MAMIE McNEAL

I was born in 1931, in Clarke County, to Lowell and Maud Jackson. We lived in the southwest corner of Clarke County, and I've lived in Clarke County my whole life. When I say "southwest corner," it is about as far as you could go any direction and still be in Clarke County. About a quarter mile west of us was Union County, about a quarter mile south of us was Decatur County, and across the fields to the southwest as the crow flies was Ringgold County.

I had two sisters and we were born and raised where our mother was born and raised. My grandfather passed away before my parents were married so, because Mama was the only surviving child, Grandma needed someone to do the farm work. That was the reason my parents lived there. I grew up with a grandmother in my home all my life. And it was good. My mother had poor health. She had asthma very bad, and she passed away a month before I was nine years old.That was another reason it was good to have Grandma there to carry on.

In 2010, the Clarke County Arts Council presented a play, "I Remember Mama," and offered those of us who had memories of our mothers to write a letter to the editor. I responded with a letter titled "Wonderful Memories of Mother." Dear Editor: I've enjoyed reading the "Remember Mama" letters. I, too, have memories of my mother tho she passed away when I was almost nine years old. Mama sewed a lot for me and my two sisters. I still have a special Sunday School dress she made for me, much by hand. I believe I was about seven years old so the dress now is 71 years young! Mama also made the best applesauce cake I've ever tasted. Unfortunately, we have no recipe. Memories are wonderful, aren't they? Mamie McNeal, Osceola.

We had milk cows in those days, and there was kind of a holding area with a board fence for them. When I was a kid I liked to sing. I would get up on the board fence and sing to the cows. That turned into something more when I was a little older.

I went to school at Doyle #7, also known as the Beaman school. It was probably called that before they started having numbers for the schools. I went to school there until it closed because there weren't enough children to keep it open. I am not sure what year that happened but I think it was when I was about 5th grade. I went to Murray then, through my junior year in high school, and there I met my wonderful husband, Harold McNeal, and we were married.

We lived in Osceola and had three little girls, who are now Bonnie Stephenson, Barbara Veersteeg, and Beverly Foote. When my youngest daughter started kindergarten, I began working at Snowdon's and I worked there for 24 years. For 12 years I used a zigzag machine and then was asked if I would like to become an instructor, so during the next 12 years I trained new women or men — because at one time we had some Korean families who came in and men worked there also. There were a young gentleman and his wife, his sister, one of her parents, and a father and a mother. That was toward the end of Snowdon's factory days in Osceola, and they closed. From there I started working at LeAnn Manufacturing, and I was there for three years until Harold had his stroke.

My singing career picked up in the 70s, when I told my family I would like to have a guitar, so my sisters and their children went together and bought me a nice guitar. There was a book "Learn How to Play the Guitar, For the Young Beginner." In my case, it was the old beginner but it was so simplified, I learned. If it hadn't been, I would never have learned to play. It was just chording.

At about the same time there were a lot of people going to Woodburn where they had jam sessions on Friday nights. Some of them talked to Harold, saying, "Why don't you come down and play along with the others?" Anybody who wanted to could play with them. It wasn't like performing by yourself. I did this and in so doing, I learned a lot! I met a lot of nice people. Harold didn't play there but at home I got him started playing the banjo. He was self-taught.

Francis Carson was the principal at elementary, and I had known her through the children. She started a little group at Woodburn named the Rhythm Dusters, and she asked if I would like to join. This is what I did. It was easier for me to sing than to sing and play at the same time, so I mostly sang. Unfortunately Francis didn't live too long after that, so her husband, Don, took over the group, and except for a short period of time, I played with them for as long as they were playing. I really enjoyed it!

I always thought we were so fortunate the Woodburn people let us use their building, where families could go and have good, clean entertainment. There was no carousing around. We played at Woodburn one Saturday night a month for their dance, and then we started playing at the Junction Café just south of the intersection of Highway 2 and 65 once a month. Don's sister-in-law, Karen George, became owner of that café which had a little dance floor beside it. Years before it had been an outdoor movie theater.

