Recipes for Living Tawny Whitehead Brant

My daughter, Cheyenne, and I are excited about our latest project-making a scrapbook about our family as a birthday gift for my mom, Mamie Jo Whitehead. She is so very important in our lives, and as we collect material to include, I am reminded again of how much she and Dad have done for my sisters and me all through the years. They gave us a foundation on which to build, and if I were to reduce that to one word, I think it would be integrity. Integrity was huge. That may mean different things to different people, but to me it means honesty and much more. It means being true to your word, following up on what you say you will do, being someone who can be counted on. Dad believed and demonstrated this in his life, and as an adult, I regard it as possibly the most essential human quality.

I was born July 26, 1965 in the Osceola hospital, delivered by Dr. George Armitage. My parents gave me my middle name after his nurse, Dale. My roots go very deep in this area. My maternal grandparents were Frank and Amelia McBride who lived on Roosevelt Street, across from Earl and Maxine Duval. Grandma was a homemaker and Grandpa was on the City Police Force and the Sheriffs posse. Dad's parents, John and Hazel Whitehead, lived north of Osceola on Highway 69.

Frank and Amelia had 104 acres, where Mamie Jo still lives. At the present time she is in the main house and my children and I live in a trailer on that property. It is so great to have her there, especially after Billy died. Mom had gone through the same experience when Dad passed away 16 years ago, in June 1988. His death was untimely, too. Both of them died of heart attacks. One minute they were here and the next, they were gone. It has been so great to have a support system from someone who knows exactly what I am going through. She helps me over the rough spots, and makes me a better mom, not neglecting what I should be doing for the kids. Sometimes I get busy doing a lot of things, and I don't have the chance to check on them, but Mom helps me.

We are the quintessential farm gals. Mom gets up very early all times of the year. Between 6:00 and 6:30, she is out doing chores, checking to see that the horses are okay, and looking after the kids for me, making sure they have their chores done. The day she can't do that will be the day we put her in the ground, because it is something she really loves and is very good at. She is equally fond of working at the Family Table Restaurant. She's like a landmark. She has been there 32 years, and if the time comes when she can't be there, if they tell her she is too old or something, it will break her heart. I'm sure she'll find a way. Can't you picture her in a motorized wheel chair, still waiting on tables? But I am sure this has kept her young because she is involved in the community. People sit and have coffee and she picks up on all the news.

As I have been gathering items for her book, it has been fun to think back on our home life as my sisters and I were growing up. For 10 years Dad worked for Ruan, which was beside Jimmy Dean's factory. Dad was a refrigerator tractor-semi-trailer repair technician. After he left there, he started driving tankers over the road for Johnsrud Truck Lines. He was working for them when he passed away.

My sister, Christy, is eight years older than I. She was born on January 9, 1957, and our other sister, Malane, is five years younger than I, born September 23, 1970. As we were growing up we had a whole host of animals. We had rabbits, dogs, horses, sheep, chickens, and guineas. We had beef cattle, dairy cattle, and dairy goats. We drank the goat milk. We sold the cows' milk until a law was passed prohibiting the sale of unpasteurized milk or cream. We didn't have enough dairy cows to get into the system and sell milk as a wholesaler, so we quit that except for a few people who wanted cream. We raised Jerseys and there was a lot of good, rich cream. We made our own butter in the old crank churn. In the summer we picked and ate wild raspberries with cream and a little sugar. We thought we'd surely died and gone to heaven.

Maybe my recollections are colored by my being the middle child, but Christy seemed to be the dominant one. Christy is outgoing, has a good sense of humor, and cares a lot about her family, even though it is hard for her to express it, or go outside her comfort zone. She has always been hard working, but also hard headed and very stubborn. We girls always had chores, and I remember Christy often managed to have something else to do. "I've got to do (whatever). Could you do my chores for me?" Of course, I seem to remember doing that, too. We all traded off, "If you’ll do this for me, I will---."

