My GRANDPA, Charles Leroy Atnip by Jessica McDonough Drake 24
MY STORY OF LEROY FOR JESSICA by Peggy Atnip Milliot 26
MEMORIES OF MY FAMILY by Peggy Atnip Milliot 27
DOUBLE-DATING WITH LEROY by Bobby G. Atnip 31
OUR PARENTS by Tom Atnip 32
MY SISTER, BETTY by Peggy Atnip Milliot 33
MY FAMILY STORY by Peggy Atnip Milliot 34
THE CAT by Peggy Atnip Milliot 38
OUR BROTHER, ROBERT by Lorene Atnip Schackelford 39
MY DAD, CHARLES LEROY ATNIP by Ruby Marie Atnip VanBenthuysen 40
MY GRANDPA, CHARLES LEROY ATNIP by Jessica McDonough Drake 44
MY MOTHER, Ruby Atnip Schoene by Melinda Schoene Decker 47
MY STORY OF RUBY FOR MELINDA AND GWEN by Peggy Atnip Milliot 48
THE SNAKE by Peggy Atnip Millliot 49
MAMA by Peggy Atnip Milliot 50
ORLEY EUGENE ATNIP Author anonymous 51
RUBY JANE ATNIP SCHOENE Author anonymous 52
TOMMY RAY ATNIP Author anonymous 53
BETTY ATNIP SMITH Author anonymous 54
BOBBY GENE ATNIP Author anonymous 55
PEGGY JOYCE ATNIP MILLIOT Author Anonymous 56
SILVIA LORNE ATNIP HOLLAND SCHACKELFORD Author unknown 57
EVERLYN ARLETTA ATNIP COFFEY Author unknown 58
INTRODUCTION by Peggy Joyce Atnip Milliot
The idea for this booklet came about at one of our Atnip Family Reunions on Wappapello Lake in Missouri. As usual, we were sitting around laughing and retelling things that had happened in the family over the years. Some of our stories had been told so many times, the younger members had begun to feel that they had actually been there when the incident happened, and could retell the story as well as we did. In truth, they were either too young or had not been born yet when the incident took place. It got me to thinking that just as I did not know the older members of my family; our younger generation would not know us. So I passed around a notebook that year and asked the family members there to write down something about a member of the family. I told them they could write about a parent or sibling or something about their own childhood memories. Although very few stories were written in that notebook that week, those that were, gave the rest of us incites into personalities of our family members we didn’t know before. Some of those stories are included in this booklet. For me, one of the most interesting stories written that year was one about myself. (It’s the last story in this booklet). I never found out who wrote it. I don’t know if whoever wrote it was trying to make me feel good and if they truly feel that’s the kind of person I am, but each time I read it, I always think how wonderful it would be to be remembered that way. What a nice legacy to leave behind.
It wasn’t until I was grown and our parents and some of our siblings had passed away that I wished I had recorded all those stories our parents and grandparents had told about their own growing up years. I would love to hear dad retell all those stories he told us of his years growing up in the hills of Missouri.
So I dedicate this booklet to future generations of Atnips who aren’t born yet or who were too young to know us older folks very well, and I’m hoping they will add their own stories to this booklet, and, as my niece, Melinda, so nicely put it, “continue to keep the Atnip family memories alive.”
MEMORIES OF MY SISTER, MARIE by Evelyn Coffey
For some reason I am still not sure of, I got to go to my sister Marie’s several different summers when I was a kid. Maybe one of the reasons was my inability to pick even 100 pounds of cotton. I loved going to Marie's. She always kept me busy helping around the house with different little chores. My worst fear was being sent to the basement for, I don't know, canning jars or laundry or whatever. I was terrified of the snakes that I was sure were laying in wait for me. I was sure they all knew my name. Here comes.....EVELYN!
Marie would sometimes take me into town and while she ran errands, she would drop me off at the local swimming pool. I remember I would have my swimsuit on and the pool would be packed with kids of all ages. I would find a cool spot in the shade and lean up against the wall of the pool house until she would come back for me. I can still hear "I Can't Get No Satisfaction" blaring over the loud speaker. And whenever I hear that song, it always conjures up the same memory and the smell of chlorine. I used to wonder if Marie knew that I couldn't swim and that I didn't go in the water. But it didn't matter at all because when she came to pick me up, she always took me by the Dairy Queen for a vanilla ice cream cone dipped in chocolate. Boy that was good stuff. Sometimes she would take me to Aunt Lola's to spend the day and night. I always enjoyed going there and hanging out with Mike. And also I would get to see my fascinating and sophisticated cousin, Carolyn. I was always in awe of her. She always seemed to have beautiful dresses and just whirled through the house on her way out to someplace exciting. She would run outside and jump in the car and speed away. I use to think, "Wow, I want to be like her".
I'll never forget how Marie would always wear shorts all summer and not think twice about it. But once, Daddy came early to visit and to pick me up. She looked out the window and said "Oh, no, it's Dad". She took off running into her bedroom and hit the hardwood floor with a skid into the end of the bed. She smashed her hip on the bed but just kept on moving. She slipped a skirt over the shorts and rushed outside, half-limping, to meet Daddy just as if nothing unusual had happened. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. But I did know enough not to mention it to Daddy.
My summers at Marie’s went by so fast and I don't know what I did except it was great. Then every Christmas Marie would ask us to come to her house. Daddy would never say we would go for sure. I felt like he was teasing us. And he would always say that it depended on if it snowed or not and if the roads were clear. I would pray and pray that it would not snow until we got to Marie's. Then I would pray and pray that we would get snowed in at Marie's house. There was something so wonderful about going to her house for Christmas. I don't remember presents or singing or any of those Christmas movie type of happenings but I just remember warm and cozy. Cozy is a wonderful feeling when it "isn't" at home. She always made everything so inviting and special.
I will never forget all the memories of going to her house, from the chowders to the little bobbing woodpecker in her kitchen and the multi-colored tin glasses that she always had. I can still remember the summertime and the sweat running off the pink tin glass, which was my favorite one, and how much I hoped that she would make one of her wonderful pot roasts which I never had anywhere but at her house. I guess I don't remember Marie hugging me with her arms but I felt hugged everyday that I was with her. Cozy... That's my memory of Marie.