Starr and I joined with other persons on Monday morning for the Memorial Day honoring of our veterans. The weather was perfect and the informal ceremony was quite impressive and touching. The mournful tones of Taps concluded the event.
From the time we first moved here in 1957, if I remember correctly, the American Legion or the Disabled American Veterans had a ceremony each year on Memorial Day. I’m not certain if the earlier ones were held at the flagpole in the cemetery, or if they were held elsewhere.
To me it is sad that so few of our older veterans are still living. I believe that both the two former military veterans’ organizations are no longer active here in Waurika.
My brother, a 29 year Marine Corps veteran reminded me of the celebrations of Decoration Day in the small town where our grandparents lived. It was usually on a Sunday and friends and family members gathered at the local cemetery. Long tables had been set up and they overflowed with good food. Much of this bounty came from home gardens and was very nutritious.
After we had eaten, there were usually some speeches, and some of the late arriving attendees took time to place flowers at the graves of their loved ones.
In our early years, I’m sure we just took this as a day to meet with other family members and enjoy a good meal. We did not realize the significance of this day.
In various locations of the United States Memorial Day had been observed since the end of the Civil War. However, in many places, this was Decoration Day. In 1967, this day was officially proclaimed as Memorial Day.
We must never forget that the blood of American military veterans is spread over many countries in Europe, as well as Korea and Vietnam, and other places too numerous to mention.
Our military personnel are now engaged in two wars. This requires them to leave their homes, families and friends to serve our country. How could we ever pay them back for these sacrifices? They deserve the best medical treatments, especially rehabilitation, this country can provide.
Although I do not think of my family as being “military’” my dad served in World War I, my husband and his two brothers served in WW II, as well as my brother who was in Korea and Vietnam, plus several other family members.
I am so proud of each of these family members who were willing to give their all for our freedom and welfare.
May God bless our veterans and those who protect us now.
5-27-09
#436
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Admiring Creativity of Past
As we celebrated Mother’s Day recently, I was reminded of all the beautiful handwork projects created by the women in my life during my childhood. It seems that few women of today continue to pursue these interests. Possibly this is because so many women now have to supplement the family income by working outside the home. Some women are the sole breadwinners and provide the only income in the family.
As I was growing up, it seemed to me that all the women had some sort of work in their hands whenever they were sitting down. The creative possibilities of that generation were endless. In the evenings or whenever my mother sat down, she most usually had something in her hands that she was working on. She might be darning a pair of socks (who does that now?), sewing on a button or embroidering a pillowcase.
However, Mother did crochet and often sat with yarn in her lap while she crocheted an afghan or perhaps a baby cap or sweater. I loved to watch her with her thin metal needle or sometimes a large wooden crochet needle. All this depended on what she was making and what type of thread or yarn she was using.
I still have some pillowcases that my dad’s mother made. Most of Grandma Stephens’ projects were fancy and colorful. In making the pillowcases she had cut out a portion from the hem up into the case itself and had filled in that space with crocheted bells. They are beautiful and I’m sure making them was a very tedious job. She did seem to enjoy using her hands for projects such as this.
My grandma also tatted some. I remember watching that little white shuttle as she flicked it in and out and came up with a stitch. Mother often did hemstitching on various garments. She made gingham aprons and hemstitched them. To me, the most difficult and exacting work was doing cutwork on a tablecloth or maybe a smaller item.
As far as I can remember I do not recall anyone in my family knitting. A left-handed friend of mine tried to teach me to knit once. I simply could not follow her directions. She kept telling me that it was very simple, but I did not find it so.
When the new fancy sewing machines first appeared on the market, another friend purchased one. She was an excellent seamstress and I was in awe of all the decorative stitching she did on the dresses for her two little girls. The collars had zigzag designs on them and they were just precious.
My efforts at sewing were a little less successful than those of my friends. A friend gave me a pattern for overalls for little boys and I decided that I would make some for David. Not knowing that corduroy had to be cut with the nap going the same way, the overalls looked as if the material were two different colors. In addition, I had to rip the seams so many times, all the nap was worn off by the time I finished them.
