Selma "Sally" Boer Bayer

by Marian H. Nelson

Grandfather Boer, (who lived in Frieburg, Silesia) booked passage to America for his family. A week before they sailed, my father was born and grandmother died. To bring a week old baby on an ocean voyage with no mother meant death for the child so my father was given to relatives. He lived with whatever relative could keep him. If they fell on hard times or the husband died, my dad was passed on to another relative. Grandfather never knew my dad lived till his son Paul died at age 18 of T.B. To help him over his grief someone suggested he write to Germany to see if Joseph lived.

I always liked to hear my father tell about the day a letter came from America. He said they had him dress in his better clothes and took him to a photographer to have his picture taken. When the picture was developed the relative mailed it to America with the message, "He lives". My father was 14 years old at this time. Money came from America and my father and a 16 year old cousin then booked passage to Texas in America where grandfather Boer lived. My father came to America on a steam ship and as they left the people sang in German, Farewell to my Homeland, I go to a strange Land, and many wept.

I was only four years old when my mother caught the flu which took the lives of many; it was so deadly. Mother was with child and she was not strong enough to get well. I had four sisters and three brothers and six of us had the flu. I remember being in bed with mother one day and the following day I was in another bed but in the same room. The next day I was in a bed in a different room. That night my mother died. We children were all banished to the kitchen while mother was placed into her casket and then we all filed past the casket and blessed mother with a bit of cedar dipped into holy water. The casket was closed and was not opened again.

Aunt Carolina Rathman stayed with us awhile and taught my oldest sister, Carolina, who was 16 at the time, to take my mother's place. I never knew the sacrifices Carolina made until I was much older. She cooked and tried to bake bread, but so often her bread would fall when she slipped it into the old woodstove oven. We children called it "hunde brot" (dog bread) because we couldn't bite it. Carolina would make corn bread and flap jacks for supper when the bread fell.

In 1925, we had no rain, no crops or field work. Water became scarce and we had to haul water to wash our clothes. This was done by hitching the mules to the wagon and driving to Uncle Rheinold's (Beck) tank. Uncle Rheinold had three or four deep tanks on his farm. The wagon held three large 50 gallon barrels and we formed a line to fetch the water. One of us stood knee deep or waist deep in the water and dipped a big bucket full, handed it to the one next in line till it got to the brother on the wagon. We had two large buckets that we called milk buckets and we kept the water moving till all three barrels were full. The one draw back was crawfish nibbling our toes in the water.

When we got home ashes were put into the barrels with the water. The next day the muddy tank water was clear and this was used to wash the clothes. One evening as brother August was driving the mules and the wagon was loaded with three full barrels of water the coupling pole broke. The wagon sagged toward the center. The water poured out on the ground. We had no water and no wagon to haul any until it could be repaired.

During the dry year, Dad decided the boys (Joe and August) would dig a well. Matthew Bartsch was hired to help. The boys rigged up a windlass when the hole got too deep to toss the dirt out. The three boys took turns digging and filling the bucket with dirt while two would work the windlass and pull the bucket and empty the dirt. When they hit rock, dynamite was set off to blast the rock so they could continue digging. The well got deeper and another layer of rock showed up. August was let down the well in the same bucket that he would fill with dirt. He used a pick to fix a place to set the dynamite. He set the blast, ignited the fuse, and stepped into the bucket and gave the signal to pull him up. In their haste while pulling him up, my Dad's arm got caught in the rope on the wind lass and they had to lower August a few feet to release Dad's arm. August yelled 'Hey' and Dad and Joe turned the wind lass faster than ever. August jumped out and all three ran as the blast went off throwing rocks and chips of rock. Thank God none of them was hit by the flying rocks. When the depth of the well was very deep the brothers would lower a light to be sure there were no poisonous gases present. If the light was extinguished, a blower of sorts was used to blow fresh air into the well. It was very exciting the first time we looked down the well and saw water. However the boys dug to the depth of 100 feet before our Dad was satisfied we'd have plenty water. I begged to go down. Even though I was just a little girl my brothers finally agreed and I stepped into the bucket and they lowered me down. Was I glad to get back up after I satisfied myself that I'd done it! The boys had to brick and cement the well, bottom to top. It is still a good well after 75 years.

My brother, August, had so many close calls that we began to say he had nine lives. There was another time the wind lass got away from my brother and Dad and a bucket loaded with dirt and rock began to descend on August. Dad put his arm into the rope and somehow stopped the bucket from continuing its rapid descent. If a well needed cleaning out, August was the one to go down. Once he wrestled a snake down there and another time a tool fell down. The tool broke the board which had been erected over August, but he was uninjured.

Living was sometimes dangerous on the farm and often exciting because we took a lot of chances. Seldom did the boys pass our water tank in the pasture without driving the mules through the water at the lower end. Sometimes the water would come into the wagon but I learned early in life to hide my fear. We had a nice large barn with a corn shed attached on the north side. The roofs on both buildings were tin and we could slide on the barn roof onto the shed and get a thrill. When this got too tame, we found tote sacks which we sat on and we really slid down at a good speed. Friends or neighbors would see us on that high roof and they'd tell Dad. We had to promise not to climb on the barn roof again but after a few weeks we'd forget our promise.

A big day in our life was December 6th. On the eve of the feast of St. Nicholas, we went through the sock sack and picked out the biggest stocking we could find. We hung it by our bed and the following morning the stocking would bulge with candy, nuts, and an apple. One year Joe and August got smart. They tied the legs on a pair of overalls, hung that up for St. Nick to put their fruit, nuts, and candy in. The next morning one leg was bulging more than the other. Joe, being the older, picked the bigger side and August settled for the other. Joe opened the paper sack and it was filled with barnyard manure. August lucked out. His sack had the goodies. After a good laugh, August shared with Joe.

Our school in the country taught only eight grades so when I was fourteen I left home to go to boarding school in Austin at St. Mary's Academy. My sister Mary and I went together but Mary cried until Dad took her home. Daddy came to see me on Sundays as often as he could and I cried buckets of tears when he left. Dad sent the boys to pick me up at the end of every month and it was heavenly to go home for a weekend. Carolina would let me bake oatmeal cookies that I took back to school. I could not afford to buy donuts like some of the students so I kept the cookies in my locker to eat at recess. I worked in the school cafeteria all four years. I waited on tables and washed dishes. I never cared that work took up much of my time. I enjoyed High School and in 1932, I graduated with the honor of Salutatorian and all my brothers and sisters came to the graduation. My oldest brother Joe paid for my ring, dress and diploma. Dad no longer had a job. The depression had hit and he was out of work like many others.

In March 1988, Selma wrote:
Here I am - age 74 and glad I was born in 1914. I lived when life was hard, simple, and peaceful.

Today Selma Boer Bayer is almost 88 years young. She has a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her face and enjoys life and especially the opportunity of going to daily Mass.

90th Birthday

Selma and her late husband Arthur had nine daughters, Mary Ann, Pauline, Agnes Louise, Josephine, Selma, Katherine, Christine, Lisa and her twin, Lora, who died as a child. All those girls and one son, Arthur.

Many friends and relatives joined the family in the celebration and enjoyed a beautiful day in the country.

Boer Family Reunion

Attending the Boer Reunion in Rockne, on June 6, 2004 are sisters Mary Boer Adams (93) and Selma "Sally" Boer Bayer (90). Mary�s husband Joe Adams (95) and Charlie Goertz (92) were also among the oldest.