GREAT-GRANDMA SABENS

She was born Mary Matilda Kelly October 22, 1871 in the small Monroe County, Kentucky community of Sulphur Lick, the oldest of what would ultimately be ten children of Peter Kelly and Rachel Day Kelly. After she married, her mother had two more children. Grandma had helped raise seven siblings and saw to it that her own family was limited to two children. Years later she told my mother how to curtail her own childbearing--”You just sharpen up a goose quill and run that up in there.” Mom shuddered.

Millard Fillmore Sabens first saw Tilda Kelly when she was riding her father's beautiful mare and said, “I am going to have that girl for my wife.” They were married at her home on November 8, 1888, in Nobob, Kentucky, by Baptist minister Reverend Flowers. She had just turned 17 and Grandpa was 18.
Grandma had a limited education—probably only through third or fourth grade. Her letters are full of misspellings, and it's admirable that she wrote family members as often as she did, when she was probably well aware that her spelling and grammar were far from perfect. I only have a couple of letters from Grandpa. He probably had more education, but his letters aren't much better, as to spelling and grammar.

Grandma felt inferior to others around her, but she was always so proud that her father's sister, Elizabeth Kelly Carter, was mother of the respected Judge Carter of Kentucky. As far as family researchers can ascertain, it appears that Peter and Elizabeth Kelly and several of their siblings were the illegitimate offspring of Samuel Marshall and Elvira Kelly, but all of them seemed to have made successful lives and overcame whatever stigma there may have been about being illegitimate.

Grandma was a tiny little thing, but worked like a dog. She had worked hard all her life, being the firstborn. In almost every photo I have of her, she is the shortest adult present. Only her sister-in-law, Sarah Douglas Kelly, appears to have been even shorter. I have a couple of Grandma’s undergarments, both of which she shortened by several inches. Her “drawers” were a real revelation—long underwear with the crotch cut out, so that they didn't have to be lowered to go to the bathroom—just spread open. They preserved modesty and were obviously functional. Recently, I saw a picture in the paper of Queen Victoria’s drawers that had been sold at auction. They looked to be of the same design, only much, much larger.

Grandma’s clothing was always modest. No matter what the prevailing style was when she was photographed, her dresses were long, and she usually wore an apron. She was definitely no slave to fashion.

Grandma, or Tildy, as she was called, was a tough lady. She and Millard were hard-working farmers all their lives, and built a tidy nest egg from nothing. When their firstborn, Milburn, was a baby, they moved to Illinois from Kentucky and lived with an older man. They were in their early 20's. Grandpa did the farm work, and she did the housework for all of them. They didn't stay long, but that may have been the place where Grandma had to cook in the fireplace. Grandma had to carry water from a spring and do other outside chores. When she left the house, she would set the bedpost on Milburn's dress tail (babies wore dresses in those days), so that he wouldn't get into trouble. This wasn’t child abuse, just good parenting.

This would have been about the time the world was suffering from the severe depression that began in 1893. I have to admire Grandma and Grandpa for making a living in those hard times.

They returned home to Kentucky and then, in a covered wagon, went to Indian Territory, along with Peter and Rachel Kelly and their family. There were Day relatives of Rachel Kelly already living in Indian Territory. They stayed there ten months. During that time, Rachel's father, Hughes O. Day, and Tilda’s sister, Laura, died (1896 and 1897). Because H.O. Day didn't want to be buried in Indian Territory, he and his granddaughter were both buried across the river in Burneyville, Oklahoma.

The rest of the family went on to Missouri in 1898, first to Clinton County, where Grandpa worked for Berry Shaver, and then he and Tilda went on to Clay County, where he worked for Asa Thomason on a farm near the farm he bought later, on which they lived most of their life. I think he always remained friends with Asa Thomason.

The couple was finally able to buy their own farm. They bought the “Old Searcy Place,” on the Fishing River. I have a picture of the Sabens and Kelly families out in front of the house, and it is a particularly stark looking two-story house, although another photo shows the barn to be quite a fine-looking structure. In that picture with the house, Milburn looks to be a young man, so he was probably an adult when his parents sold that place and bought their final farm, to the south, in four separate plats. The feeder was located on the “Soper place,” the 40 acres north of the house was the Estes land. I have Joel Estes' original deed, which says eighty acres, and is probably the document that was handed to Grandpa when he bought the land. I also have a photocopy of Joel Turnham's deed for another eighty acres. Both parcels were in Section Ten of Township Fifty-two. The part where Grandma and Grandpa lived had been the Michaelson place. There was another 70 acres where Grandpa later built a house for their son, Milburn, and his wife, Zena.