Over the years, I did learn to do a little better, even though most of my garments looked homemade rather than handmade.
5-20-2009
#435
As I was growing up, it seemed to me that all the women had some sort of work in their hands whenever they were sitting down. The creative possibilities of that generation were endless. In the evenings or whenever my mother sat down, she most usually had something in her hands that she was working on. She might be darning a pair of socks (who does that now?), sewing on a button or embroidering a pillowcase.
However, Mother did crochet and often sat with yarn in her lap while she crocheted an afghan or perhaps a baby cap or sweater. I loved to watch her with her thin metal needle or sometimes a large wooden crochet needle. All this depended on what she was making and what type of thread or yarn she was using.
I still have some pillowcases that my dad’s mother made. Most of Grandma Stephens’ projects were fancy and colorful. In making the pillowcases she had cut out a portion from the hem up into the case itself and had filled in that space with crocheted bells. They are beautiful and I’m sure making them was a very tedious job. She did seem to enjoy using her hands for projects such as this.
My grandma also tatted some. I remember watching that little white shuttle as she flicked it in and out and came up with a stitch. Mother often did hemstitching on various garments. She made gingham aprons and hemstitched them. To me, the most difficult and exacting work was doing cutwork on a tablecloth or maybe a smaller item.
As far as I can remember I do not recall anyone in my family knitting. A left-handed friend of mine tried to teach me to knit once. I simply could not follow her directions. She kept telling me that it was very simple, but I did not find it so.
When the new fancy sewing machines first appeared on the market, another friend purchased one. She was an excellent seamstress and I was in awe of all the decorative stitching she did on the dresses for her two little girls. The collars had zigzag designs on them and they were just precious.
My efforts at sewing were a little less successful than those of my friends. A friend gave me a pattern for overalls for little boys and I decided that I would make some for David. Not knowing that corduroy had to be cut with the nap going the same way, the overalls looked as if the material were two different colors. In addition, I had to rip the seams so many times, all the nap was worn off by the time I finished them.
Over the years, I did learn to do a little better, even though most of my garments looked homemade rather than handmade.
5-20-2009
#435
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Some Light on the Subject
“Let there be rain,” and the rains came, abundantly. “Let there be light,” but no light appeared. The best laid plans of mice and men…you know the rest of this.
Sunday morning when I wakened and looked over at the clock with the large, lighted numbers, I noticed the face of the clock was black. Uh oh, I thought, something is wrong. I switched my bed lamp on, but the room was still dark.
When I went in the kitchen, Starr said, “Mother, I’ve already called the electric company about the power outage.”
I found it puzzling because I had not heard any thunder or seen any lightning during the night. I figured the power would come on in a few minutes.
Whenever any of the utility services are out, all I can think of is doing something that requires that particular service. Are you the same way?
As is my custom, I walked over to the coffee pot. Yes, there was coffee, but it was cold. I have a thing about cold coffee. It’s not for me.
The Sunday paper was lying on the table where Starr had placed it, but the room was much too dark to try to read it. I moved from room to room and each time I found myself clicking on the light switch, but no light came on.
When the water has been cut off for repairs or whatever reason, all I want to do is wash my hands or clean the sink, or some chore that requires water.
The family had been invited to daughter Gayle’s house for Mother’s Day dinner at noon. I remarked that it was a good thing Gayle cooks with gas because the rest of us use electricity. However, Gayle could not use her oven because it has the electric ignition.
We do tend to take all the modern conveniences for granted and normally do not even think about them until we are without that service.
One summer while our house was being built, we were living in the country. During that time, we hauled our drinking water in from town. The motor on the electric pump that provided the water we used for other things went out. My brother, his wife and four children had come to spend the night with us. We had no water.
If memory serves me right, we used some of our drinking water in the bathtub and had the children to get in, one by one, and wash their feet. My sister-in-law who grew up in the country said, “This really reminds me of home, when I was growing up.”
It’s a shame we don’t recognize how fortunate we are to be able to enjoy these services we have today, and to be grateful for them. I doubt that many would want to go back to the days of having to draw water from a well, or use kerosene lamps and wood stoves.
