they were good for him. Of course, he had found a bit of egg shell as he chewed up the egg, and Grandma had said to eat it up as it wouldn't hurt him. She didn't advocate eating egg shells per se.

Ben was playing marbles in the hardpacked mud on the street downtown. As he missed a shot, he exploded, "Dang it!" Then he felt a firm grip on his ear as he was pulled to his feet.

"Didn't I hear you swear?" accused Grandma, as she looked into the eyes of his up-turned head.

"Grandma, I just said, 'Dang it!'"

"Well," Grandma expounded, "that is just about the same thing as swearing. Dang is a form of damn, heck is a form of hell, gosh is nearly profanity! Don't ever say those words again!"

It was no secret how she felt about rough language.

Grandma loved to sing. How well I remember "The Mistletoe Bough", "The Campbells are Coming", Buffalo Gals", "Hard Times, Come Again No More", "Just Before the Battle, Mother", "Kitty Wells", "Old Dan Tucker", and "Once I Lived in Cottonwood". I liked the last verse of it.

"When Betsy was a walking,

I told her to take care.

When all of a sudden,

She struck a prickly pear.

Then she began to beller

As loud as she could bawl,

"If I was back in Cottonwood,

I wouldn't come at all."

The "Mairsy Dotes and Doesy Dotes" of her day was "There was a Man Lived in the West". How well I remember Grandma singing this song.

Mother told me about Grandmother buying new cloth to make dresses for her and her sister, Olive. Grandma used up all the cloth so as not to waste it. This made the skirts length much longer than the current fashion. Dismayed with this, they decided to pin the hems up. Finding a secluded place, they were succeeding in adapting them to their desire when they ran out of pins. Their younger sister, May was watching the proceedings with interest, so the girls decided to send her for more pins.

"What are you hunting for?" Grandma inquired as May searched about.

"Lizzie and Olive want some more pins."

"For goodness sake, what for?" persisted Grandma.

"Oh, they are pinning their skirts up."

Grandma marched out around the corner of the house where the girls were. "See here now! Your dresses are just right the way they are. You take every pin out and get on your way to school."

I remember Mother saying that they always went to Church on Sunday. They rode in a wagon and filled it up with family members and neighbors or friends. Often just as they were ready to pull out Grandpa would say, "Oh, I'd better give the pigs a little more to eat as we'll be gone quite a while." Then when he would return, Grandma, trying not to show her impatience, would daub at his Sunday suit to clean off bits of swill splattered there.

Once Mother found a $20 gold piece which had bounced out of the box on his wagon. She had to put it back as that was his tithing money.

Richmond at this time had a problem with muddy roads which sometimes became almost impassable.

The McCarrey home was always open to everyone, and many took advantage of their hospitality and lived with them occasionally or for a few months or years.

One person that came often and stayed long was Peddler Jim, who had somewhat of an obstinate or contrary disposition. One day, Grandma had prepared some horseradish, which you know if you have tasted it is burning hot. Thinking it was potatoes, Peddler Jim took a heaping portion of it. The kids watched spellbound. Would he explode? Would it burn his throat" He took that first bite, chewed, blinked, and swallowed with a gasping sound. The kids tittered, "That's not potatoes, that's horseradish!"

"I knew what it was. I like horseradish!" He ate every bit of it, the tears streaming from his smarting eyes.