Steve(Can)
Well-known member
My grandmother was a grand lady of the faith and a real firecracker. There were some things she would not abide by, at the top of that list, snakes and drinking alcohol. Whenever she came across a snake in her raspberry patch, she'd run for the kindling axe from the woodshed and chop that poor critter up into a 1000 pieces. And she'd keep at it pounding at it until every little piece quit wiggling and she was certain she got it, ha! She held her views on alcohol use with the same dedication and fervor.
At that time, drinking was the evil of the day and for good reason. It was a hard life up there at the best of times and during the 30's even worse. Most folks had a time keeping a roof over their heads, food on the table and shoes on their kids feet and there were plenty of families that did without because the man of the house spent a big part of his pay on alcohol. The road to ruin, she called it, and had plenty of stories to back it up.... the fellow who traded his daughter to another man for a winter coat, the poor women she knew doing without, haggled and harried, struggling to keep their children clothed and fed. The beatings and abuse that often come when people mix hard times and hard drinking.
Her father came to the area to run a marble quarry. He was a very bright fellow, skilled in many things, even carved his own headstone before he died. My grandmother grew up at the quarry and as a girl, she helped cook for the men in the quarry camp. My grandfather told me that as a young man, he took a job in the quarry and soon took notice of the spunky gal in the mess house. Being the bosses daughter, nobody dared mess with her and though he kept his distance, she sure caught his eye and watched her from afar. A few miles down the road from the marble quarry was a little settlement with a swimming hole, a lumber mill, a school house and church, as well, a hall where people gathered for dances and for get togethers. One summer evening he spied her there, laughing and talking with one of her girlfriends who lived nearby. He said he finally summoned up the courage to go over to introduce himself and maybe ask if maybe she wanted to dance. That didn't go so well.
He said when he got up to her, she looked right at him and asked, 'what do you want, Cecil B-----?' and he was so surprised she knew his name his tongue wouldn't work and he stood there not able to say anything. So she said again, 'What is it, Cecil, Is there something I can do for you?' Lost for words, he stammered, 'Was wondering... if maybe you might like to dance?'
At which, she drew back her shoulders and declared, 'I'll have you know, Cecil B------, I do not dance and I do not associate with any man who drinks. You have been drinking, I can smell it on you.' and then taking her girlfriends arm, she spun around and marched away, leaving my grandfather standing there speechless.
My grandfather told me that he only drank twice in his life, that night at the dance hall, and it was his first and last time.
Funny thing, when my wife's family moved into the area in the 1970's, they bought the old McLean property not far from the marble quarry. When my grandmother first met my wife and learned this, she clapped her hands and said that was where her best friend lived growing up and she would often take the old trail up from the quarry to visit with her there.
The little settlement near the marble quarry where my grandfather and grandmother first spoke to each other. Didn't go so well for him.
At that time, drinking was the evil of the day and for good reason. It was a hard life up there at the best of times and during the 30's even worse. Most folks had a time keeping a roof over their heads, food on the table and shoes on their kids feet and there were plenty of families that did without because the man of the house spent a big part of his pay on alcohol. The road to ruin, she called it, and had plenty of stories to back it up.... the fellow who traded his daughter to another man for a winter coat, the poor women she knew doing without, haggled and harried, struggling to keep their children clothed and fed. The beatings and abuse that often come when people mix hard times and hard drinking.
Her father came to the area to run a marble quarry. He was a very bright fellow, skilled in many things, even carved his own headstone before he died. My grandmother grew up at the quarry and as a girl, she helped cook for the men in the quarry camp. My grandfather told me that as a young man, he took a job in the quarry and soon took notice of the spunky gal in the mess house. Being the bosses daughter, nobody dared mess with her and though he kept his distance, she sure caught his eye and watched her from afar. A few miles down the road from the marble quarry was a little settlement with a swimming hole, a lumber mill, a school house and church, as well, a hall where people gathered for dances and for get togethers. One summer evening he spied her there, laughing and talking with one of her girlfriends who lived nearby. He said he finally summoned up the courage to go over to introduce himself and maybe ask if maybe she wanted to dance. That didn't go so well.
He said when he got up to her, she looked right at him and asked, 'what do you want, Cecil B-----?' and he was so surprised she knew his name his tongue wouldn't work and he stood there not able to say anything. So she said again, 'What is it, Cecil, Is there something I can do for you?' Lost for words, he stammered, 'Was wondering... if maybe you might like to dance?'
At which, she drew back her shoulders and declared, 'I'll have you know, Cecil B------, I do not dance and I do not associate with any man who drinks. You have been drinking, I can smell it on you.' and then taking her girlfriends arm, she spun around and marched away, leaving my grandfather standing there speechless.
My grandfather told me that he only drank twice in his life, that night at the dance hall, and it was his first and last time.
Funny thing, when my wife's family moved into the area in the 1970's, they bought the old McLean property not far from the marble quarry. When my grandmother first met my wife and learned this, she clapped her hands and said that was where her best friend lived growing up and she would often take the old trail up from the quarry to visit with her there.
The little settlement near the marble quarry where my grandfather and grandmother first spoke to each other. Didn't go so well for him.