As thankful as I am for the beneficial rains, I would like a short period of drying out, so I can get my yard mowed. Prior to the rains, I did not have any grass to mow, then since the rains began, it’s been too wet to mow.
5-13-09
#434
Sunday morning when I wakened and looked over at the clock with the large, lighted numbers, I noticed the face of the clock was black. Uh oh, I thought, something is wrong. I switched my bed lamp on, but the room was still dark.
When I went in the kitchen, Starr said, “Mother, I’ve already called the electric company about the power outage.”
I found it puzzling because I had not heard any thunder or seen any lightning during the night. I figured the power would come on in a few minutes.
Whenever any of the utility services are out, all I can think of is doing something that requires that particular service. Are you the same way?
As is my custom, I walked over to the coffee pot. Yes, there was coffee, but it was cold. I have a thing about cold coffee. It’s not for me.
The Sunday paper was lying on the table where Starr had placed it, but the room was much too dark to try to read it. I moved from room to room and each time I found myself clicking on the light switch, but no light came on.
When the water has been cut off for repairs or whatever reason, all I want to do is wash my hands or clean the sink, or some chore that requires water.
The family had been invited to daughter Gayle’s house for Mother’s Day dinner at noon. I remarked that it was a good thing Gayle cooks with gas because the rest of us use electricity. However, Gayle could not use her oven because it has the electric ignition.
We do tend to take all the modern conveniences for granted and normally do not even think about them until we are without that service.
One summer while our house was being built, we were living in the country. During that time, we hauled our drinking water in from town. The motor on the electric pump that provided the water we used for other things went out. My brother, his wife and four children had come to spend the night with us. We had no water.
If memory serves me right, we used some of our drinking water in the bathtub and had the children to get in, one by one, and wash their feet. My sister-in-law who grew up in the country said, “This really reminds me of home, when I was growing up.”
It’s a shame we don’t recognize how fortunate we are to be able to enjoy these services we have today, and to be grateful for them. I doubt that many would want to go back to the days of having to draw water from a well, or use kerosene lamps and wood stoves.
As thankful as I am for the beneficial rains, I would like a short period of drying out, so I can get my yard mowed. Prior to the rains, I did not have any grass to mow, then since the rains began, it’s been too wet to mow.
5-13-09
#434
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Staying in Touch a Nice Gift
Several weeks ago both my brother and my sister who live in the Dallas area sent me messages regarding the 80th anniversary of our high school, Woodrow Wilson. This information was published in the April 24, 2009 issue of The Dallas Morning News.
Scheduled for the Saturday morning celebration was a pep rally followed by a parade. Grand marshal of the parade was to be Carroll Shelby, the legendary racecar driver and creator of the Shelby Cobra and Shelby Mustang.
Shelby graduated in 1940, two years prior to my graduation. I thought what a grand event this was, although many from the classes of that time would no longer be around to join in the celebration. In addition, twenty new inductees into the school’s hall of fame were to be honored.
I have never been fortunate enough to return to Dallas for any of the previous anniversaries or reunions. A friend who lives in the Dallas area offered to take me to the 65th reunion of our class of 1942 back in 2007,but it didn’t work out for me.
I seriously doubt that I would recognize very many of those who are still able to join in the activities of that class, and likely there would be even fewer who would recognize me.
We are still fortunate enough to have a class newsletter published periodically with lots of news items and photos. The first time I received this newsletter, I was shocked to see that most of those photos were of persons with gray hair and wearing glasses.
Just like me, I thought. I did not feel quite so bad.
Since Starr has been home and has gotten in touch with her friends and schoolmates, she has joined in helping organize a 40th school reunion of her class. Many phone calls in connection with this planned event have been made, as well as email messages.
Searching old school yearbooks for students’ names helps to locate some of these friends, but that does not always work.
I find it strange that so many of the graduates who still live here do not attend the reunions of their classes or the all school reunions. If for no other reason, I think they would want to come out of curiosity and check on the ones who live in other places.
