My Brush With the Past  

By Mary Beatty

Rainbow Inn. How quiet the homestead that once housed music and love and laughter...and tears! On its walls hang endless memories; some unbelievable, some side-splittingly hilarious, some heart-wrenching and unbearable!

The most memorable wall was the stair wall. Nine framed portraits marched in three rows up that shiny white open stairway. Displayed proudly and grouped in the order they were welcomed into this world. Two boys and a girl (that would be me), two boys and a girl, three boys. Nine. Just two years apart in age.

Hard work is honorable... If you want to be an artist, pick up your brush and paint! Yes, priceless memories all.........as my thoughts go even further back over the route that brought us here.............

Daddy cleared the grove. These trees would one day become "The House That John Built." Sure, he had help! First and Second Brothers, now ages eight and ten! Just babies, you say! But little guys can save big Daddy lots of steps... and get there faster!

With hammer and saw, mashed fingers and tears, they began to build the family homestead. A very fine log house, I thought, with firmly packed dirt floor, swept clean! I remember how that wood-burning stove scorched our toes. The wood smelled so good!

"Don't touch the stove...it's hot!"

Then we would turn and toast our backside. 

Before the house was completed though, a fire started in the chimney to this wonderful stove and the entire house was devoured by flames! We all escaped safely but saved nothing. I was not too young to remember how, on that December day, we huddled together and shivered and sobbed as we watched the flames shoot angrily into the sky and quickly disappear into puffy clouds of blacks and grays!  We were all clasped in one great big hug as Daddy said, “We still have each other. We can find another house.” 

This acreage is now the beautiful Davidsonville State Park in Randolph County Arkansas.

Believe it or not, another year, another home... another burnout! This time caused by the fireplace. The same fireplace where Third Brother and I rocked together and sang Jesus Loves Me and You Are My Sunshine. And once again FIRE left us with nothing much but the clothes on our backs. I was ten years old.

Surely, that should have made our parents throw in the towel! But like Job, they struggled but never wavered in their faith. Both were born again Christians, blessed with devoted neighbors and church friends who went beyond themselves to “love thy neighbor as thyself.”

The Depression was supposed to be over. Jobs were scarce. Seven kids, Mom and Dad and what had been given to us were stuffed into a friend’s truck. We headed North to make a fresh start. Close friends had made arrangements to help us find that pot of gold. That rainbow's end was a farm in Indiana where we would pick tomatoes. Cotton Pickin' Tomatoes!  "Hard work is honorable." Daddy said so!

We all worked together in the fields. The farm owner let us stay in a big old empty shelter. There were straw mattresses to sleep on that went snap, crackle and crunch when anyone moved even the slightest. We kids loved it! It must have been humbling to Mom and Dad. But they thanked God and reminded us of the story of Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus and the stable! I knew the story well.

For a short time we rented a house in McGrawsville, then moved to Amish country east of Kokomo. Dad worked on construction at the new Bunker Hill Air Force Base. 

"I am building an Air Force Base!" he teased. Hard work is honorable.

The older brothers helped on the farm. At times we were blessed with  boxes of clothing other families didn't want or need. I still remember what fun it was to almost fall into this one humongous box, filled to overflowing with the most beautiful clothes imaginable! But I caught this strange flush on First Brother's face as he turned abruptly to go finish his chores.

Soon, more country homes were wired for electricity. Not the Amish homes, of course. We were really climbing the ladder out of the poverty pit! Now we could find our way on a dark night to the outhouse without a lantern!

Some might call these tough times. But we kids didn't know hard times. I have never known what it is to not feel loved and wanted, except maybe when Daddy lined us all up in a row for a "lickin" ... and I knew I didn't belong in that line! You've never lived until you have had to "bring me a switch" that you yourself had to select and snap from a tree or shrub, to be used on your bottom end when you deserved it! And always, of course, accompanied by, “This hurts me more than it does you…!” Hmmm. I seriously doubt that! All these mischievous brothers kept those trees well pruned! Once was enough for me!
 

Erwin and Dave

By this time our family had been gifted with the last two little brothers. Our two little Hoosiers. No, can't even imagine being without either of them! I guess God knew how many children would be needed to carry out His plans for this Cox's Army! 

I packed as many as six sack lunches for school. At times that was a pretty quick chore when there was only a cornbread muffin and overripe bananas the grocer gave Dad at the end of the day! (We could get milk at school.) This needed to be done the night before because we were the first family to load onto the bus for our one-hour ride to school and the last to unload at the day's end.

That summer I was "privileged" to have a job baby-sitting these younger siblings. Mom decided she would need to go to work so we could make ends meet, and have money for First Brother to go off to Bible College. "For a short time" turned into a twenty-five year congratulations pin from General Motors.

Mary and Mom

When you are Sweet Sixteen And Never Been Kissed! just a little money is a lot! The only time I questioned the value of this ten-dollar a week responsibility was when I was changing diapers on the youngest baby, and he wee wee'd all over me! 

"Ugh! NEVER a boy baby!" I shrieked as I scrubbed my hands and arms clean. I will never let Seventh Brother forget it either!

