Person:Jennie Hoge (2)

Morris Daily Herald, Mon, Nov 15, 1993 Mrs. Stanley (Bertha) Hall, 95, 200 W. Waverly St, died Saturday, Nov 14, (newspaper error) 1993, in the Morris Hospital.

Funeral services will be at 2:30 p.m. Wednesday at the Bethlehem Lutheran Church, Lisbon, with the Rev. Joe Thompson officiating. Burial will be in Lisbon Cemetery.

Visitation is from 6 to 9 p.m. Tuesday in the Fruland Funeral Home.

Born Feb 26, 1898, in Kendall County, she was a daughter of William and Carrie (Hackerson) Hoge.

She grew up and received her education in Kendall County.

On Oct 10, 1914, she married Stanley Hall. They farmed most of their married life in the Lisbon area. For the past six years she lived in Morris.

Surviving are nine children, Donald (Esther) Hall of Ottawa, William Hall of Daytona, Fla, Margaret Condon of Tucson, Ariz, George (Verneda) Hall of Elkhart, Ind, Robert (Phyllis) Hall of Eddyville, Ky, Ralph (Patricia) Hall of Branson, Mo, Barbara (Jack) Hawkins of Freeport, Beverly (Donald) Anderson of Minooka, and Lynnette (Ralph) Johnson of Naples, Fla; 29 grandchildren; 59 great-grandchildren; 13 great-great-grandchildren; two sisters, Mabel Thompson and Esther Richards, both of Morris.

Preceding her in death were her husband in 1984, a son in infancy, two sisters, Ella Ness and Julia Thompson; and one brother, Thomas Hoge.

Preferred memorials are gifts to the Bethlehem Luther Church in Lisbon where she was a life long member.

1.   David L Johnson. JohnsonFamily.
2. ↑ I was born on February 26, 1898 in a farm house a short distance south-west of West Lisbon Church. The house is no longer there. My family consisted of my parents William and Carrie Hoge and their children: Ella Christine, Julia Louise, Albert Thomas, always called Tommy, (three children died in infancy), Mabel Caroline, Jennie Bertina (Bertha) and Esther Pearl. I might mention the name given me when I was baptized was Jennie Bertina, but my parents started calling me Bertha, and that's the only name I've ever been called.
   
   When I was very young, we moved from this house to a house north-west of Helmar. I remember very little about this place. Our next move was to a house east of Newark and here is where I started school. We had a big barn and Mabel and I liked to climb up into the hay loft to play. Mabel, who is two years older than me, had the job of giving our calf water out of a pail. Once the calf jerked his head and the handle slipped over his head. It scared him and Mabel too and he took off and ran around the pasture, although he couldn't see where he was going. Mabel tried to keep up with him, which was impossible. It took some time before he gave up. Both he and Mabel survived although both were completely exhausted.
   
   We had a real smart dog named Fannie. She always likes to tag along when ever we went any place with the horse and buggy. When we went to church in Helmar, my father always scolded her to make her stay home. She'd innocently sit on the front steps as long as we could see her, but when we got to church, there she was sitting waiting for us in the stall of the church shed where everyone tied up their horses. Needless to say she got another scolding and a few lashes from the buggy whip, and when we got back home there she was sitting on the step waiting to welcome us home. She had cut across the fields to beat us to, and then home from church-to-wait for us, while we had driven on the road which was several miles. She was one loyal dog.
   
   The house we lived in was about in the center of two different school districts. In order to divide up the kids in each school equally, some in our family went to each school. We always walked to school. One day when walking home, two boys got into a fight. They both wanted to carry my books.
   
   One time when our horses were let out into the yard, one of them got tangled up in our rope swing hanging from a big branch. He got his head caught and the more he pulled to get out, the tighter the rope got. We were pretty scared, as we should of thrown the swing up into the tree when the horses were out. We had visions of him hanging from the tree, but somehow he got untangled.
   
   We had a large porch, and I remember sitting out there eating a dish of sliced cucumbers with salt on. We always peeled them as we thought the green peeling was poison.
   
   I don't remember what kind of clothes we wore, but I do remember sitting on a little stool in front of my mother while she combed my hair, which was worn in braids. Pretty hair ribbons were only worn to church. We wore long stockings when we wore shoes, usually we went barefoot in summer. Our mother would polish all the kid's shoes on Saturday evening, ready to wear to church on Sunday. Toys were very scarce - we usually fashioned our own.
   
   Our next move was about half-way between Helmar and Lisbon, then about two miles west, on Lisbon Center Road. This house was nicer and bigger. Mabel and I were always on the lookout for a place to fix a play house. The school was about half a mile away, with only about a dozen kids, or less. When school was out one spring, our teacher gave each child a gift. Mabel and I each received a square burnt-wood box, with our name inside the lid. I still have it, dated 1909. This teacher's name was Caroline Laugman.
   
   Wood was always used to heat our home. One winter my father cut lots of wood for the cook stove and living room heating stove. This wood was stacked in the back yard near the cob house. Mabel and I restacked a lot of it to form sort of a square fort with four sides and we left an opening for a door. We played out in this playhouse every chance we had all winter, as it was sheltered on all sides. We, of course, had on lots of heavy clothes and over-shoes. Later that winter I got whooping cough, gave it to the other kids in the family. Some had it very hard, it lasted six weeks.
   
   I remember the day Esther was born (Sept. 16). My father went to get the mid-wife, who went from place to place where ever a baby was born. No doctor was present. Mabel and I were to stay outdoors. Nothing had been said about an increase in the family. We tried to play, but were mostly all ears. After which seemed like a long time, our father came out to tell us we had a baby sister. Everyone had a different idea about a name for her, they settled for Esther Pearl. At that time kids our age knew very little about the facts of life in general, even in our early teens. Kids then didn't know as much as five years olds today.
   
   We attended the same church in Helmar, also Sunday School. One Fourth-of-July there was a celebration on the school yard across from the church, and that's when I had my first ice cream cone, it cost 5 cents. I've never tasted one as good since. It was made of a batter on some sort of waffle iron, then rolled into a cone while warm, then filled with real ice cream. It sure made my day.
   
   Quite often my mother took Mabel, Esther and I with her, driving a horse and top buggy, to visit our grandmother who lived on her little farm in Big Grove. My Aunt Cora and Uncle Hans lived with her. My grandmother, Jorna Heckerson, was a slim active person and my grandfather had been dead for several years. I hardly remember him (my mother's parents). Often as we drove through the pasture toward the house (we passed two hickory nut trees) we'd see my grandmother coming across the meadow back of their house quite aways. She'd gone to the spring for their drinking water. She used sort of a wooden yoke, cut out for her neck, extending across her shoulders, with a rope hanging down fastened to a pail on each side for balance. She always enjoys working outdoors. Seems like Uncle Hans never accomplished much unless Grandma was there to help him; with chores, haying, husking, milking or any other job that needed to be done. He always enjoyed a good laugh, they worked well together.
   
