As I told you a while ago, I want to talk some more about our good friends the Hoopers. There was Mr. Walter, Miss Maggie, Hallie,
James Walter, Nellie, Mary and Edgar Reed.
There was also Uncle Jimmy, whom you probably don't remember.
He was blind, but was as independent as if he had two good eyes. He was an expert broom maker, and had a well-equipped
shop adjoining the house. He once made me a perfect pocket knife out of red cedar.
Our families had lots of good times together. We kids crossed the alley frequently. On those
rare occasions when we were restricted to quarters, Mary would
holler for us to come sit on the "conder" of the fence, from which points we would solve the problems
of our complex world.
I remember one day, the three middle Hooper
kids and you and I were in the alley, squatted down next to the fence about halfway to Mr.
Walter's barn. Some man in a wagon turned off East Main into the alley, Heading south
toward the Cheatham place. He had no bed, and was sitting on the back cross-member of the chassis. When he had
come up even with our ambush, we leaped to our feet as one, shouting and waving at the mules. They bolted down
the alley as if a large firecracker had exploded beneath their feet. The poor unprepared driver tried mightily
to retain his balance, but he lost the battle in front of the Fox Simpson place. He fell backward and hit his head on the rocky ground. Thankfully, he was not injured, not that
we stayed around long to inquire. I guess he didn't know who we were or where we lived; else he surely would have
had our hides.
Lots of things happened in and around that alley. One afternoon, just before dark, those same
five rascals decided we would go see the Cheathams. Mary and Mattie Franklin
had a see-saw mounted on the fence up near their house. It must have been a one by twelve, and about sixteen feet
long. One end was sticking out in the alley, Over the foot-path by the fence. We came charging up the path in single
file like wild Indians, ducking the see-saw as we came to it. James Walter was last in line. He was tall, and it was nearly dark, and he banged into the see-saw going full tilt.
It caught him just above the eye. I can still hear the hard thud as skull met plank. His hen egg was a goose egg,
and for several days.
Another day we were playing hide-and-seek at the Cheathams, and I hid in the smokehouse. I was trying to pull myself up by the plate over the door, and dislodged
a plow point from well above my head. The sharp point hit precisely on top of my skull, and blood and stars flew
for several minutes. I swore all the players to secrecy, and the game continued. Mom didn't find out about it until
I had practically recovered my good health.
12
We had a steam gun in our pasture just east of the garden, which was quite an ingenious contraption.
It was a thin iron pipe about four inches in diameter and about six feet long. One end was curved, into which we
drove a small log until we had a pressure-tight seal. We poured water into the plugged end; then some paper for
wadding; then miscellaneous rocks and iron slugs; and finally some more paper wadding. We made a pit out of rocks,
laid in plenty of wood and started our fire. We placed the business end in the fire, and ran for cover when the
steam started to hiss. It made a pretty good gun. Fortunately, we couldn't get the wadding in tight enough to hold
the steam pressure to long, so we never had a real bad explosion.
One day when we were playing with this infernal machine, Max Elbert
Chambers went down the alley. Our garden was between us, which made it a considerable
distance. We visited with Max Elbert by long distance for a
while, and told him about the cannon. He was interested, but couldn't come over to see it. He had to go home, so,
as a friendly parting gesture, he sailed a flat rock about the size of a silver dollar across the garden.
Want to know whose head stopped the rock? James Walter's, that's whose! It cracked pretty good, but he said it didn't hurt nearly as much as the seesaw, and it
made only an aggie sized lump.
Hallie was the eldest of the Hooper children, and probably the most talented. Well do I remember her early struggles to become a pianist.
In the warm still of August nights, our ears were assaulted by countless and endless runs and
chords as Miss Omagh put her through her paces. The next night
and the next night and the next night would be the same.
We would sit on our front porch in the twilight, and Pop would answer a lonely bob-white on
the hill across the creek. As we sat, the twilight would thicken, and Hallie's kerosene lamp would send out its first pale yellow beam just ahead of her music.
August slipped into September, and we traded summers for years; and before we knew it was happening,
Hallie was playing Beethoven, Chopin, and Mozart with skill
and feeling. Much repetition made indelible impressions on my mind; and although composers and titles meant nothing
to me then, I am certain Beethoven's Fuer Elise and Pathetique, and Chopin's Polonaise in A and Berceuse were among
her early favorites.
I understand she furthered her musical education at the Cincinnati Conservatory, and that she
became an accomplished pianist.
How I would love to hear her play Liszt's Liebestraum and that lovely Mendelssohn piece Auf
Fluegeln des Gesanges.