Mandy wanted to know about what my childhood in Cle Elum was like.
It wasn't easy. One morning I slept in a little bit later than normal, and the cows went by the house dangling their bells and waking me up. I ended up nodding off again until the kids woke me up and said "Hey Norman! Get up! We're having fun!" The 'fun' was going out in the field and lighting matches and throwing it into the dry weeks and catching part of the fields on fire. We thought we were doing the folks a favor by clearing the field. When I say 'we', I wasn't actually involved in making that decision - I was still in bed. When I woke up and went out the field, the ditch rider came by and saw the field. He got a sack wet and doused the fire which was just a small circle at the time, and sorely reprimanded us (gave us hell!). So, the decision was made by John and Ella to go to the other part of the field up near the woods and pasture to do the same. There was a clump of elderberry bushes that had been chopped off from the last time we did hay, and there were new shoots coming up. The leaves were succulent and it attracted almost like a beehive of ladybugs. It was covered - almost all red-orange. Ella and John decided 'This can't be good.' They sent Donald, our youngest brother, down to the garage to get some gasoline. He found a bean can and filled it to the brim. It was taking him a long time and the patience of John and Ella was wearing thin - they were hollering at Donald to hurry up. They sent me down to pick up the gasoline and bring it up in a hurry. When I met Donald I said, "Give me that can!" and he said, "No!" and I reached for the can and it was full of gasoline. It spilled over onto my pant leg and my feet. Since we were burning weeds in the field and I had a pocket full of matches, when I lit a match and threw it on the ground my leg went up in flame. I ran in circles, which was the worst thing I could do as it fanned the flames. Ella and John ran down to do what they could to douse the flames. Ella was wearing one of my dad's old suit coats, which was about six inches longer than her arms, and they served as a flail. Ella flailed to stop the flames. I had baseball sized blisters on my legs and had burned through my shoes down to my toes. Ella and John made a chair out of their arms and carried me down to the house and put me on the front porch. We had running water, so this must have been after 1929. The folks had gone to Roslyn to take my mother to the doctor, so they weren't around. They made me as comfortable as they could on the front porch, which offered some shade. The sprinkled the area with water to make it cool so I would stop crying - it was so painful. Ella ran about a mile to the neighbors, as we didn't have a telephone, and told them to call the doctor. All this time, my folks were in Roslyn with the doctor. I don't know if we ever paid that doctor. He took scissors and cut the blisters and did whatever he had to do and said I needed to come to the doctors office. For some reason or another, I was put in the hands of another doctor, whose name escapes me right now. His treatment was to paint that whole wound with hot wax. I was screaming with pain. The threat was gangrene or amputation. I went back for several treatments until we had to stop going. Mom used some sort of ointment on the wound, which scabbed over and left scars. The most burned spot left a thicker scar and now I have shiny skin with no pores and very little sensation. But at least I didn't have to face an amputation.
I made mention of this when I was getting a physical for the Army, hoping that they would realize that I might not be able to march like they hoped me to. They didn't, and I did.
I continued doing farm chores, pitching hay or whatever was required of me. This all happened when I was in the third grade, in 1929 (also the year my sister Ann was born, so the trip to Roslyn was probably to see the doctor for Ann's sake). I missed about three months of school, in addition to the rest of my summer, but was still able to make the next grade. It took eighteen months for the wounds to finally close and heal. The salve was a mustard color, and the worst part was that my socks would stick to the open sore.
I was considered to be accident prone. I had a lot of mishaps. I always got sick before anyone else in the family did. I took a lot of abuse, with people thinking I caught diseases and brought them home. It might not have been true, but a guy feels put out.
It wasn't easy. One morning I slept in a little bit later than normal, and the cows went by the house dangling their bells and waking me up. I ended up nodding off again until the kids woke me up and said "Hey Norman! Get up! We're having fun!" The 'fun' was going out in the field and lighting matches and throwing it into the dry weeks and catching part of the fields on fire. We thought we were doing the folks a favor by clearing the field. When I say 'we', I wasn't actually involved in making that decision - I was still in bed. When I woke up and went out the field, the ditch rider came by and saw the field. He got a sack wet and doused the fire which was just a small circle at the time, and sorely reprimanded us (gave us hell!). So, the decision was made by John and Ella to go to the other part of the field up near the woods and pasture to do the same. There was a clump of elderberry bushes that had been chopped off from the last time we did hay, and there were new shoots coming up. The leaves were succulent and it attracted almost like a beehive of ladybugs. It was covered - almost all red-orange. Ella and John decided 'This can't be good.' They sent Donald, our youngest brother, down to the garage to get some gasoline. He found a bean can and filled it to the brim. It was taking him a long time and the patience of John and Ella was wearing thin - they were hollering at Donald to hurry up. They sent me down to pick up the gasoline and bring it up in a hurry. When I met Donald I said, "Give me that can!" and he said, "No!" and I reached for the can and it was full of gasoline. It spilled over onto my pant leg and my feet. Since we were burning weeds in the field and I had a pocket full of matches, when I lit a match and threw it on the ground my leg went up in flame. I ran in circles, which was the worst thing I could do as it fanned the flames. Ella and John ran down to do what they could to douse the flames. Ella was wearing one of my dad's old suit coats, which was about six inches longer than her arms, and they served as a flail. Ella flailed to stop the flames. I had baseball sized blisters on my legs and had burned through my shoes down to my toes. Ella and John made a chair out of their arms and carried me down to the house and put me on the front porch. We had running water, so this must have been after 1929. The folks had gone to Roslyn to take my mother to the doctor, so they weren't around. They made me as comfortable as they could on the front porch, which offered some shade. The sprinkled the area with water to make it cool so I would stop crying - it was so painful. Ella ran about a mile to the neighbors, as we didn't have a telephone, and told them to call the doctor. All this time, my folks were in Roslyn with the doctor. I don't know if we ever paid that doctor. He took scissors and cut the blisters and did whatever he had to do and said I needed to come to the doctors office. For some reason or another, I was put in the hands of another doctor, whose name escapes me right now. His treatment was to paint that whole wound with hot wax. I was screaming with pain. The threat was gangrene or amputation. I went back for several treatments until we had to stop going. Mom used some sort of ointment on the wound, which scabbed over and left scars. The most burned spot left a thicker scar and now I have shiny skin with no pores and very little sensation. But at least I didn't have to face an amputation.
I made mention of this when I was getting a physical for the Army, hoping that they would realize that I might not be able to march like they hoped me to. They didn't, and I did.
I continued doing farm chores, pitching hay or whatever was required of me. This all happened when I was in the third grade, in 1929 (also the year my sister Ann was born, so the trip to Roslyn was probably to see the doctor for Ann's sake). I missed about three months of school, in addition to the rest of my summer, but was still able to make the next grade. It took eighteen months for the wounds to finally close and heal. The salve was a mustard color, and the worst part was that my socks would stick to the open sore.
I was considered to be accident prone. I had a lot of mishaps. I always got sick before anyone else in the family did. I took a lot of abuse, with people thinking I caught diseases and brought them home. It might not have been true, but a guy feels put out.
The photo above is of the Mohar kids around 1930.
From L to R: Donald, Norman, John, Ella and Ann
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