Positive Mental Expectations

I gained more practical knowledge from the speaker at my high school graduation ceremony than I did during the prior four years of high school. I do not remember the name of the speaker. I recall that he was a tall, slender, well-dressed man with a broad smile and confident manner. With a kind, calm voice this gentleman began his talk by congratulating the graduating senior class of 1926 from Prague, Oklahoma High School. He urged us to continue our education by enrolling in a school of higher learning at the beginning of the next term of college. He pointed out the advantages of college educated people. He instilled a fire in me that has never ceased burning -- a fire for lifelong learning.

How was I going to pay for a college education? No job prospects and no money! How could I fulfill my new dream tormented my mind. Torment would lead to exaggerated indecision. I could not count on my parents or relatives for support. They had never considered higher education to be necessary. Neither would they have the finances to help. The speaker declared, "Where there is a will, there is a way." He gave an example of a young man who had just graduated from college. He had worked at any type of job available while he attended college. It took him longer than normal. He succeeded in finding well-paid employment in a field of his higher training. That was the thought that gave fuel to my burning desire. "If that chap did it, so can I." I made my decision. I set my goal.

Farm boys born into a long line of farmers were expected to stay on the farm. Even a high school education was more than most local farm boys possessed educationally at that time. Following my graduation I helped my father for two weeks finishing the summer cultivation of field crops referred to as "laying by the crops", a practice employed in dry land farming. The process involves ridging the soil around the plant roots to retain the moisture needed to mature the crop until harvest time. My father approached me in the field one day saying, "Now Harold you can have that east forty acres of this farm to operate as you wish. We will build a little house on it for you and Mammie when you two get married". "No thank you, Dad," I said. "I'm going to college!" "How on earth do you expect to go to college with no money," he asked. "You will starve to death!" "No, no Dad, I would be more likely to starve here on that forty acres. I'm going to college. I will never ask you for one cent. I won't be home until I have a college degree". "How?," he asked. "I really don't know!" I replied.

The next morning I packed my new shoes purchased with $5.50 from my brother's graduation present of $6.00. I added one pair of overalls and one shirt. I had $.50 cash left from my gift. I was ready to begin my adventurous journey. "Where there is a will, there is a way" pounded in my mind. My oldest sister handed me a brown paper bag. Inside was a cheese and bacon sandwich and one red apple. "Maybe this will help," she said. "What about your new car?" "Remember you have had it only six months." "Yeah. I know, sis. I can't afford my car now. Besides the other members of my family will need it."

It was one mile north to Highway 66. Hard, painful knots formed in my throat as I walked on the narrow, rough path through the blackjack oak thicket leading to Highway 66. I stubbed my big toe on an exposed tree root in the middle of the path. My red handkerchief was wet with tears. The red cloth soaked up the salty trickles as I dried my tear-stained face. I loved my family. I knew I would be lonely. I had to learn by hard knocks. I was determined to do something with my life other than farm work and wood splitting which caused severe headaches each time the axe impacted with the block of hard oak wood, I loved the animals on the farm. I hated to leave my home and family members.

The magnetic pull would not let go. I reached Highway 66. Automobile travel was sparse in those days and in this countryside area. But I assured myself I would eventually hitch a ride. I signaled the next car driver for a ride. "Where to young man," the friendly driver asked. "Oklahoma City," I answered. "Are you going that far?" "Yes," was the reply. "Why are you going to the city," the driver asked. "Oh, I am seeking a job so I can earn college money." I said. "That is a good idea but what will you do?" "I really don't know but I will find something," I answered.

My first job in Oklahoma City was in a candy factory. I will always remember the newspaper ad which read, "Help Wanted: Need hard working boy for candy shop. Pay - $1.00 per day. Apply in person, Monday, 7:00 a.m., 2020 Robertson Street. For two weeks I labored in the hot candy factory eight hours a day. I lived with my Aunt Pearl and Uncle Bert Adams. This enabled me to save eight dollars. I kept searching for a higher wage paying job. I was excited when under the "Help Wanted" column of the Daily Oklahoman I read, Harvest hands needed immediately in Enid. $4.00 to $6.00 per day plus meals. Apply Oklahoma Department of Labor."

The attendant at the employment desk advised me that a bus left for Enid that afternoon. The fare, $6.00. I pondered this while I reassured myself I had $8.00 and that would leave me with $2.00. About that moment a man about thirty years old approached me saying, "My wife and I are leaving for that wheat harvest areas right now. We could share expenses in my Ford pickup and beat the bus to Enid!" "Save money! That sounds good to me. I'll join you!" My trip of fifty miles from home to Oklahoma City had cost me nothing. So I dreamed of arriving in Enid with some money. That would turn out to be a costly dream.

