STORIES: Steve Hayes

 • Steve Hayes tells this story about his mama Maggie Hayes •

    You know, my mama was a very kind, gentle person, and was also very religious. She really knew her Bible and on Sundays, she and all the children would walk to Bethel Church, going up the railroad tracks to the Stouts Crossing. The kids always carried their shoes and would put them on just before they got to the Church.
    One day, we came home from church, and after lunch, we were sitting on the swing on the front porch. She asked me to go and get her a toothbrush off a tree that was in the yard. (This happened later, when I was a grown man). People back then would break a twig off of a special tree, called a "toothbrush tree" and chew the end of the twig until it was soft and frayed on the end. Mama would dip the twig into her Navy Snuff box and chew the twig toothbrush.
    While we were sitting there, I asked her, "Mama, what would you do if you saw the Lord coming down the road?"
    She looked at me as she grinned and thoughtfully replied. "Why Steve, I'd jump up from here and go in the house and wash my mouth out!"

Steve and Margie's Daughter, Linda Hayes Taylor wrote:

• Memories of Growing Up in the Home Place •

     
     Fred and Maggie Hayes had ten children with a span of 25 years between the oldest and the youngest child. I was born in 1950, one year after Grandpa Hayes died. My childhood spent growing up in the Hayes Home Place, was an experience that I will cherish forever. Grandma Hayes (Maggie) was a great woman respected and loved by all. She shared herself and her love of people with everyone who visited, but I was lucky to live there and spend many days at her feet listening to her words of wisdom, humor and life stories.

     Fred and Maggie’s youngest son, Steve Weldon Hayes, is my father. He has and will forever have a special place in my heart. He has a unique gift of making all three of his children—Cathy, Susie and myself—feel and believe that each of us is special, unique and possess of the ability to be anything we want to be. Therefore, since we are the "apples of his eye", how could we be anything other than what he taught us to believe we were?
     Daddy accepted—and I like to think chose—to dedicate his life to raising his three daughters to the best of his ability. He spent time taking us on vacations, mostly visiting our "Hayes Relatives," telling us funny stories and jokes, and sharing time to laugh. I grew up listening to these stories and somewhere along the way I realized that they were a heritage of the ‘Hayes’ Family.

     This past Father's Day, I told a story about my father and his Papa that I heard many times as a child and as an adult. It was then that I realized the meaning of family roots, and that while the spoken word leaves a legacy, the written word is the instrument to pass on these stories to those who may want to follow their roots back into their past. Here is the story about my dad Steve:

     Steve was the youngest boy and the baby in his family. He, along with the brothers and sisters still at home, shared the work, labor and fruits of living on a small farm. There were daily chores for each child to perform and Papa expected them to be done every day.
     Papa Hayes was known as a strong disciplinarian, fair, honest, responsible, hard working, sober and very serious. One neighbor claimed that Papa's personality was only tolerable because of Maggie's loving words and acts of kindness. His children respected, and yes, at times, feared him. Even so, Steve loved spending carefree fun-filled days playing with cousins, brothers and sisters, and friends. 

     One such an afternoon, while Steve was playing in the front yard of the Hayes home, Mama came to the screen door on the front porch and yelled, "Steve, it's time for you to feed the hogs. That's your job, Papa will be home soon."
     Steve replied, "Yes Mama, I’ll do it in jus’a little bit."
     Time passed and again, Mama came to the front door, opened it, and called, "Steve, you better feed those hogs, it'll be dark soon and your Papa will be coming home soon."
     Steve again answered, "OK Mama, I’ll feed them hogs in a minute."
     Steve was having a good time playing and he just could not leave right then, mostly because he didn't want to shuck the five gallon bucket of corn and carry it out to the hog pen. The old corn crib was hot inside; he meant to play as long as he could and then he’d feed those old hogs just before Papa got home. Mama came to the door a third time and asked Steve to feed the hogs and again he said, "I will in jus’a little bit.” Before you knew it, it was dark, supper was on the table and the children were called in to eat.  Papa was home.