One time we were playing at the restaurant when Joyce and Chub Garrett were there with their grandson, David, who was nine years old. She asked if I would teach David to play the guitar, and I told her I would teach him the little I knew. He started coming to our home and I helped him learn how to play the guitar. We enjoyed so much having him come. He was a wonderful kid.

In those days I started playing the bass guitar, also. My son-in-law, Larry Versteeg, formed a group called Larry and Friends in 1996. I started singing with them and playing the bass guitar. In 2003, he changed it to Larry and the Messengers. I still play bass in it.

I am writing this in the spring of 2010, and I now have nine grandchildren and 15 great grandchildren. Except for one grandchild who lives in Kansas City, they all live within 100 mile radius of Osceola. Kansas City isn't very far and I get to see them quite often. In fact, one grandson-in-law called me this forenoon and invited me out to eat lunch with them. This is spring break for school kids, so he and his two daughters came by and took me out to eat.

Harold McNeal

Harold, also, had always lived in Clarke County, in his case, in the Lacelle area. We met on the school bus. He had ten siblings in his family. When he graduated from high school, he enlisted in the Army and was in the service for two years. His time was up just before the Korean War broke out. His story is in the veterans' book of Hopeville and Murray, as follows:

Harold Eugene McNeal was born and raised in Doyle #4 Township, Clarke County, Iowa. He was the fifth child of 10 born to John and Gertrude McNeal. Five of the boys were in military service: Rolland, Harold, Myron, Robert, and John, Jr.

In the spring of 1946, Harold graduated from Murray High School. Before graduation, Harold enlisted in the United States Army for two years. In August 1948, he was inducted into the Army and served at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, next was stationed at Fort McClellan, Alabama, and on to California just before he was shipped out for Korea. Harold served with the 508th Engineer Detachment and became a Water Supply Technician 5th Class.

One of the stories Harold recalls is when he and his buddies found out how to make ice with their generators, and thus started making ice cream occasionally. Their officers found out and this became quite a treat. They made ice cream for the Officers' Club, too, and supplies were much easier to obtain after that.

Harold said it was inevitable that there would soon be war but luckily for him, his enlistment ended on July 3rd, 1948. He returned home with awards: Army of Occupation Medal, Japan, World War II Victory Medal, and Honorable Discharge.

Harold was four years older than I, so when he was a senior, I was in 8th grade. We were married when he had just been discharged from the service. I was 17. We moved to Osceola so both of us lived all our lives in Osceola except for the time he was serving the country, When Harold first came home he worked at Morrell Meat Packing Plant in Ottumwa until he heard that Worth Windland, who was Clarke County Clerk of Court, needed a deputy. Harold went to talk to him and was hired. His first job in the courthouse was as Deputy Clerk of Court.

Mansell Westfall, County Recorder, resigned his position and Harold applied for that job. He was hired to finish Mansell's term, at the end of which Harold ran for office and was elected. While he was working, the courthouse was closed on Saturday, and he took a part time job at J.C. Penney for Saturday afternoon and evening, because they stayed open until 9:00 at night. He regarded it as his part-time job. The position to be District Manager at Penney's came open so he became Assistant Manager at J.C. Penney's for a full-time job.

Harold worked for Ben Cole in the Oldsmobile dealership for a couple years, then he got a position as produce manager at Hy-Vee. He worked there a number of years and then John Voss, who had been the J.C. Penney manager, with two other fellows started a men's clothing store at Leon. John asked Harold if he would like to come and work for them, which he did. Over the period of time he was there, he had the opportunity to buy into the store, so he became part owner because John was getting to the age when he wanted to retire. That is where Harold was in 1984, when he had his stroke

Harold began having seizures and we had gone to Iowa City to see an ear, nose and throat specialist, Dr. Viner. He had opened an office in Leon but he wanted Harold to come to his office in Iowa City. Harold had a brother and sister who lived in Cedar Rapids so we went to spend a couple of days with them as well.