It seems to me that it would be much easier to locate these missing students because the senior classes are so much smaller, but if they move away and do not keep in touch with friends or relatives in their hometowns, then it’s still a difficult chore to locate some of them.
A number of young men from the more than 500 students in my senior class were killed during World War II. Many of them went directly from high school to military service, and never returned.
Some persons from my high school classes are no longer able to attend these events, but the fact that the editor of our class newsletter is still interested enough to keep us in touch is an outstanding gift to all of us.
5-6-2009
#433
Scheduled for the Saturday morning celebration was a pep rally followed by a parade. Grand marshal of the parade was to be Carroll Shelby, the legendary racecar driver and creator of the Shelby Cobra and Shelby Mustang.
Shelby graduated in 1940, two years prior to my graduation. I thought what a grand event this was, although many from the classes of that time would no longer be around to join in the celebration. In addition, twenty new inductees into the school’s hall of fame were to be honored.
I have never been fortunate enough to return to Dallas for any of the previous anniversaries or reunions. A friend who lives in the Dallas area offered to take me to the 65th reunion of our class of 1942 back in 2007,but it didn’t work out for me.
I seriously doubt that I would recognize very many of those who are still able to join in the activities of that class, and likely there would be even fewer who would recognize me.
We are still fortunate enough to have a class newsletter published periodically with lots of news items and photos. The first time I received this newsletter, I was shocked to see that most of those photos were of persons with gray hair and wearing glasses.
Just like me, I thought. I did not feel quite so bad.
Since Starr has been home and has gotten in touch with her friends and schoolmates, she has joined in helping organize a 40th school reunion of her class. Many phone calls in connection with this planned event have been made, as well as email messages.
Searching old school yearbooks for students’ names helps to locate some of these friends, but that does not always work.
I find it strange that so many of the graduates who still live here do not attend the reunions of their classes or the all school reunions. If for no other reason, I think they would want to come out of curiosity and check on the ones who live in other places.
It seems to me that it would be much easier to locate these missing students because the senior classes are so much smaller, but if they move away and do not keep in touch with friends or relatives in their hometowns, then it’s still a difficult chore to locate some of them.
A number of young men from the more than 500 students in my senior class were killed during World War II. Many of them went directly from high school to military service, and never returned.
Some persons from my high school classes are no longer able to attend these events, but the fact that the editor of our class newsletter is still interested enough to keep us in touch is an outstanding gift to all of us.
5-6-2009
#433
Thursday, April 23, 2009
E-mail Is Yesterday’s V-Mail
I’ve decided if I ever write my autobiography that I would title it, “From V-Mail to E-Mail.” Actually that would not be correct since I was here a while before V-Mail, and I expect that E-Mail will be here long after I am gone.
Thinking about all the changes that have occurred during that time frame is difficult to comprehend. Who would ever have thought we would have cellular phones today that take pictures, and that people can use to play games?
Understanding V-Mail is likely as foreign to the younger generation as E-Mail is to some of us in our senior years. V-Mail was a form of correspondence using stationery that could be purchased at the five and ten cent stores or at the post office. Both the military and the civilian population used this type of letters, which took much less time to deliver.
The sheets of paper were very thin and it has been reported that 1,700 V-Mail letters could fit into a cigarette packet.
Often times a section of the letters would be cut out, or possibly blacked out. Anything that might breach security was eliminated.
Surely I was born in the wrong generation, because I can still remember the three-cent stamp and a penny postcard. In Dallas we received two home deliveries of mail five days a week. On Saturdays, the mailman came once a day, and of course, no delivery on Sundays.
My niece recently sent me a copy of the schedule of price increases in mail delivery effective May 11. A regular stamp for mailing a letter will increase to 44 cents.
We have been reading and hearing of many newspapers that have discontinued publication due to rising expenses. My brother had a paper route in Dallas while he was in school. He delivered The Times Herald, which was the afternoon paper, while The Dallas Morning News was delivered in the morning.
Some years ago, The Times Herald discontinued publication. During the time my brother was a “paper boy”, the weekly cost of delivery was fifteen cents per week, or 65 cents a month.
