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LEOTA ULAHLA (ILTIGIRT*) NEELY ‘Otie’ August 24, 1908 - February 18, 1997; 88 years old
- Otie disliked this name and consistently denied even having a second middle name. Trying to discover it became a game for her children.
This is a compilation of three essays written by Otie's two daughters, Muriel Knox Fry, and Barbara Ruth Knox Butcher, and by her son and daughter-in-law, Norman and Barbara Jean Knox.
By Muriel Knox Fry
Grandpa Neely and Miss Anna were "my grands" on that side. As they aged, Miss Anna caused many heart aches for Grandpa. He called Otie often just to talk about these issues. One fast trip for Otie to Gilbert was when Grandpa couldn't find Miss Anna early one morning. They (Otie and Grandpa) found her behind a chicken coop with a kitchen knife. She thought someone was coming after her. Soon after that, Miss Anna was placed in a mental hospital. It was not until her funeral that I found out her name was Miss Anna. I had thought it was Misanna Neely. Grandpa Neely came to stay with us when he was dying. I don't remember the stay as a long time. He died in my bed, as I remember.
Otie and Orval's home was open to any family, so we had many drop-in and overnight visitors. The window seats in the eating area was for storage for blankets. "Have a couple of blankets and some floor space”. Cousin Bill Cornett lived with us before the indoor bathroom was added, I think in 1942. I have no memory of where we all slept. I do remember happy times around the meal table, as he was pleasant to me. (Ed: Bill lived in a small trailer parked in the yard, 1946-1947)
The only story of Otie's birth that I remember had to do with the birth registration. It seems that Grandpa had to go to the county court house to register Otie's birth. That was when they lived at Wastella in Nolan County, Texas, which was some twenty miles from the county seat at Sweetwater. By the time he made the trip a month later, he had forgotten Otie's actual birth date and so it was registered other than August 24. He also gave her three names instead of the two she claimed as an adult. (Ed: The title of this chapter is Otie's name as her children remember her saying what it was, rather than as entered in the bible or other "official" records such as the Texas state census).
One of the grandparents had a sister live with them in Gilbert. I remember Otie telling about this aunt being deaf and sitting in a rocker doing hand work and mending. Leota especially enjoyed her close-in-age brother, "Red". Most of the stories were about the two in activities together. The chance to play sports at school and going places together were some of the stories. One story had Otie joining "older brother" driving more than one car into a dry river bed and getting stuck at night. It was light before they all got home the next morning.
Otie was honored and thrilled when she got to attend the University of Arizona in Tucson, and living some of the years with Fairye who worked in a bank there.
The upright piano we had in our house while we were growing up had been Fairye's during the time Otie was in Tucson. Fairye may have purchased it for Otie as I know she loved to play and sing. I don't know when the piano arrived in Chandler.
Otie and Orval were married in August 1932, and I believe her mother died that spring. Otie was sad her mom was unable to attend that 6:00 a.m. wedding. It seems the main reason Orval gave for marriage was "the postage stamp increased from 2 to 3 cents and we couldn't afford to write letters to and from Wickenburg/Chandler." Otie was teaching high school Spanish in Wickenburg.
When Otie was a small girl, on a rare occasion, she was invited to join the family Saturday trip to town. She might be given a nickel for spending. "Do I get that wonderful soft ice cream cone or the all day sucker?" She didn't say which was her favorite.
By Norman and Barbara Jean Knox
Leota Neely was "Otie" to her own children. The story they have told was that Gladys, Otie's first niece, who as a small child couldn't say Leota, called her Otie. It stuck for everyone from then on. Through her life she was Otie to her children and friends, Aunt Otie to a myriad of nieces and nephews of all ages, and Grandma Otie to her own grandchildren and literally thousands in our church, community, and everywhere she went. She was never Mrs. Knox. She always said, "That was Orval's mother!" Norman remembers calling her "Mother" once, and it embarrassed both of them. Someone asked her one time if it didn't bother her that Norman didn't call her Mama, and she answered, "We both know who his mother is!"
