Dorothy Labertew - Man is certainly not an independent isle
A long ago farmer came to that position during the course of her life. Being raised on a farm, I have fond memories of life as an almost independent ‘island’.
A cow on my property served up homogenized whole milk. A mysterious thing is that cream, which is heavier than milk, rises to the top. It could be skimmed off and churned into real butter. Who is it that decided that margarine is better for us than butter? Of course, margarine contains vegetable fat, and butter animal fat. But then, who doesn’t enjoy beefsteak? Isn’t that edged with animal fat?
My family raised cows, pigs and chickens. We had no problems with bird flu or B.S.E. Perhaps this was due to that fact that we didn’t mass - produce; our animals were raised just for home use. We ate beef, pork and chicken that knew nothing about government inspections. Isn’t it great? We grew up healthy and lived. Sometimes neighbors would share at butchering time. In those days housewives knew how to make mincemeat that contained meat. Pork was cured with a mixture that included salt, sugar and smoke flavor. We ate wholesome farm cooked food. Junk foods were not available. Apparently we had better health in ‘the good old days’ than we have now.
We learned to entertain ourselves. We never had a chance, or need, to sit for hours in front of a TV set eating snacks.
Perhaps you would like to know about the “country medicine” of those days. My mother, who had no training either as a nurse or doctor, knew how to deliver babies and take care of sick children. Whiskey could, and was, used as medicine even during the prohibition. If a sick, feverish child were given that type of medicine he would never become a drunkard. My mother tried it on me. She held my nose and tried to force a dose into my mouth. In the process she floored me. I spat and sputtered furiously. That was the first and last time for me to taste whiskey. We didn’t have prescription medicines at that time, but we had the nauseous, acrid castor oil. Even mixed with sugar it was a nasty dose. I’m not sure if it was a ‘cure all’ but it seemed to work for
various ailments. I’m almost certain that every child who lived at that time had at least one dose or more. I must stop talking about castor oil for just thinking about it produces a feeling of nausea. I remember the smell of sassafras tea made from the bark of the sassafras tree. I wonder what scientist discovered that stuff as a blood cleanser. We were given plenty each springtime to clean our blood. I’m sure my mother had never even heard of the elegant name ‘diapharetis’, but she was certain of its power to cleanse the blood, whatever the process is called. I will never cease to be amazed how so much grime could get into the blood stream.
The country doctor was called when a patient had a contagious disease, because he had the authority to quarantine a house. A ‘State of Quarantine’ was indicated by a sign placed on the door of a house. I think red meant scarlet fever, white a case of mumps, and yellow that chicken pox, or measles, had broken out. We had all of the children’s diseases that were available – none of them life threatening. My younger brother had such a light case of chicken pox that he got it a second time. That was record breaking at my house.
There were some old wives tales that went around in my neighborhood. One example was that you must have mumps on both sides. I had it only on one side. Is there a chance that I will get mumps again? It is questionable.
My mother had a terrible time keeping us quiet. One day she penned us all up in one room. She should have moved an old pump organ out of the same room. When she went out to feed her chickens, geese and other fowls, and gather eggs, we had a concert around the old organ even though none of us knew how to play it.
My younger brother, the baby of the family, caught up with me as far as height was concerned – we were like twins – we shared mischievous ideas very well, but I could outrun him in a foot race. We had an elderly grandpa who called us his twins. We enjoyed his friendship and love. We visited and spent time with him. He challenged us to learn nursery rhymes. My younger brother could not pronounce the letter ‘r’ properly. He pronounced it “w”.
Our neighbor loved to hear him do the following jingle:
Around the ragged rack the ragged rascal ran his rural race.
Now try saying the jingle with every ‘r’ pronounced as ‘w’.
Although I really loved my younger brother, we often quarreled. One never to be forgotten day, my brother and I were playing together and I in anger threw a metal toy at him. Blood ran from his forehead wound and my mother came running. I was excommunicated for being a very wicked sister. To sooth my brother our mother shared a secret with him, and showed him some darling little kittens. He was told not to tell his mean sister. It was our task to go to the main crossroads where post boxes were lined up like sentinels waiting orders. On one trip to collect the mail, I put my arm around his neck, not to apologize, but to squeeze the secret out of him. It worked.
The children in my family had hours of fun on a swing made of ropes tied around the limb of a tree and a wooden seat. You have missed a load of fun if you have never had a hayride, riding in a one - horse sleigh, or gone riding through snow in a sleigh. Modern transport is great, but the fun element is gone.
We didn’t have house – to – house paper delivery, but all phones were on a party line. That was our news source. With everyone listening you can be certain no - one spoke ill of his neighbor. The telephone was a source of gossip without the expense of fancy cards. Everyone learned about newcomers, about happy occasions, and about occasions for mourning, via the party line.
We learned to entertain ourselves. We didn’t have a chance to sit for hours in front of a TV. As for toys; we had chicks, ducklings, kittens, puppies. These were real, live, lovable and non-breakable toys.
We had no electricity, but we did have plenty of frightening electrical storms. Instead of a freezer we had a cooler – cave under the house. All home-canned products were stored on shelves. We also had a deep well that kept things really cool. All milk products were lowered in a basket into the well.
We had access to a lot of fruits: apples, peaches, peaches, strawberries, cherries and black berries. Some of these grew on roadsides. Most people had a cider mill. Apple cider becomes vinegar. Why, I don’t know. Perhaps there is a process of fermentation. I avoid things I cannot explain. All fruits were grown without the use of pesticides. One could pick fruit off a tree and eat. DDT was not known then.
Now it is outlawed.
Surely when all these fruit trees were blooming the bees were very busy. Perhaps they had to work overtime to carry the sweet nectar to their hives and make it into honey.
Wax from beehives can be made into candles. The wax could also be chewed like regular chewing gum. Wax is just as good to chew as Wrigley’s spearmint “with flavor that lasts and lasts”.
Our mothers knew how to can and preserve the abundant surplus each year for winter use. We had delicious fruit year round. Talk about a balanced diet. We grew up on it. We didn’t have foods that only look like nourishment. We were unaware of calories, so we couldn’t count them. We also didn’t know the vitamin alphabet. Our food apparently embodied all of them for we certainly grew up full of vitality and vigor, even without food supplements.
My brother and I enjoyed skating. On Saturday evenings while my family shopped we skated on the ‘rink’ that was prepared in the city park. One day he tempted me with a special invitation. “Sis. Let’s go ice - skating. The lake is ideal.” Being very much out of practice, it was a disaster. I was down more than up. The result? The following day I was almost too sore to work. As you know, ice is very hard.
Later in life, I was leader of a growing church youth group that needed not only Bible study, but also activity. Saturday afternoon was devoted to that group. Sometimes we had a baseball game. Everyone loved it, because I was ridiculous at both pitching and batting. Needless to say, those games were hilarious. There were no pros among us. Sometimes we enjoyed miniature golf and often we toured Chinatown.
At Chinatown, for the enjoyment of children, was an absolutely safe plastic horse. It
only moved up and down. It neither ran nor bucked. You guessed it! My young friends dared me to get on it. You guessed it again. I did, much to the amusement of a crowd of sightseers.
posted by Pastor Don @ 9:16 AM
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