My Three Parents

By Ralph Schleich

I've thought about this for a long time.  I never knew my mother.  She died before I was a year old.  How could I describe the three most important people in my life: Dad, Uncle Ward, and Aunt Maud?  I can't just tell you what they looked like.  We have pictures that can do that better.  When I was a child their lives were so intertwined.  Maybe the best way would be to compare them to each other. 

If I had to choose one word to describe each, I would say: 

• Dad was adventuresome.
• Uncle Ward, deliberate.
• Loving is the word for Aunt Maud. 

Dad and Ward were brothers-in-law and opposites.  Ward was five years older than Maud, and Dad was between them in age.  However, my father was a good forty years younger than Ward in how he moved, talked, and thought about things.  Dad was modern while Ward would have been more comfortable living his entire life in the 1800's.  Grandma Charter once said out of all her children, Ward was born old. 

Dad went one year to college.  Ward finished the 10th grade in a one-room school.  Dad had beautiful handwriting.  Like me, Ward scribbled.  Unlike me, they could both do math in their head. 

The “Indian was riding the buffalo” when a nickel left Ward's pocket.  On the other hand, if someone needed a shirt, he'd take it off his back and hand it over. 

Dad would say, “If the money ain't in your pocket, you don't need it.”  If he had money in his pocket, he spent it, but never borrowed.

In his younger years, Dad was a land surveyor, working in Lodi, California and several towns in Mississippi.  He also worked in the silver mines in Tonopah, Nevada.  Uncle Ward had sheep and ran them on government land in the mountains of Northern California. 

By the time I was born, the two were partners in the dairy business.  Dad owned the land, barns, cows, and milk truck.  Ward bought the gas, drove the pickup, and paid the food bill for the extended family.  They split the profits.  During the depression, Ward drove while Dad ran to each house with the five cent bottle of milk. 

Dad could live in his pickup and wander throughout the county.  Ward had to have a particular destination and would do several errands in the same trip.  Dad drove fast down the middle of the county roads.  Ward went so slow the car would start to jerk in high gear.  He often fell asleep and ran off the road, but he was moving so slow he never hit anything. 

Ward and Dad were like Mutt and Jeff.  Dad was short (5'8”) and 180 pounds; Ward weighed the same, but three inches taller.  Dad looked like Rockford's father on TV.  Even the clothes and movements were similar.  Ward had six nasty looking teeth.  Dad, dentures.  Ward's eyes were grey.  Dad's lake blue.  Ward had a small strip of hair that circled his head above his ears.  The rest had been bald since he was young.  Dad's was strawberry blonde and abundant.  Dad's favorite hat was a baseball cap turned backward long before it became popular.  It was easier to milk cows that way.  Ward had Stetsons.  Ward wore long johns winter and summer.  Dad had jockeys or boxers.  Ward liked long sleeved shirts and Dad short.  Dad had a dial phone for as long as I could remember.  Ward waited until I was a junior in high school.  He saw no need, but Maud insisted. 

Dad hunted and fished for everything.  His illegal net in the Sacramento River supplied us and some of the neighbors with many fish.  Abalone fishing off the coast in Fort Bragg was a treat.  He had several different rifles and shotguns.  Many times he shot so many ducks that it took him all day to bring them home, one limit at a time.  In his seventies, he went elk hunting in Colorado with guys thirty years younger.  He slept in the snow and rode in the bed of a pickup.  Ward had one rifle and hunted deer only in season in Modoc County. 

Dad always had a motor boat and after he retired had a house boat on the river.  Ward never had one because he hated water and couldn't swim. 

Ward was a school trustee for years.  After Maud died, he became a Colusa County Supervisor.  Dad never ran for public office. 

During the war years, Dad was an airplane spotter.  As a volunteer fireman, he always attended the social functions and cooked for the events.  He made great beans and I regret not having the recipe.  After retirement, he hung out at the fire hall to visit. 

I never remember Ward or Maud going to the movies.  In the early 40s, Dad took me to the matinees on Sundays at the Arbuckle Theatre.  If he didn't cry during the show, he didn't like the movie. 