A few years ago people in our church, the Chandler United Methodist Church, where she had been a member since her marriage to Orval, were asked how they decided to join the church. Many answers received were that Otie and Orval were always in the parlor greeting people and making them feel at home, asking them home for lunch, loaning them furniture, touring them around - becoming instant friends, surrogate parents, or family. Both of their funerals were packed with people from everywhere, every walk of life, old, young, known, and unknown to the family. Every person had a story to tell of Otie and Orval's abiding love, friendship, and generosity. They were generous to a fault; Otie would be at someone's house cleaning, cooking food that Orval had gone to the store to buy, and had the washer going. Clothes would appear, maybe not always new, but they were the right size. Their mountain cabin was loaned without hesitation to any friend or church member who called. The key was under the cabin on the backside; "just leave it ready for the next person."
One of Otie's mother's expressions was, "The most important thing is to be neat and clean!" That philosophy was perpetuated in her life and passed along to her children which causes much laughter when one gets rid of something old! Otie admired her mother as a young woman, but greatly so as she matured and truly understood the adversities she had endured in her life. Otie also told about her mother's funeral and how sad they all were. She did her mother's hair rather than the funeral home personnel, and Otie said her mother's beautiful dark auburn hair did not have one gray strand, and she was sixty-four as we remember. Interestingly enough, Otie's auburn hair was only touched by gray in the late years of her life, still having a lot of red at her death at age 88.
Otie didn't acquire these attributes after she married Orval, but was born with them. Being the next to youngest of fifteen children, she was loved, spoiled, and protected by her brothers and sisters, and all told stories about helping Otie do this or that when she was small. She loved them devotedly, was perky and inquisitive following them around and asking questions. Otie truly loved her family. She always marveled at how smart they all were as well as all their children. She'd say, "We never had very much but what was important: God, family, brains, and willingness to work."
She was very bright in school where she was top in her class, loved sports in which she excelled, had a wonderful laugh, was as cute as could be, and was well liked by school principal, teachers, and fellow students. Her brothers and sisters were determined Otie would go to college. Fairye was living in Tucson working in the Valley National Bank at that time. We don't know who actually paid for Otie to go to college; we suspect her brothers pitched in, but Fairye (whose fiance had died and she never married) must have felt like a "Mom" with Otie living with her and going to school. Otie loved the University life where she was an excellent student, involved with campus activities, played field hockey, and joined the Alpha Chi Omega Sorority.
Otie adored Fairye and told such wonderful stories about, this dear, caring, lovely, unselfish woman. Watching her suffer and die of cancer had an impact on the young Otie which lasted all of her life. Otie always said, "When I get cancer, I don't want any treatment. Just let me go." Fortunately she never did get cancer. Fairye was another of the strong-character, strong-willed, focused-on-responsibility Neelys!
She had a lot of fun dating several fellows and got acquainted with a young man from Chandler, Orval Knox, who asked her for a date on a dare from one of his buddies (whom Barbara Ruth thinks was Orval's best friend, Lyle Young, for whom Norman Lyle was named). Orval had seen Otie sing at a University Choir performance and thought her pretty cute. However, since she was from a big family in Gilbert, he assumed she was a Mormon, and this kept the life-long Methodist from asking her out. When he learned she was a hard-shell Baptist, "He decided that was a nut he could crack!" Otie always said, "The first time I laid eyes on him, I knew I wanted him to be the father of my children!" They dated his senior year of 1928-29, and then he moved back to Chandler upon graduation where he started farming land owned by his widowed mother. He drove to Tucson on occasion and saw Otie when she came home.