   He and Aunt Cora never had any children. My Uncle Tom worked as a carpenter in Chicago, and didn't get home to Big Grove very often. When he was home he enjoyed making things. He made the corner cupboard we now have in our dining area. He also made some tables and other pieces. He got a patent on some things he invented. They had several cows, besides pigs and horses. As a refrigerator was unheard of, in summer the milk was kept in the cellar. IT was strained into large tin pans, and kept on shelves. Cream was skimmed off the next day and kept in a big crock, until there was enough to churn into good sweet butter. In the winter the pans of milk were kept in the pantry, in a cupboard with screen on the doors (we have that old cupboard in our basement.) Most of their neighbors were relatives and most every house is gone now. We've often driven over those same roads and I could remember how it used to be.
   
   Another thing that happened when we lived on this place, we thought was rather amusing. Our close neighbors were two farmers whose sister kept house for them. This sister was a little "off her rocker" and one day while washing a window upstairs, a window pane fell out. She hurried downstairs to try to catch it - before it hit the ground (try it sometime.)
   
   Our next move was to a farm a little ways west and north of Lisbon. My folks had to do a lot of work getting the place cleaned up, like painting and papering; the yard too was a mess. We now went to the West Lisbon Church, and I to school in Lisbon. About this time I had my first ride in a car, it had two seats but no doors in front. We went to Luther League on Sunday evening with a neighbor girl and her brother, who owned the car. It was quite a thrill sailing along in style. This was a big change from riding behind horses all my life. While they were a necessity, there were some things you never got used to, as they had no regards to air pollution.
   
   In the summer, horse traders often traveled around the country, they always tried to convince my father of the good horse they wanted to trade for one of his. Once he made a trade that wasn't anything to brag about, as the horse he got was clumsy, blind and sway-back, which made a good built-in saddle when you rode horse-back. My father, not knowing much about him, let me be the first one to drive him. His name was John. I was sort of taking a chance but made it back home. You had to tend to business as he was blind and I wasn't exactly thrilled driving him.
   
   Since my father had no boys at home to do chores, it was my job to clean out the barn. I usually tried to see how to clean and comfortable I could make the stalls, with plenty of bedding. Then I put a certain amount of corn and oats in their feed boxes, and hay in the manger. When being let into the barn, horses and cows always knew in what stall they belonged.
   
   When my father went to the field to work he'd always tell us to be sure to shut off the windmill when the tank got full. Sometimes we forgot and the tank ran over and made quite a muddy place around it. We usually heard about it from my father, but it did make a nice place for the ducks. It was my job in summer to get the cows and I'd walk up a lane to the pasture. They were in the farthest corner usually. I enjoyed this long walk, it was good time for day dreaming.
   
   My mother always had a nice big garden. She always wore a sun bonnet, when working in it, and tending to her chickens. Each spring when the hens got "clucky" she'd pick out 14 nice eggs, put them in a nest where a clucky hen was always willing to sit on them, and in three weeks there was a nest full of cute baby chicks. Almost black in color when hatched, they were all Plymouth Rock chickens. She'd then carry the mother hen and pull the baby chicks in her apron and put them all in a coop out in the yard, that she made ready for them, with some straw in for comfort. They were fed ground corn and had a container of water. After they'd been in this coop for about a week, mother hen and her brood were let out to roam around the yard. It was a beautiful sight to see a proud hen with her baby chicks trailing along behind her. Whenever she found something good on the ground to eat, she'd call her chicks and they'd come running from all directions to share in the feast. When my mother had too many "clucky hens" she'd put some of them "in jail" - a coop for that purpose. They were left there and fed for about a week or until they got over being "clucky" and in time go back to laying eggs. In the fall when the chicks were grown they were sold and that was my mother's spending money. It seemed she always had enough for what was needed.
   
   Sometimes rather than ask for cash, I'd say "Ma, can I have a dozen eggs?" I usually got them, took them to the store when I went to school and traded them for sweets, usually a box of "Nabisco's". I was especially fond of them. Once when my mother was canning peaches, she was short of sugar and she sent me to Lisbon to get a dollar's worth of sugar. After the grocer put the 10 lbs. into a heavy paper sack, he asked if he should carry it out to the buggy for me. I told him "No, I walked". I really had a load carrying this heavy load home. When I got home my mother felt bad to see how tired I was, she being busy hadn't realized how heavy this would be to carry.
   
   When I went to school I read lots of story books. In the winter when my father didn't have much to do except chores, he'd always get up before daylight. He'd have a good fire in the heating stove in the living room, also in the cook stove in the kitchen, with a teakettle of hot water ready for me to get breakfast. He'd sit and read my library books for a couple of hours. It was always a treat to come from our cold bedrooms upstairs to the cozy rooms downstairs.
   
   One morning when my father came in from doing the morning chores, he told us a man was laying out in the barn behind the cows, where he'd slept on some straw. He lived in Lisbon, had been out the evening before, got drunk and lost his way walking home, and wandered into our barn. He was a mess but sober enough by morning to stagger back home to Lisbon. This was the first time I'd seen anyone drunk and it really left an impression on me, and ever since I've had no use for liquor and never will have.
   
   White button shoes were in style then. Mabel and I were thrilled when we got ours, we ordered them out of the catalog. We were so anxious for the mail to come every day. They must of fit alright as we got lots of wear out of them. Our mother made most of our clothes. We usually liked what ever she made, except one time she made a coat for me out of some one's big coat. It was such homely material, it was brownish with some lumps of green and yellow thread all over. To me they looked like potato bugs. When I wore it to school, I always took it off before I hardly got in the door. The school house is still there, but no longer used for that purpose. At that time the lower room had one teacher who taught the first five grades, the upper two rooms were taught by a lady for six, seven and eight grades and a professor for two years of high school. They were all very good teachers, although we didn't always think so at the time. They were Professor Snyder and Miss Billings upstairs and Miss Beane downstairs; sometimes we'd refer to them as Snyder-Billings-and-Beanes.
   
   I always walked to school, except in bad weather. I could always count on my mother being there when I got home. On rare occasions when my folks went to a meeting or a funeral and knowing she wasn't there, I'd play around outdoors until they came home. I always thought if my mother wasn't there, no reason for going in the house.
   
   A couple of older girls in High-school lived several miles from school, so drove their ponies and left them in a barn during the day, and several of the kids had roller skates. Those were two things I sure wished for - a pony and roller skates, but never got wither one.
   
   By this time my older sisters and brothers worked for other people from spring to late fall, then came home to spend the winter. They'd saved most of their money. Ella bought an organ and drove to Newark to take music lessons. She also did lots of sewing and she was very good at it.
   
   As our education progressed in school, some kids from country schools came to school in Lisbon. That's when I met Pop, Stanley Hall. At recess and noon hour the boys played ball and the girls cheered them on. Before long we started dating. The school put on a play at the Opera House (now a bus garage). The name of it was the "Little Big Horn", Pop was in it. Sometimes we'd go to shows, on Sunday's, Electric Park in Plainfield, River View in Aurora, Glenwood Park at Sheridan and often to Starved Rock, Ottawa. Then too we visited friends and relatives on Sundays. For winter entertainment we went to parties at the homes of friends. We played games and always had lunch. Boys would ask girls for their partner.
   
