AnnaBelle Wicker was born February 25, 1927 in Floyd County, Kentucky. She was the second child, and first daughter, of Edgil & Minnie "Griffith" Wicker. Shortly after her birth, came the Great Flood of 1927. This may have started her love of relocating. As you will find throughout this story, she loved the adventure of moving to new locations, and possessed the spirit to follow it through. I think it may have been heredity. Her father, my Grandpa, carried the gypsy spirit too, always a new dream, always a new endeavor.

Grandma and Grandpa would have fifteen children. Four of these children would not live past the age of three. They lost three daughters and one son. There was Margarette, who had polio, Lavinia, with double pneumonia, and Edgil Junior, he suffered with leukemia. The last little girl was stillborn, the cord wrapped around her tiny neck, she was the last baby Minnie would have. It's a great comfort to know they would all be waiting on Grandma and Grandpa to join them again later.

Mom spoke often of Margarette and Edgil Junior. These two had left the greatest impression on her young mind. Of course, being older, she took care of these children, so her memories were vivid. Margarette was probably around two when she passed away. It was determined at the time that she had polio; therefore she never learned to walk. Mom carried her everywhere. She said if you tried to hold her up to stand, she would scream in pain when there was any weight put upon her little legs. I have one picture of her sitting on a blanket outside; even in the photo you can see her suffering. She spoke of the Sunday morning she returned home from church with the other children to find the house full of people; even her Uncle Doctor was there. Edgil Jr. had taken a turn for the worse. She could still remember him standing in his crib screaming and crying in pain as the blood vessels in his tiny body began to burst. This would be another memory that would never be forgotten, not by her, or her parents. Somehow, life continued after each loss.

The family's life in Kentucky was hectic, to say the least. Mom, and her older brother, Clarence, (nicknamed Bud), learned the meaning of hard work and discipline at a very early age. These two attributes would stay with them for life. This is not to say the other children didn't work, they did, but I know the responsibility that fell on the two oldest children.

The Wicker family was also full of love, fun, and adventure. They were all blessed with a sense of humor, it came directly from Grandpa. He used to tell Grandma they were raising a bunch of rodeo clowns. When I was a child, Grandma and Grandpa's house was my safe place, my favorite place, and the place I always wanted to be. I was lucky enough to be born to AnnaBelle, making it all possible for me.

But now, back to Mom. Her first crush was for one of the Mullins boys. Grandpa called him "warty ear"; he had famous nicknames for a lot of people over the years. Although this was an embarrassment for her, Mom said he did have warts on his ears. One thing that would not be tolerated was Mom having anything to do with a boy, so I guess the warts were the least of her worries.

AnnaBelle had a temper; it was well known to Bud (Clarence), and her younger brother, Ray. They both carried scars brought about by their sister. Bud carries his on his back, a victim of hot grease. Though his sister always regretted it, it didn't ease the pain at the time. She said it was just a reflex. She was about thirteen years old at the time, standing at the stove frying bacon for breakfast. They always had a big breakfast. Bud came into the kitchen from working in the fields, took off his shirt and washed up. He made the mistake of taking a piece of fried bacon that was cooling on a platter, when he turned to walk away she flipped a spoon of hot bacon grease on his back. Reflex? Sure, it was a reflex. It was the reflex of her "Wicker temper".

The "accident" that befell Ray came about when they were clearing a field of the rocks that could damage the plow blades. She said he just kept goofing off, teasing her, and generally being the nuisance he was well known to be. She finally snapped, he took off running to get away from her. She said that before she even had time to think, she threw a rock at him. For the one and only time in her life, the rock found its target, the back of his head. It seems he dropped like the rock that hit him. She thought she had killed him, so she ran up into the hills to hide, knowing her Daddy was going to kill her. They both lived. AnnaBelle tried to control her "reflexes", and the boy's tried to never turn their back on her.

