A Century of Life, Love, and Chicken Dinners

I'm seventy-three years old, but Poppy has me beat (so far). He lived one hundred years, three months, and twenty days. I'm an older guy, but Poppy made it to true elderliness! Hopefully, I've got a few of his longevity genes. After all, he was my paternal great-grandfather on my grandmother's side.

Poppy's real name was Thomas Fredrick Teeters. My first name is Thomas. That's no coincidence. Thomas also came from my paternal great-great-grandfather on my grandfather's side. At least, that's what Mom and Dad told me. But I digress. Let's get back to Poppy.  

Poppy was already eighty-five years old when I was born in 1951. 
He was born on June 9, 1866. In an interview with a newspaper journalist on his ninety-ninth birthday, Poppy mentioned the townspeople were primarily Indians when he was born in the "little old village" of Fort Dodge, Iowa. I'm bettin' it was still a true fort of a branch of our nation's military. Imagine that!!!  

So, Poppy lived when many Native Americans were still living as they had always lived before the Westward Expansion of the United States. Of course, he lived when many were forced onto U.S. government reservations, too. He was just short of ten years old when the Battle of the Little Bighorn (AKA: Custer's Last Stand; the Battle of the Greasy Grass) took place on June 25, 1876. I was only fifteen years old when Poppy passed. Being a boy, I never thought to ask him if he recalled anything about the battle. It amazes me that I knew somebody who lived at that time. Unfortunately, I never asked him about any events or circumstances that occurred over his lifespan.  

1951: Poppy with and his son-in-law, Clyde, grandson Harold, granddaughter-in-law Arlou, and great-grandson Drew 

Think about what did occur during his life: He lived with Civil War veterans; there were nineteen U.S. Presidents during his life (Andrew Johnson to Lyndon Johnson).

In the late 1860s:

Nebraska became a state, the typewriter was invented, and the Golden Spike was nailed in to create the First Transcontinental Railroad).

In the 1870s: 

Yellowstone National Park was created, the National League of Baseball was founded, Colorado became a state, Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone, and Thomas Edison invented the light bulb.

In the 1880s: 

President James Garfield was assassinated, Clara Barton created the Red Cross, the Washington Monument was completed, Stanford University was founded, and four more states (North Dakota, South Dakota, Montana, and Washington) were created.

In the 1890s: 

Yosemite National Park was created, three more states (Idaho, Wyoming, and Utah) were created, the Wounded Knee Massacre occurred, Basketball was invented, the USS Maine exploded in Havana Harbor, which precipitated the Spanish-American War, and the signing of the Treaty of Paris ended the Spanish-American War.

In the 1900s: 

President William McKinley was assassinated and replaced by Theodore Roosevelt (BULLY!), the first Rose Bowl game was played, the Ford Model T appeared, the Federal Bureau of Investigation was established, and W. E. B. DuBois founded the NAACP.

In the 1910s: 

The RMS Titanic sank, two more states (New Mexico and Arizona) were created, the RMS Lusitania was sunk, the United States entered World War I (it ended in the same decade), and the passage of the 18th Amendment to the United States Constitution (established Prohibition. Yeah, that worked well!).

In the 1920s: 

The first radio broadcast was made in Pittsburgh, Yankee Stadium opened, the Scopes Trial took place, Charles Lindbergh made his first trans-Atlantic flight, the first "talkie" (motion picture with sound) was released: The Jazz Singer and the Great Depression began.

In the 1930s: 

The Empire State Building opened, Amelia Earhart flew across the Atlantic Ocean, criminal John Dillinger was killed, Alcoholics Anonymous was founded (maybe the 18th Amendment should not have been repealed), and the horrific Hindenburg disaster occurred.

In the 1940's: 

The Attack of Pearl Harbor led to the U.S. entering World War II, D-Day happened, the U.S. joined the United Nations, Hiroshima and Nagasaki were leveled by the U.S. dropping atomic bombs on them, Germany and Japan surrendered, which ended World War II, the U.F.O. crash supposedly happened at Roswell (New Mexico), and Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier in baseball.

In the 1950's: 

The Korean War began, Rosa Parks incited the Montgomery Bus Boycott, Jonas Salk developed the polio vaccine, the Russians launched Sputnik to start the "space race", and two more states (Alaska and Hawaii) were created.

In the 1960's: 

The Bay of Pigs happened, the Vietnam War officially began, The Cuban Missile Crisis set the World on edge, and Martin Luther King, Jr's "March of Washington" ("I Have a Dream") speech was delivered.  

Just think, Poppy saw everything from covered wagons to spaceships. WHOA, Nellie-Belle!!! Oh, and I know I missed hundreds, if not thousands, of possibly more important historical events during Poppy's life. By not including them, I'm not diminishing their importance. But, I can only mention a handful because the Publisher of this article won't let me go on, and on, and on and...you get it!!!*

When Poppy was twelve, he went with family to Missouri and then on to Santa Paula in 1913. He wound up moving back to Missouri in 1932 but came west again in 1946 to stay. He brought his wife (the former Mary Florence Blankenship), born in Polk County, Missouri on May 29, 1870. I don't know what year Poppy and Mommy (the name family used to refer to Mary) were hitched. Poppy was a farmer/rancher in Missouri and California for most of his life. Poppy & Mommy lived in Ivanhoe. Mommy died on February 13, 1950. Therefore, Poppy lived about sixteen years without Mommy before his passing. That musta been tough! But, they produced my great aunts (Nora, Verda, Willa, Jewel) and my great uncles (Charles, Fred, Glen). I met all of them. Unfortunately, Mommy died a little over a year before I was born. I would have loved to have met her. I've heard she was super-liked by family.  

