Belle and Lea

Texas Standard commentator W.F. Strong has met a lot of Texans throughout the years. Some have shared bits of history from the Lone Star State. Some have recalled old family traditions or news of certain oddities. But others have imparted on him some unique problem-solving skills. This story tells of two old friends and their […]

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Episode Transcript

(00:00):
Some years ago, I was visiting with
a couple of 90-year-old sisters,
both widows, who were living out
their golden years alone
on a remote farm in South Texas.
I'll call them Belle and Lea
because, well, those were their
names.
They weren't by definition my
aunts, but I felt like they
were.

(00:20):
They had been married to very
successful farmers who had
predeceased them by 20
years.
But left them financially secure,
very secure, I might add.
Belle told me that when her husband
passed, she sold off everything,
a thousand head of cattle, land,
tractors, combines,
all nature of farm equipment.

(00:42):
She realized she no longer had to
live in the 1,500 square foot,
three room blocky house she
and her husband were unnecessarily
squeezed into for 50
years. One room
was the bedroom, the living room,
and the dining room, all in
one.
There was a small kitchen and a
simple bathroom with a small shower.

(01:03):
Finally, she said, I could
have my dream home.
So she took her checkbook, this
was 1978, with
its multimillion dollar balance,
and she went over to Corpus Christi
where she bought for cash
the finest double-wide mobile home
she could find.
She had it set up on her land where
she could see the farm to market

(01:24):
road.
100 yards away.
She and Lea would sit there for
hours at the dining room window and
watch the world go by on
that quiet road.
They would comment on the passersby,
too.
Looks like Mr. Simpson has a new
pickup.
That's a beautiful color red.
That suits him just fine.

(01:46):
I approve.
Over the years, they added porches
for enjoying the evening air
and the starlight.
There was a time when they had a
water heater removed and relocated
to an outdoor porch.
This left a hole over in the corner
of the living room that was about
three and a half feet deep.
It had a sturdy bottom, but it was

(02:07):
a fairly deep hole.
Belle said they had planned to put a
large potted plant there, but before
they could do that, Lea
managed to back up and
fall into the hole,
where she was unhurt but trapped.
Belle said
Lea is short, you know, only about
five foot tall.

(02:28):
She used to be taller like me, but
she settled a bit.
So it seems silly, but he couldn't
get out.
Her legs weren't strong enough for
her to step out, and my arms
weren't enough to pull her out.
She wasn't tall enough to sit on the
edge and throw her legs over.
We were both amused
and confused.

(02:48):
Here we were, two old women, out
here by ourselves.
How were we gonna get her out?
We could have called 911 for help,
but we didn't want to bother people.
And where would be the fun in that?
Hardly an emergency, might
be in a day or so, but I
was willing to wait.

(03:09):
Belle added, it was then that I
remembered the story of the
farmer and his mule.
You know that one.
The farmer's mule fell down into the
silo, about 30 feet, it
wasn't hurt, but it couldn't get
out, of course, and the farmer had
no crane to lift it out.
So he got his front loader and
started dumping dirt in there.

(03:29):
The mule would shake it off of
himself and then tamp it down.
The farmer kept on dumping dirt in
there and the mule kept tamping it
down and slowly, slowly,
the mules got elevated up to the
ground level and stepped out.
I went to the couch and I got some
throw pillows and I put them down
there on Lea's feet and told her to

(03:49):
step on them.
But they were a little unstable for
her. See you then.
I got some bigger pillows from the
bed and she stepped
up on those.
I got more and she step up
on them.
She made a pretty good mule.
She did.
We had her out of there in a jiffy.
Never underestimate the power of

(04:10):
the good old fashioned horse sense
of farm women.
I'm W.F. Strong.
These are stories from Texas.
Some of them are true.