I cannot recall, as I write this, exactly how old he was when he died but I do know he was only in his early forties. Mama told me as a young child, that he died of acute indigestion. As I grew older I surmised that he had heart trouble.  And I never pressed my mother for any other information or details because I knew it would sadden her. And it was more fun to have her tell me of all the happy times that she and my older brothers shared with him.

Mama took us to Whitesboro, Texas where we all lived with her father and mother, Pa and Ma Crump, as we called them. They reared ten children, all of whom were grown and away on their own. A year later their eldest son's wife died in childbirth and Ma took the baby boy to care for. His name was Otis Jr. He grew up with all of us boys and of course he seemed like a brother rather than a cousin. His father did marry again later and had other children and though Jr. went to visit often with his dad in Arkansas, he would always return to Ma and Pa. He loved his dad but not his stepmother. Anyway, I was glad to see him come back because we were good buddies and he had a special "in" way to curry favors from Ma that none of the rest of us seemed to have. It didn't take me long to know that if I was right by Jr. Ma seemed to find it just as easy to pass out two favors as one.

Ma and Pa lived in large house that they ran as a hotel. There was also a smaller house a few feet away that was called "the annex". There was a total of near 20 rooms to let and the train station was only a vacant lot away. Pa would meet all the trains and drum up the Hotel business to travelers in need of a place to sleep while waiting for various trains. Whitesboro was a junction point for two railroad lines providing service in all four directions.

Mama was kept very busy with doing the laundry (by hand) every Monday, Wednesday, Friday and the ironing Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday plus cleaning the house. Of course Pa was up all hours to meet trains. He would sleep anytime he could find the time to do so. Ma did most of the cooking and supervised all the operations very sternly. Must say she did her job better than anyone. Looking back to those days I am now shamed at the times when I thought what an "old Blister" she was. But I know that I have always realized that she was truly a remarkable woman and that I was fortunate indeed that she was my grandmother. She was a great influence to my formative years as a youth.

For instance, through her influence, I learned to build and keep the fire going under two big iron pots that Mama boiled for clothing and bed linens, to wind the hand wringer for Mama when she put the washing through five tubs of water and scrub the floors and to bring the wash in after it was dry so Mama could sort it all out to iron. Ma's influence also taught me how to make the beds, sweep the floors and tidy up all the rooms, of which, at the time. I was sure were at least a hundred - especially when my friends were waiting for me to participate in a scheduled game of baseball or a trek to big elm creek for a swim with them. I've gotten a little ahead of time because the baseball and swimming came a little later.

It was just before the "crash of 29" when the Annex burned. Our neighbor, Mr. Sealy, had built and operating a store which was on the property line and too close to the Annex. Pa had protested the construction to no avail and as a result the relationship between Mr. Sealy and Pa was not good, to say the least. One cold winter night or early morning the store caught fire and in turn set the Annex to burning. The volunteer fire department came and only because of their good work the big house did not burn down too.

It was so bad that they had us evacuated. I remember all of us standing out in the cold in our night clothes and Ma running around hollering and screaming because it was a situation she could not control, and telling the firemen she didn't know if everyone was out of the Annex. Pa had personally gotten out the last occupant but to his chagrin' Ma wasn't sure of that, no matter how many times he told her.

It was Pa and Ma's belief that Mr. Sealy had set fire to his cracker box store for the insurance and after that I remember it was no longer "Mr. Sealy", but old man Sealy to us kids, and we gave him a wide berth as some sort of an ogre.

Hermie Olivia Stephens is buried in Oakwood Cemetery, Whitesboro.