History of Vada May Wallace Shoewalter & Cabbage Patch Kids

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Vada May Wallace Shoewalter

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History of Vada May Wallace Shoewalter & Cabbage Patch Kids

By James A. George, Great Grandson

Sometime around 1952, I visited Great Grandma Vada May Wallace at her home in Fulton, Morrow County Ohio. She was my Grandmother Marguerite Shoewalter’s mother and lived in a house that was formerly occupied with Albert Shoewalter, her husband and my Great Grandfather. I never had the opportunity to meet Albert, though my Father, Franklin A. George was quite familiar with the tall thin man with red hair.

Albert farmed a small plot with sufficient resources to keep a family. As they grew old, they gained assistance from their children and grandchildren.

Grandpa Oscar Taylor George, Marguerite’s husband, was also the county Sherriff. He stopped by sometimes as did Grandma to check on Vada. She was self sufficient for a woman getting on in years.

My Father dropped off my brother Tim and me to visit awhile with Great Grandma. He and Mother, Carroll Virginia Irons George may have had an errand in Cardington or may have been visiting the Bogg’s farm north of Fulton where Mother’s sister, Aunt Betty lived with her husband Uncle Jim. They had an apartment in the second story of the big old farm house where Jim’s parent’s lived and worked a cattle farm.

Anyway, Great Grandma Vada’s home was a fun place to visit because it had a front porch facing the street. The street wasn’t all that busy, though it was the main road into the “village.” Fulton then and now hardly rates as a village. There isn’t much business though there are a couple of cemeteries.

Great Grandma (Vada), was concerned about our getting too close to the street. We could play on the porch, but if we drifted down the steps she would move to guide us back. She had a rocking chair out there and a radio just inside so she could hear music.

One visit, my brother and I danced with her on the porch to such an extent that porch was bouncing. When my Dad returned later, he noticed that the porch was too loose and it wasn’t within a week that Grandpa and his boys had that porch repaired.

Inside, in the living room, Vada had lace curtains. She had lace doilies on all of the chairs and couch arms. All of our grandmothers had doilies that they crocheted. When they weren’t tending other things, Grandma’s crocheted or knitted. She had an afghan throw on the back of her couch too.

Straight through the living room there was a short hall to the right into a bedroom where Vada slept. There was a stairway to the second floor where there were other bedrooms, but she didn’t go up there since she was by herself and had no need. The kitchen was off to the left and featured a dining area and a wonderful large sink with a hand pump for water.

At the time I visited, the house had modern plumbing and city water, but Vada still like well water for drinking because it was cold and fresh tasting. I agree. I preferred it too.

My Dad showed to me a spring in the area located alongside the highway where travelers and farmers stopped to water their horses. There was a tin cup adjacent the spring so “modern” travelers might refresh themselves if they knew about its location. Grandpa revealed to me several of those spring sites over the course of time as we traveled around the county together exploring.

Vada enjoyed having company and promised to make us boys some lunch. We went out into the back yard while she prepared our lunch. I noticed the homemade bread and jelly already in the queue. That was promising. However, there was a familiar odor of something cooking for which I was not so fond.

Playing in the yard put aside that odorous distraction and Tim and I inspected Grandma’s summer garden. Then, I spotted the railroad track. I loved to play by the railroad track because one could discover things there.

Sometimes, I would find a piece of coal that fell off the coal train. I would use the lump to make a chemical garden that can only be made with a fresh lump of coal. Sometimes, I would find pieces of metal and other things abandoned by the track.

Looking around to make certain no one was looking; I took a penny from my pocket and placed it on the rails. If a train came by, I would go back later to locate the flattened penny.  I didn’t want to get caught doing that because Mother said I might derail a train someday.

“Lunch is ready,” Vada called to us boys.

We came running but I decided to turn the other way because what I smelled coming from the kitchen was boiled cabbage. I hated boiled cabbage with the same disdain as boiled turnips.

Did you ever sit down to a fine dinner of roast beef and potatoes, knowing that you would have to eat at least one carrot to satisfy your mother that you deserved to eat a bunch of potatoes. Then, you loaded up your plate with what you thought were potatoes and you got turnips instead?

Your Dad tells you to eat all that you put on your plate and you can’t have more potatoes until you finish your turnips.

Anyway, it was one of those days. I didn’t want to disappoint her so I gave the cabbage a try and after that it became an acquired taste. Today, when I smell and eat cabbage, I remember Great Grandma Vada Wallace Shoewalter.