Otie always loved learning. She was an avid reader all of her life. She said in her mid-seventies, "No day passed when she didn't learn something new, I would be ready to die if I ever had to stop learning." It was no wonder she became a teacher; she loved children and they loved her in return. She taught high school in Wickenburg, Arizona after graduating from the University of Arizona in 1930, teaching Spanish, English, History, and Home Economics. She told stories all of her life about those days. She lived in a boarding house owned by an Italian family where the boarders would all sit down to dinner together, and the tales were many. She and Orval were dating then, and he used to say he had to get married because he couldn't afford the increase from two to three cents postage for all the letters he wrote. They became engaged in the spring of 1932 and were scheduled to be married at 6:00 A.M., delayed to 6:30 because the minister was late, on August 24, 1932, in her parents yard. She carried yellow roses which she loved. Orval and her children knew exactly what flowers to buy her all of her life. Her brothers always teased her about having to get up at 4:00 to have all the chores done and be cleaned up for the wedding.
Otie used to tell about when the family lived in Texas and how often they moved. She hated the moving and never having a home or room she could call her own. Several years ago, she told us how she had just realized why they had to move so often. They were sharecroppers, times were bad, and her dad would not produce enough on the farm so would be told to leave and have to seek out another farm for the next year. They were a big family, and taking care of them had to have been a tremendous undertaking. It was no wonder the older boys only graduated from the eighth grade as they had to go to work to help support the family. The decision to come west must have been because they thought opportunity to earn a living was greater than in West Texas. Some of the boys were already in Arizona when Otie, Red, Dixie, and their dad and mother, loaded into two cars (one being a convertible) to head west. We've seen pictures of that car and scenes on the roadside where they stayed overnight. Otie said it was very cold, and they huddled under blankets in the back seat to keep warm, even in the daytime. She was fourteen and started school as a freshman in Gilbert High School.
After Otie and Orval married, they moved a two room with screened porch wooden house to the site on West Knox Road. There was no foundation, only some pillars, and the house listed to the north and the west. An annual event was trying to pull the house straight - it never was accomplished. It had no running water or plumbing until the late 30s when the bathroom was added in 1942! They lived and slept in the living room. Norman made it a threesome when he was born in November 1933. Muriel's pending arrival in October of 1935 brought the enclosure to the porch and that was then the bedroom for the four of them. Later came the bathroom, dining room, Norman's bedroom, the master bedroom, and the office/laundry room. Muriel remembers Otie's help for three summers in a row when she wanted different colors for her bedroom, two each year and the work painting that tongue in groove paneling! This was home until 1976 when they moved to a new house on the corner of Kent Drive and Orval Circle, built on their farm land which had been subdivided south of Knox Road.
Otie never did go back to her teaching career, but became a full fledged partner in running the farm. At that time, they had cows, chickens, horses and sheep, plus field crops. She and Orval were a team in the fields and with the chores. Times got so bad that no one had any cash, and they bartered with others for their needs of food and supplies. Orval left Otie in charge of the ranch and first went to work for the Salt River Project and then for the newly organized Production Credit Association which the government founded to rescue American farms from all going to the banks. Farmers could borrow low interest money on their crops instead of having to pledge their farms as collateral. This provided cash for the needed things to keep them going.
In spite of the hard times, Otie and Orval always counterbalanced those stories with ones about the wonderful times they had in the thirties which continued on as their children grew up. Many of the young people in their church were their best friends too. They had corn roasts, Halloween parties, desert picnics - their home was always open to all and Otie always said anyone was welcome as long as they didn't mind eating what was in the refrigerator even if it was only bacon and eggs. Muriel remembers Otie's phrase, "If you'll eat what's on the table, your feet are welcome under it." Whenever you walked in their door, she would soon have you at the dining room table with something to eat and/or drink. Lemonade was a staple in her kitchen. She was a great cook and people still talk about Grandma Otie's banana nut bread, chicken and noodles, apple cake, stuffed squash, fried chicken - the list is long and mouthwatering.
Entertaining was a way of life for Otie and Orval all of their life. Muriel especially remembers Otie's willingness to be a partner and assisting with all those elaborate plans she'd dream up and make happen. Otie and Orval were never embarrassed with their home or surroundings and people from all walks of life were welcome and entertained. Congressmen, governors, and college presidents to hired men and the down-and-out were always treated with respect and dignity. None of those people have ever forgotten these attributes, and Otie and Orval's children and grandchildren hear from them when they meet some of these people or their families.
