“Baby Dale, come here.” or “Baby Dale, stop that!” or “Randy what is Baby Dale doing?”
My brother has been known by many names during the course of his last 53 years; Dale, Alvin, Hutch, Mr. Tyler and Baby Dale are a few I can share with the family. As a child, I thought the word “Baby” in front of Dale was used because of his birth placement. The real reason for addressing him as Baby Dale became clear to me during my primary school days. It was during those young years after we moved back to Arkansas, Uncle Dale became a very special person in my life and I understood why Momma called my brother Baby Dale.
Uncle Dale and his bride, Aunt Ressie were very special people to our Grandma McGowan. Dale Leas was Grandma’s baby brother; the one she helped raise after she recovered from small pox. The long grueling trip from Springdale to some destination in or around the Joplin, Missouri area became a regular outing for our family.
Melvin, Ruby, Momma, Grandma, Eddie, Dale, Harvey and I loading into a car built in the late 1940’s sometime during 1960 and traveling to a small white house many hours away to visit Uncle Dale and Aunt Ressie is among one of my first memories. We spent the night. The small house did not have indoor potty facilities. I remember going to a small building, outhouse, during the day and at night using a potty chair inside the house. At that time I didn’t realize potty chairs were used in hospitals! I also remember playing around a well and seeing the neighbors’ homes all around, so I know the house had to be in some town. I only recall one visit to this place and do not remember either Uncle Dale or Aunt Ressie as anytime but other more adults.
My close relationship began to develop with my favorite great-uncle and aunt when they moved to a country location. The house was two-story without running water. Where I remember the outhouse when they lived in town; I don’t remember one being used here. I do remember the pump at the kitchen sink, helping draw water from the well, taking baths in a tin tub on the back porch, feeding the chickens, sitting under the trees to snap green beans and playing on the front porch (even though we weren’t suppose to play there). The upstairs was reserved for sleeping only. I remember there was something different about the two bedrooms upstairs but I don’t really recall what it was. Maybe there was no electricity up there. Uncle Dale and Aunt Ressie’s bedroom was downstairs next to the living room. I loved this place. I spent a couple of weeks with my dearest aunt and uncle here.
Uncle Dale would go to work during the day. Aunt Ressie and I would do all the housework before noon, eat a fried egg sandwich and settle in front of the huge black and white television to watch Days of Our Lives and Another World. Yes, Aunt Ressie taught me the value of watching a good soap opera every afternoon. I am sure she is the reason I missed more than a few afternoon college classes. After the soaps we would walk down the dirt road/driveway (I don’t remember which) to get the mail from the mailbox (back home the mailman put the mail right outside our front door). Aunt Ressie taught me the song A Tisket A Tasket A Green and Yellow Basket during our daily walks.
Aunt Ressie taught me how to do laundry with a wringer washer, now that was FUN! Thinking back on that experience, I know there was telephone in this house. Aunt Ressie was helping me to feed towels through the wringer after the washing machine stopped agitating. We were left with wash clothes when the telephone rang. The telephone was in the front room, the washing machine was in the kitchen and they were separate by a large dining room. Aunt Ressie told me, made me promise, not to touch the washing machine while she was gone. You all know I usually did not do what I was told not to, but this time I knew I was capable of helping my favorite great aunt finish her morning chores quickly by feeding the wash clothes through the wringer while she was on the telephone. My small hands guided the first wash cloth halfway through the wringer and all was well. The second half of the wash cloth began its journey through the wringer with my small fingers still attached. Aunt Ressie quickly hung up the telephone at the first panicked cries from this young lady. After she turned the machine off, took the wringer apart and freed the small fingers, she just hugged me. Aunt Ressie never punished me. However, Uncle Dale did.
Uncle Dale was always a lot of fun. He loved to chase the kids, wrestle and tickle with them and pick at each for what seemed to be hours. I loved to play with him. However, no one was to get between him and the television during a Cardinals baseball game. He really wasn’t crazy about kids running in the house either. Uncle Dale only punished me once, and it was for running in this house.
After a couple of years, Uncle Dale and Aunt Ressie moved into town to a house with electricity and running water. The house was up on a small hill with a backyard. Sadly, they did not bring the chickens with them. This was a wonderful house. The front door opened to the living room which had a door to one of the bedrooms. The kitchen was entered by walking straight from the front door to the back of the house. There was a door off the kitchen to the indoor bathroom and a second door into the bathroom from another bedroom. Both the front bedroom and this back bedroom had doors that lead into a middle bedroom. Aunt Ressie’s treadle sewing machine was in this room. Who cared about the house design? The children did. The racetrack design allowed us not the run but to walk fast in circles chasing Uncle Dale and each other; hours of fun were enjoyed that way.
After work and on weekends, Uncle Dale stayed in the front room most of the time. Aunt Ressie stayed in the kitchen. I remember her cooking some type of fried meat, fried potatoes and a couple of fruit pies. Man she was a great cook! Doris remembers cream pies, can you believe that?
The bathroom was one of my favorite places to play. Uncle Dale had a white cup with a funny basting brush thing in it. I would watch him put soap and water in the cup, mix them up with the brush thing, put the soapy mixture on his face, pick up a razor and shave his face. I don’t remember how many times I watched the ritual before I decided I needed to try it for myself. I closed the bathroom doors, turned on the water and repeated Uncle Dale’s steps. I don’t remember who came running after hearing my screaming cry. I do remember Momma doctoring my cheek and punishing me for trying to tackle a new skill.
Uncle Dale was a mechanic like Melvin. Uncle Dale took care of his wife, three daughters, his grandchildren, his nieces, and his great nieces and nephews. Aunt Ressie, like Grandma, didn’t drive. Uncle Dale drove her everywhere she needed or wanted to go. He took care of all the money matters too. Uncle Dale and Aunt Ressie welcome us and allowed me to spend one or two weeks with them every year, my favorite vacations!