Milburn and Zena were going to move away to Trenton, MO where he could work for the railroad, but Grandpa built the house for them so they would stay. Milburn died of Bright's disease in his 30's, so it was gratifying that he could be close to his family in the few years he had left. I must be getting old. I never fail to get choked up when I think about this.

Note: I have differing stories about Grandpa's land purchases. There is a picture in my album of a couple named the Davises, noting that Grandpa bought farm and land from them. A cousin, Ray Kelly, said Grandpa bought from Steve and Lee Brasfield and, later, forty acres from Ed Tapp, and that he owned 240 acres at his death. This can all be settled by a Grantor-Grantee search in Clay County, Missouri, and is one of the things on my “to do” list.

Grandpa's farm sold for $39,000, in 1956, after his death. That's about the time my husband and I bought our first home, for about $13,000, in San Diego, CA, so the farm was worth a tidy sum in 1950’s dollars.

Around 1940, Milburn and Zena's daughter, my mom, moved with my dad, brother Reid, and me, back into the house Grandpa had built for Milburn and Zena. Brother Dwain was born there. Mom named him Millard Dwain after Grandpa, who walked the half mile or so every day to our farm to see Dwain. Dwain always cried when he left. Poor Grandpa had his heart broken yet again when we moved from Missouri to California. Makes me choke up again.
Grandma and Grandpa spent most of their lives on the farm I remember visiting often as a child. As farmers, I imagine they were pretty well off. The farm was large, with cultivated fields, a windmill, a barn and other outbuildings, the traditional storm cellar, a smokehouse, and anything else you can imagine on a fully contained and self-sufficient farm. There were hog pens, a chicken house and yard, plus Grandma's vegetable garden. The house was somewhat unusual as it had two front doors. I don't remember ever using the one on the left, as it led into the dark, uninviting living room. Actually, the whole house was pretty dark, but probably no darker than other farmhouses of that time. The door on the right and the back door led into the parts of the house where people actually lived.

On the back of the house was a screened in porch that served as a summer kitchen when the weather was hot. There was a cistern beneath that porch and a pump brought water directly into the kitchen. The yard had been fenced in, and planted in thick Kentucky bluegrass, a beautiful tall, wide-bladed grass, blue-green in color and perfect for grandkids to roll around and play pretend games. Brother Reid remembers looking for Easter eggs and I remember making little towns in the luxuriant growth. Huge deciduous trees shaded the house.

I remember the grape arbor, which was responsible for my lifelong love of Concord grapes. Out in the yard there was also a large old whetstone and a pump. Brother Glenn now has that pump in his backyard.

Grandma was a weaver of beautiful rag carpets, and also made quilts. I can also remember her churning butter down in the cool, dark fruit cellar, and another time, washing clothes outside in a huge black kettle, stirring the wash with a long stick. She and Grandpa always had lots of company on Sundays and she was known for her good Sunday meals. She would hook up old “Rexie,” her buggy horse, and drive to town for groceries, during the week. I have numerous pictures of Rexie, not only with Grandma, but with various other relatives perched atop her.

Grandma was such an industrious worker it's hard to imagine how much she actually did each day. She raised and sheared her own sheep, spun the yarn, dyed it, and wove it into blankets. What I wouldn't give to have her old spinning wheel or loom or one of those blankets. She also wove beautiful rag carpets, and made quilts.

In addition to the milk and cream and meat they sold, Grandma also earned money by selling butter, eggs, and chickens.

I watched her use the cream separator when I was young. She would bring in two buckets of milk at a time from the barn and pour the raw milk into the separator, where it immediately came out of two spouts, one of white milk and one of rich yellow cream. I still don't know how that worked. I can remember drinking warm frothy milk fresh from the cow. Today, I'd gag. One time, as I watched Grandma bringing in two pails of milk, she stopped by a tree and rubbed her back up and down on the rough bark to scratch it. That looked like it felt so good, I'm sure I tried it later.