Babysitting -- nothing to it! After finishing the day’s chores I sat around reading Grace Livingston Hill books. Found dozens of them in Youth Christian Fiction at the Public Library. When we made our weekly Saturday trip to the A & P grocery store in town, I stocked up. I read them all. And Louisa Mae Alcott's Little Women -- and Little Men -- and Jo's Boys. I let the kids entertain themselves in the yard, the barn, the creek. Then about time to expect Mom and Dad to come driving in I would quickly straighten the house again and greet them at the water pump. All clean kidlets! Flashing an angelic smile, I tried to look frazzled! An older, wiser sitter kept the pre-school age little ones more confined during the winter months.

High School diploma in hand, I landed this fabulous job at Continental Steel Corporation Office in the Advertising Department! I was rich! Thirty-two fifty every week was big bucks! Pickings were pretty slim those last few days before payday though. This fat paycheck was issued only twice a month. I had to learn to live within my means. Making the stretch should have been easier but sewing my own clothes helped!

By now, the first two brothers had married and moved away. First Brother became a minister, Second Brother a City fireman with a second job for off-days. But my Grandpa McGee was pretty old and not well and had to come live at our house. We still needed more room.

So we moved into Kokomo. To the tune of a second mortgage, we found the prettiest big white two-story house in the North end of town! Since I had found my pot of gold, I committed to paying half of the monthly house payment. This wide banister front porch with sky blue ceiling and a swing at the short end was worth any sacrifice! Finally, a family homestead! We have "arrived!" I liked to think of it as Rainbow Inn!

Inside, the glossy white open stairway led to four bedrooms. Four bedrooms! A small room with two windows just off the dining room would be a fifth bedroom, perfect for Grandpa. No stairs to climb, and his very own “privy.” And a dining room! A room big enough to service this huge family of appetites. And a pedestal table with un-matched chairs! (Eat your heart out, Martha!) Imagine! A big round table where we could bow our heads and still join hands while Daddy blessed our food! 

Red, white and blue plaid wallpaper made that kitchen zing! Crisp white enameled cabinets reached all the way to the ceiling on two adjacent walls! The entire sink wall was of windows that looked out over the drive, through the garden, across the street, and to the neighbors in two directions. Sometimes, you could even see the north end of a rainbow if you stretched far enough!

But one bathroom for all these people? We continued to learn to share, sometimes in the most urgent way!

In those days and circumstances girls in a family weren't afforded the opportunity to go to college. This was just understood. There were no funds, simple as that. Girls were supposed to build a Hope Chest, get married and become the "Total Woman" to one man. For life, as visioned by the Bible and Marybelle Morgan's best selling book for the Christian female. Well, sure, that was fine...someday! And my Hope Chest was already half filled. I knew how to sew and make curtains and aprons and dresses -- and cook and can and garden and clean and bathe babies...

And I loved music… Spent a lot of time at the big old upright piano. But someday I will be an artist!

"Honey, I guess you can never become an artist until you pick up a brush and paint!" Sage advice from my Mother.
 

On the way home from a day at work, Mom and Dad stopped off at a little neighborhood grocery. Mr. Densborn respected and trusted my Dad and put the day's grocery needs "on tab." This tab grew longer and longer until it was out of sight. Dad paid on it each payday -– after he gave his tithe to the church. Exactly one year after the last appetite left home Mr. Densborn wrote him a receipt stamped boldly, PAID IN FULL!

Daily? Hmmm, you wonder. This daily stop at Densborn’s grocery was required because these stretching athletic brothers could gulp a gallon of milk before you could say scat! One refrigerator can only hold so much before it collapses! Three loaves of bread were a daily necessity. Peanut butter -- in the largest container possible, please! Ten pounds of peeled and diced potatoes found themselves mashed and well seasoned for after church Sunday Dinner with none left over. 

The younger kids walked to and from their grade school twenty blocks each way. They planned to follow in the older brothers' path to college, so they considered it a body building work-out. Running home in the rain, drenched to the bone, seemed to dim their enthusiasm only slightly! Matter of fact, for years, Fifth Brother held the cross-country track record! 

Most of my brothers became well known throughout the State for their competitive athletics. They earned college scholarships, Third and Fourth Brothers were inducted into the Evansville University Hall of Fame! The two youngest played on the High School basketball team that won the State championship. Ginny and I were known as their sisters.

Mary and Virginia

That's when I met Ken. 

"Oh, Mary! I am anxious for you to meet my big brother! I call him Corporal. He just got home from Germany. He's the greatest! You will absolutely adore him!"

There sat The Corporal in the comfy living room chair, pipe in hand, reading the daily newspaper. He did manage to stand up in acknowledgment, sober expression remained intact.

He didn't utter a word beyond the expected, "Pleasedtomeetyou," then returned to his newspaper...to listen. To listen to his chatty sister and her new quiet friend.

Adore him? Why, he is OLD! Dark hair and eyes, but poker-faced... No smile? No small talk? BIG brother? Guys at my house were jolly and silly and reached from six feet to six feet three inches tall! I was dwarfed standing beside them! Adore someone only an inch taller than me…? 

