Hoosier Cabinet photo posted by Joan Soude on "We Love Farmhouse!" Facebook Page.
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​My Mother's Hoosier Cabinet
 
Our West Virginia cousin, Tom Wagner, a Lester descendant, suggested that I write a blog about my mother’s Hoosier Cabinet so here goes.
 
I don’t know when, where or how we got the Hoosier Cabinet, but I never remember a time when it was not in our kitchen. After my Grandmother “Frances” Fyffe Skaggs died in 1937, my Grandfather Isaac Skaggs decided to leave his home in Kentucky and move to Ohio, probably hoping to live with one of his children. Our house was small, and he ended up staying with daughter Pauline Gordon in Columbus. While there, he went to movies in the LeVeque Tower. Naturally, living in the city was not his forte, so he went back to Cordell, Kentucky and lived there until he died. However, when he came, he drove a truck to my mother’s house and brought some chests and very possibly the Hoosier Cabinet.
 
Our cabinet was caramel colored wood. The top had four windows with a frosted glass design. The table tray was white with black trim with a cutting board underneath that pulled out. The flour bin was on the left. It had an oval glass so one could see how much flour it contained and a sifter which worked. I think it may have had a sugar jar on the right, but I am not sure. The middle section was a roll top that pulled down and closed. I think my mother kept recipes there. Behind the glass windows, my mother always kept a tea pot, sugar bowl and creamer that belonged to my dad’s mother. They had roses on them and are now considered shabby chic. She also had a gold trimmed round butter dish and lid stored there.  In the middle section, she stored plates on the bottom shelf and glasses and pitcher on the top one.
 
Underneath the table tray, the bottom cabinet had a drawer where we kept kitchen utensils. Below that it had one large storage door on the left with a latch handle. The inside was lined with white painted tin. My mother always kept her groceries such as canned and dry goods there. I know because it was my job to put them away. I believe the right bottom was also lined with tin and was the bread box. There were two drawers above that. My mother kept dish towels and cakes of soap in the middle one and silverware in the top drawer.
 
When my family got running water, which was after I was gone from home, the new sink-cabinet combo was put in its place. One of my nephews requested and received the top part of the cabinet. I don’t know what happened to the bottom part but for years there was a landfill leading to the creek behind some of our houses, so when anyone asks me what happened to the bottom part, I tell them, “It was probably thrown over the hill.” 

I love Hoosier Cabinets because they bring back good memories. Today, I realize the Hoosier Cabinet was the ultimate cabinet to own. It held all of the essentials needed to have an organized and well-run kitchen in the 1940s.

©Marilyn Francis Ferguson 2023
Graphics by Michele Ferguson Schuck

​​The Isaac Skaggs Family Circa 1915-1918
 
My mother fell and broke both of her legs in 2000 and went to live in Pickaway Manor in Circleville, Ohio. My cousin Eleanor Westenhaver Skaggs had a hip replacement and went to the same nursing home. My daughter Michele and I visited my mother every Sunday. Since Eleanor was there too, we visited her as well. Eleanor and her late husband Russell Skaggs (son of mama’s brother Ross) had no children of their own and adopted David and Mary Lou. We often talked with David when we visited there. Though she was younger than my mother, Eleanor did not get well and passed away.
 
We continued to visit my mother and often passed Eleanor’s house on Walnut Creek Pike. One Sunday, when we were going home, we noticed David’s car there while cleaning out Eleanor’s house. We decided to stop and visit for a minute.
 
My sisters Kathleen, Jean and brother Bob had gone on a genealogy trip to descendants of my Uncle Termon and seen a photo belonging to Eleanor of my mother’s family. When Eleanor returned home, she said she couldn’t find the photo and no longer had it. Consequently, I asked David if he knew anything about it. Shockingly enough, he walked in a bedroom and came out with it. Michele and I had never seen it before. I think because he was adopted and the photo was not of his blood relatives, he gave it to us.
 
Michele and I walked out of the house that day in shock and our mouths open in unbelief. We took it to my mother, who said that she thought she was about nine years old in the photo. And what did she say about our good fortune? “I think you’re lucky!” We didn’t think it was luck. We thought it was miraculous. It has been in a fire safe ever since and this is the first time we have published it. Enjoy!

©Marilyn Francis Ferguson 2023
Photography/graphics by Michele Ferguson Schuck

An Evening Out...Way Out!
 
It was January, and in the tropic of Capricorn, the seasons are opposite those in the United States.  School is dismissed in early December and does not reconvene until late February.  It was hot and vacation time; but even so, it was always hard to leave the house.  There were always last-minute decisions to be taken care of before Milford would come out the back door and follow the girls and me up the sidewalk to the carport where our mission cars were parked.  GM had just begun production in Brazil and the mission had purchased a light blue station wagon that had the size and appearance of a pickup truck.  We had already loaded our gear in the station wagon, so it was just a matter of climbing in and going.
 
