Mom Jo and Grandma Lane

Alice Josephine Jackson (nee Davis), our Mom Jo, was not the best housekeeper in Creede and we thought our Grandmother's cooking was better, but she was a reader and she loved poetry. Through all their travels as a youngster, from lumber mills to mining camps, Mom Jo kept her small library intact and when they settled in Creede, she added to it with gifts of books from friends and specials she could afford to buy. Mom Jo had learned to read early in life and she knew the importance of reading. Through her books, she was transported to a different level from the poverty and hardships generated by a nomadic family constantly searching for roots. Printed words are nothing but gibberish to a child unless someone takes the time to read to them and instill the excitement of a good story in their eager minds. Mom Jo had the patience of Job and took the time to read both short stories and poetry to us. The Story of Hiawatha was my favorite and I still treasure it. Reading well leads to writing well and coupled with an understanding of basic mathematics will put a child on solid footing for life's journeys. If Dad Bill and Mom Jo had given their children nothing more than those building blocks, their legacy would still have been assured. In all the years their children attended school in Creede, they never had a gripe with or scolded a teacher. The home is where it all begins.

Our maternal grandmother, Anna Maude Woodruff (Davis) Lane, was a midwife and ran boarding houses in many lumber camps and mining communities before the family came to Creede. She and Lynn Davis divorced in Creede, he returned to his native state of Missouri, and she ran the Walsh Hotel as a boarding house until she met and married Charles L. Lane and they became ranchers. Charles Lane had bought the old Gardnier homestead that is now listed as "Moonshine Mesa Estates" from which they carried on a firewood and mine prop business and Grandma continued nursing and midwife duties. Charles and Maude had a daughter, Charlotte, when Maude was supposed to be beyond child bearing age and shortly after that her daughter, Jo, gave birth to me (John Jackson) when Jo was 24 years of age. For this reason, Charlotte and I grew up together and much of that time was spent on the ranch of which we were an integral part, or so we thought. It was usually early spring or late summer when Grandma would be called to Creede for birthing mothers. If it was March and someone inquired of Granddad about Maude, he would say, "She's in town helping with lambing." Our tender brains thought she was helping sheep give birth until it was explained to us that sheep gave birth in March so the lambs would be ready to go on the range in June and Granddad was only kidding because so many Creede ladies gave birth in March, also.

Mom Jo alternated with Grandma Lane on Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. These were rollicking good times when we had Christmas dinner at our home with full bottles of rum and whiskey in the pantry and my Dad mixing up his famous Tom and Jerries. These were necessary to promote good will among all the family as December was usually when ill feelings of the past year surfaced. Everybody became brotherly and sisterly after a few of Dad's loaded drinks.

Christmas, 1940, we were just gathering for the feast at the Jackson house when a young fellow knocked at the front door, very distressed, and asked for Grandma. His wife was in labor just a block away and he thought the baby was nearly there. Grandma never turned anyone down. She grabbed her coat and ran with Jim on the street to his house. It was a rather hurried and easy birth for the mother with her new son cleaned up and nursing when Grandma returned, visibly tired and not her usual happy self. She later told Mom Jo that all had gone well but the baby had a cleft palate and hare lip which was hard for all to deal with. The family moved from Creede and we heard no more about the child. In 1989 1 was in a lumber yard in Montrose picking up roofing material and siding. A happy middle aged fellow was helping me and when he learned I was from Creede he told me he had been born there Christmas day, 1940. As it turned out he was the same Christmas baby and a succession of operations had both palate and lip restored to where he could live a normal life with a barely visible scar. Grandma would have been greatly relieved to learn her efforts had not been in vain.

No Vacancy

What happened, friend, have I lost my way?
why the house stood here just yesterday
and the path to the spring was worn so bare
that not even Beggarlice took root there
and where is the cellar with Grandmother's treasure
peaches and plums she canned with such pleasure
measuring from memory, her apron so stained
from barnyard to kitchen, she never complained
yes, right over there, was my Grandfather'se pride
a tall, sheeted structure with barley inside
that fed Nig and Shorty, his faithful old team
and Blanche, Pet and Georgie who gave us the cream
for cheeses and butter produced with a churn
what a beautiful place for children to learn
of life, love and nature, the values that last
oh God, how I long for that wonderful past
and I must go back, whatever the cost
but the door is locked and the key is lost.

Thundermug 2003