Maibelle McCullough Mouton:
Remembering With Joy

Remembering with Joy

This whole project turns on the fact that our mother was left-handed; and in an age when there were no left handed scissors, our father had a pair made for her at a foundry in St. Louis, Missouri.

As the only one of her seven children to be also left handed, I inherited the scissors. When my grandson Gary Custis brought into our family a left handed bride, I wanted to give her the scissors! So took them to a silver smith to have them polished and made new for Martha! He took one look at those scissors and said in an awed voice. "Where in the world did you get those scissors?" When I told him the story he said "I'm sorry but I can't help you!" I had to give them to Martha just as they were!

Then Gary came to me requesting that I write for him the story of those scissors. When I did, he came back with the idea that I should write the story of my childhood. I thought the idea rediculous, and laughed when I told Lucille. She surprised me by saying "Oh yes, mother, and we will get all those old pictures and have them copied!"

So what could I say, when they were so insistent?

I came near the end of the McCullough tribe, being next to last baby. I never even saw the first house that uncle Will helped papa build on the home farm acreage that he'd given papa and his bride for wedding present!

The big house with nine room, two wide halls and five porches was my birthplace. If you look at the floor plan, you'll see that the big room across the hall was a parlor. While we slept, a Christmas tree appeared in that parlor, and in the dawn of that holy day. we found it there, loaded with gifts and glowing with tallow candles! Never this world have I ever felt again the amazing glory of that sight!

The front room was the bedroom of our parents and the second room was the nursery where first Gladys and I, then Bopeep and I had our cribs and toys!

To carry out this plan, the first thing I did was to sketch the floor plan and all the surrounding buildings in as nearly a true arrangement as I could! This was a good plan for as surely as I saw, for instance, where the raingauge (7) stood on the lawn, the whole flood of paperdoll games we played there carried me back into the golden days of childhood. Nothing ever came into our lives that we didn't immediately appropriate and use! The raingauge was a governmemt project that Guelcksie was helping with. We didn't interfere with that! We just took over and had fun.

Like when the boys came in from a fishing trip and put up their wet tent on the lawn to dry, we all turned actresses and singers and played "Show" till they took it down!

There was never a resident photographer are small town. Occasionally one would set up to add to the green front uncle Will's have (33) and people had photos made. That is why my picture is dated Feb. 28, 1900. A winter time picture of a June baby! Three days older than eight months, revealed by the velvety cover on the chair and the black stockings on my feet! I have no memory of the occasion!

There are other things I don't remember. I simply heard them repeated. However it happened, I knew that long before my time, one of the older children had said "It must be Sunday! Here's the funny paper!"

Mama was so shocked that she exclaimed audibly "Oh we must have A church for these children!"

Papa heard her and as it was his delight to fulfill his Nannie's wishes he donated land, and with the help of friends built her church in a grove in the lower part of town; a white frame church with pews ranged on each side of the center aisle, a pulpit on a raised platform and deeptoned bell to call the faithful.

Gladys was a sickly child, and Bopeep was a baby. Mama's hand were full with the two. Lizzie was in Central College, a girls' school of those days but a co-ed branch of the State U. today. That's why Edith became mama's right hand man and dressed me on Sunday morning, taking the rags out of my clean washed hair and giving me golden curls -- not very long or thick! -- for the Sabbath! What a motherly nine year old she was tying my blue ribbons securely under my chin to keep my hat in place! Then to keep me clean they sent me with papa to ring the bell! I remember holding his big first finger and trotting happily along beside him. We didn't call the long way round by the wooden sidewalk. We cut through the alley that ran behind Mrs. Allen's house.

Now in that lane there was in those days, a hog wallow filled with big grunting hogs! I peeped fearfully between my fathers moving legs! Sometimes they shoved and squealed audibly! I would not have gone through that lane alone for any reward that you can name! But with my Father I was safe!

Ringing the bell was fun! He let me cling to his arm and go up and down, as we called the children to Sunday school!

My little class sat the front pew near the organ left of the pulpit. I do not remember that we ever had regular pastor, but we did have preaching occasionally when an itenerant preacher passed through our town. He always made the service too long, and I walked home with my sisters the long way on the board sidewalk and papa walked with the preacher who always had dinner with us!

This picture was made when, after many years of neglect, they decided to remodel the church resume having services. There is no reason to bore you with the awakening of that little church and a dozen others in that area of Arkansas that had been neglected and abandoned for years! It is enough that it is joy and inspiration to me!

One Sunday afternoon there was a big egg hunt in our front yard. I knew that the Easter bunny didn't lay eggs for I sat in the highchair at the end of the kitchen table watched mama and Mrs. Gardiner and Edith dip dozens of eggs in bowls of dye -- blue, purple, orange, green, pink and yellow!

Next day they had all disappeared! After dinner all the Sunday school kids came to our house to receive boxes and baskets to find and gather eggs! At a signal, they scattered and I could hear them calling "I found one!" "Oh! I found one!" But I couldn't find any! Just before I despaired, my father came to give me his big first finger to hold as he led me to a keg turned on its side. There I found in nest of grass holding just enough bright eggs to fill my small basket!

These two memories have taught me that though I was only four years old when he died, my father taught me by his example the loving care and sufficiency of my heavenly Father!

Though at times I have been dreadfully afraid of what life was doing to me, I have always found the comfort of His Presence between me and the unbearable! Just as at times I've seen the worst kind of dissapointment coming toward me, He always gives me -- with whatever loss and pain -- something better!

So you can see how I thank God for my memories of my big, blond, handsome father, for those fearsome hogs in the wallow in the lane and for Easter eggs!

This is the picture of that little church today. It rejoices my heart! There are Sunday school rooms on each side of the original church, cribs in a nursery, little chairs and a low table in one room, a pastor's study in another with a library. There is a kitchen and dining room behind the pulpit. The whole church is brick faced and has a resident pastor whose home is also brick and stands as nearly as I can estimate, just about where those awful hogs terrorized me as a child.