Dad's Childhood

My Life Story

by Ralph E. Russell

(continued)

I was born July 4, 1928, at my parents home in Mesa.  I was the third of five boys.  My earliest memory is the snow which fell in late January or early February of 1930 when I was a year and a half old.  (Snow in Mesa, Arizona, is a rare sight.  I (Gale) have prayed for it every year of my life, but so far it hasn't happened.)   I remember David and Stewart building a snow man in the front yard.

We grew up on the farm and did all the things most farm children do.  I remember playing in the hay, making forts in it and having clod fights there.  I helped haul hay when I was very young.  My job was to tramp the hay on top of the wagon so it would settle down into a manageable load.  We had a big derrick next to the main hay stack.  One day I was sitting by the derrick, watching the men unload the hay, when all of a sudden I jumped up and moved from where I was sitting.  Seconds later the heavy derrick tipped over and fell just where I had been.  Mother said that I said someone told me to move, but I was all alone.  I surely would have been killed had I not moved when I did. 

Once when I was helping haul hay I was in a hollow place on top of a full load of hay when my grandfather Russell threw up a small fork full.   As he did I stood up and the fork struck me in the head, just over my right eye.  I still carry the scar to remind me how lucky I am to have both eyes.  I remember going to the house with blood all over my face and Dan crying, "Ralph has a put out eye!"

Another time Dan and I went down the street together to get some candy at the store.  There was a small store on both sides of the street and being very smart kids we knew the candy on the other side was the best.  Of course, we waited for the car coming down the street to get in just the right position to hit us as we crossed.  Dan was thrown over the hood of the car and broke his arm.  I was hit by the bumper and dragged for quite a distance.  I got a deep cut on my leg.  I remember having to stay in bed for several days after the accident.  The room was right below where my brothers told me the bad guys came out at night to get little boys.  (A just reward for crossing the street in front of a car.)

Mother liked to tell of the time I fell into the bran barrow.  I liked eating the bran we fed to the chickens.  One day when the bran was near the bottom of the barrow I leaned over too far and fell in.  My face buried into the bran and when mother found me she said I was all blue from not getting enough air.

I remember one time playing hide and seek in the barn and sliding between two boards that were just barely wide enough for me to get through.  I felt something and climbed out to find my leg covered with blood.  A nail had given me an awful cut, and I still have a bad scar on my leg.

When we were young we had a fat white pony named Poly.  Poly was lazy and often tried to bite us, but I spent many happy hours riding her up and down Alma School Road and the surrounding area.  She was so fat we had a hard time getting on her back without using a saddle, and saddles were too much bother.   I spent an awful lot of time looking for a high spot to stand on and jump on her back.

Dad always had a big garden and chickens and a lot of what we ate was what we raised.  I grew up during the depression, but we never went hungry.  Mother canned a lot of fruit, especially figs, and we made butter from the cream we skimmed off the top of the milk.  I remember it took forever to churn a churn full of butter, and I did thousands of them.

We had a dairy of Jersey cows and when I was too young to milk I had to help clean up and I often had to turn the separator and feed the skim milk to the baby calves.  Hauling hay was the big thing, though.  I can still remember how dirty you got and how hot and sweaty.  There was a big cattle tank where the cows drank and when we came in with a load of hay we would wash off and get drinks there.