Thursday, September 3, 2020
In 1950, when I was 7, Aunt Wilma and Uncle Jesse moved into a house trailer next to our farmhouse, to help with work on the farm. My mother, Mary Dourte, was a full time school teacher, and my dad ,Roy, was a full time banker, and, Lord knows, they needed help running a 125 acre farm.
Aunt Wilma was spunky, and so was my mother, but somehow they managed to get along.
I was Uncle Jesse’s buddy. He let me help to clean out the cow stables, help him check muskrat traps, and taught me how to pole vault. He also bought a herd of goats, who ate a whole pile of old wood shingles in the yard.
Aunt Wilma and Uncle Jesse were efficient. When I travelled to Ohio with them, they saved time by switching drivers without stopping.
Aunt Wilma was a good shot; she bagged a few deer from our front porch. We not only shared the venison, but also butchered beef and pigs together.
Aunt Wilma was fast; I can still see her running across Roxbury Campground when she was in her 70’s.
Among her prayers was that God would freeze the arms of Democrats while voting for Obama.
Dear Aunt Wilma, she really shared her love. I remember her hugs. What a treasure!
John Martin
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