Never helpless Ella - by Leatha Koefler 2025

Those size five shoes obviously belong to a small person. At just about five feet tall, with her red hair shielded by her Conestoga Covered Wagon style hat, round body, flowered dress and apron, one might think she was a fragile, helpless, soft spoken, dependent woman. However, all were far from true. Lorene, my momma, said Grandma Ella was witty, fun and could bellow out commands as needed to run the farm. Momma and her little sister Wanda, lived part time on the farm with grandma and grandpa, after their mother died. Ella Dunsworth was my great grandmother and she was far from helpless.

Living hours from any town of size, while Grandpa Hugh planted and harvested their commercial crops, Grandma provided for the family by raising vegetables and plenty of animals. Her turkeys were the fiercest. Keeping them in the fenced part of her yard, near the front door, these ferocious turkeys could keep away every unwanted stranger. Who needs a Doberman watch dog when squawking turkeys run at intruders, flapping their wings higher than my head, spewing feathers like fourth of July firecrackers? Even though I was family, I feared they would peck the face off my short body! I waited until they were around the side of the house before making my crazed dash to the front door. Running, praying hard the door was not locked, blinded by fear, I could only see my goal, the front door. However, when Grandma Ella entered the yard, the turkeys ran, scattering fast. They were worried about keeping their head not just their face. If turkey was planned for dinner; with a snap of her wrist, one would be ready to pluck and clean. Occasionally a stranger made it to the front door, Grandma greeted them with a look of curiosity, and her cast-iron skillet behind her skirt. Trust me, the power behind her skillet was more than culinary.

If Grandma Ella's family of ten ate it, then in all probability she grew it, killed it, baked it, dried it, smoked it or canned it. Refrigeration was not an option. Electricity was one of the many luxuries grandma Ella did without, until she was in her seventies, when tall polls like soldiers finally marched down her more than two-mile driveway to her rural prairie home. Finding scrumptious alternatives; Grandma Ella prepared what I thought of as gourmet meals. I definitely will never forget the mouthwatering dinners served from Ball Jars. When I heard the jar lids pop and breathed the chestnut like aroma, I knew venison stew with soft meat and potatoes would soon be on my plate.

In addition to nourishing their bodies, Ella dressed her family. Beautifully printed flour sacks became western style shirts with pearl snaps just like the ones John Wayne wore, fashionable dresses with matching bloomers for the little girls, blouses, and of course aprons. Her daughters learned quickly to sew, starting with quilts. Scraps and good fabric from worn clothing became lushes warm bed covers. Turning her sewing box into a doctor's bag; I saw her stitch a farmhand’s cut shoulder in the time it took him to walk from the kitchen door to the dinner table. She dragged me to the barn and smeared some black greasy goo on my cut knee that was taking its time to heal. Momma said she uses that stuff on the horses. The cut seemed to disappear overnight. Grandma was the only doctor the family and farm hands needed.

At night, trespassing on Grandma’s southern Colorado farm; rustlers fought to steal the horses. Momma said she remembers hearing what sounded like a hundred sledge hammers hitting the split log fences. With their hooves pounding the corral railings, breaking in, they were like criminals freeing their buddies from jail. Trained farm horses became jailbirds, freed by their wild horse cousins. Nevertheless, grandma knew how to deal with those horse thieves. Grandma Ella handled them with her cast iron skillet, banging it on the side of her model T as grandpa Hugh drove. They chased them across the prairie and off their land. Momma and Wanda, bare foot and in their nighties, helped gatherer their horses leading them back to the corral that was being repaired.

As she aged, Grandma Ella’s red hair turned white so slowly and evenly that it appeared to be pink. I remember her, with her pink hair, crossing her arms above her very ample breasts like she always did. We always thought they were too large for her to fold her arms under. But, were they? While in town Grandpa Hugh admired a car on the lot; Grandma asked “Do you want that car Hughy?” When he answered “Yes”, she pulled enough cash, in small bills, out of her bra and paid for the car. Managing the farm’s finances, Grandma Ella must have kept her cash close; ready to pay farm hands and buy cars.

Once widowed, she sold the farm. Moving to the city, she rapidly developed a new set of survival skills, both social and financial. Grandma Ella adjusted effortlessly enjoying her new social opportunities. Attending performances, bingo games and teas, she managed her social life with a royal flare. When we visited, she was the queen of the neighborhood, dressed with her hat, always a hat, she showed us the town and introduced us to the Native American performers who performed in the park amphitheater. She said her mother was a member of the Kiowa tribe. When most grandmothers were knitting, my great grandmother in her eighties, learned to invest in the stock market. Funny how her breasts size appeared conspicuously smaller. She was as successful growing her money as she was growing her family, crops and livestock on the farm. However, Grandma Ella also enjoyed returning home to her quiet apartment. Living alone was definitely her choice. She liked to tell us about an old fella who said she needed a man to take care of her, and he was going to move in. Even without her approval he made an attempt. Seeing him coming down the lane with a suitcase, he arrived at her door, announcing he was ready to move in. Grandma Ella was equipped with her cane, hitting him and driving him off her porch and out of her life. How lucky he was, it wasn’t the cast iron skillet.

Even though she was near the end of her eighty-eight years she still never waited for someone else to create her social life or make her decisions. Strongly independent Grandma Ella died attempting to take care of her own needs. In the hospital after surgery, the doctor directed her not to leave the bed unassisted. She had lived every aspect of her life deliberately and was decisively never helpless. So, what do you think she did?

Barbara Ella Ford born November 6, 1893

Barbara Ella Dunsworth died August, 1981