WE HAVE TRIED TO CAPTURE A FEW MEMORIES OF YOUR 35 YEARS TOGETHER. WITH THE HELP OF MANY FAMILY MEMBERS THIS PIECE OF NOSTALGIA HAS BEEN CREATED TO ENABLE YOU TO LOOK BACK IN TIME. WE HOPE YOU ENJOY EVERY LAST WORD FOR IT COMES FROM OUR OWN CREATIVE ENDEAVORS. AS YOU READ THROUGH THESE RECOLLECTIONS, YOU WILL FIND WHAT A SPECIAL PAIR YOU TWO ARE TO YOUR FAMILY. SO SIT BACK AND ENJOY THIS—AND FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE—DAD GET ON YOUR GLASSES!!!!!!
MEMORIES BY KAREN
I’ll open my story about Char & Werner at the beginning of their marriage. They made their first home with Grandpa Goettl on 6th St. in Mankato. Incidentally, Grandpa Goettl’s was my home away from home along with Bernice and June. We stayed during the week & went to school from there. Since I went to kindergarten only a half day., Char got to watch over me the rest of the day. So, their marriage started out with a half-time 5-year-old on their hands. I sort of gave them the experience they needed when their own 5 year-olds came along.
One time I remember coming home from school & watching Werner knead bread at the kitchen table. It was a rare sight, as the table seemed so low because he was so tall. I can’t recall eating the bread but I think I heard someone mention it was a little hard.
Another day while I was at school, several kids told me they were coming home with me for a birthday party. Since I never heard about it I told them there was no party & I came home by myself. I can see Char’s face as my "surprise party" turned out to be her surprise! After many phone calls though and somehow rounding up the kids the party went on as planned. Char does not give up very easily.
In not too long a time, the young couple moved into their own "little house on the hill". There they started their own family & it wasn’t long before they lived in a big house beside the little house, which eventually turned into a double garage.
From there the family grew and moved to a beautiful large home on Front Street. I think that was right about the time Carolyn started school, as she wanted to know one day if she was going to school with the "publicans". I think what came from overhearing Char talking to someone about where they were going to send her, either St. John’s or to the public school.
There was a beautiful fireplace in the corner of the living room and I remember when Werner decided to burn the garage. Instead of carrying it outside he burned it in the fireplace. It worked so well he sent the kids all over the house gathering the wastebaskets. I really thought that was neat and wished we had a fireplace so I didn’t have to take everything out to the barrel to burn.
Well time moves on and so did Char and Werner, to a farm between Pemberton and Waldorf. It had a large "older" house without indoor plumbing and sat about a mile off the road. That, I’m sure was nice for Char after living on Front street. They no longer worried about the kids playing near the street.
I don’t remember how old Ron was at the time (just a little tyke), but he decided to stay at Grandpa Tacheny’s for a while. Well every night Grandma and I had a terrible time getting him to sleep because he wanted to go home. During the day he was fine and liked following Grandpa around. One evening the four of us drove over to visit Char and Werner. Later on when we were going to come home Ron insisted on coming back with us. He promised not to get lonesome again; so tucked in the back seat with me and his bag of clean clothes, we started for home. Soon however, we heard a funny little noise and after a while it was evident that the noise was definitely sniffling. Grandpa turned the car around and Ron was back home that night.
Another time, (I don’ t remember if number 5, 6, or 7, was born) all of the kids already here, were staying at Grandpa’s while Char was in the hospital. It so happened that at that time, all the kids needed shoes very badly and since Char didn’t get a chance to take them to town before she went to the hospital, the job was kind of left to Werner. Well, Werner came to our house one day with a whole armload of shoeboxes. He happened to find a good sale on shoes, so he bought a pair in just about every kids size. The kids were soon all sitting in a row in Grandma’s kitchen and shoes were tried on little feet until they found just the right fit. I can’t remember for sure, but I think each kid ended up with at least one new pair of shoes and a couple of pairs were left over for someone to grow into.
