Fun Times Too

Blogging has been sparse because...once we got back from the funeral, we turned right around and went camping for four days! Not the kind of thing you announce on the internet, though. Papa Rooster took many pictures so I will have lots to share this week, which is an excellent thing, because I shall be busy with final preparations for the drama camp I am coordinating--which is NEXT WEEK!

In the meantime, a few more photos from our trip home to Ohio for the funeral.

To relieve congestion in my parents' home, we brought our trailer. It looked surprisingly at home, I thought, next to the old chicken barn where I used to keep my pony.

"Knee high by the Fourth of July" is an adage I grew up with, but this year's crop came nearly to my shoulders, with the Fourth of July a week away!

How do you work this thing?

Ah, ya gotta put your weight into it!

The tire swing and swinging rope are perennial favorites.

But the big attraction this trip was the cousins!

At last, Bantam10 found someone who would play board games with him all day long. (Click to enlarge and see if you recognize Score Four, a game our family played all the time back in the 70's.)

A little drama:
Chicklet6 got her fingers slammed in the trailer door. :(

Look at those toes!

County Fair

The kids are all about the rides...





...but Mom loves the animal barns!

Let sleeping pigs lie, I always say.

Had to post a picture of Chicklet with the baby chicks. We couldn't tear her away!

Here we are watching a sheep being sheared. This was no demonstration--just a couple 4-H dads trying to get the job done, while the sheep baaaaed incessantly, blabbing a black tongue out each time. (That's what we're all watching!)


There are tractors all over the fair--for sale, or for display, like this old Farmall that was restored as a 4-H project. It is understood that any tractor at the fair is fair game for kids to climb on!

This water fountain has been a fixture since my dad can remember. There used to be a huge old tree shading it, and I can remember stopping here with my grandparents to get a drink and cool off in the shade (after playing on a half dozen hot tractor seats, probably). They rested on benches nearby and let my brothers and I play in the water fountain...just like my brothers and I let our kids (those are four of my nieces with Chicklet5 and Bantam3).

My dad with Chicklet5.

Third- and fourth-generation fairgoers, heading home.

Joy--At A Hen's Pace

We had a marvelous time on the family farm. (Thanks for all the nice comments on the farm story while I was gone, BTW!! Glad so many of you enjoyed it.)

It was wonderful to see my parents, grandmother, aunt, brothers, their wives and my five nieces--if only for a quick visit. It was too quick, especially with Professor Brother and his family from Kansas, with whom we only overlapped for one long afternoon. I only got to spend a few hours with my 96-year-old grandmother, and I would love to have spent more time with my parents and aunt, sitting down and talking--it was a whirlwind of meals and activity most of the time!

(Doesn't sound like a hen's pace, I guess. But it was a string of small pleasures, one after another--hen-like, in that way.)

On the first day, we went to the local county fair, one of the nicest little slices of Americana in the Midwest, I'm willing to bet. It's a huge 4-H fair, which means lots of kids exhibit animals there. They've built more animal barns since my days exhibiting horses and rabbits; my dad and brother both had their day in the 4-H dairy show ring, as well. I ran into several of my former classmates, whose kids were showing pigs and goats that day. It brought back so many great memories--other than the new barns, that fair has changed so little!--and what a joy it was to watch my kids making new ones.

The next day at church, the baby sister of one of my former classmates (now a vivacious young mom herself) gave a slide presentation on the youth group's mission trip to rebuild homes in West Virginia. She enthusiastically shared how the kids learned to roof and paint and work hard together, even learning to ask by the end of the week, "What else needs to be done?" And I was full of joy that my kids had to sit there and listen to someone else saying it! :)

That afternoon Pilot Brother--married to my blogging sis-in-law--showed me around the barn, pointing out all the work he's been doing on it. And it is remarkable--new windows, new sills to prevent the kind of water damage that caused all the windows to rot out, other rotten boards and beams replaced, hinges and doors fixed. My dad has been busy too, on the hot tin roof, replacing and caulking rivets. They're hoping to get the whole thing repainted soon, too. So much work! But what a joy to see that much-needed maintenance, protecting that barn full of memories for generations to come.

Sunday night we played horseshoes (my first time ever), Grandpa gave rides on the Toro Twister and taught the older kids how to drive, and once, while the kids were all gone on the Toro, I took advantage of the tire swing, hanging empty for the first time since our arrival--and what kinesthetic memories that brought back. If you added up how many hours my brothers and I spent on the tire swing in the summers, when we were growing up, I bet the answer could be given in days, possibly weeks. There is nothing more delightful!