   By this time Pop's dad gave him a young horse of his own. Her name was Bessie and she had a mind of her own. He also got a new buggy. One time we met a motorcycle, she got scared, jumped into the ditch and tipped the buggy over. We weren't hurt, but something broke on the buggy. Before he got his own horse and buggy, he drove his mother's horse and her name was Maude. After being tied to a hitching post all evening, all she had on her mind was to get home. When the time came to go, she sure went lickety-split!
   
   Pop worked for his father doing farming. We then got married and lived with his folks the first year as someone lived in the tenant house on the farm. Our friends gave us a party and gift of money. We were looking forward to the time we could live by ourselves. My house-keeping duties had to wait until then, but we looked through the catalogs to pick out what furniture we needed. When anything was ordered this way, you had to go to the depot in Morris or Millington to pick it up, as it was shipped by railroad.
   
   On May 12«sup»th«/sup», 1915 Donald Wendell was born in the Morris Hospital (Wendall named for Pop's brother who died.) He was quite an attraction, as he was the first baby for some time in our families. At that time the mother stayed in bed for 10 days after having a baby. When Donald was 10 days old the nurses had me sit on the edge of the bed. I passed out, which was a surprise to all of them, as I'd felt so good. When I revived a little, the room seemed full of doctors and nurses. A blood clot had traveled and they were afraid it would go to my brain, but instead it went to one of my lungs. I then developed a problem with my left leg, which was called milk leg. It pained and was very swollen so I had to stay in bed for several weeks. At the time I passed out, it seemed serious. They called Pop and my folks to the hospital, but my time wasn't up and I got through it all. I really like all the nurses, some, I thought, were "special". When something funny happened among them out in the hall, they didn't want to be seen by the supervisor, so they'd come into my room and have a good laugh until they could go back to work with a straight face. When I was able to leave the hospital weeks later, we stayed with my folks. Donald was doing fine, but it took awhile before I could get around, as my leg was still swollen.
   
   The following spring we moved into the tenant house on Pop's folk farm, west of Central. Pop continued to work for his father, and I was now a homemaker on my own. While I had done bread baking, and other things, when I was at home with my folks, it was a little different having full responsibility. A lot depended on how good you tended to the fire in the cook stove, the oven had gauge to go by - a lot of guess work! If the oven was too hot it would raise or brown. One especially big flop I had was with bread. Everyone baked their bread, you just didn't but it. The bread dough was mixed the night before and kept fairly warm so it would rise. When I looked at it next morning it looked hopeless. It must have got chilled overnight as it had no life to it. I knew I couldn't do anything with it, so I just let it sit there until Pop had gone to work and I knew it was safe to dispose of it. I took it out and gave it to the pigs. They were a little surprised at this unusual diet, as they had already been fed, but they soon gobbled it up and I was relieved to see all evidence of my failure gone. The pigs survived and so did we. I don't remember what we ate in place of that bread.
   
   This house was very cold in winter. We'd use lots of coal for the heating stove besides the cook stove in the kitchen. One very cold night Pop banked the fires good in both stoves, and in the morning when he got up, there was ice in the tea-kettle on the kitchen stove. It took awhile to get the house fairly warm. It wasn't only putting coal into the stoves, but you had those everlasting ashes to carry out.
   
   Several evenings a week about for guys in the neighborhood would come over. We had such a good time playing 500 or Rook. We'd have to interrupt our game quite often to go fix the fire. All coal buckets had to be filled every evening. Pop would drive the team and bob-sled to the coal mine near Morris for coal, which never lasted long enough.
   
   In summer we had a garden and chickens. It was customary on May 1«sup»st«/sup» to hang May baskets in the neighborhood. A group of our friends came to our house, yelled "May Basket", then disappeared. When one of the girls ran across the barnyard in the dark, she fell over a cow who was laying down peacefully chewing her cud. One was as surprised as the other. When all our friends were accounted for, they came in to visit.
   
   On August 31«sup»st«/sup», 1917, Stanley William was born at home. He was named for his father, both his grandfathers, and his great-grandfather. A practical nurse stayed with us about two weeks, until we could get along by ourselves. When William was about a year old my sister Julia, Donald, William and I took the train to Blue Earth, Minnesota to visit my sister Ella and family. While there, William got sick. He had been a fat baby but now lost so much weight, I hated for my mother and Pop's to see him when we got home. We had to stay there longer than we'd planned. Pop got lonesome at home by himself, so he came out there too. It took awhile for William to regain his health.
   
   Until this time Donald's hair had been cut in what was called Buster Brown style, bangs and cut straight across in back, like all kids wore them. We thought he was old enough now to have it cut like a man's, so Pop took him to a barber in Central for his first real haircut, I was so anxious to see how he looked, I kept watching out the window for them. When I saw him I was real pleased with it, but he looked older, a big boy now.
   
   When William was about 2½, he had some pretty post cards we'd gotten in mail. He played with them so much they were about worn out. He called them his "teddies" and parked them in the kitchen windowsill when not in use and before he went to bed.
   
   By this time Pop's father wasn't feeling well, he had a heart problem, so we exchanged houses. We moved to the Homeplace and they moved to the place we lived. Donald was now 4 years and William 2. We had lots more room and Pop did most of the farm work. We always did all our own painting and papering. I'd make a large kettle of paste, we's put all the leaves in the table, to roll out the wallpaper and try to cut it to match.
   The paper was often thin and cheap and hard to handle when soaked with paste. Long ceiling strips were the hardest to put up, as our fingers would go through if it took to long to get it started straight. And if we got laughing about it, we really had a problem! But when we got it all done and it was dry, it looked pretty good, and it was fresh and clean.
   
   Margaret was born on September 22, 1919. I was glad we got a girl this time, and wanted to name her for both her grandmother's so she was named Margaret Nina Catherine. She too was born at home, a lady helped out for a couple of weeks and all went well. I even got a little sewing done.
   
   On Monday mornings Pop filled the boiler on the kitchen stove, to heat the water for washing. He did this before he went out to do chores. After breakfast it would be hot enough to be carried to the washing machine. Two galvanized tubs were filled too, for rinse water. Before he went to the field he'd start the gasoline engine that ran the washing machine. That was an improvement over turning the machine by hand. When weather was nice, clothes were hung outside, in winter a clothes bar, and lines were put up in the kitchen and dining room. Then all the wash water had to be carried out. On such busy days Donald and William entertained themselves with favorite playthings amd Margaret was quite content in her crib as long as she had her security blanket, which was a little doll quilt tied with yarn knots. It was rolled up and tied with a string. You always had to be sure the knots were on the outside. When it needed washing it was unrolled for quick drying. Sometimes it got a little hectic until it was ready for use again.
   
   Since Donald and William's bedroom was so cold they undressed and put on their pajamas by the heating stove in the dining room. Donald had a special nail he hung his clothes on, then he put his shoes directly beneath. Very orderly, and it was just too bad if in playing around, William would accidentally push them out of place. Margaret's crib was kept in the dining room.
   
