Jack sent me some of the things he remembers about the farm and Grandma and Grandpa.
Thoughts on Tracie’s Treasures
I’m one of the fat cheeked grandchildren in that picture at the farm, on the blog. I’m officially old now, 11 grandchildren and one great grandchild of my own.
I was a lucky kid. I grew up within a mile or two of both sets of my grandparents. I spent nearly as much time with them as I did with my parents.
Some impressions of the farm on Shell River:
The house
The vine covered back porch always cool in the summer.
The big ice box in the porch. There was an ice house - ice covered in a big pile of sawdust, it would last all summer.
The pitcher pump by the kitchen sink. Grandpa put a pipe right through the kitchen floor, straight to a sandpoint in the ground under the basement – the kitchen pump had its own well.
The big round kitchen table. Adults ate there- kids in the porch or living room.
My dad, Grandpa and uncles talking politics - uncle Jims booming laugh. I’m a life long democrat because I listened to them.
The pork chops for breakfast. You did chores before breakfast. The animals always came first.
The red liquid tooth paste grandma used. Never seen it since.
The front porch- faced south, warm most of the time. Grandma started plants in the spring like a green house. On a shelf, stacks of Singer Bird Cards, I memorized all of them. 60 years later I think I could still rattle them off.
The basement of the house. Cold storage room, sand floor and shelves for canned goods, potatoes in the sand.
The wood room- pull the sled or wheelbarrow up to the window put the chute in the window and throw the wood down.
The furnace, a huge tin and iron fire box with attached chimney. Tin vents up to a large grate in the living room.
The bedrooms upstairs had feather tics. In winter you could always see your breath.
The grade room. (Milk room)
The separator – you had to crank it at the right speed so you got all the cream to separate from the milk. Cream is where the money was, the milk could be used for the animals and the kitchen. You had to learn to listen close to make the separator run at the right speed.
The twenty gauge single shot that hung above the grade room door. Bad news for Wood ducks on the river. Shells were on a high shelf. I could only have one or two shells at a time. Don’t waste them, wait for the ducks to line up, then whistle. Their heads came up and you get 4 or 5 with one shot.
The water pail outside the grade room door- drinking cup and wash basin on the bench.
Grandma’s roses on the east side of the house, three colors, really stickery.
The big spruce tree in the yard - you could climb to the sky. Always got full of pitch. Mom would get mad.
Grandma’s haircuts - sit on the high stool and eat raisins. Grandma cut hair for grandpa and all the boys. I got my first store bought cut when I graduated at 17.
Cutting wood with grandpa. The two man crosscut saw – let the saw do the work “don’t ride the saw” (don’t push or pull to hard) Pile logs on the bobsled until there is no room to ride. We walk all the way home in the sled tracks.
Spearing suckers in the river every spring. Tip, the dog, would even try to catch them. Going out to the highway bridge to fish for bullheads. I learned to clean them when I was 6 or 7.
The brooder house full of baby chicks- walls stuffed with funny papers – Dick Tracy, Joe Palooka, Little Abner, Kats-n-Jammer Kids.
The outhouse – cold seat, catalog paper. I nearly ran over it the first time I tried to drive the car.
The barn – open the door in winter- whew! Horses (Bob and Bess) cows in the stanchions. The calf pen. Climb up in the haymow and throw down hay for the feed bunks – look for new kittens.
At milking time Grandpa wipes down the udders. He sits on a one legged stool, his head pressed into the cows flank, he talks and whistles while he milks. His hands are so quick; the pail fills while you watch. Even takes time to squirt milk to the cat. Those same hands with the thick, flat, scarred fingers, could play classical and dance music on his old violin.
The kerosene lamp in the barn doesn’t give much light. The farm finally got electricity from REA in 1947.
Did you know that if you walk barefoot in the chicken yard you won’t get athletes foot.
My kids and students have asked me why I became a Biology teacher. The answer is simple; my grandpa let me play in the gut piles. We did our own butchering on the farm. By the time I was 9 or 10 I knew pigs cows, chickens, fish, deer, ducks, muskrats, and mink, inside and out.
