Grandpa Meyer’s father married twice, about twenty-five years apart, and had two batches of children. Hence, eventually there were uncles and aunts who were younger than their nieces and nephews. His second wife’s maiden name was Hammer. Grandma (Gauger) Meyer’s mother was also married twice. Her second husband was named Scheiffler.

Grandpa’s sister, Minnie, married Grandma’s half-brother Christian Scheiffler. Another sister married a Herzig. Later, Grandpa and Grandma’s son, Albert and his cousin, Fred Scheiffler married sisters named White. As a result, the family tree looked like a bramble bush. Grandma kept in contact with most of the family, and had quite a number of female friends. There were relatives and friends named Meyer, Hammer, Gauger, Herzig, Epply, Fink, Dinger, Lischer, Coburn, Radellie, White, Scheiffler, Walz, Waltz, etc., and I never have been able to sort them all out

Whenever she got together or corresponded with these relatives and friends, they mostly traded stories about everyone’s aches, pains, troubles and bad luck. It all seemed to be bad news. For example, I have a postcard dated 1913 that was carefully saved in a photograph album. It had been mailed from Shattuckville to Rose Meyer in Easthampton with a photo of the Easthampton fire station on it.

The message reads, “Dear Sister. Just a line to let you know that Eugene came and put mother (’s) grave stone up on her grave yesterday. Kate broke her glass eye last Thurs and has been to North Adams since waiting for another one. We expect her back some time this week. Hope you will be up and see us soon. From Katherine.” I know Rose must have been thrilled with the photo of her town’s fire station, and hope Kate finally got her new glass eye.

As we would be out riding along on “the Sunday afternoon buggy ride,” Grandma would suddenly announce that, “If so-and-so knew we were so clost (close), and didn’t stop, they be matt.” Nothing would do but to stop. Usually the people we surprised, were glad to see us, and called in nearby relatives and friends to share the visit. (See above for possible topics of conversation.) Many times, we were invited for supper and the evening. This caused some family tension, as my father normally counted on a Sunday afternoon outing. As a result, there were times when he had to stay up most of the night figuring a large plumbing or heating job that was due the next day, or organizing things for the Monday work schedule.

My father did get revenge a few times when he was able to strategically locate a Whoopee Cushion under a chair cushion where a child was going to sit. Put nicely, when one sat on the cushion, and moved around even slightly, the air would be slowly forced out of the Whoopee Cushion to produce the sound of a person loudly emitting gas rectally. At least once, Pa confessed just as a child was about to be smacked by his mother. Pa and I appreciated the humor of the situation. Grandma was “matt.”

Horse racing was legal in Massachusetts during the 1930s. Grandma, Ma, Pa and I went to the track every so often. Pa would contribute a dollar, and Ma and Grandma would each contribute fifty cents, and they would agree on a two dollar bet.

The bets were always for show (third place) so, if the horse came in first, second or third, they would collect something. Usually, there was no problem in deciding upon a horse, but one day Grandma insisted on a certain horse even though he was a longshot. She claimed that, as the horses came out to the track, he (the horse) looked at her and smiled. At the end of the race, the horses crossed the finish line, and we were unable to pick out Grandma’s smiling horse. Then we looked down the track, and there he was still pounding down the stretch. The term “after last” came to mind. I don’t recall the name of the horse, but I know it was not Seabiscuit.