The Valley of the Laughing River

Oh. My. Word. You must read this poem I found in one of the boxes!! I am assuming that this was written by my grandfather, Jeffa Porter Hill, Jr. It was typed on two pieces of plain paper and folded neatly in the box. He even signed the second page. It is typed in his words, using his spacing and spelling.


The Valley of the Laughing River
by Porter Hill

The Valley of the Laughing River
Lies among the Great White Mountains,
Like a pearl among the sandwastes,
Showing up with shining raidiance,
Reaching with green hills to heaven.
In this valley there is wildness
Where the white man never enters,
Where the peace goes on forever,
Goes until the end of time.
The thrush sings on the hilltops
The wild canary in the glen.
The beaver dams the rushing waters,
Dams the rushing, cold, clear waters,
Forms a lake in deep blue splendor,
Where the trout leap in the evening.
Oh, the beauty of this valley.
Oh, the beauty and the splendor,
Makes my heart call out in yearning,
Call out for this wild thing
The Valley of the Laughing River.

By the cataract of this river
Where the water roares and thunders,
Where the colors leap in rainbows
Lived a maid of wonderous beauty,
Lived alone beside the waters
Ate the berries from the bushes
Bathed in the waters of the river.
The birds sat on her sholders
Sat and sang sons of her beauty
Sang of her beauty and her kindness.
Oh, the breezes whispered 'round her
Whispered secrets of the forest
Whispered tales of love and battles
Of the hardships and of pleasures.
When she walked along the pathways
Of the rabbit and the squirrel
The trees bent down to kiss her
And carress with leafy softness.
When she passed they sighed in silence
Sighed when 'ere she kissed their fingers
Sighed when she told them how she
     loved them,
How she loved their leafy shelter.

The run arose with splendor
Sent rays of warmth and sunshine
To the corners of the valley
Dancing lightly on the river, bounding
     Back into the sky.
Then the rays fell on a figure
Lying by the Laughing River.
His features shown of hunger
Of hunger and privation.
The birds talked to each other,
"Who is this funny creature
That comes into our valley?"
The rabbits told here of this stranger
Of this stranger in their valley
Lying by the Laughing River
White and silent in the sun.
He had entered the dominion
Of the wild things and this maiden.

Chiwa looked from out the bushes
At this man beside the river.
Oh, her breath caught in the rapture
Of the sight that now beheld her.
She had dreamed long of his coming
Of his coming to this valley.
She had dreamed he'd come and get
     her.
Take her way beyond the mountains
To the land way to the westward
Where a lake of unknown greatness
Beat the shores in sounds of thunder.
Where the land was always sunshine
Never came the cold and blizzard.
Now a land of milk and honey
Burst forth upon her vision.

She ran back into her bower
Where she stirred the glowing embers
Of here slowly dying fire.
She ran into the forest
Picked the leaves of plants and flowers,
Crushed the juices from their greeness.
Then she ran onto the meadow
On the meadow by the river.
Knelt beside the dying stranger
Raised his head into her arms
Made him sip the healing potient
Stroked the hair back from his forehead.
His eyelids fluttered slightly
Finally opened to full vision
Falling on this queen of beauty.
He stirred and then sat upright
Steadied by the hand of Chewa.
Was he dead and now in Heaven?
Looking at a georgeous angel?

Excerpts from The Life Story of Jeffa P. Hill, Jr. - Junior's First Earthquake

As you know, I'm working on typing my Grandaddy's life story so I can publish it. It's a long process, but I hope to be finished by the end of this year. I intend to find the appropriate places in the story and insert the text of letters that we have found in various boxes that belonged to my grandparents. I hope to collaborate with my cousin, Emily Hill Hanner, who is also a writer, to separate the story into chapters and make it flow. I'm super excited about this project, and I have wanted to start on it for almost 8 years. Now is the time! Carpe diem! 