The products Grandma sold went to her brothers, who owned restaurants in Kansas City. Grandma saved “her” money in coffee cans she kept in the “privy,” hidden by the newspapers and catalogs that were used as toilet paper. Mom said Grandma always became nervous if someone stayed in there too long, and Mom later realized she must have been afraid the money would be found. She was taking a chance hiding her money there, but it was really pretty clever of her. Anyone wanting to rob her would have surely thought the money was in the house. Grandpa and Grandma each raised their own chickens and kept that money separate. Hers were “Buff Orpings” (Buff Orpingtons—known for being good layers and for their abundant tasty meat) and she kept them up near the house, while Grandpa kept his own white Leghorns down at the old feeder where he fed his hogs.

Years later, Grandma and Grandpa were getting too old to farm anymore. Grandma took her butter and egg money to the bank in Kearney where she paid cash for a house she bought in town, on a street called Christian Ridge. That must have been a sight, all those coffee cans full of change! The house was one Grandma had wanted for several years. I have the Real Estate Contract for the house, which gives the price as $1,250.00 and the purchase date as 1942. The house was in Grandma's name, and she must have bought it several years before they actually moved to town. We moved to Kearney into a house directly across the street sometime in 1942 or 1943, but left Missouri in February of 1945, just before the end of World War II. I know Grandma and Grandpa were still on the farm when we left. Pictures dated 1945 show them on the farm and one dated July 4, 1946 is on the porch in Kearney. Another one dated 1951 shows them back at the farm, but it would have had to be just a visit. Grandma and Grandpa still owned the farm when he died.

When Grandma bought the house in town, she and Grandpa must have been so thrilled at the prospect of our living right across the street from them, but that was never to be. Mom said Grandpa cried when she told him we were moving to California. I am sure Grandma wept too.

Grandma and Grandpa's lives were hard and full of so much sadness. Their only son, Milburn, died at 38, and only daughter, my Aunt Myrtle, died of influenza at 22, leaving her baby, Floyd Petty, and a grieving husband. Grandma grieved so much, saying she wished she had taken her feather bed to Myrtle so she could have been warmer. (Myrtle died in January.) Later, Rachel Kelly died in that same feather bed, in bed with Mom's sister, my Aunt Mildred, and she hadn’t even been sick. Grandma Sabens decided then that the feather bed would not have saved Myrtle's life. I can't imagine anything more horrible than outliving your children, and she certainly must have regretted limiting her family to two children. I’m sure there was part of her that felt she was being punished for not having more children.

Despite their hard work and no matter how much they were worth, Grandma and Grandpa were never more than “hired hand class” to much of the town. Mom told me she and Grandma were driving into town once in the buggy, and as they were about to pass by a farmhouse where a woman Grandma knew was out front, Grandma told her to watch what happened as they passed. Sure enough, as they drew even with the house, the woman slowly turned her back on the buggy. That had to hurt, but obviously Grandma had expected it.

Another family story. Grandma and Grandpa's daughter, Myrtle, was being courted by Caleb Petty. His parents didn't want him going out with her, because she wasn't good enough for the elite Petty family. His father told Caleb he would rather have him go to Excelsior Springs and get drunk every Saturday night than date Myrtle Sabens. Caleb responded by doing just that. After a few weeks, his father relented and Myrtle and Caleb dated and married and had my cousin Floyd in the proper amount of time. She died when he was still very small. Caleb's parents must have felt terrible about the way they had acted. I hope they treated her kindly when she married Caleb.

I understand that Aunt Myrtle was a sweet, gentle soul, and she must have taken after her father, because Millard Sabens was probably the kindest, most gentle man I ever knew. I have an obituary for Aunt Myrtle, written by “Aunt Edna Petty,” so it seems the Petty family did come around and learned to love her.

Aunt Myrtle and Uncle Caleb lived just south of Kearney. They could have lived on a farm near Liberty, but Aunt Myrtle wanted to be near her folks. Christmas of 1918, Caleb and Myrtle and young Floyd took the train to see the Petty family. Myrtle was pregnant with a second child. Both Caleb and Myrtle caught the flu, and she died, which was common for pregnant women with the flu. Floyd and Caleb went to live with his parents and two younger brothers.