We had gotten up early one morning. His niece was working at a department store, so we went to see her there. He started not feeling well. It was zero weather and Harold got very cold. We went back to his sister's house, but when we got there he said, "I'm just going to sit here in the car." I said, "You can't sit out here. It is too cold." It was a short distance to the house and she and I helped him out of the car. We started toward the house, but by the time we reached the door, his legs weren't functioning. He said, "I am having a stroke and I'm sorry."

He didn't want me to call the doctor or an ambulance, but after an hour, I convinced him to let me call the veterans' hospital to see if we could get him in there. In the meantime, an ambulance came and took him to a hospital in Cedar Rapids where he was admitted to the emergency room. They were not doing anything for him and he wasn't going to stay there! When the ambulance from the veterans' hospital came to get him, he agreed to go to the veteran's hospital in Iowa City.

They did everything they could possibly do for him. They said he'd had a brain stem stroke because there was no hemorrhaging or anything of that nature. We have since been told it could have been a clot no larger than a pinhead, and just like that the world changed from one reality to another. About three weeks later, after he had been stabilized, we ended up in Younker's Rehab to start therapy.

When he had his stroke there was no movement in any part of his body whatsoever. His eyes didn't even track; there was no facial expression, nothing. After some time, he became able to shake his head "no." That was all the movement there was. One doctor told him, "I think it will all come back but it will be a long time." We felt very blessed he had recovered to the point where he could do as much as did. He could drive his electric wheelchair. He had to sit just right but at least he was moving. He had to learn to eat again, which he did, and they say it is very uncommon for that to happen to someone with a brain stem stroke. Of course, that was 26 years ago so they have surely come a long ways since then.

He had to see a psychiatrist. Sometimes we would go in together and sometimes separately. Every time when we left the office, we were both in tears because the question always was, "What are you going to do now?" I said, "I am going to go ahead and do whatever we can." That is what we did, but we were told, "Well, many people in your shoes end up in divorce." That was the farthest thing from my mind, but that was the reason we were so down in the dumps when we left there. It was almost as though they were telling us, "This is what you are going to do." A lot of people said, "I don't know how you do it," or "I could never do what you are doing,"and I always said, "You don't know what you can do until you are faced with the situation." I wouldn't have considered doing it any other way.

Harold always had an interest in writing. I would find a scrap of paper, or maybe a piece torn off a used envelope, with a little writing on it. He never had time to sit down and develop anything lengthy until after he had his stroke. Harold had taken typing in high school and did a lot of typing when he was in the courthouse, so we bought a little portable typewriter. I put the paper in for him, and positioned the typewriter. The right side of the brain controls the left side of the body and vice versa so I had to make sure he was sitting just right to be able to type. In the beginning, he struck one letter at a time. Three or four lines took him all afternoon, but he had so much determination that he became able to type a whole page in an afternoon.

Harold occasionally wrote and the paper published his letters to the editor, and that was when he started writing his poems. He was also able to sign his name if he had a felt tip pen, and I put it in his fingers. He signed his name better than many people who don't have anything wrong with them.

In 1999, Harold had to go to the nursing home because I reached the place where my daughters were telling me, "You can't take care of Dad any longer." I wasn't willing to give up at that time. I wasn't going to say I couldn't until I knew I couldn't. But time after time I would have a flare up and be in the hospital again. The third time I had been in and out, I had pneumonia and ended up with cardiac arrest. Fluid built up around my heart. That was several years before Harold died in 2008.

I now have two dogs. I have always been a lover of cats and when we were at home on the farm we always had a lot of cats — house cats, barn cats, every kind of cat. They always got sick, so one year my folks got me a little rat terrier dog. That was the first dog that was really MY dog. So I developed a love for dogs, too. However, he got sick. I talked to the vet about him and he gave me some pills. Well, the pill would come up as soon as I gave it to him and we went on like, that for a couple days before I took him to Dr. Fred Wood who said he had something more serious than could be treated.

