Chapter Three - One Woman's Journey!

Doris was born in 1940 the third daughter of her parents, Arthur and Sarah Tanner. Donna was their first daughter born in Whippoorwill Hollow in July of 1936. Two years later and a few months, Nina was born in a little house on Lewis Branch. So with Doris' birth, her father was looking and even hoping for a son did not receive having three girls in four years very well. He came in from the field, where the mid wives who had come to attend Sarah during labor and delivery of each baby worked feverishly consoling her as they readied things for the Doctor who would be arriving at any moment for the actual delivery.

Soon after the Doctor arrived, the sound of a crying new born filled the atmosphere.

"Another healthy baby girl, Arthur", Dr. Atkins announced, as he stepped into the next room where Arthur stood twirling his old brown brimmed hat soiled from dirt and sweat. Dressed in his overalls with nothing but a sleevless t-shirt underneath, he managed to look at the Doctor and nodd his head, indicating he had heard. The neighborhood women knew what was next. With unity of purpose they began their job of cleaning up the birthing bed, gently dressing Sarah and urging her to rest.

"Is Sarah all right?" Arthur managed to speak after moments of silence. To which the Doctor answered, "She needs rest, Arthur. Having babies so close together is not giving her body time to rest up for the next labor and delivery. She is strong, but she will need to stay in bed and let someone else take care of things for awhile."

As an afterthought, the country Doctor looked at him and asked, "Are you alright Arthur?"

Arthur was never one for words, so all he uttered for an answer was "yea", as he turned on his heels and left the house. Heading toward the barn, his mixed emotions tumbled out in whispers as a prayer. "Lord, I want to be happy for the new baby, but I sure need a son. I was hoping for a son this time to help me with the farm."

Doris had heard the story, and had taken it to heart much more than she realized. It may have been a story she had no business ever knowing, however she did, so now she had to digest it into a life she was trying to figure out anyway.

Could that be the reason she loved the out doors? Walking in a new plowed field, taking the dog Jack to the pasture beyond the woods that bordered the farm to bring the cows in for milking at the close of day, driving the tractor, or watching from the fence as her father pitched hay to the cattle?

She loved being with him, but he could never seem to respond to her need to hear him address her by name. Somehow, it was comforting to hear her name called by him for any reason. When she did elicit a response, in the form of a question, she tried to follow his lead and answer with intelligence. That is what he wanted from her she felt sure.

“That will make him proud I am a girl”, her cheeks flushed at the very thought of such a thing.

Others her age referred to their father as Father. That did not go over very well with Arthur. He was adamant that his name was not Father.

Just the memory of the day was an indelible mark on her soul. She was in the back seat of the car with Linda and Martha, her two younger sisters. The three of them was getting to ride with Mama and Daddy to check on the corn crop at the Busby place. Along with farming his own 100 acres, he rented land from neighboring farms.

Mother had had him stop at Mrs. Reynolds house so she could return something she had borrowed a few days earlier. No one spoke for a while, which made Doris want to fill in the gap with conversation. From one subject to another she asked questions. Some he answered, others he ignored.

“Father, what do you think about…..?”

Without hesitation, his voice stern and unforgiving, he said, “My name is not Father, young lady. There is only one Father and that is God. Don’t ever call me Father again.”

The silence in the car hung heavy until Sarah opened the door and got in. Between her parents, they continued with small talk conversation that was their usual exchange.

Her will to talk did not come easily the rest of the trip. The lump in her throat was difficult to hold down as it was, and if she opened her mouth much she might cry, and cry was not an emotion she wanted to show him.

Only once, while the car followed the road that ran beside white oak creek as it followed the creek bed around the bluffs , did she say anything. And then it was not meant for anyone to hear.
“That would be a good place to take my life,” she said with a heavy heart.

“What did you say?” her Mother barked from the front seat.

Reluctantly Doris repeated what she had said, wishing she could take it back. “I just said that would be a good place to kill yourself.”

“You must never talk like that! You get thoughts like that out of your head right now!” With the matter settled as far as Sarah was concerned, she turned around to watch the road ahead.

Secretly – Doris was relieved that someone cared. Caring was an understanding in their home. By what one did for you, more than, for what was said. If she ever heard the words “I love you”, she could not remember how it sounded. She learned to read between the lines of what was said, versus what was done.

She had a bed she shared with Donna. Donna would soon be seventeen, the oldest of the five girls and would graduate the next spring. She had food to eat. She had a few dresses and clothes. If that did not prove one was loved, it was just too bad if one required more. She was getting an education. Her Dad had only gone to the third grade, so it was his determination that each of his girls gets a high school education. That should count for something.

She had never had any desire to run away from home. Facing the unknown among strangers was not an idea she entertained. She had learned she had a place; a place where people got along with each other, a place where one could find a place to be alone when the need arose, a place to play, a place to sing, or on occasion a place to cry.