When Mom and Dad were away, Christy was in charge and she took her role as queen of the house seriously. If we didn’t do what she said, she became very angry. I guess I did that as well. I remember a time when Malane and I were getting wood, which we burned for heat. Melane wasn't doing the job the way I thought it should be done, and I picked up a piece of wood. I wasn’t even aiming at her but I threw the wood on the ground, it bounced off one of the limestone rocks leading up to Mom's house, and hit Malane in the head. It required three stitches. Mom came rushing out screaming, "What have you done to your baby sister?"

My sisters and I went to Clarke Community Schools from kindergarten through high school. There was no open enrollment at that time, and the cut offline was west of Lacelle. After I graduated, I spent the summer working and that fall enrolled at NWMSU (Northwest Missouri State University). I studied animal science, because I wanted to be a veterinarian. I was there for a semester, and decided the studies weren’t intense enough for what I wanted. The course required four years of college and further education. I thought surely I could speed up the process. I talked to Dad's sister, Loretta, in Joplin, Missouri, and she said there was an opening at Denny's, where she worked. I was more than welcome to come to Joplin, live with them, and save a little money until I could decide what I wanted to do.

Prior to that, I had sent off inquiries about veterinarian technician schools. While I was in Joplin, Mom received a call from one in Omaha. I drove to Omaha, saw the school, and liked what I saw. It was an 18 month course, which seemed more up my alley, getting more into the nuts and bolts of veterinary work, rather than going along at a kindergarten pace. When I returned to Joplin, I called Mom and told her I thought I would go. I started there in July, which surprised me. What school starts in July? But they didn't break for the entire summer. They had two weeks off then and two weeks at Christmas. I loved it! I wasn’t the valedictorian of the class but chosen to give the class speech when we graduated. All of us who reached that point thought it was a pretty big accomplishment because there were 32 who started, and nine graduated. From there, I went to work at the animal emergency clinic in Des Moines.

During this time, I met Bill, who was staying with Jeff and Shelly Webb. I had come home for the summer to do an internship with Dr. Wood, and had gone back to Omaha over the July 4th weekend because I was dating a boy there. I stayed an extra day and Shelly called to say I had really missed something. "A guy staying at our house, Bill Brant had an extra ticket for a Bryan Adams’ concert. He was looking for someone to go and we immediately thought of you, but you were still in Omaha. You really ought to meet Bill." I actually had just broken up with this guy in Omaha, because he was getting into some things I didn't want to be dragged into, so I told Shelly, "I'm really not looking for anyone." She kept insisting, "You gotta' meet Bill."

When Bill and I finally met in 1985, it was love at first sight. We started talking and became amazed that we hadn’t met one another until that moment. Bill’s parents live in Creston, where his dad is the Union County Farm Bureau Agent. Our parents knew each other, and we had many mutual friends. In May of 1986, we bought the rings, set the wedding date, made the announcement that we were going to be married in September, and in July, I discovered I was pregnant with Cheyenne. Cool! We were delighted that we had already made plans. There had been a time when I thought I would go back to school at Iowa State to further my education toward becoming a veterinarian, but I changed my plans and got an education of a whole
different sort, one that I think was far better than I could ever have purchased from the school.

Bill decided we should go but we hadn't considered the extra expense incurred with no home provided. We moved and after awhile Bill decided that he had enough of the hog business. He wanted out and took a job with Dr. Raun, a veterinarian in the Norwalk-Cummings area. Dr. Raun raised Hackney ponies and American Saddle-bred horses. He basically raised society horses, which was of interest to people with a lot of money. Dr. Raun was well known and respected. Being a veterinarian with his reputation, his services were requested all over the world. Bill really enjoyed working there. He had a deep love for horses.

I went to work in a small animal clinic for Dr. Showers, a veterinarian in Des Moines. We saw lots of pets. I knew of Dr. Showers from when I worked at the emergency clinic because he was in a group of doctors that after hours referred clients to the emergency clinic. At 8:00 a.m., I called all the vet clinics whose patients we had seen to let them know what we had done.