Ray was the one child that would do anything on a dare, and almost anything without one. His uncles called him "Tut". The stories of his pranks followed him throughout his life. There was the time that his mother told him to go out and get that old hen off her nest. It seems she wouldn't quit sitting on her nest, not surprising, she was a "setting hen". But the eggs were to eat, not hatch. Ray not only got her off the nest, he poured gasoline on her, and set her on fire. She ran under the front porch of the house, flames and all, and came close to burning the place down. Through all the screaming and panic, they managed to get her from under the house, and put out the fire. It was a miracle, but the hen lived, never had another feather, but she lived. She also never sat on a nest again. So in his mind, Ray had done his job. In his mother's mind, he was lucky to be alive. His uncle once had a hunting dog that had a litter of pups. After they were weaned, he told Ray to get rid of them. I'm pretty sure he meant to find them a home. But Ray put them in a barrel, then rolled them down a hill. Unfortunately, the barrel hit a tree and killed all the puppies. This project didn't end well, for Ray or the puppies. But again, he felt he did as he was told. Try as he might, Edgil could never beat common sense into Ray. At least that's what he thought at the time. Ray would end up serving in the Air Force, owning his own business, and being a son that took care of his parents later in life. But he never lost that little boy charm, it carried him through life.

AnnaBelle loved school, something that was almost unheard of. She ended up missing a lot of days due to work at the house. She was a fast learner, and her lessons stayed with her, you would never have known her education was limited to the seventh grade. She loved math, this would thankfully stay with her. She would need it for almost every venture she worked at in the future.

AnnaBelle was fourteen years old when they moved from Kentucky to Indiana in 1941. Her Grandfather Wicker had passed away that year. Before he died, he made his youngest son, Edgil, promise that he would take his growing family and move away from the hills of Kentucky. The coal mines were the only future left for his young grandsons, not much to look forward to. Mom used to speak of Hazzard, Kentucky, I guess we know why.

Even though the Wicker family had been fairly well off, and pillars in the community, Grandpa found himself in the mines. There seemed to be no other way to support his large family. He lost part of his second finger on his left hand in an accident at the coal mine, the dangers there were astronomical. He wanted something better for his sons.

Soon after the beginning of WW II the Kingsbury Munitions Plant was opened at LaPorte, Indiana. There, they produced shells, cartridges, and mortar rounds for the war. It was one of the largest munitions plants in the world. The place was huge, at one point they had 20,000 employees. This would be the new destination for the Wicker family. For AnnaBelle, this would be one of the best moves of her young life. Even though at the time, she didn't see the importance of leaving the hills of Kentucky behind. It was heartbreaking to leave the security of family and friends, only to move to what seemed like a flat, foreign land.

Before moving his family, Edgil made the first trip to Indiana by himself. He was determined to find work, and a place to bring his growing family. He ended staying with other family members who had already made the move. He found a job at Kingsbury. After three months of hard work and saving his money he was ready for his family to join him, he had rented a home for them not far from LaPorte, at Medaryville, Indiana..

The trip north to Indiana proved to be quite a chore. AnnaBelle and Bud helped their Mother with the burden of packing, and running after their six little siblings. When they left Kentucky, they drove straight through to LaPorte. It was early 1942, still winter, and very cold. AnnaBelle was lucky enough to sit in the front cab of the truck with her Mother and help with the baby. The other seven children were in the back of the canvas covered truck. They had lined the walls of the vehicle with the mattresses, more for warmth than comfort. The trip was uneventful but for one little error on the part of Ray, not a shock to anyone who knew him. They had what was called a "slop jar" in the back of the truck for the kids to "relieve themselves". At one point, the odor was becoming unbearable. Ray decided to empty it, opening the canvas flap on the back of the truck and dumping out the contents. Unfortunately, they were coming around the circle in downtown Indianapolis at the time. The only thing that saved them was that they were still in the darkness of early morning, no one else was out and about. The first arrivals that day were in for a rude awakening, really rude.

They finally arrived in Medaryville, no worse for wear. They settled in their new home, a nice house with a park across the street for the kids to play. Life was much better for them all. Bud joined the Navy when he was seventeen in the early months of 1942. AnnaBelle started working at the Kingsbury plant, along with her father, shortly after her brother went to war. Her age didn't seem to matter, they needed workers. She wore the white coveralls like everyone else, and worked long, hard hours. The pay was good, and the family always needed the extra money.

Shortly before Bud joined the Navy, he decided he would teach AnnaBelle how to drive the family car. He took her down the road, away from the house. She drove a short distance, and didn't do too badly, it was going well. He told her to drive back to the house and they would show their father that she could handle the car. As she turned slowly into the driveway about six of her young siblings jumped on the car. They were on the hood, the running boards, hanging on the doors, they seemed to be everywhere. For some unknown reason, AnnaBelle panicked, her foot pressed down hard on the gas, instead of the brake. The car accelerated, hit the house, and children flew in every direction. I guess they showed their Dad, unfortunately, it wasn't what he wanted to see. On the up side, not one of the "little fools" was seriously hurt. On the down side, AnnaBelle's confidence took a beating, she swore she would never drive again.