   Pop's father was now quite sick, he was taken to the hospital, where he died in April 1920, at the age of 58.
   
   On December 7, 1920, George Wingfield was born at home. He was a good baby, and had the dimples I had wished for. When George was a little over a year old, Pop decided he wants to try some other job instead of farming. We had a sale and moved to Chicago in the spring of 1921. We lived at 1140 N. Mozart St. in a flat. The landlord lived in the basement flat (now called apartment) other tenants on first floor and a we on the second. A lady lived alone on the floor above us. It was about one block from Humboldt Park. We had four bedrooms, living and dining room and a big kitchen, pantry and bathroom, and paid $40 a month rent. There was no yard, just cement steps and sidewalks. We weren't used to this. I always felt I couldn't let the kids go out unless I went with them, and that was quite a job, living on the second floor. We bought a second-hand reed baby buggy for George. I painted it a cheerful gray. Donald went to school. I worried about him going to school in the city, but he got along alright.
   
   We didn't know many people in the neighborhood, but the ones we did know thought we had four pretty nice healthy country kids. But they didn't stay healthy long, as the little living below us had whooping cough and ours all got it. William had it the hardest, he'd cough so hard he'd throw up, then get a nose bleed. The others really coughed but not as severe. This lasted for 6 weeks, before it was safe to feel you wouldn't expose anyone else to it. If I remember correctly they all had measles too, while we lived there.
   
   Uncle Tommy worked at International Harvester and lived with us for a while. He got a bad scratch at work, and got blood poison in his arm. We put hot packs on it for some time, as the doctor advised and it turned out alright. At first when we lived in Chicago, Pop did carpenter work, then got a job at the Studebaker Garage downtown. He took the street car to work.
   
   One Sunday when Pop's mother and sisters were visiting us, we had a picnic in Humboldt Park. While we were busy picking up remains of our dinner, then planned to walk around, un-noticed by any of us, Margaret had wandered away. One of us stayed with George in the baby buggy, the rest went in different directions looking for her. She had crossed a busy drive in the park, when a lady noticed this little girl all by herself and kept an eye on her, until she was found by one of us. We were very grateful for her concern. We then walked the short distance to our home, and were thankful to have the kid's safe with us. We decided city life wasn't our way of life and moved back to the country. Pop's mother and sisters moved to Morris and we moved back to the same house we first lived in.
   
   Pop started working for the Road Commissioner in Kendall and Lisbon Townships, and in the winter he worked on cars and tractors. He also worked in the Foundry in Morris one winter. We were glad to have a yard again and a nice garden and chickens and some cows. We did some remodeling in the house, and Pop tore down the old porch and built a new one, (with screens all around) which we really made use of. He made a trellis for our rose bush in front of the porch. I made a flower bed in the front yard. One morning a neighbor's big sow and baby pigs came over and rooted in the fresh soil and wrecked all my flowers, I took the broom and ran out to chase her away. I felt like knocking her out, but was afraid to get that close. I yelled at her, but she paid no attention to me, and didn't go back home until she was ready.
   
   The kids were all going to Porter School. As each one started their first day of school I felt I should accomplish a lot, but instead I was lonesome and could hardly wait until they came home to tell about their first day in school. But it soon became routine, and there was always plenty to do. I did lots of sewing - dresses, jackets, coats and lots of shirts.
   
   One thing that happened with regularity were visits from a couple living in Central. I had known this person since we were kids, and now her husband. One persistent habit they had was to come for a visit just before meal time.
   
   While we didn't always have a feast, it was ready on time, and these people knew just what time that was. When we'd have pie or pudding, I'd have it dished up ahead of time for the 6 of us, and it was quite inconvenient to stretch it to serve 8, as I often had to do. I was quite fed up with this habit of their's, as was one of my sisters, who had the same problems with them. This woman was too lazy to do anything in her own home. She had no relative or close friends. It was hard to carry on a conversation with her - she was a "woman of few words," in this she qualified. When she came into our home, she just sat there like a bump on a log - until it was time to eat.
   
   Then one day I happened to notice them coming down the road in their klunker and I got a wild idea. I had dinner about ready, so I hurried cleared everything off the table and tried to cover up all evidence of the meal in the making. I told the kids to go out and play, and not come in to ask if dinner was ready. They cooperated, remembering previous occasions when they'd been cut short by these extra guests. The kids couldn't concentrate on playing as they were hungry. When our so called "guests" arrived they were some what surprised to see the table bare; so didn't stay very long that time, they may have thought something looked fishy.
   
   I didn't approve of treating anyone that way, but enough is enough! I felt a little guilty after they'd gone but sort of amused too, to think this time her plans backfired. Sometimes you have to learn the hard way, which they never did as long as they lived near us.
   
   One day the kids were playing upstairs in the barn and George fell down to the first floor. They came to the house with him. I checked him over and he really didn't seem to be hurt, except some bruises and being sore. A couple days later Pop's mother came out, on the street car to Central, and I told her about George's fall. She felt his neck and shoulders and thought he'd broken his collar bone, so we took him to the doctor. He said it was broken and had started to knit together. To get it back in proper place he used a heavy wire that was padded. He put is across the back of his neck, then under his arms to hold his shoulder back in place, until it healed. This wire under his arms made him so sore - that hurt lots more that the collar bone. I thought it was an odd way of going at it, but then he was the doctor. It wasn't long before he was back to normal.
   
   One time Pop had an appointment with the dentist in Morris. He was going to have so many teeth pulled that Uncle Tommy went with him. I kept wondering how he was getting along, it seemed to be hours. I worried and imagined maybe that had to take him to the hospital. I was waiting for the phone to ring, but got no call. Then finally when they got home, they told me he'd gotten along so good at the dentist and felt so good, they decided to go to the show while they were in town. That's where they were all that time, while I was home worrying.
   
   The kids used to have lots of fun when their cousins came over, as they were the same age. Pop had put up a new barb wire fence across where the cows went down the lane to the pasture. One evening Esther, Omar and kids came over and as usual the kids were playing in the barnyard. It was starting to get dark and they didn't notice this new barb wire fence and George ran right into it and was badly cut under his arm. It tore some skin and bled a lot. We all got scared. Omar drove the car and Pop held George's arm tight, they drove to Morris to Dr.'s as fast as they could. The Doctor put in 8 or 9 stitches and bandaged it. I was worried sick he'd bleed to death before they got to the doctor. It healed in time. The next day I went to look at the wire that cut him, and saw a piece of skin still on the wire. I didn't stay long - one look was enough.
   
   On April 20, 1927 we had another boy, he was named Robert Wesley. He seemed in good health but when he was about 2 weeks old he died in his sleep very early in the morning of May 9«sup»th«/sup». It was a shock and we missed him, although we'd only had him a short time. That was a terrible day, as later in the afternoon we had a tornado that blew down our barn and chicken house and blew the chickens all over. It didn't do any damage to the house. We'd had enough for one day! I kept wondering if there was something I should of done and didn't for the baby. After his funeral and we were getting adjusted my mother said she'd come over to get the baby clothes washed, but I told her I wanted to do that myself. Time has a way of healing everything, and life goes on.
   
