The Villisca axe murders

I spent the first ten years of my life in Taylor County, Iowa.  During those years my parents and I moved at least 3 times, but our address was always Villisca.  My parents were switchboard operators, back when you had to call "Central" even if you only wanted to talk to your neighbors down the road... unless they were on your party line.  Our house was where you went to pay your bill; we were "Central".  For a brief time my parents were switchboard operators in Villisca, but the place I remember best was Guss, a small, unincorporated town with a blacksmith shop, our switchboard house and a general store; our mailing address was still Villisca.

It was on the Internet that I learned about the famous axe-murders in Villisca, and a grisly tale it is.  When I first read about it, I asked my mother if she'd heard the story.  She had not.  More recently, I asked my sister who is 14 years my senior if she was familiar with the axe murders.  Nope, she wasn't.  I understand the reason, of course:  those murders took place in 1912.  Just Google "villisca axe murders" and you'll find enough to keep you reading all day long.  I'll share a link here just to get you started; it's one of the shorter accounts, and you'll find it HERE.

Of course there are ghost stories; you can pay $10 and tour the place, or spend the night there for a minimum of $428 for up to six people.  Cliff and I have gone right past Villisca a time or two in the past;  I wish we had done the tour.  

There have been several stories about the house on some of those ghost-chaser television shows.  In my opinion, ghosts are like Santa:  If you don't believe in them, you'll never see them.  Cliff and I toured the Stanley Hotel once; the tour guide wanted a volunteer to stand in a certain place where some people in the past had "felt something weird" going on.  I volunteered, but told him I didn't believe in ghosts, so he was probably wasting his time.  I felt nothing.

A visit to Aunt Gertrude's house

I have often wished I had more pictures of the inside of my Grandma Stevens' house.  I made so many good memories there as a kid.  But there were no digital cameras then.  You had to buy film and flash bulbs ahead of time, and often the pictures came out faulty in some way when you had them developed.  With my allowance, I couldn't afford to waste film by taking three or four shots of the same thing just to make sure I'd have a good picture.  

I do have pictures of Grandma's house in my mind, of course; but if I had photos to remind me, I'd see many details I've now forgotten.

This subject is on my mind because while looking at my Amazon Photos "on this day" pictures a while back, I saw several I had taken at Cliff's aunt's house in Versailles.  Oh, if only I had pictures like that taken at my grandma's house, I thought.  Then it struck me that Aunt Gertrude was like a grandmother figure to so many people, and a friend to everyone, I'd better be thankful for these pictures that let me go back to the time when she was happy and relatively healthy, hugging everybody and feeding all who came through the door.  So I'm going to put some of those pictures here to keep her memory alive.  It isn't like my own Grandma's house, but it's full of the same spirit of love and giving that she had.  I don't know what the occasion was on that day, because normally you wouldn't see Aunt Gertrude running around the house in her robe.  Was there a funeral, and perhaps she was waiting to dress until nearer the time?  No, she must have been recuperating from some illness, because otherwise she would have been in every kitchen picture, hovering over people.  And no plastic cups would have been used, if she'd been her usual self.  

I'll never know, unless one of the other guests remembers more than I do.  I do know she was very finicky about her appearance and would probably turn over in her grave if she knew I was showing these pictures to anyone outside the family, what with her not being dressed to the nines.  But I want these memories to be readily available for those who loved her.  

Brothers:  Phil, Donald, and Cliff, in Aunt Gertrude's kitchen.

Her kitchen was tiny, but it was the heart of her home.  She could pack a lot of people around that table, and she'd put so much food on it that there was hardly anyplace for our plates.

Cliff's Aunt Lois, his brother Phil, and his cousin Darrell, Aunt Gert's oldest son.  The aunt and Darryl have passed on.  

That's Aunt Gertrude's younger son standing at the table.  See how little space there was for the table?  Obviously the guys are just having a snack at this point.

Looks like Darrell was the cook that day.  Their cousin Dale is at the table in this shot.  I guess Darrell fixed the meal that day, perhaps on the grill; or maybe that pan he's tending is full of beans.

Cliff's brother Don, having a smoke on the porch after the meal.  Cliff misses him every day.

Darrell, Aunt Gert's son, is no longer with us

Doesn't that look like any grandmother's house you ever saw?  Pictures everywhere!  This reminds me what a pathetic grandmother I am.  It's a good thing kids usually get two sets of grandparents; that way they have a better chance of having at least one normal pair.

Cliff's sister Charlene, Aunt Lois, Donald, Aunt Gertrude, and Cliff

This entry is here to refresh my memory from time to time, and to honor one of the most loving people I've known:  Cliff's Aunt Gertrude

We all loved her so much.