After we had gone about thirty miles we came to the Cimmeron River. The red hot, sandy, rutted river bed presented a real problem. "Hang on," the driver shouted as he made a run to cross the river. He could not hold "Ole Lizzie" in the rutted track. The front wheels hit a pile of broken boards left by another stock traveler. The left front tire exploded blowing red hot sand over the front end of the pickup truck. The unbalanced truck stuck in the sand. Boards were placed under the flattened tire. No help was in sight! No spare tire! The hot noontime sun heated the metal of the truck to untouchable fire-like heat. Around one p.m. a flatbed truck showed up. The truck driver offered to full the pickup to the other side for $5.00. "Okay," my travel partner agreed. While repairing the blown out inner tube the bus bound for Enid passed by. Another half hour passed before we were on the road again. Another blowout occurred when we traveled about ten miles. In the next town we needed oil and gas at a cost of $2.00.

In mid-afternoon the sky turned black. We were caught in a thunderstorm which spit some hail. By nightfall we had traveled about fifty miles, not even half way to Enid! A kind farmer allowed us overnight camping near a clump of trees on a mound not far from his house. At dusk storm clouds lurked around us. They announced their angry warnings with long flashes of lightning followed by thunder loud enough to shake the ground. Our dinner was a dry sandwich of peanut butter and a shriveled apple for each. At bedtime the 30 year old driver announced that he and his 16 year old bride of one week would sleep under the pickup. I could either sleep in the truck bed with the tools and two old tires or sleep anywhere on the ground. I found a sleeping area. I used a raised spot for a pillow with feet placed downward. That was a good choice because when the torrential rain squall hit about 1:00 a.m. the fast running rain water made its own drainage course around me.

As the early sunrise broke the eastern horizon the next morning not a cloud was in the clear blue sky. I was amazed that my straw bed was dry underneath. The canvas cotton sack bed shed the rain water around me. I was grateful for the warm sunshine. Our second day of adventure began early. We did not stop until we reached a small country village. Here "Ole Lizzie" needed gas and oil again. She would not start after fueling. A new set of spark plugs and spark plug wires had to be installed before "Ole Lizzie" would run. Our funds were being depleted for car expenses at the sacrifice of a hearty meal. Again on the road one blowout followed another. The old tires for spares had to be used as boots for the already patched inter tubes. As evening drew near we reached oil paved road, fourteen miles from downtown Enid. Only one tire remained on the broken down vehicle. Luckily this was the right front tire which enabled the driver to balance "Ole Lizzie" in such a way that only the left front and rear wheel rim would cut into the road.

We had passed miles of golden grain fields some of which had been harvested and others ready to surrender their golden heads to fill the tall shiny metal grain silo perched along the railway tracks. Surely we would find plenty of work I mused to myself. The migrant worker who assured us there would be jobs was correct. In front of the Enid Courthouse several farmers at 9 p.m. were waiting to hire harvest hands. We were approached by a tall, thin man of about forty. "You are a rough looking trio. I can use all of you. The girl will help my wife in the kitchen. I pay $4.00 a day and 3 meals. We a break mid-morning and mid-afternoon for cold lemonade and sandwiches. We must work daylight to dark in order to beat the predicted rain storms. Leave that piece of junk here. We will go to my place in my truck," he ordered.

At the ranch we were directed to the house where the wife served us a big dinner meal -- the first in two days.

"Now you join the other harvest hands to sleep in the hay loft at the barn. Up at daylight, then breakfast, then on to the threshing set up."

Everyone was awakened at daylight. The bossman assigned each worker a team of horses and a wagon. To me he asked, "Prague boy, can you harness a team? Have you handled animals before?"

"Yes," was my reply. "I'm a farm boy."

"We'll see." he hesitantly stated. "Now let's have a good breakfast.

Each harvest man hurried to his assigned team and wagon. All went well until I hopped aboard the wagon. At that instant the team bolted through the narrow wooden gate into the open field in a dead run. As soon as we were away from the fenced area I sat down, braced myself on the front of the wagon bed and pulled hard on the right hand leather rein. The horses responded by making a big circle. As they slowed the circle became smaller. Then I pulled hard on the left hand leather line and threw the brake in place which locked the rear wheels. Unable to pull the stalled wagon. the horses came to a stop. The runaways had been conquered.

The other teamsters watched with curiosity and laughter. When I encircled my travel companion of the two days prior he shouted, "Atta boy. You can do it. Just keep a tight rein!"

The rest of that first day went well, except I was dead tired from that ordeal and from feeding bundles of wheat into the threshing machine. I slept like a log that night.