Since I can't wait to share this story with you, I'm going to put a few excerpts here on my blog as I type the story. You'll be entertained, especially if you knew my Grandaddy! This first excerpt is from near the beginning of "Junior's" story. His family had moved to Pasadena, California when he was five years old and they had been living with Miles and Marie Bell, who Junior's mother had known when she lived in California before. They stayed with the Bells for a couple of months until Junior's Dad found a job selling real estate.

          When Dad got his job, we moved to a house closer to town and school. I started to school in the first grade at Lincoln Grammer School. It was in this house that Mom became very ill with an extremely high temperature. She lost all of her hair due to the illness but recovered after several weeks. I was never told just what it was that she had.

          It was also in this house that we experienced our first earthquake. Dad was on a ladder painting the house next door, I was playing on the front porch and Mom was doing something in the house. Suddenly the tall Royal Palm trees lining both sides of the street started to sway like Hula dancers and the pavement looked like waves on the ocean. The ladder Dad was on swung away from the house and just before it got to the point where Dad would have falledn backward, it tipped the other way and slammed him into the house. The doors in the house were banging shut and Mom thought sure it was me playing pranks again. She knew something was wrong though when she came out on the porch and saw Dad pullig himself off the ground and me hanging on to the porch railing yelling. About that time there was another jolt and the houses shook and the trees thrashed back and forth and then it was all over. Many times after that we experienced earthquakes of various intensities but always with apprehension and fear.

Letters from the Past - Dearest Honey Lamb

This letter is from my Grandaddy, Jeffa Porter Hill, Jr., to his wife, Virginia Juanita Buckner Hill. Grandaddy was stationed at Camp Gordon Johnston, Florida, awaiting deployment in World War II, and Gran was living in Gadsden. To see this side of my grandfather is so special! I always knew he loved my grandmother more than life itself, and this letter is just a glimpse of his love and devotion. There are parts that will make you giggle! Also, I am impressed that he was such a great speller!

Postmarked: 02-12-1944

Delivery Address: 

Mrs. Jeffa P. Hill, Jr.

1148 Gardner Street

Gadsden, Alabama
 

Return Address:

Lt. Jeffa P. Hill, Jr. 0-1038675

339th Harbor Craft Co.

Army Trans. Corps.

Camp Gordon Johnston, Fla.

Saturday Evening
4:50 12 Feb 1944

Dearest Honey Lamb:
     Just got back and cleaned up from out trip over the street fighting course, and thought I would start this letter before I went to chow. It wasn't as tough as the infiltration course yesterday, but we had to walk about 15 miles in a cold wind. I believe today has been the coldest day since we've been down here.
     I received three letters from you this morning and sure was glad to hear from you. Just a few minutes ago I got my first chance to read them. They are really working us down here but I don't mind it after doing office work for nine months. I like to feel the wind against my cheek. It whispers to me of your love and devotion.
     We learned today that we go on the alert about next Sunday. With requirements to be ready to move at anytime on three hours notice. Well honey, as much as I hate to say it, this looks like it is "it." Darling, I hope you will understand that I did everything possible to get a leave. My buddy, Henry Wursma, hasn't had a leave since last July and he is married and one child and another arriving in a couple months and he couldn't get one. So you see darling, we aren't the only ones who are suffering. I thank God that we were together as long as we were.
     Maybe now that you are working, time will pass a little faster. Get out once in a while and try to have a good time. I know it's hard to do because I've tried it. But all we can do is try and make the best of things until this war is over and we can be together again.
     From now on honey, I wont be able to tell you much about what we are doing. But I'll try to make my letters as interesting as possible, even if it's making love to you by mail. It's not very many husbands that write their wives love letters. I must be an acception, reckon?
     I sure wish I could have been there for Ed's birthday. Wish him a happy birthday for me, will you?
     Darling, I am enclosing an envelope which I hope you will never have to open. When I get back we can take that envelope, unopened, and tear it to little bits and watch them burn in the fire place. [Note: There was no envelope with this letter. Since I know he made it back from the war, I'm assuming they tore it to little bits and watched it burn in the fire place!]
     Well, sweetheart, its getting cold in here so suppose I better build a fire before it gets too dark. I love you, my very own, and pray for the war to be ended soon. I'm glad you like your job and I know you will make good at it. Be Good Be Careful and God be with you till we meet again.