   I kept busy doing things for my family and home, I even managed to go visit school a few times. With so many lunch pails to fix there was always baking to do, and I papered and fixed up Margaret's room.
   
   My folks had lived in Lisbon for a few years and now my mother Carrie Heckerson Hoge wasn't well. Esther and Omar and Billy moved in with my folks, to help take care of my mother. She was sick about six weeks, then passed away in her home on May 18, 1928. I felt a great loss as did the rest of her family. She was of a quiet nature. I don't remember of her ever being cross or quick tempered with her family. At that time the undertaker came to the home to prepare the body before placing it in the casket. He asked if one of us wanted to comb her hair the way she was used to wearing it, s oi combed her hair for the last time. She had lovely dark hair and at the age of 63 had only a few gray hairs. Their home seemed empty after she was gone, and we all missed he, but life goes on.
   
   That spring the children in school had an exhibit of the things they'd made. The older boys made bird houses, which they had worked on at home. Donald got a prize of one dollar for his bird house. The teacher bought it for two dollars, and wanted him to make another one. Donald was always quite a mechanic and built a little vehicle that really ran. The kids had fun taking turns riding with him around a race track in the barnyard. Later he went in for something bigger, covered it with galvanized tin and painted it bright blue. We called it the Bluebird and he drove it to Lisbon his freshman year.
   
   On August 7, 1928, Robert Thomas and Ralph Eugene were born at home. A lady helped out and all went well. Pop's mother bought two nice small size beds and later two new high chairs. While there was always plenty to do, we all enjoyed our new porch swing, which we still have and use. It has a lot of mileage on it.
   
   In December my father's house in Lisbon burned up, very few things were saved - it was sad, such a loss. He went to live with Julia until he could rebuild.
   
   Time seemed to go fast and before long it was winter again, while we lived in a cold house it was real cozy with three stoves going and we had a radio with some favorite programs to listen to in the evening. Donald, William and George would get up early in the morning to go look at their traps, I thought George was too young to go with them, but he was part of the trappers. Sometimes their traps were empty and other times they caught some muskrats, skunks and even minks. They had to be skinned and the fur slipped onto a board the right size. When the skins were dried and stretched they were sold. It was always exciting to see how much they'd get for them. That was one way of making some money and it took a lot of determination. It was a little smelly at times, when they caught a skunk. On February 3, 1930 Barbara Jean was born and she didn't waste any time getting here. She only weighed a little over 5 lbs. She too, was born at home. A lady from Morris helped out, also Pop's mother. When she was about 10 days old, I developed pleurisy, the pain was severe and I had abscesses on both lungs. The doctor came several times, then said I had to go to the hospital. An ambulance came for me. As the twins were only 1½ years old, Pop's sister Ruth kept Ralph in their apartment in Morris AND Robert stayed with my sister Julia. I now had lots of medication and treatments, but coughed night and day for six weeks. After being there for awhile, I wished so I could just go home and see the kids, then I'd be willing to come back and stay as long as necessary. But that was not possible, and it was a long stay. I got home in April.
   
   Pop's mother had taken care of Barb all this time and also, the first of March, they moved back to the home place where we spent the rest of our farming days. They were all settled by the time I got home from the hospital. I wasn't good for much of anything for some time. Barb didn't even seem like my baby as I hadn't taken care of her at all. As I got stronger I was able to care for her and gradually got into the regular routine. I don't know how we could of managed without Pop's mother, she was a jewel. Margaret, too was able to help and that summer we had a lady working for us. During the summer there was canning to do, make pickles and later jelly and apple butter.
   
   The older kids were in 4-H, one evening when the boys and their cousins, Everett and Russell Thompson, were on their way to a meeting, Don being the driver, they drove past a place where the farmer always let his livestock be out on the road. It being dark, Don didn't see a big pig in the road and hit it. The car rolled over, no one got hurt, but the glass was broken in several places. Pop went to a junk yard, got some glass and got the car fixed.
   
   Don went to high school in Yorkville. Every morning he walked across the fields to drive the car for a girl whose mother had asked us if he could do this, which provided a ride for him too. William got to high school the same way, then later when Margaret went, he drove his car, and later when George finished in Lisbon, he had a Model-A-Ford and drove that to school - all graduating from Yorkville.
   
   The boys worked for different farmers during the summer and on Saturdays, they all enjoyed roller skating, and Margaret too. She was in 4-H and did some baby sitting. For a 4-H project the boys built a very good building, that could be used for sigs, sheep or chickens. It had double walls, really warmer than our house. Pop always said the only thing that kept the cold wind out of our house was the wallpaper and there were many layers of that.
   
   There was a serious depression in 1933, many land owners lost their farms and the bottom dropped out of everything. There were crop failures and chinch bugs, animals didn't have enough grain to eat. We butchered a hog and only got 1½ cups of lard from it. When times had been good we'd get as much as 12 to 14 gallons of lard from a large hog. It was lots of work rendering that much. We always had lard to give relatives who didn't have hogs to butcher. Everyone got along on a rather plain diet. We did raise plenty of navy beans and potatoes too, along with our skinny pigs. It was rather monotonous but we managed as everyone else did. That time too passed and everyone appreciated better times.
   
   By now Robert and Ralph were of little help. One spring when Margaret was still home, she worked in the garden, making the rows where Robert and Ralph were to plant the onion sets. Naturally they weren't interested, and the ground was hard, making progress slow. She got disgusted with them and said "Well you don't have to screw the onions in the ground." Some how the garden grew and we had many good things to eat from it. When ever anyone's job was down, and sometimes before it was done, there was always the good old porch swing to relax in. Robert and Ralph and Barb spent their share of it in it.
   
   Up until this time Pop and I had seen many changes; like from kerosene lamps to electricity, having a radio, a car, gravel roads replaced dirt roads, from horses to a tractor and other implements. We still didn't have running water, so like others in the neighborhood we still had to reply on the little house out back, which had different names through the years. Ours was scrubbed regularly with hot sudsy water and a broom, and sprinkled with lime, to keep it in respectable condition for its many visitors, from a large household.
   
   It was the job of all farmers with animals to haul manure with the spreader, after cleaning out the barns. When doing that one day, Pop drove the tractor and speader in back of our out-house. As no one else seemed to be around to help, he came in to ask if I could help while he tipped the house forward. I was to hold a sturdy pole in place just above the door for the house to rest on while he went to work on the hole. Well, I tried, but the pole slipped down onto the door, which flew open. Naturally the house fell forward, I barely got out from under it, just scraping my leg, in a mad dash to get away. It really scared us, thinking of what could of happened. Wouldn't that of been some article for the newspaper? "Farm Woman Crushed By Out-House." That was the first and last time I helped with that job.
   