Then Bill met Joel and Dixie White. Joel worked with cutting horses, trained to cut a cow out of a herd. They are judged on a points system of how they keep a cut from going back into the herd. Bill was really excited about that and as he and Joel talked, they both decided to get jobs on the Cletus Hullings Ranch in Belleville, Illinois. At one time it was rumored that over 90% of the horses going east or west across the Mississippi went through this man's ranch. I can believe it because, when we got there, he had over 380 horses. He had a huge stack of registration papers, and if someone asked about one of the horses, he knew exactly where in that stack to find the paper work. It was amazing! Bill worked with the horses and I worked in the tack shop. They did business globally as wholesalers for Billy Cook Saddles exclusively. It was interesting to see how widespread the business was. People from everywhere knew about Cletus Hullings. During the time Bill and I were there, Italians and Germans bought horses and tack.

One Sunday afternoon, Bill and I were saddling horses to go on a ride with Cheyenne. Bill was taking a horse that had just come in, so he could work with her while we were on the ride. Something scared her, the rope got caught around Bill's thumb, she jerked, and the end of his thumb was cut off. We went to the hospital and the procedure involved skin grafts. He had a huge bandage, and we have pictures of that.

We came home in June for Bill's sister's wedding, and after that it seemed that we were coming back all the time to help Mom with things on the farm. Malane's husband was never a farm boy, so he didn't understand the concept or know how to operate the machinery. Christy's husband had worked on a farm, but he worked for Bill Mitchell, which required a lot of overtime hours. He didn’t really have extra time, so we made the decision to come back to Osceola. All of this coincided with my finding that I was pregnant with William. So here we were pregnant, with $35 in our pockets, neither of us with a job or a place to live, but Bill knew that he wanted to be in business for himself, raising and training horses on his own. I called Dr. Showers and he
said he had a place for me, so it was going to be all right.

Dad died in June 1988, and William was born January 19, 1990. He was a special boythe first boy in Bill's family for 16 years, and the first boy born into my family in 60 years. The last boy was Mom's brother, who was killed in WWII, South Pacific Theater.

Chisolm was born June 30, 1994. Both the boys were born in Creston. William was about 19 days too late to be born in Osceola. They stopped delivering babies in 1989. Bill was still training horses, but I had changed jobs, worked for three years at the Creston Vet Clinic and quit in October 1993. There was a personal altercation and I didn’t like the way it was handled. I decided if that was the way things were going to be, I didn’t necessarily want to be affiliated with them. I did a small hiatus with an antique store in Valley Junction, and in May 1994, I closed that store, came home and took off the month of June for Chisolm's arrival.

In August ‘94, I began looking for employment and started working with Equitable Life of Iowa as a temp. As my temporary job was winding down, they had an opening in the same department for a fulltime employee. I felt uncertain but co-workers assured me I could handle it, so I applied, got the job, and worked there almost five years. From there I went to work in a brokerage firm, David Nyberg and Associates (DNA) in West Des Moines. Past acquaintance through Equitable Life had given me some working knowledge for that job.

Bill passed away on January 10, 2003. It was so sudden! The night before he had been wrestling on the floor with William and Chisolm, and they almost knocked over my china cabinet. We had an expression that meant putting knots on their heads, so I asked them if they wanted me to do that, and the boys looked at me and said, "It was Dad! It was Dad!" Bill fell asleep in his chair that night but I didn’t think much about it. After a really cold early January, we'd had two freakish days when it was about 70°. Bill took advantage of those days, working really hard in the barns. I thought he'd fallen asleep from being exhausted. I jiggled his knee when I was ready to go to bed, and asked if he was coming. He said, "Yeah, I'll be there."

About 1:00 a.m. I heard him pacing up and down the hallway. I wondered what was going on and asked if he was okay. He said, "No, I'm having chest pains." I asked if I should take him to the hospital, and he said no. He kept pacing and I asked again if he wanted me to take him to the hospital, but he kept telling me no. He went into the bathroom and vomited, and when he came out, I asked again. That time he just said, "Get my shirt." He put on his shirt, I put on sweats, and we walked through the house to the deck. He took two steps and dropped. Looking back I just know that was when he passed away.

