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with Donna Cronk

GRANDMA'S STORIES

9/16/2016

4 Comments

 
Picture
The Whetsels of Brownsville, Indiana, about 1900. As did I, my grandmother Hazel arrived later in her parents' life. Far right, seated, is her mother, Sally Ann, who interacted with Indians as a girl, and saw the Abraham Lincoln Funeral train. Her youngest daughter -- my Grandma Hazel -- stands next to her. Hazel's father is seated in the center. I recognize Grandma's sister, Etta, in the back. The little kids are probably Hazel's nieces and nephew. Mine are nearly my age, too.
Picture
Grandma Jobe spent her entire life living in either Brownsville, Indiana, or Rural Route 1, Brownsville on the family farm.

In her final years, she lived on the farm with her only child, Huburt, and family – my dad and our family. There, Grandma shared a bedroom with her only granddaughter, me.

She slept in a plain twin bed, but as grandmas do, she bought me a new, double one – a white, four-poster with a light-blue canopy and matching bedspread. I loved it.

She told me many of her life’s stories, as well as those handed down from her mother, Sarah “Sally Ann" Whetsel. Both of our mothers had us later in life, so the tales date to the middle-1800s.

They were stories that reached deep into not only the history and heritage of one typical, Hoosier family taking up a small spot in the cornfields of Indiana, situated on the Whitewater River banks, in and  near the Union County village of Brownsville.

These were tales that heard now, seem to transcend one family and reach into American history: stories that included Indians and Abe, as well as local drama.

I was 9 or 10 when, armed with grandma’s stories in my mind and imagination, I penned an essay called, “The Good Old, Bad Old, Days of Brownsville.” I still have it because my mother saved everything.

The piece took second place in the 4-H essay contest, and I got a check! Never mind that the prize was $7 (if memory serves) and there were probably all of three in the competition. It was my first essay, ever. And at age 9 or 10, I was paid for writing it.

Fast forward thousands of essays, letters, feature and news stories, columns, emails, and blog posts later, not to mention about a half century’s worth of time.

A year ago my friend Janis Thornton told me that Indiana University Press was accepting essays for a book called Undeniably Indiana. She said what editors wanted were Hoosier essays and that this project had my name written all over it and I should hurry up and enter because the deadline was near.

So I sat down and updated those stories, simple, old ones you don’t hear firsthand anymore, ones that came from Grandma, and from her mother; sort of a fiftysomething granddaughter rewrites grandma’s memories. Somehow, it felt like the article I should submit.

And guess what? The piece was chosen for inclusion.

Still, I didn’t say too much about it or get up my hopes in case it got bumped.

So when Undeniably Indiana was recently released, I held my breath and bought it on Kindle.

Grandma’s stories are there, on pages 147-148. Of course, tons of other people’s stories are there too, but I had to see hers first. (You know you’d do the same.) Then I picked up the printed version.

I read my piece aloud last weekend on the Union County Courthouse square, not far from the original sites mentioned in the essay. It was broadcast over the public address, this summary of 170 years of community history as reported from the Whetsel-Jobe-Cronk women.

This is ironic when you consider that I was asked to participate for the weekend as a storyteller.

Those coordinating the program didn’t even know going in about this essay.
I’ll read the piece again next week – as I talk about the importance of families sharing multi-generational stories and talking to one another in this age of electronic devices during family night at a local elementary school. I was asked to give the opening program.

This just occurred to me: Grandma would be proud.

We’ve come full circle: Sally Ann from the mid-1800s, Hazel from the late 1800s to 1968, and me, still at it – storytellers.

Donna Cronk is author of two novels inspired by her Union County hometown. They are on Amazon or available from the author. The first is Sweetland of Liberty Bed & Breakfast. The new one is That Sweet Place: At Home in the Heartland. Cronk enjoys giving inspirational programs. She welcomes subscribers to this website. Reach her at [email protected].


Picture
Hazel Whetsel Jobe with her only surviving child, son Huburt, my father, circa 1920.
Picture
Grandma's older sister and husband, Orville and Etta Campbell, circa 1900. The building behind them remains recognizable today in Brownsville.
Picture
Grandma at Rural Route 1, Brownsville, Indiana, 1950s, on the family farm where I grew up. The home and summer kitchen to the right were ours, and before us, Grandma and Grandpa Jobe's.
Picture
My great-grandmother Sally Ann had some incredible experiences that resonate today: She interacted with Indians and viewed the Lincoln Funeral Train.
Picture
Grandma Hazel Whetsel Jobe, right, around 1900, with her likely her two sisters. I recognize her sister Etta, standing. In Etta's final years, she lived with my widowed grandmother in Brownsville. I was there when Etta died. Her funeral was the first I attended.
Picture
Grandma and me, 1967, possibly the summer I wrote the essay which inspired the one in "Undeniably Indiana." She may look grumpy here but she was not! She was a lot of fun and spent many years as the Brownsville United Methodist Church pianist. My niece, Marlene, has her piano, and I'm so glad.
4 Comments
Debbie M. link
9/20/2016 05:18:09 am

Donna, It is so important to share and record the family stories. I remember one of my sons' early elementary teachers telling me that she had a box of old family pictures. However, she didn't know who they were. I think of all the family stories lost because no one took the time to write down the family stories or a simple caption for a picture! What a wonderful gift you have given your boys!

Reply
Donna Cronk
10/21/2016 05:37:24 pm

This photo had escaped my notice all these years. Happy to put the pieces together.

Reply
Marlene Thompson
3/1/2019 03:43:47 pm

I have been working on a project to get some vintage pictures of our old farms and I found them .Then I was trying to find a picture of the Brownsville covered bridge we road pony's over and I seen this picture and thought I was loosing my mind thinking that looked like my family ,so I was tickled to see I wasn't loosing it just yet ,I would like to have a picture of your grandma, I new her as grandma down town to put on top of that piano right next to my dad's "your brother".

LeAnna link
3/14/2025 06:41:24 pm

This post beautifully captures the timeless magic of a grandmother’s stories! I love how you highlight the deep connections and cherished memories that come from sharing family tales. Storytelling truly keeps traditions alive and bonds generations together. Thank you for this heartwarming reminder of the power of words and love. Keep sharing your wonderful stories they are a gift to many!

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    DONNA CRONK

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