Those early married years saw them doing things with Otie's family members, especially Aunt Edna and Uncle Otto. The four were very close, spending a lot of time together. Norman stayed with them a great deal of the time as a boy in the 30's. Uncle Otto was a wonderful storyteller, keeping the children entertained by the hour. This gift was passed on as he continued the storytelling to his nieces and nephews. Norman, Lyle and Alex were so thrilled when Uncle Otto gave Norman his Porter saddle which now resides inside our house. He also gave them a rifle which was prized by all of them. Norman was so proud when he began leasing Otto's farm operation and later when the family bought it. Otto was pleased that his farm stayed in the family.
Otie and Orval were very active in the church all of their lives. It was truly the foundation of their family. They supported it with their presence, prayers, tithes, and deep-felt spirit. Otie was a teacher of the children when she was young and of adults when the children were grown. The church kitchen was her second home! The farm and their home were ready for any church event from corn roasts, hay rack rides, sunrise breakfasts, MYF parties, Women's Society, Young Adult Parties and dinners - the list is endless. They were hard workers, building, cleaning, painting, serving on administrative committees, and funding the needs of the church. They truly lived their religious beliefs.
Otie endured something all of her young life which affected her greatly; her teeth were mottled with flouride stains. Her youthful pictures seldom showed her smiling so that her teeth would not show. She was so thrilled in the 50s when she had the stains removed. She always said it was one of her most satisfying gifts and was grateful that Orval understood that, encouraging her to get it done. Her pictures afterwards showed it!
Other qualities of Otie which were so endearing and a bit maddening was her penchant for telling you exactly how she felt about something. You might walk into church, she would give you a hug and hello, tell you right out you looked terrible, and asked what was wrong. Upon hearing your story, she would give you another hug, offer to take you home, take care of you, help with finances, keep the kids, get food - then speak sternly with advice on how to solve your problem. Rarely was anyone's feelings hurt, and everyone knew her words were given in love and were true! It's a rare gift, and she was loved by the world even more because of it.
Otie and Orval were great parents, and their children responded to their teaching, making them so very proud. They were super grandparents, and they felt blessed to share the lives of their six grandchildren. Otie's last picture at church was at the baptism of her first great-grandchild, Nicole Ashley Knox, and her last visit to church was her funeral on February 22, 1997. The next day at the same place, the family gathered again for the baptism of her great grandson, Thompson Alexander Knox - a time to live and a time to die, both days were celebrations of God's gifts and Otie's life!
By Barbara Ruth Knox Butcher
I believe that I am at a disadvantage, being the youngest of Otie's children and the third youngest of the Will Neely first cousins. I seemed to have missed out on a lot of the "stories" of the old days that Norman and Muriel remember and the mischief "under the Tempe bridge" that the older Neely cousins seemed to have experienced. Either many of the stories had already been told often enough that Otie thought I knew them, or I wasn't a very good listener, or what I really believe is that Otie lived in the reality of the here and now, and her "stories" only came out in bits and pieces as something current would remind her. I have learned more as an adult at the Neely Family Thanksgiving Reunions with others telling stories. I know that hard work was always a part of Otie's life and a life tenent of the entire Neely family; but when I think of Otie, the hard work is a given.
Otie's Mother: Otie was very close to her mother. She always referred to her as "my mother." It was Ulah's personal strength built on a strong faith that saw the family through many tough times. Otie told me that she remembered seeing her mother cry only once; it was over one of the adult children making a decision that she was afraid would not ultimately make him happy but bring only distress, and there wasn't anything she could do about it. Otie told of her mother's hard work - sewing late into the night after everyone else was in bed. One story I remember Otie telling was that when someone asked her mother if, among "all those children" didn't she
have a favorite. Her answer was, "Yes, it is the one that is farthest away, or is sick or in trouble, or is in need some way." Most of all, my impression is that Otie remembered her mother with abounding joy and love.
