Back when I was a little kid before we had the dairy, my Dad worked as a miner. He would leave Monday morning to work in adverse conditions, drilling holes and setting dynamite charges deep below in mine shafts. When the blast created rubble, they would use equipment to haul out the material on small mine carts. Because of travel times, he would stay up at the mine until Friday evenings. As a 5 year old, I was very excited to see him come home.
My mom stayed at home on our 80 acre farm and took care of the chores there. We had hundreds of sheep that we would help her feed, and 3 or 4 milk cows that she would milk and we would take the gallon jars filled with milk to various neighbors in our home town to sell. Being in pre-school age, my mom would take us around as she did her chores and we helped out in our limited capacity. I remember we would typically have tuna sandwiches for lunch, then a decent meal when my older brothers got back from school.
My folks sold the sheep, bought dairy equipment and cows in 1981, the summer before I entered first grade. With that, my dad quit his mining job and began life as a dairy farmer. My mom continued doing chores while we in our increased capacity were tasked with feeding the calves, driving tractor to hay in the summers, and helping out more.
Around 1983 or so, I hear my parents talking more about financial issues, like having to sell some cows to pay the bills. Then, my mom gets a job working as a checkout clerk at a local store while my dad took care of things on the dairy.
All of a sudden, my responsibilities when way up. They bought us all laundry baskets and told us that we were responsible for our own laundry now. Not only that, but we had a daily cleaning job. We would rotate cleaning different rooms every day. As an 8 year old, laundry was not a big priority. My clothes quickly went from decent, to all this grey color from me just dumping them all in together and stuffing them in a pile in my dresser and sorting out clothes as I needed them. Also, our food quality went way down. No longer did we have waffles for breakfast, or a decent meal at dinner time. We tended to eat more cereal or snack food. I would fry up a steak for myself and call it a meal. No longer would we have the green vegetables.
That lasted for about 3-4 years until they got the money situated better. After that, my mom came home and painted ceramics to sell. The dinner table was no longer to be used for meals, it was stuffed with fragile uncooked ceramics. We took to eating on the couches while watching TV. As the dairy herd grew, she stopped doing ceramics, but chores on a dairy are time consuming, so both worked on the dairy. I was hoping we would go back to the meals at the table, but that never happened. We got out of the habit and we continued to eat on couches while watching reruns of MASH.
As time went on and I got out of the house and old enough to think for myself, I became determined to have a more traditional married life. I knew this family who was instrumental in my church conversion. The mom was very traditional in her homemaking. She would stay home and see to it that good meals were always made, the kids were all neat in their appearance (the girls were HOT) and there was always this feeling of unity there. I wanted that.
Comments
Post a Comment