I propped him up, grabbed the cell phone, and called Mom. She came down and we have laughed since because she came down in her pajamas and gum boots. I called 911 for the ambulance, came back to the deck, and Mom and I started CPR (cardiopulmonary resuscitation). By then the kids were awake. I told them to stay back, and Mom and I continued to do CPR for what seemed like eternity. I glanced at the clock and saw that we’d been doing it for 20 minutes, and I also knew it didn't take that long for the ambulance to get there from town. I had Cheyenne call 911 again to find out where the ambulance was. I don't know what was wrong but they were clear over by Lacelle. They finally arrived, and hooked Bill up to the defibrillator. They decided not to shock him. They determined his heart was doing fine, and thought it was a good sign. They loaded Bill up, I put the kids in our bed, turned on TV, kissed them, told them I loved them, and said I would be home later in the morning to let them know what was happening.

I became concerned when I saw the ambulance hadn't left. The attendants were still working on Bill in the driveway, but when they started, I followed in the van. I was really frightened when I saw that they stopped by the branch office of Clarke County State Bank, and I saw them shock him. When we got to the hospital, they wheeled him right in. I sat down in the chair by the emergency room door, and I think they worked on him for about 10 minutes, before the doctor came out and said Bill wasn't responding to anything they did. I had called Bill's parents to come and it seemed like forever before they arrived. Bill was the baby of the family, which made it even tougher. Bill's dad's father had an untimely death at 42, another family member died at 32, now Bill at 38, so there was a congenital heart problem. Bill's dad had a heart attack last summer, and had gone to Rochester to talk to the doctors. They didn't consider Cheyenne to be at risk because it seems to be carried to the boys of the family. So in their late teens or early 20s, our boys need to be checked for certain possible signs.

Now it is one year later and I find I look at everyone and everything in the light of Bill having been in our lives.

Cheyenne is a nice combination of Bill's and my personalities. The majority of her personality comes from me - outgoing, cheerful, polite, but she has a backbone. She stands up for herself and doesn't let people run over her. That is kind of nice. Since Bill has gone, I've been pleasantly surprised to find that I am developing one. It wasn't necessary before, because Bill was always there. I was the tactful one, and Bill would say, "This is wrong! What are you going to do to correct it?" He was my go-to guy.

Cheyenne is thoughtful. We've gotten into our mother/daughter arguments, but we have such a cool relationship that I wish for all mothers and daughters. Cheyenne feels comfortable coming to me with just about anything. And I can depend on her. There have been times when I've become really depressed, missing Bill, or becoming overwhelmed with life - things that need to be done are not getting done, and I don't have time to do them. Instead of sitting down and taking it a piece at a time, I get overcome, and then I get depressed. That is when Cheyenne will buy a card that says, "Thanks, Mom. The boys and I know you are overwhelmed but this will pass. We're here for you, we love you. We couldn't think of a better Mom." The kids picked out cards for Mother's Day and on hers she wrote, "If I grow up to be half the woman you are, I'll be doing good." That's huge. I love that!

William is half and half between Bill and me. He has such a sense of humor! He is funny! He could go on the road, he is just that funny. But he is also pensive and can be the pessimist. He is very analytical, like Bill. He has to think things through and have an answer before we do something. There are times I've turned to William to ask his opinion because he's also like me-he has a level head. He rarely gets excited. He's pretty laid back. We had one altercation shortly after Bill passed away. I don't know what was going on, but we stood outside the house toe to toe, one of those arguments when we were right in each other's face. He basically told me, "Just because you're my mom doesn't mean you run my life." I looked at him and said, "N-e-w-s f-l-a-s-h! Until you are out from underneath my roof, I own you! Just because people say that you are the man of the house, and technically you are, I still wear the pants." After that things have been cool.

Each of us has dealt with Bill's death differently. Cheyenne is a much more emotional person. Being a girl, it is easier for her to cry. William is more inclined to keep things inside. And yet I ask him for advice. The first year after Bill passed away, we were just kind of floating.

Maybe William picked up his philosophical trait from me. Mom said I was always this way. William's fifth grade teacher told me at a parent-teacher conference, "This is going to be one of those kids that make a difference in the world." Hearing that as a parent makes us feel puffed up, but as I see him growing up, I know he is going to be one of those people. He has a friend, Justin, who is almost legally deaf. He wears hearing aids; he has asthma, and a lot of problems. William was there for him all the time. Someone seemed to make sure they were in classes together, beginning in preschool. One year when they weren't in the same class, Justin felt abandoned by him. As they got older, Justin understood that even if they are in different classes doesn’t mean William is not his friend. But I see William doing the same thing with the Hispanic kids. When he was in sixth and seventh grades, he helped them with their English and in turn they taught him some Spanish. He took time to do that. Not many kids do.

