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Grandpa's "linny-mint".

BobinMIZZU

New member
Brian's post on the "Gargling Oil" got me thinking about my Grandpa. He was born in 1875 and died in 1968. This is a picture of his house taken in 1921. They raised 12 children here.

[attachment 188489 davishomesteadpeopleremovedlores.jpg]

Grandpa saw a lot during his lifetime. Cars didn't exist when he was growing up......yet he almost lived to see astronauts on the moon. BTW, he didn't think much of the moon program and predicted dire consequences for "tampering with the moon".

Grandpa was deaf as a fence post the last 30 years of his life and had a hard time grasping the concept of "modern" technology. He loved watching television and was convinced that not only could he see the people on the tube......but that they could see him as well. I tried to argue the point with him a couple of times but never convinced him

Back to the subject - Grandpa was a firm believer in "Caustic Balsam" liniment (he called it "Costly Balsam"). He always kept a bottle on hand and used it liberally.
[attachment 188490 causticbalsamlores.jpg]

I remember him coming to stay with us for a couple of weeks about 1955. He'd sprained his wrist and was giving it daily treatment with his "linny-mint". Just looked it up and some of the main ingredients were camphor, turpentine, kerosene, and various herbs. It was foul smelling beyond belief. He also smoked a pipe constantly. Back in those days he grew his own tobacco which only added to the aroma. Between the liniment and his constant pipe smoking our house stunk to high heaven. It literally took weeks for the smell to dissipate after he left.

Dad took him to see the Doctor about his wrist. When the Doc came in he wrinkled his nose and asked "What's that awful smell?" Dad explained it was his liniment that he applied to his wrist daily. The Doc allowed it would probably do him just as much good if he rubbed it on his foot!

With 12 children there were lots of grandkids and we always got a good laugh from Grandpa and his ways. Wasn't til I was grown that I began to appreciate him. He was a big kid and when he was 12 he left his family and went to Arkansas to work cutting ties for the railroad track to Eureka Springs. I remember him saying he climbed on the buckboard wagon to start the trip with one nickel in his pocket. He married in 1900 and they had 12 kids. My Grandmother died young (of tuberculosis, I think). He kept his family together and somehow scratched out a living for them during the depression. Folks were just way tougher then I guess. Didn't have anything but managed to be happy anyway.

(As an interesting side note - in the late 70's my Dad and I detected the old homeplace. I found a couple of Indians, a Merc, and a Roosie. At the right end of the house my Dad dug a 1902 Barber half. He commented that he couldn't remember even seeing a half until he was grown and he bet whoever lost it looked for it for a loooong time before they gave up.)
 
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I recently found one of his old pipes in an old family box. I wrote a poem about it for our poetry class. The poem and the pipe are still in my collection.
 
I can still feel the sizzle and smell the scent of fresh burnt buttered flesh :lol:
 
I spose now adays ya gotta decide twixt dyed or K-1 ? :lol:
 
full of new pipes that people had given him. He used only one pipe at a time. He'd fire it up first thing after breakfast and smoked almost constantly until bedtime. He'd smoke each pipe until the bowl was burned down a good ways, then throw it away, and start with a new one. When you use a pipe like this the smell [size=large]IS NOT[/size] a pleasant memory. My Mom always made sure there was a nice comfy chair out under the shade trees when he came to visit. :lol:
 
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