Monday morning Papa Rooster and I went out for coffee with Summer and Pilot Brother, and that was another joy. (We can't wait for them to come visit us in September!) Then it was home for sloppy joe sandwiches--my blessed mother cooks for an army whenever we come to visit--and one last photo session (a family tradition, it seems) before we pulled out. On the way home, Papa Rooster told me that, looking through a camera lens most of the weekend, he had seen beauty on the farm like he had never noticed before, though he had always loved it. Another joy--that we share that appreciation.

Yesterday my three oldest kids and I experienced the joy of serving by helping out a family in our church in dire need of some assistance with yardwork. Before we went, I reminded them of the farming era gone by, in which children's labor was necessary, and families helped each other all the time, raising barns, bringing in the harvest, shucking corn, killing pigs...and what a self-centered generation theirs is by comparison; how this kind of service was as good for them as it was for the friends we were serving. (Who had helped us move in and unpack, incidentally!) We had a good time weeding and trimming hedges--that wasn't so bad, the kids said--and we were rewarded by picking our fill of raspberries for a snack, with enough to bring home for cobbler last night.

After that, we went to the resale shop, where B13 found a T-shirt he liked, and Blondechick several tops. I found a lovely clear glass salad bowl ($3) and a large clear glass mixing bowl ($2) that will give me joy for years to come, I think. I love splurging at the resale shop!

Then we were off to spend some serious money at Petco. Whenever the subject of pets have come up, for the past year I kept saying, "after we move." Well, at the fair, B9 fell in love with a rabbit. Could he please, please, please have a rabbit?? Well, I'll think about it...but maybe you should start with a hamster. Oh, yes, please, a hamster! Oh, yes, me too! said B13. Oh, mom, you said I could get a Betta (fish) after we moved! Blondechick reminded me. Oh, mom, please, mom!

So we picked out two female hamsters and two Bettas at Petco, plus food and bedding and an exercise ball for the hamsters. And an extra cage, after they told us that two females might not get along later on in the same cage. (Don't you want to pick out males? I urged...too late.)

Who else got a Betta? Me. Another joy. When I had just three preschoolers and wanted an extremely low maintenance pet for them, I bought us a Betta. Bettas are friendly fish, but Aladdin was extremely personable. His successors, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, weren't nearly as much fun, but they are beautiful, if nothing else, and so just for the serenity value, I bought me a beautiful blue--turquoise/purplish--one. And christened him Aladdin 2. I have hopes.

Finally, this morning I met one of my frequent commentors, "stephseef" or Stephanie. She is a priest's wife as well--they serve at an Episcopal church in nearby Racine. She is expecting their fourth child and is so bubbly and vivacious, it was another joy to get to know her a little bit! We barely scratched the surface, it seems--we have much in common and much we could learn from one another, I am sure.

So now it's time to enjoy a Fuji Apple Chicken salad for lunch, since I'm still here at Panera--(mmmm, more joy)--and head home to start planning for another trip, sure to be a joy as well!--a camping trip this weekend with some other families from church.

The only dark cloud on my horizon is meeting Blondechick's current crush, a brave fellow who understands she's not allowed to date, but is eager to come hang out at our house tonight along with another couple of her friends from summer school. Just kidding about the dark cloud--we are always delighted to meet her friends--but nonetheless, it will be interesting to see how this goes...!

1,000 Acres: A Farm Tale (Part Four)

My dad, Sam, was born in the 1930's, and his sister Carol came along four years later. Aunt Edith, in her sixties, married and moved uptown with her husband. Her house, which had been quite the showplace back in the days when all four children were living at home on the thousand acres, was closed up and later rented out.

When Aunt Edith died, her 200 acres, plus 75 acres she had inherited from her mother, was left to William and her other two living nephews. (His twin, Richard, an insulin dependent diabetic--one of the first to learn to use injectable insulin--had died at age 38.) William had been managing her farm for her for years without pay, and she had raised him like a son, so this 3-way split caused tension in the family. The other nephews wanted to sell their land, but they put a high price on it and William wasn't sure he could afford it. Once again, his father-in-law said, "You can't afford not to." William told the nephews he would buy them out, and a few days later, one of them came to tell him they had decided to raise their price. My normally mild-mannered grandfather drew himself up to his full six feet plus and firmly told him, "No, we agreed on a price and that's the price it's going to be." And with that, he acquired another 275 acres to add to his and Richard's 200--nearly half the original 1,000.