I identify with William because I also was the middle child, and much is made these days of the Middle Child Syndrome - the first one gets the best of everything, and the baby gets spoiled. I say that is just hogwash. I tell William, "Don't you believe any of that garbage about the middle child because you and I are cut from the same bolt of cloth and we are probably more stable than our siblings." I’ve become a rock for the family. If someone is having a problem, they come to me. Mom has sometimes said that she looks to me for advice, which is probably because I am right there, handy.

Chisolm is definitely his father’s son. Like Bill, he is quick to anger. Things have to go his way, which is not necessarily all bad. He has tons of energy. He found out he has to slow down because his brain was going far faster than his fingers could write. It went too fast for him to do the things he needed to do. He is learning how to do that.

One of Chisolm’s qualities is compassion. He is very thoughtful. One time the kids and I had gone to cemetery to put flowers on Bill’s grave. Cheyenne was overcome with her grief and fell down to her knees crying. Before I could get to her, Chisolm was there with his arm around her, patting her on the back saying, "It's okay, Sis. We love you. It’s okay to cry, but we’re here for you." It is awesome that Bill’s kids have that bond.

Chisolm is eager to please. He really wants approval. Like his dad, he has low selfesteem and needs reaffirmation. He's in what I call a pull-out program at school. At the time his regular teacher is teaching math, writing, or reading, he goes to Mrs. Sickles for one-on-one help. We just had a meeting on his progress and they were so astonished, because when they tested last year, he was below third grade level in math, and he is now at fourth grade level That was a great report! Chisolm works a little slower than some of the other kids, but he is capable of doing his math homework. They put him back in general education for math but he still lacks some reading and writing skills. He sight reads. If he looks at a word, he can tell you what it is but he doesn’t always know what it means. He lacks comprehension.

Like Bill, Chisolm likes structure, a set schedule - this is where my things are, this is the way my day is going to be. He struggles with anything that deviates from that. He is not a fly by-the-seat-of-the-pants type person. We want to know what is going on, how things work, how they are going to play out. He is just now learning and loving to write poetry. Recently there was an article about our family in the Osceola Sentinel-Tribune. One of Mrs. Sickles' friends cut it out with pinking shears and gave it to him with one of his poems. He has something of his Mom about him in that case. I really like poetry.

Bill's passing has changed my relationship with Mom, Christy and Malane. Mom is a deeply spiritual lady and instilled that in us as we were growing up, but since Bill has passed away, church has become more important to Malane and me. The two of us and our families are bonding a lot more as we spend more time together. Malane is married and has three children. She is the office manager in the Flynn-Wright Advertising Company in Des Moines. We attend the Assembly of God Church and enjoy Pastor (Chuck) Devos. He is a fun person, and his kids are around the age of my older kids. Charlie is in Cheyenne's class, and Melody is a year or two ahead of William. Chuck gave Cheyenne her first nickname. Because she is so short, he calls her VCR - Vertically Challenged Runt.

Christy is a CNA (Certified Nurses' Aid). She lives in Des Moines, and has worked a lot in nursing homes and private in-home care. She has a daughter, Taffy, who is 27. Taffy is married and has three children. I believe that Christy is now tending to go to Malane if she has problems, and I think that is because, with Bill being gone, I have a lot of extra burdens and I am pretty busy. I've told her, though, that I would never be too busy to listen. I think it is possible that Malane has a more softening or understanding tone. I could be a little more compassionate.

When Bill passed away, it was hard for all of us to adjust. It left a huge gaping hole. Part of it was hard for me as their mother to loosen the apron strings. The kids were old enough to know the life-lessons we had taught them. They knew right from wrong. I knew it was okay to let them go, but I only took a week off after Billy passed away, before I started back to work. My heart hurt to know the kids were going home to an empty house. Bill and I had never intended that. We had agreed that it didn't matter which one of us it was, one of us was always going to be home with the kids. It had worked out that between the farm work and horses, Bill was always there with the kids before and after school. It they needed something, they could call Dad. He was a big presence in their lives.

