| STANLEY |
| This story was written by George Grooms |
| "A MAN CALLED MILO" |
| As a small child I was neither brilliant or stupid but just a normal run of the mill boy. I was around the house more than most kids I guess but not enough that most people would notice. I feel like I should tell you this in order to tell you the story about the man. He would come to our place fairly often when I was just a child. Sometimes there was a woman with him but not very often. Mostly he would be by himself. Driving a gray mare he called Maude to a one horse buggy. He would drive up to the fence and get out and come in. My mother was always glad to see him. I guess some of the older boys took care of the mare. I was too small I guess. He was given the best chair in the house and the first thing he did was to inquire about the health of everyone and then when this was all taken care of he would talk about what a bad shape the world was getting into and how the young people were growing up in sin. I didn't agree because I thought I was a pretty good boy and there was nothing as ugly as he talked about in my life or family. After sixty years I still think there is a lot of nice people especially kids in the word. It seems he was always dressed the same, mole skin breeches, usually a flannel shirt, suit coat and vest that had a little white stripe in it and a leather cap. In the winter he wore two buckle overshoes and "felts" he called them. He seemed to be at home here, sometimes he would stay all night and sometimes he would stay two or three days. When he would first get up of a morning my mother would have a cup of hot water ready for him to drink and after this she would mix up raw eggs and milk with a little nutmeg in it for him to drink too. Sometimes if we were out around the barn and he would find a hens nest he would take an egg and make a hole in one end and put it up to his mouth and plop the egg was gone. (Don't try this unless you have a stronger stomach than I do.) One time he came and I got to ride with him in the buggy and he had a pan under the seat with some October peaches in it. The seeds on October peaches are real stingy and don't want to give up the pulp. You can gnaw and suck on one for a long time. They are red so some folks called them Indian peaches. But back to the ride in the buggy. My brother was riding in the seat with him and he was showing him how to hold the lines to drive a horse. I was too small to be taught I guess. He always kept talking about how you could get a front curtain and side curtains for the buggy and then you could go in any kind of weather. He never did get them. My mother said time were pretty hard. The man wasn't very big, but since I've had sixty years to think about that I have figured out why. I've already told you about breakfast so now let me tell you about dinner and supper. He used a common table knife in his left hand and a fork in his right and he would put the knife in his plate and take the fork and rake food upon the knife and then he would take the fork and hold up his moustache up while he put the food in his mouth with the knife. (Try this and see if you don't lose weight.) Time went on and I got bigger and this woman that went with him sometimes passed away (his wife) and the trips to our house got farther and farther apart and then the time came that my mother and me would walk and go across the fields to his house. We would find him sitting in a rocking chair between the fireplace and the door with his feet upon the dresser and the Bible open on his lap. I often wondered if he didn't sometimes go to sleep just as soon as Christ got through feeding the five thousand. My mother always cooked something to take and a plug of Appleplexy tobacco and if she could afford it a whole box. He and my mother would visit. They had a lot of people to talk about that I never saw. Still yet he thought the world was getting in an awful shape and my mother would agree with him though I always doubted she felt as strong about it as he did. About four o'clock we would start to make our way home. My mother would say that she wished that she had more to bring and how good he looked or how bad he looked depending on the time. Time still went on (if you figure out how to stop it please let me know) and the last day of the year word came that my mother should come, which she did. The doctor said there was nothing more he could do. Just before midnight he indicated he wanted my mother to come to the bed, which she did. He said to her, "I'm spotless" and just as the clock started to strike twelve, he gave up the ghost. The next day he was buried. For years his daughter-in-law took care of the grave. As I've said before time went on and she was no longer able to do so. ocassionally I put a flower on it and it always makes me sad to see it without any flowers. If you are ever in the New Salem cemetery (near Couch MO) hunt for the grave of Milo Standley (spelled with a D.) The stone is small but you will find it and when you do stop for a moment and pray for the world. Right or wrong this man would have saved the world if he could have. This man was my Grandfather (spelled with a D.) by George Grooms |
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