Dear Abby & Steve,
It was Saturday morning when word arrived that Indians were now in Jennerstown and headed our way. Knowing that they would be here in 30 minutes and that a runner was now on the way spreading the word in a 30-mile circle to alert other people, we knew that we had to prepare for the worst, which was that the Indians would burn down the house and we had to flee to the west.
We decided that we would have a sale of some of our possessions to at least get some money for our survival, so we sent out invitations to all the neighbors to come to our house immediately for the sale. I went to the cellar to find items for the sale, but all I could find was a bag of things I had intended to give to the Salvation Army.
Returning from the cellar, I flew up the stairs just as I heard the door open and a neighbor came in. They were the only ones to come to our sale: a man that looked like a younger version of Mr. Shaffer (our neighbor at the farm), his rather plump wife, and a 4-5 year old son.
Immediately Glenn gathered us around the table and passed little slips of paper out to the people. "Tickets" he called them and set the box of sale items on the table. Then he excused himself to go to the bathroom and I stewed because of the waste of time because I could already hear the Indian’s whooping it up in the distance. The little boy was also going around the room, getting into everything and adding to my worries.
When Glenn returned, he took each item from the box and the man wrote an amount on a slip of paper indicating that he would buy everything offered. Among them were a spanglely red silk dress that looked like a perfect fit for the wife, a black candle holder and candle, a box of dirt in which potatoes already sprouted were buried, a brown cotton housecoat, and a lot of little knick knacks. The only thing rejected was an old toy truck that they little boy rejected.
With the sale almost completed, I felt that I should offer some kind of treat to the family, but had no sweets on hand. As it was already almost lunch time, I thought of some wieners in the refrigerator and some bread that could be wrapped around them. And then I woke up.
Love,
Grandma
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