Now, of course, everything had changed. Except for Mondays and Thursdays, when Mom doesn't work, there wasn’t going to be anybody there. Christy's son-in-law, Buddy, works construction, so through the winter he was there in the evenings, and stayed with the kids until I got home. That meant they were alone only an hour, but still it was hard. In the spring Buddy had other things to do, but by then the days were longer and I felt some better. And the kids are pretty resilient and self-sufficient, as we wanted them to be.

My role as rock and mediator for the family has become more pronounced now that Bill has gone. He was such a huge presence in our family. He was very opinionated, very outspoken. He would tell you what he thought, whether you wanted to hear it or not. I loved him with all my heart, he was a good father and husband, but he had his difficult days. Everybody who knew and loved Bill knew this about him. It worked wonderfully for the kids. They knew what they were not to do because they knew how their dad felt about it. They regarded him with a mixture of respect and fear. One day the boys were playing hockey and Chisolm went through a window. He cut a gash in his head, his arm, and in his back. William said when we got back from the
hospital that Chisolm hadn’t even known he was bleeding. He was just afraid of the butt-chewing he was going to get from his dad for breaking the window. Maybe I have become a little more of who Bill was now that he is gone.

Everything changed again on May 15 2003, when I was given my pink slip. The company told me they were downsizing. Lots of people were upset because of what had happened to me that year, but I told them, "God is taking care of us. This is meant to be." I had been looking half-heartedly, wishing for something closer to home. It turned out to be almost a God-send. I came home, though, pretty distraught. Several people encouraged me to take the summer off. I signed up for unemployment, applied for a couple of jobs, then for the one at Swine Graphics. I soon knew this was where I wanted to work. They do a thorough hiring job, not only interviewing but doing background checks, talking to references, to previous employers, and in casual conversation to people the applicant happens to mention. So they knew a lot about me. During the second interview I was questioned by all the people I'd be working with or under. That was pretty overwhelming. I did a lot of second guessing about what I'd said, but about a week later Human Resources called to say they would like to offer me the position. Can you go to work Monday? Yes! I enjoyed some time off but it didn't feel right not to have a job.

There is something else I continue to do. I started singing when I was a little girl. Luke and Leulla Harger gave music lessons and I started to play the tenor banjo. Christy took guitar lessons and there were other kids - Barb and Verlin Burns' son, Craig, and more. The Hargers would get a group together on Sunday afternoons. That was probably where I first started to sing in public. We did stuff for 4-H and school. In grade school, I sang in the chorus when Linda Yaeger (Bachman) taught. She had me do a couple solos. After that I took a long hiatus, limiting my singing to the shower.

One night, when karaoke was getting to be popular, Bill and I were out with friends, and they were persuaded me to enter a contest that was going on. I won at-shirt and a chance to come back for the big finale in two weeks. Sheryl Hammitt won but I didn't mind. She sang at our wedding so that was cool Again, I didn't do much after that.

When the Leon Sale Barn was being torn down, we had a chance to come get some of the lumber. We wanted the trusses because we were building a new bam. While we were tearing them down, there were guys tearing down the big barn. They had a crane and we asked what it would cost to take down what we wanted. It turned out to be Art Wells, who does country shows and that was how I got back into singing in late '96 or early '97. We went everywhere, basically, to get my name out. I started performing at some of the Opries in Stansbury, Missouri, Red Barn in Omaha, and Des Moines. There is only one now - Lake Rathbun, where I will be going tomorrow night. That is about the only Opry I do anymore. It is more like a family reunion to go there now.

I do karaoke with Randy Trost from Lenox. We became acquainted when I put together a band and we did a show at the Legion Hall in his home town. People said, "We have this local boy whom everybody likes to hear sing." We ran through some songs. When he got into the karaoke business, he had some other people helping him. Bill and I would go once in awhile, and I'd get up and sing. Randy was having some problems with the people he was dealing with. We became friends and have been performing ever since. I don't care whether I sing or not. The nature of karaoke is encouraging other people to sing, and sometimes you bond with people more if they sing. I've met a lot of friends that way.