Voices of Spencer Creek Valley
Lois Barton is an 82 year old mother of eight children. She has lived on the same
rural acreage just south of Eugene, Oregon for more than 48 years. All their children
learned to milk, to keep the woodboxes filled, to do their share of household and
garden chores. Her first book, Spencer Butte Pioneers, was published in 1982
when her youngest started to school. Since then she wrote five other books: Daughter
of the Soil, now out of print; One Woman's West; A Quaker Promise Kept;
and Through My Window, autobiographical sketches, sequel to Daughter Of
the Soil.. Through the years Lois has been a 4H leader, president of the neighborhood
association, a precinct committe woman, election board clerk, editor of the Lane
County Historian, and a life long Quaker. She spent a month in Southeast Asia in
1974 as a member of a church peace mission, after working
for ten years as director of the Eugene Chapter of the World Without War Council.
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CHARLOTTE'S OVERDOSE
By Lois Barton
Charlotte got an overdose on Saturday. It was past 8:00 p.m. when we discovered
what bad shape she was in. You know how hard it is to find a doctor at that time
on Saturday night, even when it is a matter of life and death.
At least Charlotte thought it was. Her overdose symptoms apparently registered in
her ruminant mind as labor pains, and she kept hunting out secluded spots where she
hoped to be able to give full attention to the birth.
We worried as we followed her around, trying to decide what the trouble was and
inadvertently spoiling each of her plans for seclusion in her hour of travail. It
had been a sunny spring day, which she spent with her peers out enjoying the lush
green fields and spring flowers.The younger folk in her set had their fill of sunshine
and growing things, and were kicking up their heels and playing push-tag all over
theplace.
Charlotte came obediently when we called her to supper, and even though she appeared
to have found plenty of forage through the day, she ate what was put before her with
enthusiasm. That is, the first half of the meal she did. Then she began to move around
nervously, acting more and more anxious to be out and away. It was then we noticed
how bloated she was. She kept jerking up her legs, twisting this way and that. When
she got a chance, she broke and ran through the door and across the yard. There she
hid behind a small outbuilding. By the time we got to where we could see her, she
was lying on her side groaning and squirming in obvious misery.
She gave no answer to our questions about what was bothering her, but just looked
at us accusingly as she got to her feet, then slipped off behind the building and
started for the open area where her friends were spending the evening. Again we followed,
hoping to learn from her friends what her trouble was.
No sooner did she come within callling distance of them than she darted across an
open space, sneaked under the concealing branches of a big fir tree, and stretched
herself out on the cool earth once more.There she groaned and kicked and twisted
again. After a noisy release of gas she scrambled to her feet, hurried off to join
the youngsters in a race across the field, and then stood watching us balefully as
we continued to tail her, still trying to assess her symptoms. If only we
could talk to her and get a SENSIBLE answer!
The youngsters took our approach as a signal to race away, leaping sideways, jostling
each other playfully, and generally burning their over-abundance of energy and good
spirits. Their youthful enthusiasm was so contagious that the older folks soon joined
them in their headlong dash. Still hoping for more definitive clues to Charlotte's
problem, we ran along behind until they and we were winded and weary. Then we all
stood panting and eyeing each other expectantly in the gathering dusk.
All that activity seemed to have brought Charlotte some relief from her symptoms.
Since she seemed a bit more rational we encouraged her to go back and finish her
supper, and incidentally allow us to finish milking her, our family cow.
We decided Charlotte had a breakfast of lawn clippings heavily laced with succulent clover leaves.