Commenting on the increase of postage rates, my brother said he had been paying $57 per three months for The Dallas Morning News, but when he received his new bill last week, the price had increased to $90 per month.
In high school, newspapers were provided for us to read in our journalism class. We were expected to comment on the style and content of these papers. That is when I learned to appreciate the editorial columns and enjoy the views of the various authors. Before that, I only read the comic section.
Sometimes it seems that we are drowning in news on television, but news from different sources and different reporters is likely to give us a more balanced view at what is reported.
I suppose too many of us take our postal service and the newspapers for granted and assume they will always be available. In the past few years, I have come to believe the saying, “The pen is mightier than the sword.”
4-22-2009
#431
Thinking about all the changes that have occurred during that time frame is difficult to comprehend. Who would ever have thought we would have cellular phones today that take pictures, and that people can use to play games?
Understanding V-Mail is likely as foreign to the younger generation as E-Mail is to some of us in our senior years. V-Mail was a form of correspondence using stationery that could be purchased at the five and ten cent stores or at the post office. Both the military and the civilian population used this type of letters, which took much less time to deliver.
The sheets of paper were very thin and it has been reported that 1,700 V-Mail letters could fit into a cigarette packet.
Often times a section of the letters would be cut out, or possibly blacked out. Anything that might breach security was eliminated.
Surely I was born in the wrong generation, because I can still remember the three-cent stamp and a penny postcard. In Dallas we received two home deliveries of mail five days a week. On Saturdays, the mailman came once a day, and of course, no delivery on Sundays.
My niece recently sent me a copy of the schedule of price increases in mail delivery effective May 11. A regular stamp for mailing a letter will increase to 44 cents.
We have been reading and hearing of many newspapers that have discontinued publication due to rising expenses. My brother had a paper route in Dallas while he was in school. He delivered The Times Herald, which was the afternoon paper, while The Dallas Morning News was delivered in the morning.
Some years ago, The Times Herald discontinued publication. During the time my brother was a “paper boy”, the weekly cost of delivery was fifteen cents per week, or 65 cents a month.
Commenting on the increase of postage rates, my brother said he had been paying $57 per three months for The Dallas Morning News, but when he received his new bill last week, the price had increased to $90 per month.
In high school, newspapers were provided for us to read in our journalism class. We were expected to comment on the style and content of these papers. That is when I learned to appreciate the editorial columns and enjoy the views of the various authors. Before that, I only read the comic section.
Sometimes it seems that we are drowning in news on television, but news from different sources and different reporters is likely to give us a more balanced view at what is reported.
I suppose too many of us take our postal service and the newspapers for granted and assume they will always be available. In the past few years, I have come to believe the saying, “The pen is mightier than the sword.”
4-22-2009
#431
Friday, April 17, 2009
Cooking Is All in the Recipe
I haven’t a clue what subjects men talk about when they gather in a group. However, one subject that comes up quite often when women get together is recipes.
One of my friends says, “Where two or three are gathered together, there will be a casserole.” And of course, these casseroles must have a recipe.
A sister-in-law of my sister sold Tupperware for many years. Tupperware was shown and sold at parties in the homes of women who received some sort of bonus gift for hosting the party. Usually, a dessert was served at some point during this get-together.
My sister often told me about some of the delicacies that she learned from her relative. The now famous Hershey Cake recipe was passed on to me from my sister. Anytime my children were called on to provide a dessert for a fundraiser at school, they would request that I make a Hershey cake. Most of the time, these cakes were already spoken for by the time I put the cake in the oven.
Several years ago I got the urge to make one of these cakes. I found a problem when I tried to find five-cent Hershey bars that were called for in the recipe. I think I finally found the equivalent of eight five-cent bars that the recipe recommended.
Another favorite for school functions was homemade glazed donuts. The county agent’s wife had given me the recipe for these and I made good use of it. This chore went much easier when two persons were working together on it. Deep frying the donuts and then dipping them in the glaze required haste and teamwork, if they were to turn out well.
One good source of new recipes is at benefit dinners or potluck meals at church.
