I promised to come back and write more about dad's young adult life, but it's hard. It's hard because it causes overwhelming sadness in me to write about the difficult times they went through. It seems as if I become a part of it and tears roll down my face when I think of it.
After the depression in the 30s, dad's family had to work their way up from nothing. And they did. Grandpa worked very hard. He was not fast. His one arm was crippled. But he got up very early in the morning and worked diligently for long hours. He share cropped and saved up money to make a down payment on a farm. Grandma was also a hard worker and very thrifty. They pulled themselves up "by their own boot straps" and were making a go of it. But once more, mental illness crept in and caused trouble. Grandma was in the mental hospital for awhile. I'm not sure how long. Dad said he was the family cook while she was there. Although I knew both grandparents were in the mental hospital in dads early years, for some reason I did not know about the second time for Grandma.
When dad became old enough he joined the young people. By all accounts, he was outgoing and a bit wild. One night while coming home from a singing, or some youth event, he fell asleep in the buggy. Usually that was no problem because his faithful horse would take him home. But that night the horse walked out in front of a car and the horse and buggy was hit. Dad was seriously hurt and was in the hospital for awhile. I don't know how long. I know he was unconscious for several days. He feels like he had a conversion experience during that time. While I am not judging that one way or the other, there was definitely a huge change in him and his personality at that time. He became very serious. He felt like he must walk perfectly before God. He remembers a time he was walking to the barn and saw a feather floating in the air. He blew the feather back up into the air and was playing with it. He said he became very convicted of his foolishness and repented and tried to live holy. Some time during this time, he went to Tennessee to see about getting something printed. He was without a place to stay. While he was either taking care of some goats or staying on a place where someone had goats, he spent the night in an old house without a roof. It got extremely cold that night. It was well below zero. He survived by going underneath the house and huddling with the goats. I asked him how he got home. He said his parents came got him.
While living back home he felt the need to preach the gospel. He is still hurt and feels persecuted by the Amish because he was signed into the mental hospital. From other accounts, I understand he was knocking on doors at all hours of the night to preach to them. To this day, he does not see how this behavior was inappropriate and led to him being admitted. Unfortunately, in those days shock treatments was the treatment of choice. I think it's possible some of his distrust for the medical profession comes from his memories of being strapped down and shocked. I'm not sure how long he was in the mental hospital but I think about 6 months.
After dad was out of the hospital, he was back home again and helping his dad on the farm. I don't know much about the events leading up to the day my grandpa took his life. I was able to go back to the farm where it happened and that same barn is still standing. I got a picture of what that awful day must have been like. A 10 year old finding his dad hanging in the hay mow and yelling for the 6 year old to go get a knife. The 6 year old running as fast as he could to the house for the knife. The 10 year old cutting the rope in a vain attempt to save his dad. Almost too sad for words. My dad said he was out plowing in the field when this happened.
After grandpa's death, dad decided to move the family out of the community. Somehow he became the family leader. He traveled to look for a place to move to, and decided on the (then very poor) area of northwest Arkansas. The roads were mostly gravel into Clifty and the surrounding areas at that time. They sold the farm in Illinois. Because land was so much cheaper in Arkansas, grandma was able to buy several pieces of property at that time. I know she gave some (or all) of her children a piece of property. Enos was married at that time in Illinois but him and his wife soon joined the others in Arkansas.
It was in northwest Arkansas dad met mom. He has very detailed memories of their meeting at a camp meeting and the events following up to their marriage. He had went by bus to Washington state soon after meeting her. He wrote her while there asking her to marry him. She had replied yes, but he didn't wait for the answer. He came back to Arkansas by bus to get her. They were married by a justice of the peace and she went back to Washington with him. Just like that. Just a few short weeks after meeting each other. That was the beginning of life full of surprises and unplanned last minute trips. They had 7 kids, all home births with just dad there to deliver us. Mom never knew when dad might come in and say he needs her to be ready to go on a trip "this afternoon". How she managed to raise us and homeschool us as they were living their often nomadic life, I'll never know. But she has always been his loyal supporter no matter what.
Once again, I add the disclaimer about my knowledge as an historian of dad's life. If some of his family reads this and find errors. Please forgive me. I'm just related seconded information to the best of my memory and ability.
