About the Author

As told to her daughter, Ellen

"I was born in Coffeen, Illinois on May 12, 1917. Coffeen was a small town located in southern Illinois. My parents divorced when I was quite young, so my grandparents, God bless them, basically reared me. I was raised with high values. We lived very modestly, and probably by today's standards, we would have been classified as "poor." Nonetheless, my father would have cut out his tongue before he would have ever asked for any kind of government assistance.

My father's father (H.T. Phipps) was a barber and taught him the trade as a very young man. In later years, my father taught in a barber college. He was also a very talented musician, a great cook and a bartender. At one time he was a brakeman on the old Nickel Plate Railroad. During World War II, he worked in the East St. Louis yards. His parents, with whom I sometimes lived, had been unable to pay their property taxes for five years. My father paid a dollar at a time until their property was redeemed.

My paternal grandparents had very large gardens. My father and grandmother worked in the gardens mornings and evenings to raise enough food to feed our family. Actually, both sets of my grandparents not only raised their own vegetables and some fruit, but chickens and pigs. We always ate well. My mother's mother (Dollie Walter) even made all of our candy, including hand-dipped chocolates and even marshmallows. Let's not forget the cakes, pies and cookies! Even her potato chips and angel food cakes were well recognized in the entire community. Needless to say, we seldom went to the store.

One winter, my father went out in the woods, having obtained permission from a local farmer, and cut enough wood - not with a machine, but by hand, to keep us warm all winter. Nothing was ever thrown away. Every scrap of everything was utilized. Because of the way I was raised, no food ever went down my garbage disposal and I froze everything but shoe leather.

We used outdoor toilets, and catalogues were the toilet paper. Sometimes, my grandfather brought home the tissues which had been wrapped around the oranges, and we thought that was great. I never thought I was deprived. I was loved.

At the age of eleven or twelve, I cut grass and went door to door with a Larkin catalogue taking orders or selling twenty-five-cent subscriptions to magazines. I earned my own spending money. My clothes were basically made from other relatives' cast-offs. Both my mother and grandmothers sewed. Sometimes we sent an order to a catalogue for fabric. It was an exciting time when the order came and we could have something really new.

In 1935, at age eighteen, I graduated Valedictorian from Coffeen High School. I received two four-year scholarships for school. One was to the University of Illinois, and the other was to any school in the state. At that time, I didn't know you could borrow funds from a bank to help pay for additional expenses for an education; I thought you only put money into savings. Since I thought there was no money to attend college, I left Coffeen and moved to Peoria, Illinois. I went to work as a maid for a family of five adults and two small children. I did all the housework, cleaning, cooking and laundry for $3.00 a week, including room and board.

In 1937, I met the man to whom I would marry in 1938. Things were looking up. Don had been to college and was the son of a most successful master farmer in Bennington, Nebraska. In 1939, our son Fred was born. When he was six months old, my husband lost his job as superintendent of the Humpty Dumpty ice cream plant. We both did anything we could to exist. One of the dear families where I had worked took us in. We slept on a three-quarter bed in the basement. Once again I became a "maid" for this family of four, whom I loved like my own. We had a roof over our heads and we ate regularly. We never, at any time, asked for help from anyone! I will not go into detail, but I can say that I worked without pay for their kindness to us. Finally, we were able to rent a small apartment and eventually we were able to get our furniture from a neighbor's garage where it had been stored."

About this time, I went out into a very exclusive neighborhood and worked. Sometimes I left our son with my husband and sometimes he went with me. Sometimes my husband helped out if he wasn’t working someplace. The laundry was terrific here - twenty-one shirts to iron every week, and more if they went out. My husband would help iron as well. (I made $9.00 a week here.) After much perseverance, my husband was hired at Caterpillar Tractor Company and we once again had a weekly paycheck. 

To be closer to Don’s employment, we moved out by the river, outside of Peoria. We leased a lot for twenty dollars a year. My husband cut down the wheat, staked off his lot and drilled the well by hand. Actually, he drove a sand point (a device used to drill a well) down twenty-two feet with a sledge hammer. Remember now, my husband wasn’t a carpenter, but he was determined to build us a home. He even drew his own plans.  

Don first built the garage, kitchen and utility room. Once again, I was back to an outdoor toilet, but this time I had moved up to “store-bought” toilet paper!  On Sunday nights we took the top off of the oil burner, which was used for heat, and put a boiler full of water on it. By Monday morning, the water was boiling. We did this summer and winter until the house was finished, which took ten years. We paid for it as we went. One year my husband bought me a divided Dutch door for my birthday. It was beautiful. I remember the unfinished door cost $40.00. I always thought we had the nicest home on the beach, as well as the most unique. It had a balcony bedroom with French doors overlooking the living room fireplace. 

With the help of an older neighbor, I began to sew. By using the outside parts of the sheets that were unworn, I was able to make all of our pajamas and pillow cases. This way we could have new sheets. Relatives gave me old clothes, which I ripped up, washed, ironed and re-cut into something completely different. We were very happy. 

During this time, my husband was studying for a college degree at Bradley University, which took him six years to obtain. We paid the tuition. He even took a two-year course at Caterpillar, and while some were earning $80.00/week – he made $30.00 just so he could obtain additional skills. I did the neighbors laundry and kept a little girl for seventy-five cents a day. I fed her as well.

About this time I decided to attend beauty school. My parents each gave me fifty dollars. We provided the additional twenty-five needed for tuition. I also worked for my tuition as a Cosmetology teacher of practical and theory. For years I took care of my mother’s hair without pay and we cared for my father when he was dying of cancer. Not only did we do whatever it took to survive, we also took care of other family members without any assistance from others. If you have “guts,” you can do anything! 

When times got rough, I was fortunate that I had experience in more than one field. For seven years I was an Illinois State secretary for an insurance firm. Five years was spent as a legal secretary and twenty-six years was spent working in retail and sales management. Oh yes, let’s not forget about my Cosmetology - at night and on weekends you could always find me fixing someone’s hair.  

In 1955, our daughter Ellen was born. What a surprise she was! I was thirty-eight years old and it had been more than sixteen years since our son was born. As I look back, I realize not only did she keep us young at heart in our later years, but she was there to care for us in times of need. Don and I retired in the early 1980s and moved to Arizona where Ellen lived with her husband and three children. Here we could enjoy the winter months and be closer to our daughter and grandchildren. 

In July 2004, our son Fred was killed in a tragic automobile accident with his friend, Cecelia Imhoff. My heart was broken. Death of a loved one is often difficult to come to terms with, especially when it’s your child. Life was never the same for me after that experience.  

In the fall of 2005, Don and I moved into the home of our daughter. Don’s health was declining, and here we could receive the loving care and support from Ellen and her family. Sadly, in January 2006, Don died at her home. Again, my world was shattered. After 67 years of marriage, my life-partner was gone. Had it not been for Ellen, I don’t think I could have managed the pain I felt inside. She was always there for me. We shared memories of the past and our dreams for the future. We talked, we laughed, we cried. We became so close. While she did her best to provide for me, the void I felt took a toll on my health.  

On February 26, 2007, Anna Nelle Phipps Ohrt died in the home of her daughter. While her life may have ended, this story hasn’t.  Through this book not only does her memory live on, but her desire to enlighten others through her divinely inspired poetry is fulfilled. May your heart be touched!