Caleb later married Gertrude Searcy, a neighbor of Grandma and Grandpa's. Caleb and Gertrude were always kind and thoughtful to Grandma and Grandpa. Floyd spent a lot of his time at Grandma and Grandpa's when he was growing up. He and Mom were close in age and played together much of the time, either at the Sabens farm or at Mom's home. Floyd had a tough life, and got into more than his share of trouble, but I remember how much fun he was, always laughing and joking.

Grandma was more acerbic than Grandpa and had a high, carrying voice that got her message across instantly. When I was young, there was an old actress in black and white movies who reminded me so much of Grandma. She was tiny, and tart, and had that same voice. I never knew the actress’ name, but would recognize her in an instant. Although I was especially crazy about Grandpa (who wasn't?), I don't remember Grandma ever scolding or disciplining me or hurting my feelings in any way. In those days, I don't think grandparents were much for cuddling and cooing over the grandkids, but I always felt welcome at the farm or, later, at the Kearney house.

I remember feeling very self-important when Grandma would have me thread needles for her, because her eyes weren't as good as mine. We kids probably got on her nerves, though. One time she offered Reid and me a nickel if we would sit perfectly still on the front porch for half an hour or so. A fortune! When I stayed all night, Grandma always let me go to sleep with the kerosene lamp turned low, but not off. When I woke up in the morning, the lamp was out, so I knew she had checked on me in the night and turned off the lamp.

I loved Grandma's cold biscuits with butter and sugar, and she even let me drink coffee. I was allowed to pour in all the milk I wanted, but no sugar. Probably explains why I never learned to care much for coffee.

I have the chipped “spooner” that always sat on her kitchen table and held spoons, along with a sugar and creamer that Grandma gave Mom when she got married. Zena, Milburn's wife, had given them to Grandma and Grandpa one Christmas. Mom's note says, “of course I broke [the lip off] the cream pitcher.” Spooners were such a practical idea, along with so many other things that have faded from modern living, like dish towels and “aperns” and rocking chairs. I have a wooden butter mold of Grandma's that was broken and glued back together, and her rolling pin with one end missing. The whole batch would bring about a dollar at a garage sale, but they are treasures to me.

One time Grandma had butchered a chicken and was getting ready to fry it up for dinner for my family. She had cut the chicken open down the middle, and she called me over to show me the channel where the eggs developed. It was fascinating. A row of eggs in graduated sizes lay neatly before me. There was one egg that would have been laid in a day or two, and then each was progressively smaller and more translucent, until the smallest egg was the size and color of one of the beans in a can of pork and beans.

I think the last time we went to see Grandma she still managed to make fried chicken for us. She really was a good cook. She always saved the livers for Dad. Once they let me have a bit of chicken liver. Ugh! Never again! Grandma saved the “pulley bones” for us kids so we could make wishes.

Although Grandma was tough, it was because she had to be. However, Mom said she was subject to flattery and could be swayed by somebody playing on her emotions. I may have the story wrong, but Grandpa's sister and her husband would come and spend the summers with them, with their children, and pretty much mooch off Grandma and Grandpa, but they knew how to flatter Grandma. They were supposedly very religious and the husband did a lot of Bible-thumping, but wasn't much for physical labor. I won't name names, in case I'm wrong. As you can see, much of this article is just gossip!

Grandma must have suffered from low self-esteem all her life. She may have been jealous of her youngest sister, Minerva, who did not have to work as hard as Grandma for her money. From what I remember hearing about Minerva, though, she had her own problems. She was epileptic and also used to get pretty crazy on a regular basis, probably monthly.

Grandma was psychic. Mom said she could tell if a woman was pregnant, sometimes before the woman knew it herself. She also could “wish away warts,” and once rubbed a wart on my thumb, saying, “That'll go away now.” In a few days, it did! I guess she wasn't too psychic, though, as there was a letter from an astrologer in her papers, offering to give her a full life reading for $2.00, or a year's reading for $1.00. Apparently, the price was still a little steep, since she never filled out the form and sent it back to the astrologer. Mom told me Grandma wanted to pass her “gift” on to brother Reid, but guess she couldn't figure out how to do it.

