When I was a very young boy, my family would spend almost every weekend on the farm. My grandmother died at a very young age and my mother being the oldest child felt a responsibility of taking care of her father and sisters and brother. My grandparents on my dad’s side were elderly when I was young and I only have a vague memory of them. My dad had four brothers and three sisters and they needed little help running the farm. Next to my immediate family, it is probably the most memorable part of my life. The first thing I would do upon arrival would be to check the pie chest to see if any of my aunts baked any pies. Usually there would be one piece left, what a coincidence. As I got a little older, it became my job to clean all the chimneys on the oil lamps and take the chambermaid to the outhouse and empty it. That was one job I wish I never had. I would usually help collect eggs for breakfast and sometimes we would find an egg that everybody else missed for some time. That is another odor you do not want to experience. The garden was located between the house and the barn with a grape arbor running the length of the garden. On the other end of the house was a large old orchard with pears, plums, sweet and sour cherries, peaches and several apples with different ripening dates. The apple trees were huge and there was no way we could pick the apples on top, we could only pick the apples on the lower branches from a ladder. The apples from the tops would be collected as they fell. The orchard was covered with a very dense growth of orchard grass and many fallen apples would be undamaged. The damaged apples would be made into sauce and pies or sliced and dried for storage. Other jobs that I had were taking the horses to the watering trough twice a day and taking the cows to pasture in the morning and bringing them back to the barn in the evening for milking. Milking was one job I was not good at. Cows that were never known to kick, tried to kick me and that job went to someone else. My grandfather had a 60 GAL wooden barrel that was used for hog swill, it would be filled with mash, the excess milk along with table scraps except for meat, and bones and they went to the dogs. When the butter would turn rancid, it would be mixed with lye and used for soap. It was also my job to keep out of the way of the farming activities. On my grandfather Best’s farm, my aunts and uncles married at an older age and two of my uncles never did marry. So labor to run the farm was less of a problem and most of our time there was just visiting. The most memorable times on both farms were mealtime. There was a brick oven in the back yard and it never cooled down, my grandmother would bake every single day. I use to travel in my employment to most of the states including Canada and Mexico. I was on expense account and ate at some very fine restaurants, including one of the worlds ten best located in Lancaster, Pa. None of them even came close to an everyday meal on a productive farm. While, I am in school now, we still spend weekends on the farm, and I still have the jobs as before. In addition, my brother, cousin, and I are spending most of our summer vacation helping my grandfather. The garden and farm crops have all been planted. In the morning, we have to get the hay in the barn that my grandfather cut with a scythe and raked into windrows. I am still too small in stature to pitch the hay up onto the hay wagon, so it was my job to stack the hay as my brother and cousin pitched it on the wagon. My grandfather drove the team, Jake and Clyde. When a fork full of hay would come extra close to me, I knew there would be a black snake in it. It seems that when a field is cut the black snakes head for the windrows to get in the shade. When my brother or cousin seen one it would come straight at me. They just wanted to see me dance I guess. Once in awhile my grandfather would leave and go shopping or visiting and let us boys alone with my aunt. My aunt was young but older than we boys were. You know the old saying,”boys will be boys” well we decided to ride the old sow. We put some corn in the trough and when she was distracted, my brother slung his leg over her back and grabbed both ears. Well between her and the pen was all this slop and the opening she was headed for was only big enough for her. You guessed it, my brother ended up on his back in the middle of all that slop. Pay back time for the snakes, HA HA. On another occasion, we decided to ride the calf. She did not go for that crap, threw my brother, and jumped a fence. It took my grandfather three days to find the calf. To say my grandfather was a little POed is an understatement but I thing it reminded him of his own children. At the end of the day, we had to clean the horse stalls, put down new bedding, feed and water them. After that we had to take showers, oh my. The shower consisted of a pipe coming from a spring into a horse-watering trough and from the overthrow of the trough over a bank above a wood platform that looked like a skid, maybe it was. There was a community washcloth and a bar of soap but no towels. The water was so cold, it was like someone standing there and hitting you with a baseball bat. After that, you stood in the sunshine until you were dry enough to get dressed. Soon we would hear my aunt calling, “suppertime” you would be so hungry that you could eat the north end of a southbound skunk. Soon after dinner, the sun would start to go down and you headed for bed. On each bed was a feather mattress, feather pillows and a feather comforter. All I can remember is laying there listening to the owls, foxes chasing rabbits, katydids singing for mates and watching bats flying in one window and out the other trying to catch insects. All of a sudden, it is morning, not quite daylight yet and that damned rooster is out there crowing his ass off. Oh my it starts all over again I wonder when school starts. Usually on Saturday evening we would head for New Bethlehem, Pa to do some shopping or get a haircut. Even if we were farm boys at that time, we were not permitted to look shabby. We had to get back to the farm in time to listen to the Judy Kenova show and the Grand Old Oprey on a battery operated radio, our only contact with the outside world. My grandfather may have known that once we boys started chasing girls that we would not be much help on the farm and decided to retire. Soon after, he sold the team and the farm equipment. We continued to visit quite often but it was not the same. In the fall of 1954, my father and I were getting dressed to go deer hunting on the farm when we got a call from a neighbor who said that my grandfather was fine but the house burned down. What a loss, most of the furniture was from my great grandfather and every single piece was an antique. My grandfather then sold the barn and a Sears one hole outhouse. Surprisingly, he got more $ for the outhouse than he did for the barn.
Great story... I can just picture every detail. My dad didn't farm... but my grandparents did way before my time. Sounds like a great life... even if some of it stunk at times.
My age is showing, I can't remember what my DW asked me to do yesterday but I can remember the time on the farm like it was yesterday.
My Grandfather on my Dad's side died at a very young age, 49. My Grandmother never remarried. But she still had 11 kids. My one uncle never married and he ran the farm in northwest Ohio. Grandma had an old summer kitchen out behind the house that she used for canning and for when she was cooking for a family reunion. One of last reunions was so big they had to hold it at the fairgrounds in order to have enough room for everyone.
Very interesting reading and very special childhood memories. I too grew up on a farm and looking back on it I now see how special it was (even though it didn't seem like that at the time!).
Your stories are so rustic and humbling. Perhaps you should write books, I bet kids could really learn a few things from your experiences. I really enjoyed reading this.
Thanks all but I feel like I am only relaying information about my childhood. What I feel bad about is the loss of so many family farms and the family united that existed back when. I think the most important attribute that was taught to children was manners. All that has been lost, today most families don’t even eat together.
You relate very interesting stories,..its easy to picture what you describe,..some i can remember doing myself as when school holidays came i was sent off by bus to my Aunts farm for the entire holidays,..you gave me a good laugh describing how hungry you could get,..“suppertime” you would be so hungry that you could eat the north end of a southbound skunk.
I love your story. I wish I had some family to tell me those kind of awesome stories from there youth. My grandmother was the youngest of 11, she never did tell any stories though. And I hardly remember any of her siblings, they passed when I was to young. I tell my girls about how I used to go stay with her and my grandfather in Ohio for the summers when I was little and how my grandfather had a garden and I loved picking blueberries with him and going fishing with him. Keep sharing your awesome memories