When their son Sam, my father, married, they gave him an acre in the woods, about 1/8th of a mile from their farmhouse, on which he built a ranch house in the 60's--and that's where I grew up, in the middle of those 475 acres. It is mostly planted in corn, beans, oats or wheat, though a dozen or so acres are wooded. The only animals left on the farm by the time I was born were some beef cattle, but my brothers and I had dogs, cats, rabbits, a pony, and several 4-H calves or cows. We played in the barns and in the woods and in the creek, and we could always stop in at Grandma's for a snack and a story or two....

Like the one about Grandpa and his twin brother setting a bed on fire...and the time my dad, as a toddler, spilled kerosene from a heater all over a bunch of baby chicks and tried to explain to my grandma, "Chicky all wet, Mama; chicky all wet!" There was the time my great grandfather backed a wagon into a bee hive; the bees swarmed and stung him and the horses so many times that both horses died, and my great grandpa nearly did too.

It was from Grandma that I first heard the story of the 1,000 acres.

Grandma is 96 now, and the plans are for the farm to stay in the family for the next chapter of the tale. When it comes to my generation, things are more uncertain--and hopefully a long way off!--but it's hard to imagine not being able to return home there.

1000 Acres: A Farm Tale (Part Three)

When William proposed, he asked, "Do you love me enough to marry me?...But when could it ever be?" He had gone into debt for farm equipment, and he told her they wouldn't be able to take a trip. But my grandma didn't care. She told him she wanted to marry him before he turned 30!

They were married in March, on her birthday, and they spent the first six weeks of their married life living with Aunt Edith (Grandma Mary Anne had died) and fixing up the house that William had been born in, where tenants had been living. After they moved in, they had someone over for Sunday dinner every week for a year. "So many people had been so good to us," Grandma said.

One of their Sunday afternoon guests was an old flame of Grandma's. Shortly before she met William, Vera had been sent by the church to a two-week Bible School at a nearby college, where she had met a nice young man. He wrote her letters for almost a year afterward, but her mother would never let her answer them. Later, after she was married, he came to the door one day. William ushered him in and left him there alone with Vera, making up an excuse to go out of the house. ("He never was jealous," Grandma would say when she told this story.) "I heard you were married," Bob said, "and I just wanted you to know that I knew and I'm very happy for you." They talked a little while longer, but before he left, he smiled and said, "I'd just like to know one thing. Why didn't you ever answer my letters?" ("He was such a nice boy," Grandma would sigh. "He married the girl that introduced us.")

Sometime in their early years of marriage, Vera's father asked William a theological question which prompted a greater interest in spiritual things. ("So are you a pre-millenialist or a post-millenialist [a hot topic of the day]?" "What do you mean?" "Do you believe the Lord will return before or after the millenium?" "I thought He already came once. I didn't know He was coming back again.")

William began to go hear various preachers and ministers whenever he could. One in particular brought such clarity that he became a fully-committed believer at that point. (Much later in his life, when I was a little girl, he asked to be re-baptized, as he felt he really wasn't a Christian when he had been baptized before. The Grandpa I knew read his Bible and wrote in a diary every day, and he always had a bookmark moving through a Christian book or study guide.) This preacher also suggested that believers should search their consciences about dancing and playing cards, and Grandpa felt that he and Vera should give these up, if she was willing. She went along with him, but I have often heard her speak wistfully of the fun they used to have with their bridge partners in those early years!

[An tangential--but cute!--story about Vera's parents in their courting days: Her mother was an identical twin. (Later on, she and her sister once won the title of Most Identical at a twin convention.) The two girls used to enjoy confusing the boys by switching dates all the time, until one night Vera's father said, "I don't know if you're Flora or Dora, but you're the one I like, and from now on, I don't want to go out with anyone else but you!"]

So William was now married to Vera when his twin, Richard, decided to sell out his share of the farm. William went to his father-in-law, a good businessman, and asked him what he thought they ought to do. William felt they were in no position to take on more debt, but "Pop" said, "Son, you can't afford not to." He helped them borrow the money--and they now had 200 acres to farm.