Will Henry: Otie always referred to her father as "Will Henry." I don't know that she called him that, but that is the way I remember her speaking about him. Again, my impression from her and my own memory is of a big man - hard working, tough, and perhaps a bit distant. I don't remember a lot of personal interaction with Grandpa Neely, but I do, of course, remember him on his big white horse. I remember visits to his and Miss Anna's house in Gilbert when I was very young. I remember being reluctant to accept the offer of milk and cookies in case I should be considered rude. Of course, I always accepted eventually and had my snack at a three legged table made from a slice of a tree trunk which had been varnished; it still had the bark on it.
Grandpa Neely's funeral was the first I had ever attended. I believe I was in the second grade. I remember sitting in the front row of the church with all the other cousins. With my childish lack of understanding, I remember thinking that it was funny to see grown men with tears in their eyes. I guess I started giggling because one of the cousins covered my mouth with her hand to shut me up. I remember getting really mad because I didn't like being restrained.
The Texas Years: Otie told of taking the lunch "buckets" with biscuits and lard to the fields for the big brothers and her dad for lunch. She told about the challenge of ironing with the old irons heated on the stove. Otie would smile with great pleasure when she told me about lying in the grass looking up at clouds and making up stories about the "figures" that she imagined in the great white puffs. She helped me to find my own stories in the Arizona clouds.
The Move to Arizona: My impression is that the move to Arizona, while cold, was an adventure to Otie. She loved that she and Red, her buddy, drove one of the cars by themselves. Dixie, the baby, had to ride with the parents. Otie must have made the move easily and quickly settled into the new environment because, from what we can see from the yearbooks and pictures, her high school years were happy ones - packed with sports, school activities (I believe that she was on a forensics team - what, Otie being good at talking?), and fun with her family (especially Red and Dixie), and friends - and accomplishments. I have the silver cup that she was awarded her senior year for being the "Best Ail-Around Student." We never knew about that until we "discovered" the trophy packed away in a box.
The Learner: Otie was a life-long learner. She loved her years at the University of Arizona, and she read voraciously all her life, even when she could no longer remember what she had just read. The only time I ever remember seeing a touch of depression in Otie was in her later years when we had accidentally let her driver's license lapse which meant that she had to take the written test. She studied the handbook, but her dementia was already in the beginning stages so she just couldn't get the information that was in her head correctly onto the test form, and she failed the test. She was so depressed that I couldn't even get her up off the couch to go to a doctor's appointment. Her concern was not over being unable to drive, but in her words, "If I can't learn, I'm not worth anything anymore." I cajoled her with all sorts of platitudes, but what finally worked was when I told her that as long as she loved us, she had great value. She replied, "Who says I love you?" and she stuck her tongue out at me. We both had a good laugh. And she did love us - well and good. The care-givers at the care home where she spent her last two years often told us how she would beam when she talked of her children and grandchildren: "Norman ... the oldest, the boy, so like his dad." "Muriel...what a lady!" "Barbara ... well, she's just Barbara."
The Teacher/Mother: Yes, Otie taught high school at Wickenberg until she and Orval married, but she was a teacher all her life; that was part of her being a mother. Of course, she taught Sunday School, but more importantly she taught all of us who knew and loved her simply by living her life the way she did. As I mentioned earlier, she lived in the here and now facing the practicalities of reality as they came to her. She did not spend her time worrying about what might have been or the "why" of something. She just dealt with what came. She could see what needed to be done in most situations and either did it or made arrangements for it to get done whether it was washing dishes after a dinner at the church or helping a child of a farm employee with his reading skills.
Otie did have one regret about not "seeing" a situation and being able to do something about it. It was regarding Muriel as a child. Financially, times were tough, and Otie was so consumed with Norman and his serious asthma that she did not realize that Muriel's shoes were too small for her. Muriel, not wanting to add more concern to the family, just wore the shoes and let her feet hurt, ultimately damaging her feet. But because of hearing that story over the years, I became paranoid that my own children would always have well-fitting shoes. Otie also regretted not "seeing" the stress that the overly-responsible Muriel was carrying until she ended up with bleeding ulcers as a 12-year old. Again, a positive outcome - Muriel is as caring and sensitive to other people and their needs as anyone I know.
