Chapter 10

GOOD'S CROSSING

 

I am not sure just when nor why we left Papa's apartment. I know that I had better income from the shoe factory in early 1934. Papa had made two apartments in the shop, which were rented. After we moved out, Papa and Mama rearranged their rooms and rented part of the house, so they had better income too.

 

Home at Good's Crossing

Ada and I rented a single house at Good's Crossing. It was where the CTC trolley line crossed Akron Road just south of the intersection of what is now East Fulton Street in Ephrata. Ada's brother Titus and his family lived next door. We lived there about a year, until February 15th, 1935.

 

Our second baby, Arvilla, was born at home that summer on July 21st, 1934. When the time came we could not locate Dr. Fake, but eventually I found a woman doctor, Dr. Schload. When things became critical she was very excited and kept saying, "Landis, what shall I do?" But the baby was born hale and hardy.

 

One day while Ada was cleaning upstairs she called, "Landis, Jay swallowed a screw and is choking". She came running down the stair with him; he was turning blue. I took him and said to Ada, "Grab the baby and we'll take him to Ephrata to a doctor." As we ran out the door I held him upside-down and hit him on the back. The screw fell out and he was alright. It was a scare!

 

I was still working at the shoe factory and driving the '29 roadster. That summer I began attending some household sales. One day I bought a nice golden oak washstand for twenty-five cents. It was soon converted into a kneehole desk, which I later sold. It netted a few dollars. I also bought a large oak chiffonier out of which I made a flattop desk for myself. That desk I used a long time.

 

Money was scarce. We bought our groceries on account, but were always careful to not owe more than the next paycheck would cover.

 

Late one week, that summer, we had enough milk for the children until payday, but nothing for ourselves except a few pieces of bread and some onions from the garden. Ada begged a little butter from Aunt Mary next door.   That tided us over until payday. That was a rare occasion.

 

The house was frame without any way of heating except by stove. We had no plumbing and got our water from a pitcher-pump on the rear porch. The only stove we owned was the coal range in the kitchen. When winter approached we closed off all the other rooms. Our bedroom was over the kitchen and the stovepipe through it warmed it a little.

 

Late that fall I was at a sale north of Hopeland. The sale was over when the auctioneer called, "We forgot to sell the stove in the room where the clerk is sitting." Most of the people had gone and no one made a bid. I bid a quarter and he said, "Sold." I dumped out the fire and took it home. It was a nice parlor stove with glass doors on three sides. I set that stove in a small side room and on weekends we heated that room.

 

One evening Ada had just poured a cup of boiling coffee and set it at the edge of the kitchen cabinet. Jay had started walking. He went over to the cabinet, grabbed the cup and spilled the hot coffee right over his chest. I had seen him reach for it, but I was there too late to stop him. He was wearing a suit of gray denim coveralls. I grabbed the coveralls at the neck, one hand over each shoulder, and with one quick jerk, tore his clothes off of him, but his chest was scalded pretty badly. I went to the drug store and got an ointment for burns. That night I sat with him in my arms all night. We were glad we had fire in the little parlor stove that night. Jay's burn healed nicely without infection. His mother and I were learning to be parents the hard way.