Like Ward, Maud was born old.  She was the youngest of the eight Barnes children while Ward was the oldest living of Grandma Charter's twelve.  Three of Ward's sisters died before he married. 

Maud was a city girl and attended larger schools in Oakland and Orland.  She didn't finish high school.  (A fact I didn't know until her 40th class reunion.) 

The couple's favorite term of endearment for each other was “dearie.”  They always kissed hello and good-bye.  They had been married for twenty years without having children when my mother died.  At 43, Maud knew I was her last chance.  She latched on to me and never let go.  Mother had four living, married sisters, all younger than Maud, living within a ten mile radius of home.  Dad's only sibling, Uncle Frank, was married and they had no children.  There were many options for my care.  Ward and Maud were willing to move into Dad's home to help take care of the entire family. 

A few years later, Ward and Maud took me with them to their home in College City.  Dad and Uncle Ward continued to work the dairy together. 

My aunt had the English coloring of Elizabeth Taylor.  Black hair, creamy white skin, and blue-grey eyes.  She changed over time and I remember her with salt and pepper hair.  The curls came from the beauty parlor.  She could be described as having an hour glass figure with three-fourths of the sand at the bottom.  Maud was old fashioned and modern at the same time.  She voted and drove a car when most women her age did not.  She smoked Camel cigarettes, but only in her own kitchen.  If I walked in, the cigarette went into the wood stove and she fanned the air with her apron.  She didn't want me to know.  Maud often wore slacks, but only at home.  To go to the little Mom & Pop store, Rankins, she would wear a housedress.  When she went to Arbuckle, it was stockings, good shoes, corset, nice dress and her hair was fixed.  She had her hair done at the beauty parlor.  Gloves and a hat were added for trips to The City (San Francisco). 

Maud always found something good to say about everyone she knew.  Even if it was only, “He was kind to his mother.” 

She loved to dance.  If she heard a good tune on the radio, we'd waltz around the kitchen table.  I never saw her dance in public.  I found her old dance card from high school and it was full of names.  I asked how the cards worked and she explained that before the music started the women would line up on one side of the hall.  The men would come over and ask if they could have a dance.  If the woman said yes, they would sign the card for one dance. 

My aunt taught me to show respect by using titles when addressing my elders.  Teachers were Mr., Mrs., or Miss.  Close family friends could be given the honorary title of ‘aunt' or ‘uncle.'  I had extra ‘grandfathers' and ‘grandmothers.'

I never liked to read and couldn't read well enough to retain anything.  I was only reading words, not content.  At 45 I found that I have a form of dyslexia.  I am now sure that Uncle Ward and my sister, Kathryn had the same thing.  When I was in college, I would come home on weekends and Aunt Maud read a thick world history book to me.  I passed the class. 

My aunt was the best driver of the three, but died in a car wreck. 

Maud was a mother, friend, confidant and the person I could tell everything to. 

My Dad wanted me to spend more time with him fishing, hunting or on the river in his boat.  These activities scared Aunt Maud.  I went fishing once, was on the boat two or three times, and never went deer hunting.  I did get to hunt with him on the opening day of pheasant season for five or six years.  On the other hand, maybe because she had a horse, she didn't see the danger in riding.  I never got hurt on hunting or fishing trips, but by being stupid I often fell off our horse. 

I didn't realize until close to her death, the intricate dance steps Dad and Maud did to raise me.  Neither got what they wanted.  There was no open warfare or harsh words spoken.  I was like the modern-day child of divorce.  Each Saturday I spent the day at my Dad's.  He worked all day so I really didn't see him.  Grandpa and I hung out on Saturdays and he came to Aunt Maud's for Sunday dinner. 

After Aunt Maud's death in 1953, a man asked Dad, “Ralph, what was your relationship to Maud?”

He didn't say she was my sister-in-law or my wife's brother's wife.  Dad turned toward me and said, “She raised my son.” 

Even though I was sure I would never be like them, I find myself more like them with every passing year.  I got unconditional love from all three.  There has never been anyone that could replace them. 

Copyright 2005-2008 © Margretta Schleich
Questions? Email me at info@granniegretta.com

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