Tell me a story about when you where little, Grandma! | TheFencePost.com

Tell me a story about when you where little, Grandma!

Beth Gibbons
Crawford, Neb.

All of the kids were involved with helping stack hay. Here they stand on the slide hay stacker with their twin aunts that were only three years older than the oldest child in the family.

Our family loved living in the country where we were. Our dad and mother were tireless workers who kept the family involved. Dad planted thousands of lovely little evergreen and deciduous trees around the place. He hand planted windbreaks and home shelter belts of a variety of trees. He felt good about the fruit trees and enjoyed harvesting his home grown apples and crab apples for jelly. He knew each variety and would tell us which was which. We did all these kinds of activities as a family.

We were working in the apple orchard harvesting apples when Jim came driving rather fast to tell us that Ted had been hurt in a car accident. Wanda had driven out to visit me. I’m afraid I wasn’t very good company that evening.

Our folks took off across country right then for Broken Bow to be with Ted. Mom remained there in the Broken Bow hospital for most of the next three months while Ted was in a coma. She would call home each evening on our party line for a long time. Mrs. Hanna would call and visit with me about the news while other neighbors ‘rubbered’ to get the news. I was comforted by Mrs. Hanna’s kind words.

When I went away to college my mother wrote often telling us what was going on and how Ted was doing. I remember when I received the post card that said he had regained consciousness, I cried. It was an emotional time. My close friends understood and cheered for the news.

When Ted came revived enough for physical therapy, he was transferred to Omaha. His roommate was a lonesome young black man who had been in the wrong place and got a gun shot in his spine. Ted asked me to write him and to his friend. I never knew what happened to him after Ted was transferred but I did get some nice appreciative notes from that friend.

Early years in the country were not filled with fun free days for our parents. They kept busy doing work they felt worthwhile. By nightfall they were bone weary but thankful for the gift of good health and their healthy children. Oldest had to have glasses to learn to read. The lady mail carrier stopped and said for her to try her glasses to see how they worked. Glasses of her own helped sister read. She became a veracious reader and collected books she’d read and liked through the years.

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There were chickens to raise for home use and eggs that sold for six cents a dozen. We had plenty of beef and pork to eat when butchering time rolled around. Neighbors rallied together to help with butchering. The fresh liver was carried inside to wash, cool in water and to share with the helpers.

Our mother canned a lot of beef meat to have some on hand for other times. Pork could be salted, cured or canned. She boiled down the cracklings to make lard. Hogs were a lot of work to feed and keep confined. Home raised hogs could be hauled to town for four cents a pound when cash was needed. Usually when our dad went to town for feed, he took a hog in to sell. We helped unload corn.

Chickens were worth about the four cents a pound. We ate them rather than selling them. They made delicious noodles for a fine supper meal. Corn bread or raised yeast bread were common for each meal. Milk fresh for drinking was good, if it didn’t get spilled.

Of course gas cost about 15 cents a gallon. But who had time to do much driving? My father said he walked 70 miles across country to his cousins place to pick corn one fall before he was married in 1933. He got three cents a bushel for the hard work of picking corn. Then, he told me, his cousin John brought him home in a car. Dad put his earnings toward a Model A 1928 Ford which he was still driving many years later.

There are a few pictures of the old car. Pictures were not that frequent though they cost 25 cents a roll to develop with a three cents postage stamp. Most pictures show groups rather than individuals even when we were small. I have seen one tiny picture of me alone.

Cows were milked twice a day. They obediently walked into their stanchion and stood patiently waiting. Cats also waited almost patiently for a squirt of fresh milk. Small children waited to watch. A few times we tried squeezing out milk. It was harder than it looked and there was always the possibility of a cow kicking.

My parents were loving grandparents and after Dad was alone he still enjoyed the dozen great grandchildren and they him. Memories of long ago linger for sweet reminiscing.

Our family loved living in the country where we were. Our dad and mother were tireless workers who kept the family involved. Dad planted thousands of lovely little evergreen and deciduous trees around the place. He hand planted windbreaks and home shelter belts of a variety of trees. He felt good about the fruit trees and enjoyed harvesting his home grown apples and crab apples for jelly. He knew each variety and would tell us which was which. We did all these kinds of activities as a family.

We were working in the apple orchard harvesting apples when Jim came driving rather fast to tell us that Ted had been hurt in a car accident. Wanda had driven out to visit me. I’m afraid I wasn’t very good company that evening.

Our folks took off across country right then for Broken Bow to be with Ted. Mom remained there in the Broken Bow hospital for most of the next three months while Ted was in a coma. She would call home each evening on our party line for a long time. Mrs. Hanna would call and visit with me about the news while other neighbors ‘rubbered’ to get the news. I was comforted by Mrs. Hanna’s kind words.

When I went away to college my mother wrote often telling us what was going on and how Ted was doing. I remember when I received the post card that said he had regained consciousness, I cried. It was an emotional time. My close friends understood and cheered for the news.

When Ted came revived enough for physical therapy, he was transferred to Omaha. His roommate was a lonesome young black man who had been in the wrong place and got a gun shot in his spine. Ted asked me to write him and to his friend. I never knew what happened to him after Ted was transferred but I did get some nice appreciative notes from that friend.

Early years in the country were not filled with fun free days for our parents. They kept busy doing work they felt worthwhile. By nightfall they were bone weary but thankful for the gift of good health and their healthy children. Oldest had to have glasses to learn to read. The lady mail carrier stopped and said for her to try her glasses to see how they worked. Glasses of her own helped sister read. She became a veracious reader and collected books she’d read and liked through the years.