The Depression was on, and they were mortgaged to the hilt. Some land adjoining theirs came up for sale at just a few dollars an acre and they couldn't even think of buying it. Yet my grandmother remembers those years as the happiest of their lives. "Money has nothing to do with happiness," she would say. "We didn't have two nickels to rub together, but I never was so happy!"

1000 Acres; A Farm Tale (Part Two)

Grandma and Aunt Edith taught the twins, William and Richard, to read before they were sent to school, and so they were put in the third grade immediately. ("That was the only year of my life I knew what was going on in school," Grandpa liked to joke.) They were the youngest, at 15, ever to graduate from the local high school (the same one I graduated from 75 years later). They weren't even old enough to go to college; they had to put off going to Ohio State till they were 16.

There they studied agriculture and had a grand time. They were both dapper and fun-loving, and they had many friends. William was more serious, but Richard was a pianist who could play anything by ear; he was very popular at parties.

After college they came home to farm, with no practical experience despite their degrees in agriculture. Richard invested in chickens and built the large chicken barn that we later kept my pony in, but he went broke and decided to sell out his share of the farm--100 acres.

By that time, William had met my grandmother, Vera, eight years his junior. She was new in town--had just moved there before her senior year in high school. (She got a class ring at her new school, though, which she gave to me many years later, when it was my senior year there). The first Sunday at the local Baptist church was disappointing--it looked like there were no young adults her age there (she didn't know they were all gone to another town for a meeting). She did notice the handsome Sunday School Superintendent, although he was so much older. That was my grandpa, though he later would say that he wasn't even saved at that time. (He gave up smoking though, after hearing some boys say that since the Sunday School Superintendent smoked, it must be all right.)

Years later he called her up and asked her to a picnic at a local country club. ("Do you know who this is?" he asked her first. "No," she lied.) She says she fell in love on that first date. Next he asked her to go with a group to a Sunday School class party in another town, an all-day affair. Her mother, a very strict woman, wasn't inclined to let her go, but Aunt Edith called up Vera's mother and told her in no uncertain terms that it was all right and she should let Vera go. So she did. You didn't cross Aunt Edith, I've gathered!

1,000 Acres: A Farm Tale

This weekend we'll be heading to the blessed place of my birth, Ohio. My great-aunt and both brothers and their families are all visiting my parents and grandmother who live there--what's another 8 more people to descend upon the group? (Good thing my sister-in-law's parents live nearby!) I thought it might be a good time to pull this true story of our family farm out of the archives....

My great-great-grandfather was a wealthy farmer. He decided to buy 1,000 acres--which he did, tract by tract, sometimes as small as ten acres--so that he could give 200 acres to each of his four children when they were grown and leave another 200 to his wife, Mary Anne, if he predeceased her.

It was not her first marriage. She and her first husband had a little girl, Sylvia, and a child that died as an infant. One day her husband was out riding and was thrown from his horse. He was injured internally by a stump or fence post sticking out of the ground, and he died. Then 3-year-old Sylvia was climbing up on a little stool to reach a favorite toy and she fell, hit her head and died. Mary Anne was still in her mid-twenties, I believe, when she had buried two children and a husband. She then married my great-great-grandfather and had four more children--two girls and two boys.

The girls were named Emma and Edith. Neither married young; my great-grandmother, Emma, was nearing forty when she married John, and Edith didn't marry till her sixties. John was a farmer without a farm of his own, but when he married Emma, they were given her 200 acres and a house, and soon Emma was expecting twin boys. After the boys were born, strong and healthy, she nursed them for two weeks before the doctor told her she was going to die. She had "childbed fever," probably from unsterile instruments, my grandmother always said. (This was in 1903, when doctors should have, but might not have, known better.) On her deathbed--the same bed in which she had just given birth--she made a list of 100 people she wanted to see in heaven and expressed her wish that both boys would go to college. She died when they were three weeks old.

The boys were given to their Aunt Edith and grandmother Mary Anne (who had just buried another daughter) to be raised. John really didn't have much of a say in their lives, though he visited his boys regularly and kept a close relationship with them throughout their lives. He and Emma must have had so many dreams together, but they were all dashed by her death. On that day, John lost not only the wife he had wooed for many years, but he also lost his boys, his home and his livelihood (the land was willed to the boys, not him). He later bought a little farm of his own, remarried and lived there till his wife died and he came to live with one of his sons, my grandfather, till he died. ("He was such a gentleman," I have always been told. I have read several letters he wrote to his sons while they were away at college, and they were full of gentle, wise, fatherly concern for their good character.)