‘Three feed sacks would make me a dress’

On Dec. 7, 1941, World War II officially started for the United States when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. We lived on a farm (at the time); we raised cattle, pigs, chickens and one dog named Snirp.

Snirp liked to chase airplane shadows; you remember, 50 years ago, planes were small and flew low. Snirp joined some other dogs that liked to chase cattle at night. A farmer shot him, and that was the last of Snirp. Farmers had a way of taking care of unruly gangs. ...

We didn’t have the big four-lane highways like we have now. Back then, Highway 62 was a gravel road. I drove a pickup and hauled passengers (to work at Oklahoma City’s Douglas Aircraft plant); I charged them $2.50 weekly. My truck wasn’t one of the crew cabs like we have today. My husband built a wooden camper for the passengers to ride in. ... One of my passengers was ashamed to be seen in a wooden camper on a pickup. She would jump out and run all the way to the (work) building; she didn’t want anyone to see her come in with the rest of us. ...

One of my sisters rode with me, but the other one worked the swing shift, which was from 3 to 11 p.m. When her ride let out at night, she had to walk in the dark by herself for over a mile. She said she was not afraid. She was 25 years old, 4 feet 11 inches, 90 pounds; we all called her Cricket or Crick because she was so small, but if anyone had tried to harm her, he would have thought he had met a couple of bobcats.

I worked the graveyard shift, 12 a.m. to 8 a.m. I was usually home before 9 a.m. I would sleep for a few hours and get up and do chores. I had a gasoline Maytag washer. We heated the water in the back yard in a big black kettle and carried the hot water to the washer.

I always fixed lunch for my husband since he was a hard-working farmer. I ironed with a flat iron, which had to be heated on a stove. ... After ironing for four or five hours it was wonderful to sit down with a glass of iced tea. We bought a hundred pound block of ice every Saturday, and it had to last all week. If it didn’t, we did without. ...

I always fixed a big supper for my family. When you are 26 years old, you have boundless energy. I tried to sleep a few hours after supper if I wasn’t sewing.

I made shirts for my husband and son, dresses for my daughter and dresses for myself. Three feed sacks would make me a dress. The feed companies would make their sacks out of cotton material with lots of different designs on them. Most of your friends wore feed sack dresses also; sometimes, two or three of us would have the same patterned dresses on. We would just laugh and compliment each other on our good taste.

I would leave the house at 11 p.m. and start picking up my passengers. I just had to make two stops; everyone except my sister met me at a country grocery store. I always felt good as I went to work; I was helping win the war.

Submitted by Carrie Hill Thomas, 90, of Tuttle