I learned so many lessons about living from Otie that I don't know where to begin. I hear her words coming out of my mouth time and time again, but again, they come to me when the situation warrants it. Just recently our daighter Susanne said she was thinking about potty training her little 18-month old Lauren. I told her that Grandma Otie always said that summer time was a good time to begin because you can let a child run around in panties and a shirt and not worry about heavy layers of clothing getting wet.
My mother-daughter "night-before-my-wedding" talk from Otie was simply that Max and I were always welcome home to visit for a couple of weeks, but if we were having an argument, I was not welcome - I was to stay put and work it out. We have been married 35 years so I guess her lesson worked. What she did not teach me was how to have that inevitable argument and then work it out. I don't remmeber ever hearing serious cross words betweem Otie and Daddy or knowing how they "worked it out." After a year of marriage, I teasingly told her that she had failed in that aspect of her job. She thought about it a minute and said that they had been so busy farming, taking care of family, putting food on the table, etc. that they really didn't have time or energy left to have too many disagreements. I also think that they had such great respect for each other and their individual capabilities that they knew they were doing the best they could.
Another lesson I learned from Otie is that our job as parents is to raise capable, responsible, contributing, honorable, and independent adults. I remember when I, the last child, left home for college, someone asked her if she weren't sad to lose her baby. Her words, "Of course, I will miss her, but I would be much sadder if I didn't think she was capable of going." We celebrate our own children having "flown the nest" as capable adults. It is such fun to watch Susanne and Michelle as they mature and establish their own families. It validates Otie's lesson.
As Max and I moved around during his career in the Air Force, Otie never made us feel as if we were depriving her of being near her grandchildren. She let us know that we were doing what we were supposed to be doing the best that we could. She just made our visits "home" special for us and our kids. Now we are trying to do the same for our daughter, Susanne, and Greg, her Air Force husband. We are very glad, though, to have Michelle and her husband, Juan, nearby.
I learned from Otie that Christmas is whenever the family can be together in the spirit of Christmas; it doesn't have to be December 25th. I am forever grateful that Max and I did not have to feel pulled between our families who lived in separate places or go back and forth on a yearly basis - whatever the occasion. In fact, we quickly learned that it was important that our new family have our own traditions, and those that wanted to join us in our home were welcome.
As Otie aged, she did all she could to keep her independence, not for independence sake, but to not be a burden to her children. She was careful when she went for her early morning walks to watch where she stepped so she would not trip on something, fall, and break her hip. She was more concerned about the bother it would be to us to take care of her than what it would mean for her own discomfort.
As she got even older and needed supervision at home and ultimately moved to the care home, she tried very hard to do whatever we asked of her in order to make her care easier for us, and she mostly succeeded. She wanted her "young families" to concentrate our time and energies on our own children.
Even in Otie's dying she taught us dignity. She certainly was not afraid to die. In fact, when she thought she could no longer learn, she was ready then. When the time actually came, she hung onto life with a tenacity that was unbelievable. She hung on several days after she could no longer take fluids, food, or medication. Despite her being ready to die, she loved life.
The Grandmother: Grandma Otie was a "sit-on-the-floor-and-play-blocks" type grandma rather than the "watch-from-the-sofa-and-pat-the-head" type to her six grandchildren, Lyle and Alex Knox, Craig and Keith Fry, and Susanne and Michelle Butcher. Trips to Grandma Otie's house were always fun. Visits to the ranch were great adventures: lots of equipment to discover, a horse to ride, sheep to feed or to see sheared, naturally colored eggs to find (at hired man Joe's house). Otie always made safety the first priority, but beyond that, there was a great deal of freedom, and she was right there with them. She found endless ways to keep them busy whether it was playing ball in the yard or tying a tea towel around necks as aprons and mixing up a batch of cookies in the kitchen.
