My Grandmother - Robbie Lee (Minter) McLarry

By Stephanie (Mattison) Cain

Written in the Spring of 2021.

My mother Myra Minter (McLarry) Mattison (1934 - 2015) told many wonderful stories about her childhood. Her mother, Robbie Lee (Minter) McLarry (1902 – 1964), was brought up in Sulphur Springs – a town girl – but married Guy McLarry, a cattle trader, and became a country girl. While Mom's stories about her mother were often funny, they also showcased what my dad referred to as Robbie Lee's “pioneer spirit.”

Robbie Lee's approach to egg-stealing snakes never failed to chill my blood as a child. Her methodology was this: Obtain a chalk egg. Put the egg in one of the nests in the hen house. Once a snake swallows the egg and tries to crawl out through a hole, the chalk egg will keep it from passing through. Go outside the hen house to where the snake is sticking out and chop it in half with a hoe. Squeeze out the chalk egg, rinse, and repeat. An internet search suggests this method not unknown outside of Hopkins county. But even if Robbie Lee didn't invent it, she showed a lot of grit in picking up half of a dead snake and squeezing something out of it.

When my mom was small, Robbie Lee would take her along to fish in one of the stock pools. On several occasions they were threatened by their bull's pawing and snorting. One day, after the bull acted like it was actually going to charge them, Robbie Lee had had enough. She told Mom to climb up on the fence while she went back to the house, returning shortly with her that all purpose tool, yes, the hoe. She walked up to the snorting, pawing defender of bovine honor and gave him a sharp knock between the ears with the neck of the hoe. The bull looked at her a moment then ran off and never bothered them again. Would you do that? Me neither.

Robbie Lee bought some undervests for my mother and her two sisters. The vests were orange. All three girls hated them, but the clothing budget was limited so they had to wear them until they wore out or they grew out of them. (And even then hand-me-downs were likely.) Guy, in one of his cattle trades, had obtained a goat. One day when the orange undervests were hanging on the line to dry, the goat ate the straps off of every one. What a wonderful animal!, the sisters thought. Knowing the vests had been unpopular, Robbie Lee let this transgression pass. But the goat, not understanding with whom it was dealing, returned to the laundry buffet on another day and ate the collar off Guy's good white shirt. That did it. Robbie Lee went in the house, returned with the .22, shot the goat dead, and they had a goat barbecue.

Her determination, physical courage, and willingness to see the humor in her own adventures will always be an inspiration to me.