All my love
Forever and eternity
Jeffa.

Letters from the Past - Don't Forget About Your Mother!

My mother gave Leyden a box that belonged to my grandfather, Jeffa Porter Hill, Jr. There are several letters in the box, and Leyden and I have enjoyed reading them. We have laughed, we have gasped in surprise, we have wondered aloud at the "guilt trips," ha ha! I am working on typing Grandaddy's life story, and I am thinking about incorporating the letters into his life story. Until I decide, I thought I'd share them here for my family to enjoy. (I'm copying these letters verbatim, spelling errors and all.)

Grandaddy was 15 years old when he received this letter from his biological mother, Margaret Jane Armstrong Hill, who died when Grandaddy was a senior in high school. Grandaddy's father, Jeffa Porter Hill, Sr., moved from town to town all over the west looking for mining jobs. His mother was weak and sickly. They could not make ends meet and it was a very hard life. Grandaddy was sent away as a teenager to live on a ranch, apparently with family or close friends, in Pasadena, California, where he became a cowboy. The "dinkey" mentioned at the end of the letter was an early version of a commuter train.

Postmarked: June 29, 1937
Delivery Address: 

Jeffa P. Hill, Jr.

529 Atchinson Street

Pasadena, CA
 

Return Address: 

Mrs. J.P. Hill

Superior, Arizona

June 29, 1937
 

Dear Soney boy -

Well you finely decided to write didint u? I sure was mad at you, and what I didint say and think, wasn't worth much. I was not much worried, for feel your big enough to take care of your self, but felt bad to think you wouldnt take time to write me. Where you know how I worry about everything. I told Dad I wouldnt write you any more, but u know how I love you dear, and know matter if you do forget about having a Mother, I will write anyway. it is so lonesome here. You could write and tell me what you do and how are friends are, and who you go visit with. I would like to know. $1.70 isnt to much to go see Lovie, but call her first and make sure they are at home so you wont make the trip for nothing. it costs 25c to talk to Justin I think. They live on "B" street I guess you could find the house once you got there. Dont get "losted" tho and dont talk to strangers or get in a car with strangers no matter what they "say". Isnt that awful about that man killing those three little girls and a crazy man like that would just as soon kill boys as girls. I hope they get him. When are you coming home dear? I dont want Carlton & Kathleen to go broke trying feed you. I am feeling pretty good. We went to Globe Sun. afternoon (Uncle is feeling fine. he said he saw the girl who writes to you. did you get the 2 letters Dad sent you that she wrote? also one I mailed last Thurs. I have a little Mexican girl who comes in every morning and does dishes and cleans house she is 13 years. lives near us in that house across from Mrs. Mirich with the blue door. she came last Sat. a.m. and asked me if she could work for me. that her Brother sold me a paper every week, and I was such a nice Lady. you see the little Mexican thinks me nice, even if u do forget that you do have a Mamma somewhere. well your old Mom loves you honey, even if you are to busy to write. did Kathleen get the dress I sent Snookie June 21 please let me know. I had it insured in case it is lost. I thought she would write and let me know. Mabie she didint like it. if its to big send it back and I'll try and find another one. sure wish I was there and could go swimming. its pretty warm today tho its been a bit cloudy since last Sat. well its past three so will have to stop and clean up. will slip a bill if pop will let me as I guess your getting low on cash. next time he sends you some Son write and let us know in less than a month.

Oodles of love & kisses Mother

love to all the family (over)

Dear you will have to wait till pay day to go to Lovies for dont guess you have much of the fine left. dont forget to bring your croquet set when you come home. you could get your ticket to Florence and come on in on the "dinkey" fined out at the S.P. what the fare is and if you can go to Florence. they may sell them clear to Superior that way. the Dink runs there every day I guess. anyway you can call & find out. love M.