She loved her role as grandmother. She made the grandchildren's time with her fun. She fixed food that she knew they would like and would eat rather than worrying about making sure they had a balanced meal and fighting with them over eating their vegetables. A cheese crisp and applesauce was about as "balanced" as she got. She figured that their parents could deal with peas, carrots and broccoli. While there was a great deal of freedom and fun, there were still rules, and they were never allowed to misbehave. I'm sure they all received a swat on the behind and a stern word or two.
When Otie and Orval moved to "town" (a couple of blocks away) and the ranch adventures were curtailed, Otie would invite the neighborhood children in to play with Susanne and Michelle. As a result, when we moved back to Chandler, our girls already had friends whom they knew at school.
All six grandchildren participated in Otie's funeral with readings and being pall bearers. It was tough duty, but because of the respect and love that they had for Grandma Otie, it was an honor.
Potpourri:
While Norman always called Otie, "Otie", Muriel says she used it inter-changeably with "Momma" and "Mom" as did I. When I used "Mother." It was usually in teasing or, as an adolescent, was accompanied with rolling eyeballs.
Otie's solution to not feeling well: "When did you last eat?" "Do you need to go to the bathroom?" "Put ice on it."
Otie had strong, strong hands and gave the world's best neck and back rubs. Roger Fry, Muriel's husband, is second best with foot rubs.
Otie was a woman ahead of her time. Long before various relaxation techniques came into vogue, I remember her telling me to tense and then let go of various muscles of my body starting with my toes and ending with my face and head. Usually, I was asleep before I got that far. When I took Lamaze childbirth classes, I remember thinking, "Otie taught me this a long time ago; it just wasn't related to childbirth."
Add to the list of Otie's specialty foods: fudge, apricot sauce (named "Otie Sauce" by Roger), and angel food cake from a box mix but with her secret ingredient (lemon juice instead of water).
Otie claimed that she wasn't an "organization" person - meaning clubs and the like. She said that was Orval's bailiwick. But she was right there in the middle helping us plan, "organize," and execute parties. Muriel had numerous theme parties such as a back-to-school party. I had a Halloween party in the barn and lots of slumber parties.
Otie and Orval were always there supporting activities such as Homecoming floats with trailers, tools, space to build - whatever the need, they met it. Otie was my taxi until I got my driver's license. In high school, I had an early morning class that met before the bus came and always after-school activities.
Someone once said to me how "sweet" Otie was. I laughed and said that was not an adjective I would have ever chosen to describe my mother. I would agree to loving, kind, tough, realistic, wise, caring, vivacious, sassy, energetic, independent, and stubborn - but sweet? Naw! Not Otie.
Otie's Brothers and Sisters
Red was Otie's buddy. They were close in age, he being just a bit more than a year older, and she always spoke of him with great fun. I think they got up to a lot of pranks together. After Norman and Muriel went off to college, I sometimes stayed with Uncle Red and Aunt Ethel when Otie and Orval had to go out of town.
Wastella was Otie's big sister - the one for whom Otie's birthplace had been named, Wastella, Texas. Aunt Wastella and Uncle Roy seemed to live what, to me, semed like an adventure - living in remote places, mining, delivering mail, moving from place to place. Visits to Cherry to see Aunt Wastella and Uncle Roy were a treat. I remember the pounding of the rain on their galvanized tin roof and playing down the lane in their "guest house" that had a "real wood-burning kitchen stove" in it. It made a great playhouse for me. They also had a windmill for water and a garden nearby. Aunt Wastella let me pick things from the garden and re-plant them along the walkway of my playhouse. Wastella died just a few months after Orval did, and Otie spent quite a bit of time at the hospital with her during her last week or so. As Otie put it, "all the other systems in her body were gone, but her strong old heart just wouldn't give up." At one particular moment when Otie was very tired and was willing Wastella to let go, she said she felt Orval's hand on her shoulder giving her support even then.
