Below is a transcription of a letter my mother wrote to me in 2003. Within it, there is a very short story that will be lost if I don't repeat it here because I am probably the only family member, still living, that she ever told it to. She told it to me verbally once but I would never have remembered it so I'm glad she told it to me in writing. It tells about my grandmother's near death from some sort of tumor that caused her to lose a lot of blood, and the blood transfusion from my then 15-year-old mother that saved her life. More details would have been good...
|Ida and Charles Newby 1936|
at the house on Rt. 40
So much went on when we were in that house, Mom was sick for weeks with ---?---, and a while later she nearly died of the tumor because she had lost so much blood and I was the only one that had her type of blood and they had some conferences about my age, I think I wasn't quite 16 and they didn't usually take anyone until after 16. Anyway I was on a gurney next to her when they did the person to person transfusion.
But that really baffles me about not remembering my grandparent's funerals. I remember being in that church many times for one death or another and I couldn't stand the preacher's voice, he was the one who was blind and his wife always stood in the pulpit and helped him, it was a sad situation, but his voice was so raspy, and loud, and that was before microphones, at least there. Too many other weird things to mention, but mostly what stands out most while we lived there are the fun things, the good things."
Sadly, this house was struck by lightening in 1964 and burned down. Look closely, do you see the old car in the photo? There is another wonderful old photo of this house <at this link>.
The Interurban ran directly in front of the Kiplinger house. Mom told me stories of a couple of her dogs getting killed by it and I could never figure out exactly what the Interurban must have looked like until I saw the photo of it <at this link> where you see not only the Interurban but Goldie's father standing in front of her house, circa 1920.
I have since figured out that the man in the casket with the long beard was Mom's uncle, Frank Newby. He was the only relative that died when my mother would have had to stand on tip toe to see in a casket. It was 1929 and she was not yet 5 years old when Frank died.
K-town was Knightstown in Henry Co., Indiana. When Mom says "we saw it we think", she was referring to the trip she and I took in 1999. We drove all around Knightstown looking for memories and Mom wanted to find the old home that was converted to a duplex, where her grandmother lived for a very short time.
The blind pastor with the raspy voice must have been Rev. Ernest A. Addison, pastor of the Christian Church in Knightstown for it is he that is listed on the obituary of Mom's grandmother, Ida May Newby and on the earlier obituary of her uncle Frank.
I only wish I knew what illness my Grandmother Fern had that caused such a large tumor and so much blood loss that she was near death. Whatever it was, she must have recovered completely because she always seemed quite healthy when I was young!