PEANUT BUTTER COOKIES!

One of the best things about camp when I was a boy was getting to see my Grandma Haire every day!  She lived with my Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Lester and stayed in their cottage during camp, which was right across the upper road from our cottage.  She was the only grandparent I was privileged to know. 

Effie Leota (Archer) Haire                                                    Her brother, James Okie Archer

Served the Lord through the Free Methodist Church for sixty years!

Obviously, she was old and didn’t get around very well.  I only remember her coming to night-time church.  Like a few others, she prepared her own meals and ate in her cottage.  [There wasn’t always a dining hall.  Before that, everyone cooked in their cottages.  All cottages had water and gas.]

Aunt Dorothy's cottage
Currently owned by her grand-son-in-law, Terry McAllister

Uncle James' cottage
Currently owned by Jeff and Cathy Diddle

My favorite thing about having her at camp was that she frequently made peanut butter cookies that were at least four-to-five inches in diameter – at least that’s the way my childhood mind perceived them.  J  They were always so fresh and quite delicious. 

She was a quiet woman by my remembrance.  I’m confident that my cousins: Catherine, Grace and Wilma Jean would have a whole different memory of her since she lived with them during their growing-up years!  My Aunt Dorothy was very gracious to give Grandma a home for many years. 

My Dad would bring Grandma to our house for a few weeks most years.  Maybe it was his way of giving his sister a break.  He would always haul her quilting frames and set them up in our living room so she could continue her work.   I loved these weeks.  She came at other times, too, to babysit me.  In the evenings she would fall asleep in her chair and I would say, “Go to bed, Grandma, I’ll be okay.”  Her answer was always the same:  “I was just resting my eyes!”  J

During the years that she was still able to come to church (New Brighton Free Methodist), she sat – along with several other older women – at the opposite end of the pew from my parents.  Maybe she did it to help block me in.  😂  I would occasionally wander her way, and she would slip me a piece of hard-tack candy.  I loved her! 

I never heard her pray or give her testimony.  I never knew her to take an active role in anything at the church, although she may have when she was younger. 

I’ve only heard stories about my Grandpap Haire – all from my own Dad.  Here’s one of them:

My father grew up sleeping in the same room with his Mom and Dad.  His five sisters shared the other bedrooms. 

 

One Sunday morning, Grandma told my dad to get up and get ready for Sunday School.  He didn’t get up. 

 

That afternoon, the family was sitting together on the porch of their small house when a car pulled up with some of my dad’s friends in it.  He hopped over the banister and trotted toward the car.  Grandpap said loudly, “Leonard, where do you think you’re going?”  Then he followed it up with, “You didn’t get up and go to Sunday School when your Mom called you, so you can just stay on the porch the rest of the day.”  He wasn’t a man to be argued with!

So, although he never made a commitment to Christ, he did stand somewhat behind Grandma in raising her children in the faith. 

Dad also told me that he usually spent some time at Camp Meeting.  He and the other smokers would walk out the back of the tabernacle and up to Anderson Boulevard to smoke (this was still happening when I was a boy).  According to my father, Grandpap helped build the tabernacle.  One night while waiting for the service to begin, my Dad pointed at one of the sewer tiles that were filled with cement to anchor the main support beams.  He told me that he (as a young boy) and Grandpap helped set those beams.  Then, with an odd smile, he added, “Your grandfather was chewing tobacco and was spitting in the cement.”  Sorry!  So much for ‘holy ground’, huh…

As a sidebar, it impresses me that he was apparently welcomed at the camp even though he was not a man of faith.  In those days, the primary emphasis of the camp meeting movement was evangelism.  Consequently, the spiritually lost were welcome!  Are they welcome – and would they be comfortable – in your church today?

These family traditions are valuable!  For thirteen years, (while living here in East Liverpool) Debbie and I packed up all our stuff and moved a mile-and-a-half to the Tri-State Campground for eleven days.  It was a lot of work!  It seemed sort of silly.  But it was important to us to maintain this tradition.  Living on the grounds and being part of the community is a whole lot different than just driving in every day or evening.  No guilt intended here – I’m simply stating that it was a high priority for us!  Both our families were deeply involved in the camp.  It was a lot like a 10-day family reunion (on both sides).

When my Grandma Haire died, Ira (my older brother) and I rode early with Dad to the funeral home.  On the way down our hill he said,

“Your Grandma was a good woman.  She wasn’t a leader in the church, but she was a good, Christian woman!”   

She held her family together through tough times without much help from her husband.  She took in other people’s laundry to keep food on the table.  She brought her children up in the church.  Most of them loved and served the Lord throughout their lives and raised their kids to love the Lord, too.