Otie had a special place in her heart for her little sister, Dixie. Again, they were close in age, Otie being 2 years older. Otie helped take care of her as a baby, played with her as a child, and went to school and college with her. I think Otie always felt protective of her "little sister." Our families often visited back and forth. One particular visit I remember was to their home in Tipton, California. I remember playing with cousin Dixie Lou outside in the dark one night and getting eaten up by mosquitos, but that didn't stop us from having a good time.
Uncle Otto and Aunt Edna lived as close to us as any other family members, and I remember thinking of Uncle Otto as much a grandfather as an uncle. They were often included in Knox Family gatherings, and sometimes it was hard to remember which side of the family they were on. It was all just family. Often on a Sunday evening after supper, we would visit Uncle Otto and Aunt Edna. Uncle Otto and I had a "deal" when I was growing up. I loved it when he would pull me up by the arms so that when I jumped, I would land on his chest, straddling his neck with my legs. He would then flip me over backwards so I would land on my feet. He promised me that he would do that until I was in the eighth grade. He kept his promise, but it nearly killed him because as a chunky 8th grader, I weighed 125 pounds. We all know the story of "Uncle Otto" giving a dollar to any child the first time he or she would call him by that name. My father-in-law, Fred Butcher, thought that was pretty cool. So as a joke one Christmas Eve at Barbara and Norman's house, he got down on his knees and "walked" up to Uncle Otto with his hand out, saying, "Uncle Otto, Uncle Otto." Of course, Uncle Otto gave him the dollar and insisted he keep it. We all had a good laugh. I did get a bit annoyed when I was in high school and overheard two of my classmates talking about "Uncle Otto." I asked them if they were talking about Otto Neely, and they responded they were. I very possessively said, "Well, he really is my uncle, you know."
Uncle Otto was very proud to be a self-made man. Despite his lack of formal education, he was personally, as well as financially, successful. Even though Uncle Otto had certainly made his mark in Arizona and was highly respected for all the work he did in agriculture, the Salt River Project, and local communities, he was a died-in-the-wool Texan at heart. Anything and anyone from Texas was okay in his book.
Of course, we Knox "kids" never knew Fairye, but Otie always spoke of her with great affection and admiration. Otie's closeness to Fairye grew from the years she lived with her in Tucson while Otie attended the University of Arizona. I also believe that Otie's determination that, in her words, "when she got cancer (which she never did), she would not have surgery" came from witnessing Fairye's illness and death.
I always considered Uncle Bud, with his mustache and dapper ways, as the best looking uncle of the lot, and Aunt Velma as the most glamorous Aunt. I loved their visits because they often included piano playing and singing. Uncle Bud's positive response to the question, "How are you doing?" was always, "John Brown, I never felt better in my life," despite all his accidents and health issues. He certainly put life in perspective.
Uncle Clyde and Uncle S.T. both died when I was relatively young so my specific memories of them are not so much personal as they are of larger family gatherings at their homes - as having fun. My memories are more of my Clyde and S.T cousins - as in Joe Bob, the best hugger in the family. I do remember seeing Uncle S.T. at his funeral. There was a little strand of hair in front that was out of place, and it looked very natural.
The Knox family always stopped to visit family whenever we were traveling. I remember visits in Blythe, California to see Uncle Erastus and Aunt Lena, in Redlands, California to see Uncle U.R. and Aunt Reedye, and in Fabens, Texas to see Uncle Grover and Aunt Magabel (in fact, Max and I stopped in Fabens two days after we got married when we were moving to Laredo, Texas) – just to name a few. And the various aunts, uncles, and cousins always seemed to stop at our house when they were on the way to and from wherever. I specifically remember a visit from Uncle Roy and Aunt Elizabeth when they were out from Texas. I thought Aunt Elizabeth was one of the sweetest people I knew. Our daughter Michelle's middle name is Elizabeth – not specifically for Aunt Elizabeth, but she was certainly one of the many "Elizabeths" that I knew and liked when we chose her name.