The second morning greeted us. We arose with a clear sky. During the morning hours the wind began to blow hard. I really had to struggle to get the heavy bundles of wheat into the thresher especially when my turn came to pitch against the wind which became stronger as the day wore on. My 120 pound body was no match for pitching heavy bundles of grain against the wind. Again I was worn down at quitting time.

After breakfast of the third day the bossman held out his hand to me with $8.00 saying, "You deserve better. Go for lighter work. The road to town is that way!"

I had not been on the road for long when a lady with her daughter as passenger in the car stopped by my side "Where to young man," she asked.

"Anywhere," I replied. I told her my story.

I learned her daughter had just graduated from high school. "Our neighbor has had machinery breakdowns and the delay in getting parts has delayed his harvest. We will take you by to see if he las work for you. He will need a crew. Many workers have already gone further north to follow the harvest which matures later."

When we reached the late harvesters farm site it was noontime. "Come on in for dinner," he invited me and the two ladies. "Now I have a crew. We will try a test run this afternoon. Young man, you may stay. Perhaps we will need you tomorrow."

It so happened this man had two sons, one my age and one two years younger. We became pals immediately. The three of us boys were eager to help. We shoveled the threshed wheat from the wagon into the grainery bin when each load arrived following several mechanical problems with the thresher. After the harvest crew ended their day, the family chores had to be done. The cows had to be fed and milked. The horses had to be fed and brushed. Also the pigs and chickens needed feed and pen cleaning. I fell in with my new friends who accepted me as a pal immediately. A good supper then to bed one more night in the hay loft straw bed.

The high winds that had raged the last two days brought in storm clouds during the night. The sky was ablaze with lightning flashes. Each clap of thunder seemed louder than the one before. The wind whistled, the rain poured, and hail covered the ground. The tin roof of the barn rattled with the cracking sounds of hailstones on the roof which gave off muffled thumping sounds mingled with rain splattering on the ground. Wind toppled shocks of wheat which lay exposed to drenching.

After breakfast the owner announced there would be no work for a week. "All hands get on the truck. I'll take you to town."

The grumbling workers were saying, "We're not going to town. We are going north. No more unharvested fields around here."

"All aboard, let's go," the farmer urged. I had only $8.00 in my pocket. That wouldn't last a week in town.

My new friends came to my rescue. "Dad," they begged, "Let Harold stay. He's our friend. He helped us real good with chores yesterday and we need him to help with chores while you take the others to town."

"Maybe we will try it," the farmer said. "If it doesn't work we will get him to town when we go shopping in a day or two." My heart leaped for joy. I had liked this family! Later I learned why.

After the morning chores were finished we had time to play together for the first time. We found fun with the soft ball and the basket ball. The basket ball hoops was just the right height on the barn door. We took turns to see which one of us three could successfully toss the ball through the basket. Lunch time came none too soon, for the work of milking cows, cleaning pens, feeding animals, and draining puddles of rain water was exhausting. The playtime was fun but we were ready for lunch. Then a rest in the hammock would be welcome. The storm has passed and warm dry summer weather replaced the former storms.

The third day after the storm Mr. Valasik, the Bohemian farmer said, "I checked the field this morning, the ground is too wet for hauling grain, the loaded wagons would sink to the axles, but we can go into the fields on foot and rearrange the wind strewn grain bundles. Let's all go!"

One man had somehow lingered behind when the other workers had been taken to the town by truck. He hadn't missed a meal, but he had done no work. He just sat around sunning himself.

"Come on Tennessee," Mr. Valasik ordered.

"I'm not going ," Tennessee answered.

"Oh yes you are, sir, there is the road! If you want to stay healthy, get going!" Tennessee knew that stern warning meant he had to leave -- and now -- and on foot.

For the next three days, Mr. Valasik, Frank and Albert and I went to the fields to restock the wind-damaged grain. On Saturday afternoon Frank, Albert and I were mowing the lawn and cultivating the plants along the front yard law. I recognized several poppy plants growing luxuriously, their bright flowers nestled in the warm breeze. I asked, why so many poppy plants. Do you use the seed on Kolachies?

"Yes, we do," Frank answered.

Mrs. Valasik heard me ask the question. "Kolachies?" she asked. "Where did you hear about them? Do you like them?"

"I learned about them from the Bohemian friends and neighbors from my home town. You know Prague is named after the capital of Czechoslovakia. It's true name is Praha." I said.

"What else do you know about Bohemia?" she asked. "I can count to a hundred," and did then I did so. Then I said "Good morning, good boy, bad boy, good bye," and so on in her native tongue. She seemed elated. Frank and Albert cheered!

Dinner that evening consisted of boiled Vienna sausage, sauerkraut, garden fresh tomatoes, lettuce and new green peas in white gravy. The warm homemade bread and butter made my mouth water. Then came the dessert. Kolachies!

