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Memories of Golde Dicks Markham (1996) Golde Markham Dicks 47/125

In the winter, Ma made our underpants out of cotton flannel with the soft fleecy
flannel side worn next to our skin to keep us warm. She also made Pa’s underwear from

these same materials, but she made his underwear with long legs and a drawstring at the
waist—no elastic back then.
Ma also sewed for the neighbors, her five sisters, and her mother. Ma was a topnotch
seamstress, a wonderful cook, and an immaculate housekeeper. Everything had to be spot­

less. She was also a good farmer and an excellent gardener. How she loved her flowers. She
used to say that a home without flowers looked like a person without hair. She was an
outstanding cannier of fruits, meats, and vegetables. She could even raise chickens.

Pearl Dicks was a good mother and a good wife. She loved her in-laws just like she
loved her own children. She even loved the ex-in-laws. She would tell you in a minute that
she had not divorced them.

When Ma passed away in 1975, at the age of 86,1 knew I had'lost the most wonderful
person in the world. She taught me just about everything I know. She taught me the books
of the Old and New Testaments. When we were fixing a meal or washing the dishes to­
gether, I’d try to name the books. When I recited as much as I could remember, she would

prompt me as to which came next in order until I finally learned them all.
Ma taught me to memorize many Bible verses. She took us to church and Sunday
School whenever possible and saw to it that we had our nickels and pennies for the collec­

tions. I was always so proud to be able to put my little money in the collection myself.
When thinking back on seeing and talking to Ma, I can still see that one gold tooth
sitting in between her real teeth, shining through her smiles. She had that gold tooth until she

had to get dentures.
I am almost 88 years old', and I don’t have any dentures yet!

^4men (Corner

Most old men chewed tobacco that came in plugs. Some came twisted like the figure
eight. Old men spit their tobacco juice wherever they were—it made no difference. My
mother would take me to Hopeful Church to scrub the church floor. Over in the “Amen

Comer” where the old men sat—including Grandpa Dicks—dried tobacco juice would be
two to three inches deep in a radius of a couple of feet. Ma told me to take a stick to wet the
mess and dig and scrape and scrub it off the floor. It took me so long to get that mess up!

One day Ma stood up in church and stated she had something to say.

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