There were chickens to raise for home use and eggs that sold for six cents a dozen. We had plenty of beef and pork to eat when butchering time rolled around. Neighbors rallied together to help with butchering. The fresh liver was carried inside to wash, cool in water and to share with the helpers.

Our mother canned a lot of beef meat to have some on hand for other times. Pork could be salted, cured or canned. She boiled down the cracklings to make lard. Hogs were a lot of work to feed and keep confined. Home raised hogs could be hauled to town for four cents a pound when cash was needed. Usually when our dad went to town for feed, he took a hog in to sell. We helped unload corn.

Chickens were worth about the four cents a pound. We ate them rather than selling them. They made delicious noodles for a fine supper meal. Corn bread or raised yeast bread were common for each meal. Milk fresh for drinking was good, if it didn’t get spilled.

Of course gas cost about 15 cents a gallon. But who had time to do much driving? My father said he walked 70 miles across country to his cousins place to pick corn one fall before he was married in 1933. He got three cents a bushel for the hard work of picking corn. Then, he told me, his cousin John brought him home in a car. Dad put his earnings toward a Model A 1928 Ford which he was still driving many years later.

There are a few pictures of the old car. Pictures were not that frequent though they cost 25 cents a roll to develop with a three cents postage stamp. Most pictures show groups rather than individuals even when we were small. I have seen one tiny picture of me alone.

Cows were milked twice a day. They obediently walked into their stanchion and stood patiently waiting. Cats also waited almost patiently for a squirt of fresh milk. Small children waited to watch. A few times we tried squeezing out milk. It was harder than it looked and there was always the possibility of a cow kicking.

My parents were loving grandparents and after Dad was alone he still enjoyed the dozen great grandchildren and they him. Memories of long ago linger for sweet reminiscing.

Our family loved living in the country where we were. Our dad and mother were tireless workers who kept the family involved. Dad planted thousands of lovely little evergreen and deciduous trees around the place. He hand planted windbreaks and home shelter belts of a variety of trees. He felt good about the fruit trees and enjoyed harvesting his home grown apples and crab apples for jelly. He knew each variety and would tell us which was which. We did all these kinds of activities as a family.

We were working in the apple orchard harvesting apples when Jim came driving rather fast to tell us that Ted had been hurt in a car accident. Wanda had driven out to visit me. I’m afraid I wasn’t very good company that evening.

Our folks took off across country right then for Broken Bow to be with Ted. Mom remained there in the Broken Bow hospital for most of the next three months while Ted was in a coma. She would call home each evening on our party line for a long time. Mrs. Hanna would call and visit with me about the news while other neighbors ‘rubbered’ to get the news. I was comforted by Mrs. Hanna’s kind words.

When I went away to college my mother wrote often telling us what was going on and how Ted was doing. I remember when I received the post card that said he had regained consciousness, I cried. It was an emotional time. My close friends understood and cheered for the news.

When Ted came revived enough for physical therapy, he was transferred to Omaha. His roommate was a lonesome young black man who had been in the wrong place and got a gun shot in his spine. Ted asked me to write him and to his friend. I never knew what happened to him after Ted was transferred but I did get some nice appreciative notes from that friend.

Early years in the country were not filled with fun free days for our parents. They kept busy doing work they felt worthwhile. By nightfall they were bone weary but thankful for the gift of good health and their healthy children. Oldest had to have glasses to learn to read. The lady mail carrier stopped and said for her to try her glasses to see how they worked. Glasses of her own helped sister read. She became a veracious reader and collected books she’d read and liked through the years.

There were chickens to raise for home use and eggs that sold for six cents a dozen. We had plenty of beef and pork to eat when butchering time rolled around. Neighbors rallied together to help with butchering. The fresh liver was carried inside to wash, cool in water and to share with the helpers.

Our mother canned a lot of beef meat to have some on hand for other times. Pork could be salted, cured or canned. She boiled down the cracklings to make lard. Hogs were a lot of work to feed and keep confined. Home raised hogs could be hauled to town for four cents a pound when cash was needed. Usually when our dad went to town for feed, he took a hog in to sell. We helped unload corn.

Chickens were worth about the four cents a pound. We ate them rather than selling them. They made delicious noodles for a fine supper meal. Corn bread or raised yeast bread were common for each meal. Milk fresh for drinking was good, if it didn’t get spilled.

Of course gas cost about 15 cents a gallon. But who had time to do much driving? My father said he walked 70 miles across country to his cousins place to pick corn one fall before he was married in 1933. He got three cents a bushel for the hard work of picking corn. Then, he told me, his cousin John brought him home in a car. Dad put his earnings toward a Model A 1928 Ford which he was still driving many years later.

There are a few pictures of the old car. Pictures were not that frequent though they cost 25 cents a roll to develop with a three cents postage stamp. Most pictures show groups rather than individuals even when we were small. I have seen one tiny picture of me alone.

Cows were milked twice a day. They obediently walked into their stanchion and stood patiently waiting. Cats also waited almost patiently for a squirt of fresh milk. Small children waited to watch. A few times we tried squeezing out milk. It was harder than it looked and there was always the possibility of a cow kicking.

My parents were loving grandparents and after Dad was alone he still enjoyed the dozen great grandchildren and they him. Memories of long ago linger for sweet reminiscing.