   Thrashing time was a busy time on the farm. You had to get dinner for at least 30 men. First thing early that morning I had to make pies, then get the meat in the oven, peel all those potatoes, besides other vegetables, pickles, salads, desserts, and other things. Table clothes were used on tables that were extended as long as possible. Then to get the wash bench out in the yard, with basins and soap, water into a big tub and lots of towels for men to wash, before coming in to eat. A big dinner was the high-light of the day for the men. There was extra help to wait on tables and to keep bowls filled. After it was all over came the job of washing and ironing those long table clothes.
   
   Pop's mother was living in Chicago now, keeping house for her brother Jim. We would drive up to visit them and the kids would take turns staying awhile.
   
   On September 1, 1936 Beverly Yvonne was born in Morris Hospital. Every thing went along well and she got plenty of attention as we hadn't had a baby in the house for six years. I kept her hair in curls most of the time. On her second birthday she got a doll named Toody. Toody solved many problems for her.
   
   One afternoon shortly before Christmas Pop and I went to Morris to do shopping. We left Robert, Ralph and Barb in charge of Bev and to keep fires going and carry in coal and cobs for the night, which was their chore. When we got home just before dark, we expected the house to be warm, but the kids had been so busy playing they forgot all about the stoves, fires were out and no fuel brought in. Quite a let down, but they moved fast when we got home. We left our packages in the car until they'd gone to bed.
   
   We all attended Christmas programs at church and school. This was an enjoyable time of year, kids in school made gifts for their parents. On Christmas Day we often went away. The kids never liked to go away that day as they wanted to stay home and enjoy their presents. We then started a new tradition the following Christmas, which was, to have our gifts after supper on Christmas Eve. In that way they could enjoy their gifts and games all evening, and didn't mind so much leaving home the next days.
   
   On August 21, 1939 Lynnette Diane was born in the Morris Hospital, the last one of our ten children. She was a good baby and adjusted to everyone very well. Bev was now a big girl of three years, and was capable of doing little things like giving Lynnette her bottle when she lost it in her crib. When Lynnette was about four she invented two imaginary friends, named Johnny and Mary. She'd talk to them, hand them things, and often involved me in a conversation with them. She entertained herself many hours talking to them, while Bev had developed other interests. They were well supplied with toys and enjoyed them as well as attention from the other kids.
   
   Neither Bev nor Lynnette looked forward to having their hair washed. Sometimes when Ralph was around he'd pick Lynnette up, hold her firmly with her head over the sink, while I went to work. That worked pretty slick.
   
   When Bev was about 5 Robert and Ralph wanted to take her to visit High School in Newark. We got her ready by bus time, around seven, she stayed all day. When they went to High School, every morning I had to go around turning off lights and closing doors after their dash out the door. When Robert and Ralph were freshmen they had to walk to Hall's Corner to catch the bus. We had to pay six dollars each a month bus fare. The next year the fare was reduced to four dollars each, as Barb started school that year. There being three now, we still had to pay twelve dollars. During their High School years, going to basket ball games and skating in Sandwich seemed to be the most important things in their lives, and all their friends felt the same.
   
   While there was always plenty of work to be done, I managed to do some sewing. One spring I sewed nine dresses for the girls.
   
   It seemed that there was something about the farm Margaret was allergic to as she would get real bad spells with asthmas. At times it was so hard for her to breath she was not able to go to the doctor, so he would come out to give her a shot. Once he had had to go upstairs to her room and he said going up those stairs was like climbing up pantry shelves, they were so steep. It seemed best for her to get a job away from the farm. She then worked in Chicago. Her cousin Eleanor Ness worked there too and they enjoyed being together, when they had time off.
   
   
   Bev was now going to school, which left just Lynnette home. I expected to accomplish so much now with just one child around, but as with all the others, when they first started to school, I kept thinking about them and wondering how they were getting along in their new surroundings. With my family to care for, I was pretty much of a homebody. When I did occasionally go away, I knew I'd have a hungry gang waiting for supper, so it was just easier to stay home in the first place.
   
   William and Shirley were married in Joliet in April 1941. He farmed Uncle Frank's place on Ashley Road. He was always interested in good livestock and raised very good pigs and had a herd of fine Angus cattle.
   
   On December 7, 1941 came the terrible news of Pearl Harbor. Everyone who had sons dreaded the thought of war, and that their sons would be drafted. It was a constant worry. Everyone listened to the news on the radio. Harry Condon enlisted in January 1942 and George enlisted in August 1942. We dreaded the day he had to go. Saying good-bye wasn't easy, and after he'd gone and you were alone with your thoughts, your only comfort was to trust that the Lord would bring him safely back home, which He did and I've been forever thankful. Now the highlight of the day was the mailman coming, always hoping for a letter. He was always good about writing, and we were happy to get letters for Harry too.
   
   Everyone was so conscious of the war, they wanted to d something. I even knit some scarves if you could call them that. Margaret and a girlfriend went to a school in Chicago, training for some work in an air-craft place. When they had finished they were sent to Macon, Georgia. We missed her, being so far away, but felt she at least was in a safe place and wouldn't be sent overseas. She was very good about writing to us and was always sending Harry and George packages, and doing her part in the war effort.
   
   When Bev was eight years old she had Rheumatic fever. We took her to Dr. John Carey in Joliet and she had to stay in bed for 6 weeks. I was to take her temperature every four hours and keep a record, and she was on a special diet. She made good progress and recovered completely. During this time Margaret sent her a lovely gist every week, which was really appreciated. Besides letters, cards and gifts from others, mail time was an important part of the day - with letters from George and Margaret and those gifts.
   
   Don and Florence were married in May 1942, in Stavenger Church. Don farmed Uncle Frank's farm next to us. He batched there for awhile before getting married, and did some remodeling in the kitchen - a job he's always been very good at.
   
   With the war still going on, many of the boys got furlough before being sent over-seas. We of course hoped George would get one. I papered his bedroom and we bought a new bed. All was in readiness, but he never got a furlough, which was a disappointment. During this time sugar and other items were rationed, but no one really suffered from it.
   
   Pop's mother died January 30, 1942, at the age of 69. Her name was Nina Ethel (O'Dell) Hall, she had been living with her brother Jim in Chicago and had been ailing for sometime and died in a hospital there. We had been driving to Chicago several times a week to see her. She was a wonderful person and we missed her so much.
   
   My father, William Toryor Hoge, who had lived alone in Lisbon, now found it hard to get along alone, as his eye sight was bad. He had cataracts. He sold his house and came to live with us. Uncle Tommy, who had lived with him part of the time bought a house in Sandwich, and moved there. We got the big north room in our house ready for Grandpa and he brought his own bed and dresser. We all got along well, and we took him to church with us. In the summer he liked to sit out in the shade in the front yard.
   
   After being with us for sometime, his eyes bothered him more and he decided he wanted to have surgery on one eye. His family all thought it was risky at the age of 90, but he said he was tired of stumbling around in the dark, so we took him to the doctor. Plans were made for his surgery at Silver Cross Hospital in Joliet. The surgery went well as far as we knew, but we always felt he didn't have good care and was not watched closely enough. We went to see him several times. One time we came, we were told this eye had hemorrhaged. After that he just seemed to give up and he wanted to come home. He was released and we had him brought back to our home in an ambulance. We had a doctor from Morris come to see him, and Rev. Klungdvedt came to see him too. He passed away that night. After the undertaker had taken care of his body, he told us he'd never seen a person that age with blood vessels and other organs in such good condition. At that time it was customary to have the body brought back to the home until the funeral. He died in July 1945, he would have been 91 on September 7«sup»th«/sup».
   