Before he died, however, I saw an ad in the paper for puppies and I said, "I'm going to go get one of those." I was teasing, and Harold said, "I don't think you need two dogs." I didn't get one but when my little rat terrier died, I called the number in the ad. It was Roger Grimm. I knew of him and asked, "Do you still have any of the puppies?" He said, "No, Mamie, the last two are spoken for and a lady is to come and pick them up." She didn't come and he called me back to come look at the puppies. I knew it didn't make any difference what they looked like. I was going to get one of them, so we went out. The mother was shitsu, the daddy was a poodle and cocker mix. I saw the father and mother. Neither were large dogs, but my dog grew up to be bigger than either of the parents. He is more the size of a cocker.

I said, "Just one puppy," and he is now 13 years old. His name is Lucky because I had discovered my former dog would have been getting Parvo. I thought she was getting shots but she wasn't. I was told "Don't bring that dog home for at least two weeks, because Parvo stays in the ground. You want to be sure it has its shots and the shots have had time to do what they are supposed to do." We did go out and visit the puppy, about three miles out of town. We finally got him home and were going to name him "Lucky," because I felt like I was lucky to get him and he was lucky to get a good home.

Now I have two dogs, I had Lucky about three years, when they called me from the Afton Nursing home, where Harold was at the time. They'd had a pet parade and one of the aides had brought these two puppies to adopt out. Harold wanted the little blond one. "Could he have it?" Harold never asked for anything like that and I answered, "Well, I reckon so." Taffy was only four weeks old, too young to take from his mother, and when he got to be six weeks old, they called and said, "He's here, you can come and get him." They had talked about having a dog there, but no, Harold didn't want it to stay over there. He was afraid something would happen to it. That was in September. My birthday is in October and so for my birthday, he had our youngest daughter fix a card, "Happy Birthday, now I belong to you." He had gotten it for me all along. He said he thought it would help keep me young.

The dog Harold got for me, he named Taffy. Our daughter said, "Dad, that sounds like a girl's name," so when I took him to the vet I said, "Put down his name as 'Taffy Boy," so that is his official name. His mother was a mix between a poodle and a wire-hair terrier, the father was a shitsu. He is smaller than my old dog but he definitely has the spirit of a wire-hair terrier. He is on the go! But they get along real well together. I occasionally took him over to see Harold.

The cat I have now is Miss Kitty. She fits the name quite well as she has long calico, very pretty hair. I feed an old stray that is black and has cauliflower ears — too many fights, I presume. My family tells me I have a sign out front that says, "Stop here. She'll feed you." To date (3/31/10) there has been a very pregnant calico hanging around. It especially likes the area under my deck, probably thinking that would be a nice place to have her babies. But I don't want more cats. Thank goodness, I found who the owners are and I have told them if she has babies at my house, I know where to take them.

I mentioned earlier about going to Woodburn jams. Woodburn has a Booster Club that sometimes puts on little skits for special occasions. Many of these skits have been written by Betty Hembry. It was on one of these occasions Flamy Mamie was born. The theme was Nashville. Artists were coming to preform, portrayed by local members. I was not a Booster member but asked if I could participate. I got the OK. I dressed as a country bumpkin, long hair in braids, overalls, size 12 tennis shoes, and wanting a ride back to Nashville to become a star.

Well, Flamy Mamie returned several times for almost three years. Very stylish and way too much make-up, but she thought she was gorgeous and danced and paraded around foolishly. I had a ball! I guess I didn't quite grow up because I still like to dress up and preform at 78 years of age (if the old body lets me). Maybe I'm going through my second childhood.

As a child, I attended the Hopeville Methodist Church. After I married I was baptized at the Osceola Christian Church and I now attend the Osceola Assembly of God. I'm so glad the Lord has had an important part in my life. Like many others, I've had trials and tribulations but the Lord has walked beside me all the way. I've had a good life and wouldn't to want to trade with anyone.

Return to main page for Recipes for Living 2010 by Fern Underwood

Last Revised December 15, 2014