One of the missionaries had told us we could save five hours of driving time if we went to Iguaçu Falls by dirt road rather than paved highway.  It was dry and sunny; so why not?
 
We bounced down the road, excited to be going to Iguaçu Falls.  They are located at the point where the Paraná and Iguaçu Rivers join the countries of Brazil, Argentina, and Paraguay.  A hairpin shape of twenty-one falls forms a crescendo of churning water and spray called the “Devil’s Throat.”
 
But wait a minute, remember the cloud as big as a man’s hand that Elijah saw?  Well, these clouds were larger than that and they rolled in and it began to sprinkle large, Brazil size raindrops.  Traffic on the road slowed down; then we stopped behind a line of vehicles at the top of the hill.  From that viewpoint, we could see cars and trucks leading to a valley below.  We inched along as it began to get dark.  It lightninged and thundered; then there was a downpour.  We continued to follow the line through the storm down the valley.  As we neared the bottom, we could see a number of cars and trucks stuck in the mud….red mud….which a short time before appeared like face powder now resembled lentil soup.  The Volkswagen “bug” in front of us went through like a dragonfly flitting over the water.  Milford and I decided we should try it too.  Our heavy station wagon was a floundering albatross landing in the first water filled rut. 
 
Milford took off his shoes and socks, rolled up his pant legs and waded out the door.  The back wheel on the driver’s side had lowered the car on that side by eight to ten inches.
 
I checked on the girls in the back.  The two I was concerned about (the oldest and youngest) were stretched out in the tilted rear of the car asleep.  Melinda, who was usually the brave one, sat in the seat behind me saying, “I’m afraid, I want to come up front with you.”
 
Realizing that we were there for the night, Milford got back in the car.  Lightning flashed and thunder boomed as he remembered seeing a structure at the top of the hill to the left of us. He waded out again to find that it was a restaurant.  When he returned, it was with a kettle of beans and rice, sausage, one fork and a candle. Not everyone can enjoy an evening out with a candle lit dinner in their car while stuck in the mud in a rainstorm.
 
Then there is another way to look at this situation.  What do you do when three little girls need to use the bathroom?  Simple!  They put their feet on the running board and held on to mom’s hands.  It worked!
 
When it finally stopped raining, we thought maybe we could get some sleep.  It was then the frogs began to sing.  Brazilians have a song that says frogs sing “quari-quic, quari-quac.”  Not these frogs, they had their own special song that started out in a low tone which ascended the scale building to a climax by singing, “woop, woop, woop, woop,” then descended only to start all over again.  Our annoyance with this symphony was interrupted at midnight when a bus arrived at the top of the hill in front of us.  One was already at the top of the hill behind us.  People emptied both buses, chattering and carrying suitcases and children as they filed along the side of the road, passing one another to the opposite bus, which when loaded, turned around and went back where they came from, thus getting everyone where they needed to go.
 
A young couple with a Jeep were good Samaritans and spent the night hooking a chain onto cars that accompanied us in the mud and pulled them out, one at a time.  About five-thirty in the morning, the Jeep stopped working and the young man started knocking on car and truck windows, asking for a wire to repair it.  As ironic as it was, no one had one.  
 
It was getting light when men started getting out of their cars and trucks to free the vehicles from the trap. For our station wagon, they found some boards along the side of the road (no doubt there for a reason).  While a half dozen muddy handed men pushed our station wagon up; two or three others put the boards underneath our tire.
 
Free at last, we drove to the restaurant and restroom at the top of the hill.  Entering, we passed a lady on an outside porch with a kettle of recently cut-up chicken.  As we headed for the stalls, we noticed the floor was covered with water.  Michele, sitting on a commode yelled, “Hold your feet up, Melinda, there’s some pooh floating by.”  I went to wash my hands.  As I washed them, the water went down the drain and out the drainpipe onto my feet below.  This had been a wet vacation so far in more ways than one!
 
But it was a beautiful day.  We had a typical Brazilian breakfast of “cafe con leite” and “pao,” then bounced on our way.
 
The moral of this story, you ask?  Before we become Christians, we are all traveling a dirt road and sinking in sin.  Thunder booms, lightning crashes and it rains in our lives.  We get into some pretty deep holes sometimes.  It takes good Samaritans who care enough to pray but it takes a Higher Power to use the wood planks of the cross to lift us out of the messes we get into.  Even after we are lifted out, we still struggle not to be overtaken by sin.  Some pretty ugly things float by but we must lift our feet so we won’t be contaminated.  We eat the “Bread of the Word” and bounce down the highway of life.

©Marilyn Francis Ferguson 2008
Photography/graphics by Michele Ferguson Schuck