Mrs. Valasik announced, "The cinnamon-like roll is similar to our familiar cinnamon roll, except it is made of special light flour and the center is filled with berry jam, dried apricots, dried prunes or apples. The topping is poppy seed sprinkled on top the fruit."

"They are delicious!" I said. "Each year the town of Prague celebrates Kolachie Festival late in May." I had made my hit with Mrs. Valasik who loved to cook and enjoyed her men folks eating her delicious food.

After the supper meal Mrs. Valasik announced to me, "You aren't sleeping is the hay loft anymore. I have your room ready for you. You are welcome like a family member." A warm bath, then a comfortable bed with feather mattress in a clean room all to myself! "I'm living like a king," I mused.

The storm and the mechanical problems had delayed several farmers in that area from the normal harvest. The migrant workers had gone north. The neighbors farmed a cooperative crew going from farms to farm helping each other. I was included in the Valasik family who always provided me with a comfortable bed and plenty of nutritious food. At the end of the harvest, I was called into the Valasik house.

Mr. Valasik said, "Harold you are the only person to start and finish our harvest with us. For that I'm going to give you a $25.00 bonus. In addition I'm giving you $15.00 more because you willingly went with us to the wet fields to rearrange the damaged grain."

Wow! Forty dollars more than I expected! In 1926 that was like receiving a $400 gift in 1996! Adding this to my summer harvest full work days I had a nest egg of $400 for college!

One farmer who cooperated in the neighborhood harvest team offered me a full time job. It would be $3.00 per day plus my room and meals. I would have shorter days and lighter work. I believed this to be a good offer since harvest wages were no longer available. On this farm, life was less strenuous than harvest season work. I had no offensive, complaining itinerant associates or their bad habits and tempers to contend with.

After two weeks on this farm I suddenly was struck with homesickness. College classes would start within two weeks. I promised myself a short visit at home. I rode the bus home with my nest egg for college. Another Wood family member was stricken with homesickness. My father had not visited his relatives in Iowa for a long time and his sister was critically ill.

"Now Harold we have time for a short trip to Iowa before fall term begins. You can drive your car. I will repay you your hard earned cash! We all can go and visit on the way besides visiting my relatives".

This plan sounded good except I really just wanted to be home if only for a short time. I realized that Dad must be as homesick as me. We would have time for the trip.

However my college fund disappeared with the trip expenses -- new set of tires, new clothes, food, lodging, gas, oil and unseen items.

"Don't worry son. We will pay it back as soon as the cooperative pays me for my crops".

The Iowa trip for me was a disaster! I had tuition money and book money for my first term at Hills Business College in Oklahoma City. Board and lodging room depleted the balance of my summer savings. For two meals a day and another room for study and sleep, I took a job at a boarding house fourteen blocks from my classes. No money for bus or trolley fare. I walked to and from Hills Business College.

I remembered my Dad saying, "You will go broke!" But no, I still had six cents and that's not broke.

For two months I kept this up! The first semester came to an end. I hitched a ride home fifty miles away with the expectation of replenishing my purse by repayment from my father.

"Bad news son. The Coop went broke. No oil lease money! I'm sorry I can't repay you."

I only had my six cents. The only possibility now was to hit the oil field for work. A new oil pipeline was going in one mile west of home. At $4.00 a day I could dig pipeline ditches and stay home.

After a few weeks the pipeline was finished. A better job came along just past my home. An electric line would be installed. I had the job at first digging holes for electric poles. I directed the foreman to a local farmer with a team for loading electric line supplies. The Oklahoma Gas and Electric Company foreman promoted me to timekeeper and supply movement. He promised me full-time work if I would follow the crew to the new oil field boom 20 to 30 miles away. News of fights, murders, prostitution and tent living at the oil fields frightened my mother who begged me to refuse that job. It was now December and my two brothers who had gone to Oregon and Idaho two years prior had come home for the Christmas holidays.

I purchased a set of home study books on salesmanship and bookkeeping. I studied these courses. My brother two years my senior stated he was returning to Oregon. He had work in beekeeping to do. I asked if I could accompany him. He said he may have some work for me.

"I know another beekeeper, a good friend. He will be in need of help. Just maybe we could give you work if you will wait for your wages until we sell the honey crop."

"It isn't a coop is it? I asked.

"No, no. Just the honey harvest isn't complete till fall. Then we sell our crop."

I gave my Home Study Course to my younger nephew. He became a successful salesman and distributor for Farmers Brothers Coffee Company.

© Copyright 1997 Harold Wm. Wood

This page is maintained by Dr. Wood's son, Harold W. Wood, Jr., of Visalia, California.
My E-mail address is: harold@planetaryexploration.net

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