Irish Jigs and Yodeling
My grandmother had a brother, Scott Bullock, who was still living when we first came to Mountain Grove. She was married to Aunt Eliza, who was a very large woman. Aunt Eliza would sometimes come and visit for a week. She baked the best cakes in the world. I remember watching her make fluffy white frosting out of whipped egg whites and hot corn syrup. She would beat the egg whites with a hand egg beater until they had stiff peaks and then continue beating as she slowly dribbled hot corn syrup into the mixture. I have tried making that same frosting, but it is never quite as good as Aunt Eliza’s. It is also exhausting and time-consuming to make. I am not sure we always appreciate our grandparents’ generation. They did not have the luxury of flipping the top off of a container of ready-made frosting and spreading it over a cake that had some from a mix.
Grandma always said Uncle Scott had the most beautiful Irish tenor voice. She loved to watch the Lawrence Welk Show and listen to the Irish tenor who reminded her of her brother. I only remember him singing one time. He sang “Oh, Danny Boy.” He could also do an Irish jig and play a fiddle. I remember Uncle Glen trying to talk me into dancing a jig with Uncle Scott, but I was too shy, even though I wanted to learn to dance like that.
I never hear the song, “Oh, Danny Boy,” that I am not transported back in time to those wonderful days living on the farm. I can still hear Uncle Scott’s voice in my head, and I see myself curled up in a chair with my grandmother listening to the Lawrence Welk Show. She always waited anxiously to hear the Irish tenor, Joe Feeny. On evening he sang “Oh, Danny Boy,” and she started to cry. I am thinking she really missed her brother, Scott, who preceded her in death.
I have many musical memories of family gatherings. Uncle Bob played the guitar and sang, “Out in the West Texas Town of El Paso.” It always made me sad when the cowboy died in his girlfriend’s arms. Uncle Bob would also embarrass my Aunt Lucy, who was quiet and shy, by singing to her. “Hey good-looking, what ya gotta cooking? How’s about cooking something up with me.” “Old Shep” and “Suppertime” were also songs he frequently played and sang. I thought “Old Shep” was the saddest song I ever heard.
My father also played the guitar, and I have one very vivid memory of him and Uncle Bob playing and singing. There are three songs I remember. “Rambling Rose,” “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain,” and “Church in the Wildwood.” I believe that my Uncle Wib (Wilburn) also played the guitar, but I do not remember ever hearing him play. My little brother, Ken, learned to play the guitar and followed in their footsteps.
Aunt Chlorine, who was married to Pat (Cleburne) Pound, was also a singer. She and Uncle Pat used to sing together, mostly gospel songs. Uncle Pat was also an Irish sounding tenor and reminded me in appearance of Uncle Scott. Others would join in, but the most wonderful thing about them singing was the way Aunt Chlorine could yodel. I had not and have not since ever heard anyone yodel like that. We used to beg her to sing and yodel for us. I remember the last time we asked, and she said she couldn’t do it anymore, that she was just too old. I was so disappointed. When I think of Aunt Chlorine, I always think of yodeling.
The family had so many good times gathered in the living room at my grandparents’ farm. There was always so much fun and laughter. They genuinely loved each other, and though there were many very different opinions flying around the room, the discussions were always lively and humorous.