Good Morning!
You had better grab a cup of coffee- (it's a windy one)!
I thought I would, at the suggestion of a very good friend, go back to when times were harder-( yet so simpler and easier)- for everyone. Just to go back to my childhood, if only for a few minutes here...
Having been adopted so young, the memories I have of my childhood are only of this place I now call home...
XOXO
...We had a dairy farm.
That said, here is a sidenote for anybody that has no idea of the work involved... That meant there were no other involvements. Not even a vacation; as cows need to be milked twice a day, and it is not something you can just hire somebody else for.
We didn't travel far from home on any given day- Even a trip to my mothers homeplace in Sidnaw, Michigan meant rising way early to get the 'bossies' milked and fed, and get the barns cleaned so we could get away... We then came back later in the afternoon to do the chores all over again. Tired, but having spent a beautiful day in 'Copper Country' too.
Upon rising in the early morning, the first thing we did was to change into our 'barn clothes'- Usually quite a casual attire, and not the warmest- (When you are working in a barn with about 100 head +/- of cattle, you do not need any extra body heat)...
We wore these same barn clothes for our work in the barn, until Saturday- At that point Mary and I would go into town with Mom and do the laundry for the week. Getting those old pinstripe overalls off of Dad to wash them was kind of tough sometimes- (After all, he had just gotten them comfortable once again)!
He was a deservedly proud man. Once he had been offered $50.00 for his very worn denim jacket... He always had the dark blue jackets- ($10.00 apiece at Kmart). But HIS had a few tears, patched elbows, and were worn in places that there was no blue left. When this offer came up, he declined the money, telling the guy, "I 'earned' this jacket- Go buy one and EARN your own."
He also wore brown leather boots- The kind that lace up and then tied over in a criss-cross pattern. When they got old and needed fixin' he would bring them in to the shoe repair man; it was too expensive to go out and buy a new pair (again, he had 'just gotten them broken in')... They didn't have lined boots in those days- That was a 'do-it-yourself' job. In winter he would wear sometimes TWO pair of wool socks. When summer came, no matter the heat, he would still wear those boots each day...
ANYWAY... After Mary and I woke up and changed into our barn clothes, we would then go out to the barn. (Mom and Dad rose earlier by about an hour, and so the cattle were already in the barn, and the milkers were already going). We did not have a pipeline, and so carried the two buckets that we had, to the milkhouse, dump the milk in the strainer to the bulk tank, clean the teatcups and put them on another pair of cows.. (Having only two milkers, the milking took nearly 3 hours morning and night). During the milk time, the hay and straw was pitched down from the mow, cows were fed, the barn cleaner run, the calves fed- Mary did the grain, and I usually pitched from the mows... For practical reasons there was no electricity in the haymow, and so for half a year, I did this by flashlight. (Brave, huh)?!
Dad always pitched the silage down too, saying it was too dangerous for anyone else to do so- We were allowed to do this only when the silo had been emptied of about 3/4 of its contents. We would not have to climb so far then- (or maybe would not have so far to fall if we missed a rung on the way down)!
In the mornings after the chores were done, Mary and I would take fast showers, get redressed and head out to catch the bus for school. In the evenings we did our homework BEFORE watching any television, and still had to be in bed by 9 or 10, depending upon the night of the week, and whether we had school the next day.
We didn't get summers off as so many of our classmates did- There was moms garden (about 1/4 of an acre) that needed hoeing and weeding. There was 3/4 acre of pickles to be picked and sorted each day for the pickle company-
Earlier in the summer there were strawberries that needed picking. People would buy them a case at a time for their own freezers, and every now and then a few of moms friends would come help pick the darned things. (This was never true of the cucumbers; we were on our own)...
In mid-summer came the raspberries- Both the raspberries and the strawberries were everbearing, and we didn't like much when they would produce the smaller berries at the end of the season because it took too long to pick. (As if we really had any other stuff to do)? Um yeah, we did...