   Everyone was happy about the war being over. It was sad for those whose sons never returned. We were so thankful George would be coming home from over-seas and Margaret from Georgia. She brought a good friend "Crickett" home with her. They came in August, Harry came in September to his parents in Lisbon, and George got home the middle of October. It was great to have them home. Margaret and Harry were married in our home October 20, 1945. They made their home in Aurora.
   
   Later that year Barbara, Robert and Ralph had the mumps and in January 1946, Beverly and Lynnette had them. By this time we had some lovely little grandchildren. About this time we got our first T.V. and having entertainment every evening was quite a thrill.
   
   We had never taken a vacation until now. Our first trip one was to Clam Lake in Wisconsin. Bev and Lynnette were with us. Bev learned to row a boat, something I never could accomplish. I always went in circles instead of straight ahead. Lynnette preferred swimming.
   
   George and Verneda were married in Morris November 30, 1946. George had bought a house on Illinois Ave. where they have always made their home. On December 12, 11946 Robert and Phyllis were married in Platteville. Their first home was in Aurora. Ralph and Pat were married March 14, 1953 in Aurora where they made their home.
   
   Our family was now down to three girls. We looked forward to the married ones coming home. Barb was now through high school and planned to attend college in Normal. She did some sewing, and in getting her clothed ready it seemed every chair and table in the living and dining room had clothes on it, in getting everything together. Sometime later she and Jack were married, November 26, 1950. Their first home was in Bloomington.
   
   We always enjoyed our Christmas Eve family dinner and gift exchange. The little grandchildren looked so cute in their pretty Christmas clothes.
   
   Bev and Lynnette were in high school, so we again went through a series of attending basketball games. This was a time for them to drive with ma (an expert) teaching them, usually around the yard or on the way to Lisbon to get groceries. Sometimes I'd hold my breath, but it wasn't long before they were better at it than I was. Bev worked at Brookside Restaurant during vacation and at Barber Greene's in Aurora after she graduated.
   
   Bev and Don were married March 26, 1955 at our church in Lisbon. They farmed, living on Ashely Road.
   
   Pop had been Road Commissioner and farmer. We then bought a lot in Lisbon and built the first house we ever owned. While it wasn't completed, we moved in October 1955 and continued to work on it. Pop now being a full time road commissioner, William bought the farm. He was the third William Hall owning it, and it had been farmed by
   Hall's for four generations. When our house was finished, I worked at Brookside Restaurant for awhile.
   
   Lynnette and Ralph were married December 15, 1956 at the West Lisbon Church. They lived on a farm south-west of Lisbon.
   
   We were now just the two of us, and usually took a vacation every summer, by ourselves, with friends or with some of our children. Always having a good time, sometimes some very amusing things happened which we laughed about for a long time. The high-light of one trip, when just the two of us went, was when Pop caught his big muskie. We'll always remember all those enjoyable vacations in Wisconsin, Minnesota, Canada, Missouri, Arkansas and Kentucky.
   
   William sold the farm in 1963 and moved to Daytona Beach, Florida. In 1964 we celebrated our 50«sup»th«/sup» Wedding Anniversary with an open house at our church, planned by our children, with about 200 attending. We enjoyed seeing so many there, the nice lunch, the beautifully decorated cake, the program and all the cards and gifts. A most unique gift from our children was arranged by Margaret. It was like a scroll with a long train representing a trip to California, with our children waving goodbye to us as we leave on our trip, which was their gift to us. And a very special gift it was, for which we were most thankful.
   
   We left on the trip November 23«sup»rd«/sup». Bev, Gary and Florence took us to Joliet to board the train. Now on our way, we enjoyed the sights, as we headed west, we also like the meals served in the diner, although it was quite rough to ride there. Pop didn't have to use a spoon to stir his coffee as the shaking took care of it. The train made good time going through rugged country, where there was sage bush and tumble weed, then all of a sudden it stopped in the middle of nowhere. Passengers wondered what had happened. Pop said maybe there was a buffalo on the track. I reminded him that this was 1964 and the wild west was long gone. The first palm trees we noticed were in Needle, California.
   
   We go to Los Angeles late in the evening. Ralph, Pat and the girls were there to meet us. It took us about twenty minutes to get to their home in Long Beach. We enjoyed all the interesting sights. It was a real thrill to see the ocean and the big ships, also Marineland, Knotts Berry Farm, Disneyland, Hollywood, Beverly Hills and other places.
   
   One of the high-lights of the trip for Pop was when he and Ralph went deep sea-fishing. They had a very good day, caught 20 big Rock Cod, so we enjoyed many good fish dinners. On New Years Day Pop, Ralph, Pat and Val went to see the Rose Bowl Parade. Debbie and I stayed home and watched it on television. On January 4«sup»th«/sup» we left for home, after a wonderful vacation.
   
   All trips are great and you enjoy them so much, but home looks mighty good. There you can relax and relive all the interesting things you've seen and done. Don and Florence (living next door) had taken good care of things at home and had the house warm and cozy. Once again it was time to get into our regular routine, Pop back to his job, in our usual cold Illinois weather and snow - some years there certainly a lot of it.
   
   One winter in the early 60's I wrote the following:
   
   «i» Winter
   
   As I sit here in the early morning hours looking out on this wintry scene, I am inspired to put my thoughts into writing. Everything in sight is covered with a blanket of white.
   Snow in itself is beautiful, but can cause such hardships for as well as birds and animals.
   Everything depends so much on the elements. Snow storms can come without warning and create problems, such as impassable roads and being without electric power on which we are so dependant.
   Most of our home comforts are taken for granted. I think back to the time home seemed real cozy even without electricity. But that's progress, do we really appreciate it? It would be well for us all to stop and think of things that time will never change. Things of nature and not invented by man. May we all be mindful of these, our many blessings, and thankful for the great privilege of being a citizen of this wonderful country of our, the U.S.A.
   Even now in the dead of winter. B.J.H.
   «/i»
   The years come and go, and the grandchildren population had grown considerably. We love them all, each in their own way. Pop retired in 1972 after over 40 years of raod work, at first part-time for many years, then full time.
   
   Since we both have some creative ability and enjoy making things, now was the time to do it. Pop always liked working with wood, his first project was candle holders, then a variety of other things. One of my first projects was making "apple head" dolls. Some turned out quite well - other a disaster. About the time Jane sent me two corn husk dolls, just what I needed. I figured out how they were made, got some corn husk and went to work. I showed Bev what I'd made and with some good ideas from her, we created quite a corn husk doll, which proved to be very popular, as we've made hundreds, I think.
   