AnnaBelle was raised in a good, clean home. Her mother taught her the importance of cleanliness, and the ability to cook for a large family. Minnie and Edgil both worked very hard to support and care for their large family. I think they were wonderful. They would end up raising eleven children. In order of birth they were: Clarence, AnnaBelle, Raymond, Martha, Donald, James, Linda, Annis Lee, Harold, Douglas, and Janet.

I know in my heart that the Grandpa I knew and loved was not the father the older children knew and loved. I've been told he was a strict disciplinarian, not afraid to use his belt when he felt it was necessary. He never once raised his voice or his hand to me. Now, Grandma on the other hand, could wield a wicked switch. One she would make you pick yourself from the various bushes in the yard. God forbid you bring back something that wasn't big enough to really sting. The one thing you didn't want was Grandma picking the switch. As I look back, how she kept her sanity with all of us is beyond me. As a child and teenager, I never realized the extra burden of work my sister and I added to Grandma's life, I only knew I wanted to be with them. I will forever be grateful for the generosity and love of my Grandparents.

Grandpa was a story teller (he should have been the writer). When I was little, I hung on his every word. That never really changed, the stories did, but not the hanging on. I must have been around four years old, and staying with my Grandparents in Lowell, when he told me the story about the old lady in Kentucky that was missing one of her thumbs. We were raised during the era of the "outhouse". I hated that strange little building, and would put off going there as long as possible. It was not only scary, but in the spring and summer, it housed spiders, wasps, and God knows what else. To add to my fear, Grandpa told me that when I went #2, I had to be sure and not get any poop on me when I wiped myself. He said there was no way to get it off your hands, no amount of soap would clean it. (I know it's gross, but please bear with me. There is just no other way to effectively say it.) Anyway, he said there was this old lady that got some on her thumb, and they had to cut it off. Then he held up the stump of his middle finger on his left hand. (The one he actually lost in the coal mines.) He explained to me in detail how that finger was sacrificed because he failed to take the time to wipe properly. I was terrified. I wouldn't go until my eyes were crossing and I couldn't walk upright. It was bad, really bad. But worse than bad was that he never told me any different. No, it's not good English, but it works for me.

The best part of that story was something I found out years later, on one of my visits to Florida. My Uncle Jim relayed this to me about ten years ago when Mom and I went to his house for supper at St. Pete. He said that one thing he remembered about my stepdad, Stovall, was that he constantly "bitched" about the amount of toilet paper that we used. He couldn't understand how two little girls could go through so many rolls in one week. That brought about the first time I told anyone, including Mom, about the #2, the old lady, her lost thumb, Grandpa's partly missing digit, and the story he told me. They laughed for hours that night, reliving Grandpa's stories. Mom did say that would explain my stomach problems, and the reason for the weekly castor oil. God, I hated that stuff. She would wait until I was in the bathtub, trapped, with no way to escape. Here she came with that ugly bottle and the nasty tasting stuff it held, I had to take it.

One of Grandpa's cutest quotes was about a street in Wayland, Kentucky. It was named Push & Plum Street. If you pushed your head out the window, you were plum out of town. And the story about the family at dinner with the last pork chop. He said there were fourteen children in the family, they were all seated at the dinner table. There was only one pork chop left on the platter. Just as the old man reached for it, the lights went out. When they came back on, he had fourteen forks stuck in his hand. Come on, that's funny stuff.

AnnaBelle met Don Bollan in 1945. At least she would know him as Don. This was not his real name, but later she would learn why he felt the need to use an alias, and that his given name was David Otto. It wouldn't be in time to save their marriage, it would, however, be part of the reason it ended. She was working at the restaurant that my grandparents leased and operated at the time. She was always an excellent cook, and obviously a good waitress. He was a truck driver, stopped at the restaurant often, and fell in love with Mom. I'm not sure how my grandparents felt about the blossoming romance. He was nine years her junior, had been married, with three children, and was now divorced. The divorced part turned out to be a lie, the marriage and three children part, very true. But, she was eighteen, and he was quite the talker.

Everyone liked Don, he played the guitar, he sang, he liked to party at times, and he was full of charisma. Being tall and good looking didn't hurt either. He was well over six feet tall, she was five foot, and they both had blue eyes. AnnaBelle was beautiful in her own right. She had inherited her smile and black curly hair from her father and the Wicker family.