For several years I’ve gotten one or two new recipes at the noon meals served during Holy Week. These gatherings, sponsored by the local ministerial alliance, are scheduled so that a different church is responsible for the meal and the message each day during that week.
When the Baptist church had the meal and the service on Monday last week, I ate a sandwich of the most delicious pimento cheese that I have ever tasted. This sandwich filling was so smooth and rich, I’m sure that I received my entire calorie requirement for the day in that one sandwich half.
We also obtained the recipe for the outstanding potato-cheese soup that was served on Tuesday. We tried it out over the weekend and I told Starr I thought I could eat that everyday.
I still have many of my mother’s recipes that had been passed down from her mother. The problem with some of these is the lack of specific measurements of ingredients. Instead of ‘a teaspoon of soda’, the recipes often called for ‘a pinch of soda.’ Sometimes a little tweaking was required in the recipes.
One of the foster children who lived with our family for several years often went to her grandmother’s for the weekend. She came back on Sunday afternoon and would tell me about making a lemon pie at her grandma’s house. She would add, “Grandma didn’t have any lemons, so I just used cocoa and we had chocolate pie instead.”
She knew how to get the job done.
4-15-2009
#430
One of my friends says, “Where two or three are gathered together, there will be a casserole.” And of course, these casseroles must have a recipe.
A sister-in-law of my sister sold Tupperware for many years. Tupperware was shown and sold at parties in the homes of women who received some sort of bonus gift for hosting the party. Usually, a dessert was served at some point during this get-together.
My sister often told me about some of the delicacies that she learned from her relative. The now famous Hershey Cake recipe was passed on to me from my sister. Anytime my children were called on to provide a dessert for a fundraiser at school, they would request that I make a Hershey cake. Most of the time, these cakes were already spoken for by the time I put the cake in the oven.
Several years ago I got the urge to make one of these cakes. I found a problem when I tried to find five-cent Hershey bars that were called for in the recipe. I think I finally found the equivalent of eight five-cent bars that the recipe recommended.
Another favorite for school functions was homemade glazed donuts. The county agent’s wife had given me the recipe for these and I made good use of it. This chore went much easier when two persons were working together on it. Deep frying the donuts and then dipping them in the glaze required haste and teamwork, if they were to turn out well.
One good source of new recipes is at benefit dinners or potluck meals at church.
For several years I’ve gotten one or two new recipes at the noon meals served during Holy Week. These gatherings, sponsored by the local ministerial alliance, are scheduled so that a different church is responsible for the meal and the message each day during that week.
When the Baptist church had the meal and the service on Monday last week, I ate a sandwich of the most delicious pimento cheese that I have ever tasted. This sandwich filling was so smooth and rich, I’m sure that I received my entire calorie requirement for the day in that one sandwich half.
We also obtained the recipe for the outstanding potato-cheese soup that was served on Tuesday. We tried it out over the weekend and I told Starr I thought I could eat that everyday.
I still have many of my mother’s recipes that had been passed down from her mother. The problem with some of these is the lack of specific measurements of ingredients. Instead of ‘a teaspoon of soda’, the recipes often called for ‘a pinch of soda.’ Sometimes a little tweaking was required in the recipes.
One of the foster children who lived with our family for several years often went to her grandmother’s for the weekend. She came back on Sunday afternoon and would tell me about making a lemon pie at her grandma’s house. She would add, “Grandma didn’t have any lemons, so I just used cocoa and we had chocolate pie instead.”
She knew how to get the job done.
4-15-2009
#430
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Farmers Deserve to Grumble
Many people are becoming more pessimistic now that April has arrived and we still have not received the rains we need.
Growing up in a large city, I never thought much about the necessity of rain to produce food, fill the lakes and ponds and keep the earth green and lush. When it rained, we wore our raincoats and galoshes to school and that was it.
My husband grew up on a farm and understood about the need for moisture on a regular basis and how the people and the land suffered when rain was not available.
After Ray and I were married, I learned about the urgent need for moisture to produce vegetables and fruits, and to provide water for livestock and other animals. One aspect of this situation that had escaped me, was the need for rain to prevent and douse fires. This season has culminated in many damaging fires with the loss of lives, homes, businesses and in its wake, has left thousands of acres of scorched land.
