Gramps - Part I: The Sheps

I still have dreams about Gramp's farm in Albia. I can close my eyes and remember almost every aspect of the place. The part of the trip that I loved most during the visits were the animals: Trigger, who shlepped to the back forty to hide as we rounded the bend. The ever-changing litter of kittens Gramp usually had in the barn often hiding in a nest in the rafters....and Shep. Or, Sheps - as I recall once one Shep passed, another would take his place and become the new Shep. His one variation was Molly, and I think she pre-dated my time.

Gramp being what I believe was a typical farmer didn't tend to his animals a vigilently as we do ours. The cats were for eradicating vermin on the farm, period. Shep had his job to do and coddling him was not part of the deal. He didn't come indoors, ever. Ruthie would cluck her tongue over the treatment of the animals - Gramp's rationale for not feeding them leftovers hit a brick wall with her. He was goodnatured about it, but firm. She fed them anyway. We'd cook up Sunday dinner which generally consisted of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, etc., and always, ALWAYS a cream pie of some sort. Banana, vanilla, chocolate or coconut. These were Gramp's favorites.

As soon as dinner was over, the men would depart to the living room and Gramp would talk of old memories or the goings on in the area -- and Ruthy, Jeanne and I would start the process of gathering all the dinner scraps for the dog and the cats of the farm. She'd make up a huge plate for Shep, covered in leftover gravy (I'm sure Gramp always wondered why there were no leftovers for him to feast on the next day). We'd take that bowl out back out of the sight line of Gramp's easy chair, and Shep would be waiting, tail wagging wildly. I remember one time we got there later on when I was a bit older and Gramp had a new Shep - not the old black and white border collie - and the dog was so hungry Ruthie gave him a half frozen piece of beef she brought specifically for him. No time to thaw it out completely. Next we'd head to the barn for the cats. Once, when we didn't have much in terms of leftovers, she combined a plate of soft bread pieces and raw egg for the cats. They had a feast, but the next time we were down to the farm Gramp grumped about how the cats were breaking into the hen nests and eating the eggs. Oops.

But the Sheps were always a staple. Well trained for sheep heeling, but also sweet dogs. We never brought Tippy with us on these day trips, I gather because he was unlikely to take well to the other dog being with his people. As it was, Tippy would ignore us as we left for Gramps - looking away as we backed out and yelled goodbye to him on the lawn - and then run to the Murphy's across the street and hide when we returned. I always tried to lure him home and on occasion would see him peeking around the Murphy's house to see if we were looking for him. He knew we'd spent the day with that other dog at that other place, and wanted to teach us a lesson 

Fort Des Moines Methodist Church

Fort Des Moines Church (old church)

Maybe it's me, but it looks like there is a ghost standing in front of the church by the front steps...

I was very young when it came down, but I always had a preference for the old church. Probably my earliest and best recall is as a toddler having to climb a lot of stairs to reach the sanctuary. I don't think we were allowed in the sanctuary during service, but I do remember climbing to get there for some reason. In my mind's eye it was very big and there was a significant bell ringing tower. Sunday school was in the lower room beneath the old church sanctuary. The older kids were funneled off somewhere else in the church. I had a very old, very nice church lady who taught my class which was in a section of the big room in the basement. I can't recall her name, but she was sweet and way out of her element handling the little hoodlums in my class. We were taught to memorize and recite the books of the Bible and I did. I knew them all once. I was really shy and quiet, mixed in a class with rowdy, naughty boys, and the teacher liked me. At Christmas, she gave us all a plastic snow globe - everyone's was the same, with Rudolph and Santa - but mine was purposely different, and therefore more special. She gave it to me and said it was special because I was such a good girl. It had a manger scene in it, and I cherished it. That poor soul had to have found some peace in knowing that at least one kid was actually listening. I remember utter and total chaos 99% of the time. Leading the pack was Kent Cherry, of course. The church took on a different feel when they tore the old building down. I spent the entire time mixed in with hellions and mean girls. Dad forced me to attend MYF (Methodist Youth something-or-other) for teens. I think I was the only one in the family who had to go. Weds night, MYF, Monday night Rainbows. They met Wednesday nights at the church and it was almost as awful as Rainbows. (Honestly, how do teen girls survive these groups?) Being quiet, I didn't mix with these kids well. To the last kid they were outgoing and confident. The girls juggled for the attention of the (still) rowdy boys, and one girl in particular found torturing me in front of the group a particularly fun pastime. Argh. (Fun side note: This same girl was in Rainbow with me where the personal torturing continued unabated. She was a terrible person, to say the least. When she got engaged - side-side-note: she's now divorced - her announcement in the newspaper misspelled her name. Instead of "Melanie", they printed her name as "Meanie". Karma. Pure, wonderful karma)

A few other things I remember: Doris Stroud, the very nice, but very untalented Choir Director who liked to sing solos and had a terrible voice. Mrs. Dillard, the organist who wore moomoos and had stockings that slouched around her ankles. Being in the choir myself at about age 11 and singing my heart out in practice one day until I notice the girl standing next to me staring at me in horror. I think it was then I realized I couldn't carry a note. Attending MAYBE every Easter and Christmas, but not very often otherwise - and Mama and Dad never attending, except maybe once, when a special sermon was given by the older youth in our flock, including Dicky. There were four or five college-aged members chosen to give a short sermon, and he gave a rousing sermon...questioning the merits of organized religion. It rocked the congregation to the core. The first few sermons were pious and properly deferential to the church. Then came Dicky. I wish we had his words written somewhere. Jeanne may recall better what he said, but I know that it was controversial and there was quite a lot of huffing and puffing at the fellowship hall afterward. Good old Dicky.