Page 18 - memories-of-golde-dicks-markham-(1996)-golde-dicks-markham

Memories of Golde Dicks Markham (1996) Golde Markham Dicks 3/125

Pa kept an eye on the mare. She finally got to the point where she couldn’t get up so
Pa got his brothers to help him get her up. He thought if he could get her on her feet, then

she could stand up. They pulled, pushed, and1 (lifted, but they couldn’t get her to stand. They
tried making a swing using burlap bags and leather harness straps with a strong hook over
the top of her back. They then fastened a pulley to a log that was a rafter for the wagon

shed. They cranked that pulley until they got her up to where she could stand, but her legs
were like rubber legs; she couldn’t stand. Pa kept carrying buckets of feed and water. She
wouldn’t eat or drink. She had been lying there for several days. Veterinarians didn’t exist

back in those days. A family couldn’t get a doctor out to the country to check on a sick
person let alone check on an animal.
One morning Pa came to the house, got his gun, and left the house.

Ma shouted to him, “John, what are you fixing to do?”
He called back, “It’s no use. I can’t do anything to save her.”
I knew he was going to shoot our white mare. Ma started crying. I began to cry, and

at that point I saw Pa cry. We all loved that mare. Ma pleaded with him to try to save her for
another few days.
In between sobs, he said, “Pearl, I’ve tried everything I know to do. She won’t get

well. I want to end her suffering.”
They went to the lot and told me to get in my bed. When I heard that gun go off, I
cried and cried. When Ma and Pa came back to the house with their arms around each other

and tears running down their faces, it was more than I could1 bear. After this, Pa bought two
more mules from Kirby Ward and paid a dollar for each of them.

Grandma Dicks burned corncobs in her wood stove because Grandpa said burning the
corncobs would clean the soot out of the stove pipe chimney. He had great big baskets to

hold the ears of com to feed his horses and hogs. He would fill one of those bushel baskets
full of cobs and put it on the end of the back porch for Grandma’s stove.
One of Pa’s younger brothers, Roy, was about my age. Roy and I played together day

after day. Roy and I sat on the end of the porch playing “farmer.” We broke off the tip of the
cobs and pretended they were our pigs. We then took the butt end of the cobs to be our boar
hogs; the middle of the cob would be our sows. We used the whole cob to build our fences,

bams, and stables. We enjoyed playing this make-believe game all day. As long as we wanted
to play with the corncobs, Grandma wouldn’t dare bum a single cob.

3

www.LakeCityHistory.com LCH-UUID: C15F5985-B57F-498C-9C99-F425FA07E049