When I was confronted with some of these facts, I recognized the truth in one of Ray’s favorite sayings: Farming is the greatest gamble on earth. Farmers are unable to control the weather and the price they will receive when marketing their products, whether cattle or vegetables.
If prices are high when farmers plant, then the crop costs more to produce. This happens frequently and then the price drops when the producer is ready to sell.
I do believe that few persons have a true appreciation for those who raise our food. If the price of food goes up, we complain that we can’t afford to buy those products. Rarely does the farmer benefit by a raise in the price of his crops.
My only experience of living on a farm was during my childhood when I spent time with my grandparents. My maternal grandparents lived in a very small town in Texas. I remember going into the garden with my Grandma and helping her pull up green onions and gathering some tomatoes for our evening meal.
She also allowed me to help her gather the eggs from the henhouse in the late afternoons. I never was allowed to milk the cow, not that I wanted to, but I spent many hours watching my grandpa milk their big Jersey cow.
My other grandparents actually lived out in the country, just a few miles from the town where Mother’s parents lived. My dad’s folks raised most of the food they consumed. In addition to raising vegetables, they killed hogs in the winter to provide bacon, ham and sausage for the family.
Watching my Grandma Stephens sit in her cane-bottom chair while churning milk into butter and buttermilk was a fascinating event for me.
As a small child, I was delighted when my grandma told me about the time she was churning and had to leave the kitchen for a short period of time. When she returned, she said my dad had put his little black puppy in the churn and every few seconds the puppy would jump up with his head just above the rim of the churn. She said the puppy had bits of butter all on his head and face.
Apparently, my dad just stood there watching the scene, while laughing all the time.
4-8-2009
#429
Growing up in a large city, I never thought much about the necessity of rain to produce food, fill the lakes and ponds and keep the earth green and lush. When it rained, we wore our raincoats and galoshes to school and that was it.
My husband grew up on a farm and understood about the need for moisture on a regular basis and how the people and the land suffered when rain was not available.
After Ray and I were married, I learned about the urgent need for moisture to produce vegetables and fruits, and to provide water for livestock and other animals. One aspect of this situation that had escaped me, was the need for rain to prevent and douse fires. This season has culminated in many damaging fires with the loss of lives, homes, businesses and in its wake, has left thousands of acres of scorched land.
When I was confronted with some of these facts, I recognized the truth in one of Ray’s favorite sayings: Farming is the greatest gamble on earth. Farmers are unable to control the weather and the price they will receive when marketing their products, whether cattle or vegetables.
If prices are high when farmers plant, then the crop costs more to produce. This happens frequently and then the price drops when the producer is ready to sell.
I do believe that few persons have a true appreciation for those who raise our food. If the price of food goes up, we complain that we can’t afford to buy those products. Rarely does the farmer benefit by a raise in the price of his crops.
My only experience of living on a farm was during my childhood when I spent time with my grandparents. My maternal grandparents lived in a very small town in Texas. I remember going into the garden with my Grandma and helping her pull up green onions and gathering some tomatoes for our evening meal.
She also allowed me to help her gather the eggs from the henhouse in the late afternoons. I never was allowed to milk the cow, not that I wanted to, but I spent many hours watching my grandpa milk their big Jersey cow.
My other grandparents actually lived out in the country, just a few miles from the town where Mother’s parents lived. My dad’s folks raised most of the food they consumed. In addition to raising vegetables, they killed hogs in the winter to provide bacon, ham and sausage for the family.
Watching my Grandma Stephens sit in her cane-bottom chair while churning milk into butter and buttermilk was a fascinating event for me.
As a small child, I was delighted when my grandma told me about the time she was churning and had to leave the kitchen for a short period of time. When she returned, she said my dad had put his little black puppy in the churn and every few seconds the puppy would jump up with his head just above the rim of the churn. She said the puppy had bits of butter all on his head and face.
Apparently, my dad just stood there watching the scene, while laughing all the time.
4-8-2009
#429
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