DIY History | Transcribe | Campus Culture | Adelia M. Hoyt memoir and photographs

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Page 5

UNFOLDING YEARS             5

One incident of the return trip stands out either from actual memory or from hearing the story from others.  I have heard my mother tell that when away from home I would never stay put.  If she told me to sit still in a certain place while she went to do something, she no sooner turned her back than I was at her heels.  I seemed to have a horror of being left behind and this time perhaps it was justified.  We were boarding the train for our returning journey and my father had just lifted me to the platform of the car.  He turned and he and my mother were saying farewell to the relatives gathered there, when without warning the train began to move.  Following my usual procedure I tried to get off the train.  Aunt Adelia tried to catch me and broke her parasol.  The conductor caught me just in time and carried me to a seat inside the car where my father, who had swung onto one of the passing cars, found me.  The train which was only switching soon was back at the station where we were all re-united and on our way.
On reaching home I was taken very ill with what the doctor called brain fever.  It was generally believed that it was brought on by the fright I had when boarding the train.  Personally, I have always doubted that the two had any connection, but that illness was the beginning of the tragedy which was to overshadow the whole of my life.  It was a frail delicate child who emerged from that sick room, and soon it was apparent to all that something was wrong with my eyes.  I could not see as other children.  Just to what extent my sight was lacking it was difficult to tell.  I have no idea just when the realization dawned on me and it is a comfort to know that the child was incapable of grasping the meaning of the tragedy.
I must have been nearly six when there were great preparations in our house of the wedding on my sister Mary.  The fortunate young man was the eldest son of a neighboring and well-to-do farmer.  My father had built an addition to our little home consisting of a parlor, parlor bedroom, pantry which opened into our old kitchen, and stairway which led to two rooms above.  I can still see distinctly the frosted cakes drying by the big stove and the furnishings of the new parlor where the wedding took place.  There was the

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UNFOLDING YEARS 5 One incident of the return trip stands out either from actual memory or from hearing the story from others. I have heard my mother tell that when away from home I would never stay put. If she told me to sit still in a certain place while she went to do something, she no sooner turned her back than I was at her heels. I seemed to have a horror of being left behind and this time perhaps it was justified. We were boarding the train for our returning journey and my father had just lifted me to the platform of the car. He turned and he and my mother were saying farewell to the relatives gathered there, when without warning the train began to move. Following my usual procedure I tried to get off the train. Aunt Adelia tried to catch me and broke her parasol. The conductor caught me just in time and carried me to a seat inside the car where my father, who had swung onto one of the passing cars, found me. The train which was only switching soon was back at the station where we were all re-united and on our way. On reaching home I was taken very ill with what the doctor called brain fever. It was generally believed that it was brought on by the fright I had when boarding the train. Personally, I have always doubted that the two had any connection, but that illness was the beginning of the tragedy which was to overshadow the whole of my life. It was a frail delicate child who emerged from that sick room, and soon it was apparent to all that something was wrong with my eyes. I could not see as other children. Just to what extent my sight was lacking it was difficult to tell. I have no idea just when the realization dawned on me and it is a comfort to know that the child was incapable of grasping the meaning of the tragedy. I must have been nearly six when there were great preparations in our house of the wedding on my sister Mary. The fortunate young man was the eldest son of a neighboring and well-to-do farmer. My father had built an addition to our little home consisting of a parlor, parlor bedroom, pantry which opened into our old kitchen, and stairway which led to two rooms above. I can still see distinctly the frosted cakes drying by the big stove and the furnishings of the new parlor where the wedding took place. There was the