   Wt then started going to craft shows, having a booth and selling our corn husk dolls and Pop's wood articles, besides other things we made. Our first show was in Newark. We were thrilled at the results, and continued to go to several each year. As for us, I heartily recommend a hobby for all retired people.
   
   In 1973 we went to Kissimmee, Florida, a trip prompted by the generous Christmas gifts from our family. We looked forward to going as William, Esther and Omar lived there. Donald took us to Aurora, where we picked up Marg and the three of us took a train into Chicago. Marg was familiar with the area and since the railroad was on strike, she knew which bus we had to take, which got us off to a good start. We rode the bus as far as Jacksonville, Florida, where we got on a train (the strike now being over). The locomotive hooked onto the back end of the train. This car didn't have reversible sears so we rode backwards to Orlando. Wasn't exactly the best way to travel, but we made it. Esther and Omar were there to meet us.
   
   We enjoyed visiting with them and being in their home. We had a cottage reserved at Richard's Court across the road, where their son Bill lives and has cottages and trailers for rent. Most every day we went to see interesting places such as: Cypress Gardens, Sea World, Tupperware World Headquarters, Ringling Museum, huge banyan trees and many more places. One day we and Esther and Omar went to see William and Shirley. Their home is at High Ridge Estates, Daytona Beach. It was interesting to see their home and the area. He took us for a drive around Daytona and down by the ocean. We felt fortunate to look at that huge body of water, but I have no desire to fly over it or go by boat. William then treated us to a good meal before going back to his home.
   
   After we'd visited at Richards a while, Marg and Harry came to Kissimmee with their trailer, after spending sometime in other states. Their trailer was left at Bill's while they visited the area. One day we went with them to visit William. He was always glad to see anyone from his family. After a very enjoyable visit in Florida we left for home with the car trunk loaded with Omar's delicious Pomcan oranges and grapefruit, for some trailer living with Marg and Harry. We stopped at many interesting places along the way, among them was Citrus Tower, and in Mobile, Bellingrath Gardens, Battleship U.S.S. Alabama, Fort Ganes, Dauphin Island, and saw other things of interest such as negroes picking cotton by hand. In some places, machines were used. We arrived home the first part of March.
   
   In October 1974 our children planned a celebration for our 60«sup»th«/sup» Wedding Anniversary. It was held at the Lisbon Grade School. A good dinner was served, a beautiful centerpiece with candles was featured and we were presented with a color TV, real surprise and much appreciated. We were used to black and white and this new one made everything bright and beautiful.
   
   Most of our spare time in the next couple of years was spent working on our hobbies. We were involved in a variety to make and a challenge. Bev and I continued to have booths at many craft shows. Pop has always enjoyed drawing and has spent time doing that during the winter.
   
   In 1977 Pop celebrated his 80«sup»th«/sup» birthday (born March 2, 1897) and my birthday with a family dinner at Marg and Harry's home. We had a wonderful day and lovely gifts. This year was the first time we didn't have our family Christmas in our home. It was held in a hall in Plattville. In February 1978 when I was 80 years, we had a birthday celebration at George and Verenda's home with a good family dinner and a great day. As our birthdays are only a few days apart they can be celebrated at the same time. Then to, over the years, we've received so many great and wonderful gifts, all from our generous family.
   
   In 1978 we enjoyed a couple of short vacations. In September Pop didn't feel well, the doctor advised surgery which he had on September 8«sup»th«/sup». He was in the hospital 11 days. He had many visitors - our family as well as others. We were all thankful when he returned home, fully recovered, and later that year worked on different hobbies. We again this past year had our family Christmas at Platteville, always and enjoyable day, with good eats and gifts. In earlier years the grandchildren put on a little program, and now it's their children who perform.
   
   In 1979 (and latter part of '78) we had an unusual amount of snow and cold weather, but we'd experienced winters like it years ago - the means of transportation then was horses pulling bobsleds. This was quite cozy, as there was a layer of straw to keep your feet warm, also plenty of lap robes. There was no worry of a flat tire or running out of gas, it was an enjoyable means of travel - a far cry from today's cars with heat and air-conditioning.
   
   In August of this year our church celebrated its 50«sup»th«/sup» anniversary with an all day meeting. In October we celebrated our 65«sup»th«/sup» wedding anniversary with a family dinner in Bev and Don's new home, a very happy occasion. We received monetary gifts, greatly appreciated. We got a phone call from William, it was so good to hear his voice and it made the day perfect.
   
   When reading these pages, you may get the impression that there were no problems and worries. We had our share, but I always had faith things would work out and somehow they usually did. There are many things in my life I should of done and didn't, and things I did that I wish I hadn't, but life goes on, mistakes and all.
   
   My life was caring for my family and I'm as concerned about them now as when they were small. I have many pleasant memories of my earlier years, also of more recent years when some very amusing incidents happened when on vacation. I'll always remember them.
   
   We never achieved fame or fortune, which we didn't seek. Our fortune is our family of 9 children, 29 grandchildren and 36 great-grandchildren and 1980 looks prosperous. I'm thankful to the Lord for all these things and for all the years we've had together.
   
   I recently read a motto which applies to all of us:
   
   «i»NEVER REGRET GROWING OLD
   MANY NEVER HAD THAT PRIVILEDGE.
   «/i»
   Mom
   
   Stanley (Pop, Grandpa) died June 20, 1984 at age 87.
   Bertha (Mom, Grandma) died November 13, 1993 at age 95.
   
   
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3. ↑ Morris Daily Herald, Mon, Nov 15, 1993
   Mrs. Stanley (Bertha) Hall, 95, 200 W. Waverly St, died Saturday, Nov 14, (newspaper error) 1993, in the Morris Hospital.
   
   Funeral services will be at 2:30 p.m. Wednesday at the Bethlehem Lutheran Church, Lisbon, with the Rev. Joe Thompson officiating. Burial will be in Lisbon Cemetery.
   
   Visitation is from 6 to 9 p.m. Tuesday in the Fruland Funeral Home.
   
   Born Feb 26, 1898, in Kendall County, she was a daughter of William and Carrie (Hackerson) Hoge.
   
   She grew up and received her education in Kendall County.
   
   On Oct 10, 1914, she married Stanley Hall. They farmed most of their married life in the Lisbon area. For the past six years she lived in Morris.
   
   Surviving are nine children, Donald (Esther) Hall of Ottawa, William Hall of Daytona, Fla, Margaret Condon of Tucson, Ariz, George (Verneda) Hall of Elkhart, Ind, Robert (Phyllis) Hall of Eddyville, Ky, Ralph (Patricia) Hall of Branson, Mo, Barbara (Jack) Hawkins of Freeport, Beverly (Donald) Anderson of Minooka, and Lynnette (Ralph) Johnson of Naples, Fla; 29 grandchildren; 59 great-grandchildren; 13 great-great-grandchildren; two sisters, Mabel Thompson and Esther Richards, both of Morris.
   
   Preceding her in death were her husband in 1984, a son in infancy, two sisters, Ella Ness and Julia Thompson; and one brother, Thomas Hoge.
   
   Preferred memorials are gifts to the Bethlehem Luther Church in Lisbon where she was a life long member.