...Near the end of June there was haying- Usually we chopped it, but in later years, Pa had bought a baler. (Truth be told, I wasn't impressed with either one). When it was chopped, it was my job to run the tractor that was attached to the blower, and Dad and Mary would remove the hay from the wagon into the blower. I watched for clogs, and even got hit by a broken belt once. (While it hurt like heck and left a huge welt, it was NOT a good enough reason to retire for the day). Again, in later years, dad had purchased a self-unloading wagon- they didn't have to remove it then, but I still had to man the blower! (Not fair)! Oh we were SO abused! ...Not.
There were the quiet days of summer too when Mary and I would jack a few inner tubes from the garage and take them down the river. REAL inner tubes, patched by Pa, (and we had to look out for the valves too or they would embed themselves in our backs). We also had to look out for the bloodsuckers- Mary wound up with more than a few each summer, I never did get one. Lucky me!
Maybe on a rare occasion, we would go fishing at the little lake on County C- Only dad and I ever went, (and that was only if I would dig the worms)! But it was so nice to just sit there for a couple hours, shoot the bull, and catch the bullfish just to throw 'em back.
There was an old man that lived in a house not too far away. His name was George Weslosky. His home had neither electricity, nor indoor plumbing; and he would make the rounds in Flintville to those families that would offer him supper and a night of television every now and then.
George would come to our home on Saturday nights, and after the chores were done it was an evening of Mannix and Mission Impossible. (Remember those)? Sometimes we would fall asleep on the couch, and in those days that was a big 'no-no' ...Mom would wake us, seemingly abruptly, and send us straight upstairs.
We said our prayers every night as a family too. On our knees and with the family rosary. Most nights we would only get through the 1st Decade- Usually Mom 'led' the prayers and the rest of us responded. Then it was up to bed.
Winter always brought more than its share of problems due to the weather. As soon as time permitted during chores, Dad would plow the yard out after the snows came. This had to be done to allow the milk truck to get in/out each day. Our milk was sold to Fairmont in those days, and the drivers name was Bernard Young. A funny man too.
Anyway, Dad had finally broken down one year and bought a brand new Leyland tractor with all the necessities- a front end loader to plow the snow- with chains and weights on it to make it safer. We still shoveled out the barn and the house, doorways and such. During the winter, the cows were stanchioned in the barn, and so the barn cleaner was run morning and night. When pulling a heavy load, it would undoubtedly break a link and the only way to repair it then was outside on the slide. Dad worked many, many times in subzero temps to repair that darned thing. And had to do so without gloves because he needed to be able to grasp things...
He retired in 1973- After chores were done that morning, we had an auction to sell the cattle and the leftover machinery... While I do not remember too much of the auction itself, I do remember that cars were parked up and down the road as far as we could see- and further too.
I remember having the snack stand parked in the yard- and the burgers were like 30 cents!
I remember the following day though- rising at the same time as I always did, coming downstairs and finding Mom in the kitchen- (In my 'still-asleep' mode, the events of the day before were not on my mind, and I was still of a "chore" mind).
Seeing her in the kitchen, looking out the window with tears in her eyes, I chose to stand with her for a time...
... As I saw what she had been focused on, I too began fighting the lump in my throat. Looking out, my father was walking in the yard, hands in the pockets of his overalls; kicking a little stone around... and looking much like a little boy whose puppy had just died...
The farm was all he ever knew...
But it didn't end there for him- He would still rise early, and either go down to Vickery's Store in Suamico for a cup of coffee with the guys (by the old pot-belly stove), or he would go fishing- either at Kewaunee or Shawano Lake too.
Come to think of it, I haven't been fishin' since Pa died in '84.
Maybe someday again I will.
My apologies as I have rambled and rambled on here- Mom, Dad, Mary and I. And while we were NOT abused like we wanted to believe in those days, we learned how to work, how to sweat, how to deal with the living and the dying-
We WERE, oh SO LOVED...
And in the end, that is all that matters, isn't it?
XOXO
Anne
