Frances

Frances Marie Worley was born on January 24, 1929  in Monte Vista, Colorado.

Frances writes: "I remember going into town on Saturday nights to shop for groceries in an old truck (which they were happy to have for transportation.) Some of the floor boards were missing, and I could look down and see the ground moving beneath us as we sped along at 30 miles per hour! I also remember Mother and I sitting in the truck after we got our shopping done, waiting for Dad to finish his ‘business’ in the hardware store with the other farmers. Often, it was a long wait as this was the weekly trip to town and the only social occasion for Dad.

I remember one fall on the Chapman place during potato harvest, the spud haulers weren’t on the job for some reason, so Dad bucked the 100-pound sacks up onto the truck in the dark. I must have been nine or ten years old and was ‘driving’ the truck for him. When we got to the end of the field, he would run forward to the cab, grab the steering wheel and turn the truck around and get it going the other direction, then go back to bucking the sacks onto the truck. It might be worth mentioning here that never, ever did Mother work in the field – a woman’s place was in the house. The only other time I was allowed to work in the field was when I was in high school on the place south of Sargent. My best friend Darlene Mix worked in the field much of the time, so I thought it would be fun. There was a small field of alfalfa north of the house that needed raking (I think), so Dad gave in and let me rake it. I must have worked three hours, and by then the novelty wore off. I don’t remember that I ever begged to work in the field again!

I went to Sargent High School, not without many lessons of life learned first! Living in the country makes driving ‘necessary’ and especially desirable. I finally received permission to drive the pickup into town one Saturday night. (I don’t remember getting a driver’s license, but must have earned one eventually.) I don’t remember who was with me, but we noticed someone was following us, so I initiated a rousing game of ‘ditchum’ in and out of alleys and side streets. Much to my chagrin, I learned the next morning that we had been leading Dad here and there in town! There was no scolding, ranting or raving, but enough was said to get the idea that it was not to be done again! There may have been ‘tongue-in-cheek’ humor in Dad’s mind, but he never let on he even knew such a thing had ever been done before (How did he get to be so good at it?)

Another time his fatherly wisdom was demonstrated regarding school grades. I had come home from school with a mediocre report card, and was expressing annoyance that Twila, my cousin, always got better grades than I did. Dad very simply said, ‘Well, you know what you can do about it.’ and I did – bringing home some A’s and B’s the next time.

In 1945 I graduated from high school. Since I was a young 16 years old, and returning service men were coming home to college, it was decided to enroll me in a girl’s school (Stephens College in Columbia, Missouri) where there would be ample chaperonage. This was a greater financial responsibility than if I had gone to an in-state college , or worse, to Adams State College where I would be ‘close to home’. There never seemed to be a question whether I would attend college or not, and the choice of which college was immaterial. It must have been a traumatic separation of parents and daughter, since I had never been away from home for more than a couple of nights before. Mother wrote letters almost every day, I sent my laundry home weekly, even though there was an inexpensive service at school – this kept the bond closer between us, and there was always something good to eat sent with the clean clothes! Mother and Dad drove to Missouri to pick me up for Christmas vacation the first year and we drove through southern Iowa where Dad had lived as a young boy. They also drove out to Missouri to attend graduation.

The choice was made for me to transfer to the University of Colorado, and we drove up the summer before starting to find a suitable place for me to live. The tuition, board and room was paid, and monthly allowance established. I was allowed to write checks on the family bank account but I had better be frugal and able to justify an expenditure! I remember one time I bought a pair of heavy shoes (low tops) that were fashioned after ski boots. The cost $9.95, about twice what saddle shoes would have cost, and I had to justify the expense. Lesson of Worley economics – get what you need, but don’t overdo it or take advantage. Just think what I could have done – once – by writing a really large check! At the end of about two college years at Boulder, here comes Dad in April or May driving up in front of the Chi Omega sorority house (where I lived) in a new 1949 Chevy two-door pewter colored sedan – an early graduation present (I wouldn’t graduate until the end of the summer). What a marvelous gift! Generous beyond belief, and a complete surprise. Farm income apparently had improved greatly in the last few years! And the trust he showed in me to be able to handle this new found freedom!

After college graduation you would think their responsibility for their daughter would have ended. I got a job with Continental Airlines, but I did not get paid enough to cover rent AND expenses, so it was Mom and Dad who provided sustenance (rent) for a while.

I met Bob McCullough, and we decided to be married. Because we were living in Denver, and had few friends at home now, the wedding was scheduled to be held in Denver, Saturday, April 8, 1950. It would have been on Dad and Mother's wedding anniversary April 9, but that fell on Easter that year, and it wasn’t possible to have a wedding at the little First Plymouth Congregational Church on that day.

It was a proud Papa who gave his only daughter away that day, with many of the Worley’s friends coming to Denver for the festivities. No expense was spared for the reception held at the Brown Palace! The bride and groom left before the party go started good, but from reports, it was a rollicking party to the end."

Children of Frances and Robert McCullough:

    Lynn Allan McCullough was born April 23, 1954 in Del Norte, Colorado.

    Julie McCullough was born September 3, 1955 in Monte Vista, Colorado.

    James McCullough was born April 24, 1959 in Monte Vista, Colorado.