I wasn't gifted at small talk either although living with this gang of brothers, talking to guys was pretty easy for me.

Ken

"Good-bye, Mr. Corporal, nice to meet you. I have to get home. I turn into a pumpkin at midnight...” Man, what a charmer… Get me out of here!

Four years later we were married. He recognized a nice girl when he met one, even a long-legged skinny one.

Getting to know Ken was a slow process. He never hurried for anyone and not once made a snap decision. We were opposites in every sense of the word. In time I discovered a dry sense of humor, a solid, unpretentious, realistic man with a vision of what he wanted in life and in a wife. I didn't know until later, but he was steadily building a nest egg to prove it. 

Dad thought Ken was in need of a stern lecture about starting and ending our dates so late in the evening. Nothing good happens after midnight! was a phrase we all cut our dating teeth on. Workday at Rainbow Inn began with the Rooster's crow, and neither parent rested well until everyone was home where we were supposed to be. So he rehearsed his speech. I stood to the side with fear and trembling as he opened the door for Ken that evening. 

"If you can't get here earlier, don't come." 

That's all? What a mean parent..!

After we were engaged, my Mother said, "Honey, when Kenny becomes a Christian, I will think of him as the perfect man!" The youngest brothers were more impressed with his shiny shoes!

We found a bungalow that suited Ken's nest egg. He asked our parents to look it over with us. Our Mothers were excited and our Dads were apprehensive. We made it into our Haven for the next twelve years. 
 

Mary and Ken - July 1, 1956

Our dream was to start a family the first year. But it looked like that dream was not to become reality. One year turned into five, five years into ten. I made weekly trips to an Indianapolis specialist, then bi-monthly appointments, then monthly. There were problems. And complications. Maybe the specialist was right. 

“Even if you get pregnant you most likely will not be able to carry to full term.” We were discouraged. The word “Adoption” was whispered.

To fill this void I joined an art class at I. U. K. even though there were no credit hours for this class. Then I will be both a "Wannabe Artist" ... and wife! And if God willed, I would play lullabies on the piano for my baby and Ken!

My first oil portrait of the live ballerina model won "Best" in that large class of wannabes who met in the Instructor’s art studio! If you want to be an artist, pick up your brush and paint! 

Mary

I have never stopped working at my art. There is always a canvas on my easel and two or three waiting their turn. I painted several portraits of family members, and later, some city dignitaries. Exhibited my paintings in local, regional and state shows. Garnered too many awards. Then my work was accepted into not one but two National juried exhibits! Family clapped heartily! The fellows joked around with me, referring to themselves as "Mary Beatty's Brothers!" Ken smiled.
 

After twelve years of practicing my lullabies, I guess the Lord thought "enough already!" and decided I would be a good candidate for Motherhood after all! After one heartbreaking miscarriage, our first baby, Frank Earl, made his screaming entrance into our world! Six and a half pounds of perfection! Thank you, God! He was named after Ken's father who had died the previous year.

Two years and two months later, little Laura Ann was born. Ken's Sweetie Pie! We chose her middle name to honor my mother.

Planned Caesarian Sections, as preventative measures, proved that the doctors don't have the final say -- God does! He gave us two miracle babies!

"Look, Dad! Ken and I have finally found that pot of gold at the end of your rainbow!" They beamed through happy tears.

Ken and Mary, Frank and Laura

Our parents are in heaven now...with my Ken.  Fifteen years ago all our prayers were answered when Ken finally made that most important decision of a lifetime and accepted Jesus as his Lord and Savior. And after forty seven years together and a lengthy illness, on July 30, 2003, he instantly became this "Perfect Man" my Mother had called him. Once again, sisters and brothers, all middle-aged already, huddled in a big comforting hug. Together, we again reminisced: Hi, Mr. Corporal... Pleasedtomeetyou... If you want to be an artist, pick up your brush and paint... Hard work is honorable...

How short a wonderful lifetime is! How quickly we lose parents, partners; become parents, grandparents! But we have our memories -- priceless treasures, all!

Dad

Memories of a man with an eighth grade education, book learning cut short when his Father died. He had a family to help his Mother raise! But he graduated from the legendary "School of Hard Knocks" with honors!

Memories of a man whose prayers, you knew, touched God’s throne.

Memories of a man and a woman, almost fifty years together, who experienced what must have seemed like more than their fair share of that vow, “For better or for worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death us do part, so help me, God!” 

Mom and Dad, John Jr.

Memories of an encourager who always wanted a better life for us. Always nudging us to be the best we could be. "Mom, what would you say if I told you I think I might like to try to write a book about our family someday..." Then pick up your pencil and write! 

Seven brothers? Yes! And a sister! Each of us in our own God-given way continue to carry the banner of His Love and Grace and Mercy -- an invisible banner that our parents presented to us, individually, through their living example. 
 

  August 2003: From left: Grover, Clyde, Harold, Floyd, Dave, Erwin. Seated left: Mary and Virginia.