      At the supper table, each evening, Papa always asked everybody if they had finished their chores. Everyone sat at the big pine table that Papa had built himself. Papa would sit at one end of the table and Mama sat at the other. During the meal, Papa started looking around the table to each child and asking if they had completed their chores. This evening each child was asked, and each one answered, "Yes, Papa." When Papa's eyes rested on Steve, he asked, "Steve, did you feed the hogs?" Steve's eyes swelled up with tears and a lump came in his throat preventing him from answering; but with big tears running down his face, it was obvious he had not.
     Papa’s stern face showed his displeasure and he said, "Steve, you'll feed them hogs as soon as you finish supper." Steve's mind raced with disbelief—this can’t be.  It was totally dark outside. There were no lights in the corn crib and what if he put his hand on a rat or stepped on a big snake? Why just the other day, he and Frank had seen a big snake in there lying up on the dried corn waiting to catch a rat.  Besides, those old hogs could go one night without any corn. He could feed them first thing in the morning. His thoughts came to a screeching halt, when he glanced at Papa.  Steve saw the stern look on his face and a possible butt whippin' for neglecting his chores.

     As soon as Steve finished eating, he looked up from his plate and Papa said to him, "Go on now, and feed those hogs." Steve left the big table, and slowly walked to the back door. He opened up the door and stepped in to the vast darkness of the night. Remember, this was a time before electricity was available to farm homes. Man, was it ever dark, Steve couldn't even see his hand in front of his face. There was no moon out and only a sprinkling of stars overhead.
     As his footsteps led him down the worn, familiar path to the corn crib, his heart was pounding in his chest. He felt for the latch on the door, swung it open and reached in for the bucket in the corn crib. Now it takes quite a bit of time for a five or six year old boy to shuck enough corn to fill a five gallon bucket, while sitting the total darkness, picking up one ear of corn at a time, shucking the husks off, throwing the corn in the bucket. Each time Steve reached into the dark corn crib without knowing what his hand would find next. Time seemed to stand still, but somehow the bucket got filled.
     As soon as Steve closed and latched the corn crib door, he grabbed up the bucket, ran to the fence where the hogs were, and slung bucket and corn as hard as he could. The hogs were squealing and grunting in the darkness, and Steve was running as fast as his bare feet could carry him back to the house. He jerked the back door open, his feet barely touching the steps as he landed in the kitchen. He had never been so scared in his whole life. No one spoke a word to Steve that evening before he went to bed.
     Steve learned a valuable lesson that night and whenever Mama told him to him to feed the hogs, you better believe he stopped what he was doing right then and there and did his chore. It was one thing to face the wrath of Papa, but another to face the darkness and unknown of night. 

     Years passed and Steve grew to be a young man. Papa and Mama grew older. Papa had gotten sick with an illness that caused a paralysis of his throat, robbing him of the ability to swallow food. Mama, Steve, Frank and others learned to feed Papa through a tube inserted down his throat into his stomach. As time passed, it became obvious that Papa was approaching death.
     Toward the last, Steve and Frank took turns sitting up with Papa.  One night Steve asked, "Papa, do you remember that time you made me feed those hogs in the dark of night, when I was only a little boy?"
     Papa answered, "Yes."
     Steve said, "Boy, was I ever scared. You know, to this day, I'm still scared of the dark."
     Papa smiled, and said, "Steve, you shouldn’t have been scared. I was standing just around the corner of the corn crib. I was with you all along while you were shucking that corn."
     There were moments of silence, then Papa smiled and said, "You were a sight when you threw that bucket of corn over the hog fence, and you flew all the way to the house."
      Steve was stunned and didn't know what to say. Papa paused and then he said, "Steve, you know I love you.  I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you.”

     Each time this story comes to mind or whenever I tell it just as my Daddy used to do, tears come to my eyes.  A love grows in my heart knowing that my family embraces the same covenant of unconditional love which is given freely by our Heavenly Father. It gives me great pleasure to be a part of the Hayes Family Heritage.  May Each and Everyone of us continue to share the Blessings and Love of this Wonderful Family.

 Linda Hayes Taylor July 09, 1995