My name is Edna Register Boone.
I was born in 1907 in rural
Houston County, Alabama.
We moved away from the farm when I was three years old and moved into the little town of
Madrid; still Houston County.
Times were troubled -
a war going on, a flu epidemic that followed the
Boll Weevil. Three catastrophes, right there.
A new disease, just like another epidemic would be perhaps. Maybe not the flu, but something else. It would be a new disease, and we would have to learn to deal with it.
I was ten years old, and my family was the only family in the little town that did not contract the Flu. Therefore my parents became automatic nurses.
They nursed every family in town, and one family in particular was outside of the town limits.
My father and Uncle Eli, which is what we called his
manservant, dug a common grave and buried three people in it - Mother, Father and a young daughter.
Unfortunately we had no sanitary conditions in the area at that time, so the people were buried in the clothes they died in and wrapped in the sheets.
Because there was no way to - no one to wash the bed linens for them. So they were buried in a common grave.
I do not remember a single Church burial caused by the Avian Flu. It was prevalent. The greatest problem, of course, was getting medication. We only
had one doctor, Dr. Andres, a wonderful man. He did the best he could. We had no penicillin, no sulphur, nothing to treat that dreadful disease.
Of course there was wagon loads of sick people lined up at his front door all the time. If you loaded a sick person whom you could no longer help,
and put them in a wagon - which is what most transportation was - put 'em in that vehicle and take them to
Dothan, or to a hospital, chances
are that patient would be dead when they got there. Okay, if it wasn't, there would be no room. The rooms would be filled. The Doctors would be
worked to capacity. That's why most families just buried their own dead.
The Flu itself... the so-called - I think they called it the Avian Flu, affected the throat and the windpipe and the chest. And lack of medication;
we had a little drug store and he had a pharmacist, a hired pharmacist. But he could only supply
paregoric, or maybe
Mentholatum. I don't know
what kind of ointments they put on your chest but that's about all there was.
And my mother would take a half teaspoon full of
soda and put it in a glass of water, for each of us - my twin brothers and for me - and we
would drink that before breakfast. I've often thought that that's what saved us. She said that that soda would neutralize the system, and we would
be less subject to pick up the germ. It must have worked, because we were the only family - entire family - that escaped having that dreadful flu.
It was my job as a 10-year old to take food to people, to families, that were all of them stricken. Mama would put a gauze bandage around my face,
and she kept sterilized fruit jars on the stove at all times. And she would fill those jars with soup, or whatever there was, and I would take the
jars to the home of an afflicted family... knock on the door, and leave the food at the door for someone to come pick it up. It was not a pretty
picture.
It was my job to see that the, you know
the old-fashioned ranges that we cooked with, had a hot water reservoir attached to the side of the
stove. It was my job to see that that reservoir was full all the time. Of course I had to haul water up out of the well, but that wasn't hard for a
10-year old. Anyway that and it was my job, my twin brother's job, to see that there was plenty of wood cut for the fireplaces and the stove.
One thing I remember that my father did - there was an open space on one side of our house, I would say the west side of it. Papa ploughed up,
totally, I don't know what the measurement was but I'd say a fourth of an acre, and planted sweet potatoes. And I would say that half of the
community lived off that potato patch. Because no one was able to go shopping, no one was able to cook. If they could, they'd bake a few potatoes
even if it was in the fireplace.
I knew I had to participate. I knew that my family was being protected. I was raised in a Christian family, and we held our evening prayers. I was
just - I knew I had to do my part.
I came home one day, I don't know where I had been, but I came home and Mama was stretched out on a pallet in front of the fireplace. Oh I panicked.
"Mama! Mama are you - are you sick?" She said "No, child. I'm just so tired. I wanted to get as close to the fire as I could." She said "I knew if I
got into that bed that (Edna laughs) I might not ever get up."
We were like a great big family, you might say. I doubt if we had 200 residents.
It brought families closer together, and it brought our little town closer together, because we all suffered losses. One way or the other, if not
through war then through the epidemic.
Oh my goodness, what if it happened? Suddenly, say even in three or four days some sort of epidemic sweeps through. I think the only thing I could
suggest about that is to be aware that it could happen again. Children need to learn about what could happen. Of course I'm sure hospitals are
aware.
But the shockwave that sets in when something like this happens kinda stuns people, you know, they go beyond thinking correctly.
And lots of times I would come in and I would cry, because of all the sickness that was around me. And I knew that that sickness was deadly. It was
depressing to me.
Be aware. Be aware.