Pauline and Mama

Not long before she died, Pauline shared two letters with me, which were written by my mother about 1946 or 47. They were especially eye opening to me. For one thing, I learned she and Pauline had a very close relationship. When I said something to Pauline about it she said, “Ruby was my bud.” The letters reveal how much she shared her emotional struggles with Pauline. As a young boy of 11 or 12 I had no inkling of what was to come, but Mama let Pauline know there was something wrong on the inside. These latters were written just prior to the time she began to show obvious evidence of mental illness. Among other things I picked up on the fact that there was a terrific mother-daughter conflict between her and Grammy. I never suspected it.

I made my way into the stories a little bit. I was a pretty skinny kid at the time. My grandparents leaned on Mama pretty hard because she and Daddy required me to work in the fields in the summer time. They thought I was too frail. She responded by saying that it didn’t seem to hurt me. She said I seemed happy and never complained. I don’t know about the complaining part, but I found the frail part pretty laughable.

Between the sixth and seventh grades, I spent the summer helping my father quarry rock out of a dry creek bed. I was swinging a 16 pound sledgehammer, which I could not do today. I doubt if I've ever been in better physical condition. It doesn’t look like field work or the rock quarrying had any permanent effect on me other than to convince me that I didn’t want to be a farmer and I was interested in a rock quarrying future. Apparently my father never heard about child labor laws.

Pauline was always concerned about me when I was growing up. She once asked me if I was properly clothed and fed. I didn’t understand her concern but then again I didn’t recognize our poverty. I did have adequate food and clothing but not much else.