Ivanhoe is 189 miles by car (about three hours, thirty-seven minutes in light traffic) north of the Ojai Valley, where I've lived my entire life. I didn't have a driver's license while Poppy was alive. So, the only times I visited with him were the few times he came to Ojai and — mainly — when my parents took me to his home, usually on his birthday. At yearly family Thanksgiving and/or Christmas gatherings, I'd hear an adult state something like, "Poppy's birthday is only about six months away. We'd best start planning for it and all go up to Ivanhoe to celebrate. You know, this could be his last birthday!" That went on each year from 1951, when I was born, to 1966, for a total of fifteen years. Ha!!! 

During those fifteen years, all of Poppy's birthdays were held under the humongous tree in his backyard, except for his ninety-ninth, which was held at my Great Aunt Willa's home in Santa Paula. He was interviewed by a Santa Paula Daily Chronicle reporter at that party. When asked about his health by the reporter, Poppy replied, "I feel good, except I have a little trouble with my right leg. If it wasn't for that, I'd get up and dance with you." At most of Poppy's birthdays, he would dance a little jig. I remember him doing it on the steps leading into his home's rear. 

Here are a few more things I remember about Poppy's birthday gatherings that were more like family reunions rather than simple birthdays:  

Poppy had his special chair in the living room of his small clapboard home. It was in the dingy, darkish corner near his radio. He didn't have a television. He relished listening to the Dodger baseball games due to being a loyal fan of theirs for many years. As he listened, he'd chew tobacco. He had an old peanut can sitting on the floor next to him into which he'd spit his chaw. I knew it would be gross lookin'. So, I'd convince my little brother Mitch that we should look into the can. It would turn our stomachs each and every time. It was so bitchin' seein' Mitch get grossed out!!! 

This next memory was not at one of Poppy's birthday gatherings but at our East Aliso Street home in Ojai. It ties in with Poppy chewin' tobaccay.  Mom had a small but heavy brass spittoon in our living room as a decoration. Mitch and I stored a bunch of small toys (marbles, toy soldiers, toy cowboys & Indians, etc.) in it. On one visit, Poppy entered our home and immediately spit his chaw into the spittoon. Those toys never seemed right after that incident! Dad told me Poppy never attended a Dodgers game. Dad had always intended to take Poppy (his grandpa) to one, but he never did so. Dad lamented such. If Dad had taken Poppy to a game, I wonder where Poppy woulda spit his tobacco juice?  

Poppy would set me on his lap and rap with me. At first, my feet couldn't touch the floor. Eventually, I remember sitting on Poppy's lap with my feet on the floor. By that time, Poppy figured I musta had a girlfriend. I didn't because I was still too young. But Poppy would ask me if I had one, then ask, "What do you do with her?" That got me to thinkin' that maybe my great-grandpa was a dirty old man! 

Whatever. He was a cool dude. 

Poppy and his children were from a time when lots of food was prepared from scratch. You know, homemade and delicious beyond compare! At Poppy's birthday gatherings, there was always a big ol' dessert table that was PACKED with his birthday cake, other cakes, cobblers, pies, cookies, fudge, and more and more goodies! I can recall barely being tall enough to see the top of the tables. Man, all those desserts set off my salivary glands somethin' fierce! All homemade stuff. Yummy!!!  

But, before dessert time, we always had a big feast at all the linen-covered tables set under the big ol' shade tree in Poppy's backyard.  Seemed like there musta been twenty tables or better with chairs of all different styles. Like the desserts, the meals were mostly made from fresh fixin's. Most every birthday of Poppy's, a couple of my adult male relatives would show up with crates (wood frames covered in chicken wire) of live chickens. Then, they'd drag the chickens out of the crates by grabbing their necks. While holding the chickens by the necks, they'd swing 'em around in a circle until the heads of the chickens tore loose from their bodies. This was called "wringing the chicken's necks." The headless bodies of the chickens would flop around all over the ground and appall the senses of Mitch and me. We were always asked if we'd like to give it a try. But we city slickers didn't have it in us to do no harm to a chicken. Even though it grossed us out, Mitch and I couldn't look away! It was sorta fascinating in a weird way. Most boys dig that kinda stuff.  Eventually, the lifeless chicken bodies were gathered up, hauled into the kitchen, placed in large pots of hot water with the chicken feet stickin' up above the top lips of the pots, then plucked by the apron-covered ladies bumpin' hips and butts in Poppy's tiny kitchen. That chicken sure was tasty, as long as I didn't think about the preparation of it.  

Usually, while all the old folks were still at the tables feastin', chattin', and doin' whatever adults do, us kids at the birthdays would be the first to leave the tables 'cause we had better stuff to do after polishing off our super-tasty desserts. I was usually the oldest kid, and I wasn't really all that old — just old enough to be the leader of the pack. So, it was me that every year would get the other kids to traipse out to the back of Poppy's long, narrow piece of property where the abandoned chicken coops and other old, dilapidated wooden buildings stood. We were there for a purpose: to look at the pile of chicken heads! It would creep us out!  Yeeeeeeewwwwwwwie!!! But, none of us ever upchucked our fine tastin' meals or homemade-from-scratch fixin's desserts. 

I always looked forward to Poppy's birthday gatherings. Living to a ripe old age is a privilege. Heck, in a few years, maybe folks will be holding birthdays for me because they think it could be my last. Poppy fooled 'em for years. I hope I've got his genes. 

I wanna be a fooler, too!!!   

* Drew can on as much as he likes. — ed.