Reminiscing

An old friend stopped by the other day and, as was his way, he was soon lending a hand with the latest job.  As dinner time approached, I "threw another 'tater in the pot" and soon we were all at the table enjoying a good visit.  After catching up on the kids and grandkids, he started reminiscing about growing up on the farm behind us.  His family had owned the farm up the road from us, that in the way of curves and farms actually lay just behind our acreage. 


He was the oldest of fifteen children, nine girls and six boys.  All fifteen worked on the farm and shared many adventures and stories, some of which have become local legends.  He talked of a time that has changed monumentally in just our generation.


It was a hard time, when money was scarce and you practiced true "subsistence" farming, raising what you needed or doing without.  It also was a time of family and everyone working toward a common goal.  The day began with all fifteen children sitting down to breakfast together.  "It wasn't cold cereal and pop tarts", he laughed, "but a full breakfast."  "Wow!" I sighed, "that's a lot of eggs!"  He agreed and we talked about how the various children gathered eggs, milked the three milk cows, and tended the garden for the supplies for the daily meals, all of which were eaten together in the kitchen.  "We'd pass the food, starting with momma and daddy and you took what you wanted as it came to you, because there was a pretty good chance it wasn't going to make it around again."  Responding to an earlier comment about how easy he was to feed, he replied, "No one ever complained or questioned what was served.  If you wanted to eat you took it and kept quiet."  My mind was still reeling from the thought of the mountains of food required to feed that small army of appetites.


The boys helped on the farm and the girls helped with the household chores (besides the cooking and cleaning up, there would be lines and lines of washing to be hung out to dry) and the garden.  In time they would can and put up as much food as they could for the coming year.  Some chores, everyone pitched in on.  Besides growing tomatoes, corn and green beans to eat and can they grew pinto beans, black-eyed peas, and great northerns to dry.  When it came time to shell them out, the dried bean pods were picked and placed in heaps on an old tarpaulin.  Then the kids would gather around and beat the piles with tobacco sticks to break up the dried pods and release the beans.  Then they would grab the edges of the tarp and toss the beans up into the wind to blow out the lighter pods while the heavier beans fell back into the tarp.  A process as old as time and just as efficient now as it was 200 years ago.


Our friend laughed and shook his head.  "Daddy had a way with discipline that would cause the parents of today to faint.  If you got in trouble, one of his favorite punishments was to pick up rocks."  On that rocky, old farm it was a never-ending chore.  "When you got the sled (a wooden platform on wooden runners that was pulled by a horse) loaded you took it to the corner of the field and unloaded it into a pile.  Daddy would expect great growth in that pile before you were finished."  He continued, "I remember one day two of my brothers were sent to pick up rocks.  Being boys, they soon were entertaining themselves seeing how many rocks they could toss onto the sled, how far they could throw them and so forth.  Somehow, one got in the way of a rock whizzing to the sled.  The resulting gash was enough to send the other brother running for help.  Daddy came and scooped up the injured boy and headed to the house.  With a stern look, he then instructed the other boy to continue picking up rock until he came back for him!  The gash proved to be worse than they thought and soon mamma and daddy were heading to town to get stitches. "


"Upon returning to the farm, daddy settled into finishing up his interrupted chores while mama got her patient where she could keep an eye on him while she started supper."


"The boy left in the field knew better than to dawdle in his chore so he dutifully picked up rocks as the afternoon wore on and dusk settled." 


"Supper was called and the kids trooped in and settled into their places.  Mama choreographed getting the food on the table and finally settled in her place.  Out of habit, she took a quick count.  Then another.  She was one chick short!  A questioning look led daddy to the realization that he'd completely forgotten about the one left picking up rocks!" 


"Was that boy you?" we questioned, chuckling.  "Not that time.  My punishment I remember was different.  When I was in high school I thought I was big enough to stay out to all hours.  I was slipping in one morning about 3 am, thinking I had pulled one over on daddy.  Just as I reached my room and started to undress this voice rumbles in my ear.  'No need to take those clothes off son, you are going to work.'  With that  he led me out to the corn field and we started cutting corn by the light of the moon.  At that time we cut corn by hand and stacked it in shocks to be fed to the livestock later.  We cut as the sun came up and then on into the morning.  I thought noon and dinner time would never come, still that old man kept working and kept me working.  I decided then and there that the fun of staying out all hours wasn't worth it!"


As the men left after lunch, I watched out the kitchen window as they moved toward the barn.  It's hard for me to believe how much things have changed in just our lifetimes.  We now use cab tractors instead of horses and mules, we run to the grocery for our milk and eggs, we buy our clothes "on line" instead of washing and hanging them on a line, and we often treat our children as if they were pampered pets instead of partners in a family endeavor.  Maybe the punishments we had chuckled over were harsh, but the result was a family of strong, independent, hard working adults who have been good parents and providers. 


I wonder if by protecting and coddling our children today we are taking away that sense of being a part of creating the greater good for the family and community.  The bond of striving for a common goal and the satisfaction of achieving that goal, whether it be food on the table or a crop to be sold, is one of the greatest gifts of farm life.  It's the gift that we as farmers hope to instill in our children and grandchildren.