She was superstitious, too, but the only superstition I can remember is when she told me that babies shouldn’t look into a mirror until they’re a year old. Interesting.

She also thought multiple births were offensive. “Just like shelling peas,” she told Mom, who had married a twin! I imagine she related it to animals having litters of young, and perhaps even multiple acts of sex!

She could be cruel on occasion. When our dog, Lady, was young, she wandered down to the farm and got into the henhouse and was “suckin' eggs.” Grandma put her in a gunny sack, beat her with a stick, and then set her loose. Poor Lady went tearing for home. It was an awful thing to do to her, but it guaranteed she'd never go down there again.

When Grandma and Grandpa moved into town, they still had an outdoor privy. People tried to get Grandma to have a bathroom built in, but she thought it was disgusting to have the “shitter” right there inside the house. However, when she finally gave in and had an indoor bathroom installed, she had it put right next to the kitchen! Aunt Mildred told me this story, and we giggled like fools!

Grandma might have seemed to be fighting progress, but Mom said she loved store-bought bread when it became available, and she enjoyed it so much when someone took her and Grandpa to see a Will Rogers movie.

I saw Grandma with her hair down only once. It was in two long, very thin white plaits, which she coiled up at the back of her neck. I was struck by how thin her hair was.

I think that was the same visit when she took me into her bedroom and showed me a device that looked like a rubber suction dart, with black strips of leather attached. She told me she had to wear that because her womb was tipped and it held it in place. I was pretty much appalled, and couldn't help but wonder why she wasn't wearing it instead of letting it sit around on her dresser.

Grandma's letters show her almost unbearable loneliness during her final years. Again and again she talks of being lonesome and home sick. She and Grandpa missed Mom (“Shorty”) so much. Once she said she would love to drop in unannounced when Mom wasn't expecting it.

People did come to see her in the Kearney house, according to her letters, and she reported on their ailments. She kept in touch with her brothers and sisters, but she must have found it hard to fill the long hours, especially after Grandpa died in 1954. They had been married 65 years. He was quite a bit of care toward the last. Her letters reveal that she read both the Liberty and Kearney newspapers, despite not being well educated.

She always worried about Floyd, because he was in trouble with the law so much of the time and I think even served some time in prison. I'm sure she gave him money, but her heart must have grieved so much over that poor little baby who lost his mother so young and who seemed to grow up plagued by trouble. Because he and Mom were so close growing up and played together all the time, Mom was very fond of him. They were like brother and sister. On our trips to Missouri, she always tried to visit him if he was in the area.

She stayed active until her final illness. In a letter written when she was 80, she said it took her the entire summer to make a dress. Her health and letter writing deteriorated, and in her last letter, written in February, 1957, she said she didn't know what she was living for. She died in May.

Grandma's final 45 days were spent in Smithville Hospital, where she died on 27 May 1957, at 85, of a coronary insufficiency and uremia. She had been diagnosed with diabetes six years earlier. Her last day, she said she was hungry for cornbread, and by the time someone cooked the cornbread and took it to her, she was gone.

Funeral services were held at Kearney Baptist Church, where she was a member, although I never remember anything about her going to church or quoting the Bible or acting very “religious.” I doubt she went to church much. Knowing her, I think she would have felt uncomfortable there. She is buried with Grandpa at Mt. Olivet Cemetery in Kearney. Her Will left $100.00 each to Floyd Petty's two children; $250.00 to Charles Riley, her named Executor; $500.00 for services rendered, to Aunt Mildred Walker; and the residue was divided equally among Mom, Aunt Mildred, and Floyd Petty. The house sold for $6,500.00, which made for a pretty good return on her 1942 purchase of $1,250.00. At her death, title on the house went to Mom, Aunt Mildred, and Floyd.

Grandma was a complex person who suffered more than her share of troubles. The happy times in her life came from her interactions with family members. She had dozens of pictures of family members sitting around her house. I feel so fortunate to have fallen heir to those pictures. Though she worked so hard all her life, I’m sure she was happiest when she was busy. There are numerous things I wish I had asked her, so many unanswered questions, but now it’s too late. I was privileged to know her. And here I am, all choked up again.

ANITA CHEEK MILNER, September, 2009.