As I stated earlier, the house at Pemberton had outdoor plumbing and one source of heat was a wood stove in the dining room. It was wintertime and I was staying for a few days. (I was somewhere in my early teens at the time). It was Ron’s duty to take out the ashes from the wood stove every day and make sure there were no hot ones when he emptied them behind the outdoor John. Well, one day an error was made when the ashes were emptied and I needed to use the john, but upon approaching it I noticed smoke coming from behind - well sure enough, it had caught on fire and was blowing toward the house. I ran to get Char who was gathering eggs in the far-end of the chicken house with the door locked from inside. She could not hear me and Werner was away at work, so I started carrying water from the well over to the burning building (which was quite a distance). Finally Char came to the rescue. (She is so smart) She got an ax and chopped the burning wood off and eventually the fire was out. The john was still usable, only it had a nice hole in the back wall, which provided good air circulation.
From Pemberton the family moved on East to West Concord and either that was too far away for me or I got busy with my own life as I didn’t stay quite so often. I do remember riding to West Concord one day when Char told me this baby, which was due any day, would be called Pat if it was a girl. It’s a good thing Patricia was a girl because I don’t recall that a boy’s name was mentioned.
At this point in time, I’m sure all of you kids can remember many more stories of your family. I just hit on a few from back in the "olden days". I chose them all to be the little silly things that life brings so on this 35th Anniversary, Char and Werner, I hope all your memories are happy ones. As in any marriage, there have certainly been more than your share of trials, sadness, and hard times too, but for today I hope you can store them in a far-away corner of your minds and enjoy the moment of a very wonderful Anniversary.
RECOLLECTIONS FROM BERNICE.
My earliest memories of Char and Wcrner are before they were married. We, Char, Evie, June, and I stayed at a house in town. It was owned by Mrs. Kenny; She lived in the house and there were roomers upstairs as well. We had one large room and a kitchen in the basement.
Char and Evie both worked, June and I stayed with them so we could go to "town school."
I remember Werner coming there often. H e and Char would stand out in the hall for hours. Of course, June and I always had to "bud" in and find out what was going on.
I don’t remember much about the wedding. I know Mom and Dad prepared a long time for it. The dinner and reception were held at our home. About the last thing to be done was to move Dad and Mom’s bedroom furniture upstairs so the bedroom could be used for a "gift" room.
Then there was the dinner. Lots and lots of chicken had to be cleaned for the dinner. It was stored in big crock jars with cold water., I think, until the morning of the wedding. Then it had to be fried. I remember a group of ladies, friends of moms who came early to make the dinner.
The next interesting thing was when we all lived at Grandpa Goettl’s. Carolyn was a baby. She could sit up in the buggy. She had such fun throwing all her toys out, and grandpa had such fun picking them up again. They’d both laugh so hard. This would upset Char because, "He was spoiling her, I can’t stand there and keep picking up her toys when Grandpa’s not there." Werner always tried to "calm" her. How it ever turned out I don’t know. Is Carolyn still spoiled?
Then they bought the lot on hilltop in N. Mankato. Char was so excited about it. We went up one afternoon; she got to cut weeds, me to watch the baby, Carolyn.
When we got there, I couldn’t see what there was to be excited about. It was way out of town and all that was there was tall grass, not even any neighbors. Well, within a short time, they built a small house there. It was not yet finished when we had just a terrible storm. We were still living at Grandpa’s and were all downtown for a torchlight parade when this storm came up suddenly. Trees went down, and power was off all over town. Werner got us home and he and Char had to go up to see if the little house was O.K. Somehow they made it through town and the house was fine. They lived there for several years, and then they built the house next to it. The house ‘s still there, surrounded by hundreds of others. From there they moved to the house on So. Front Street. Photo Associates is now in that house. I always liked that house. I’d stay with them sometimes to baby-sit, sometimes if I needed a place in town to stay.
From there they moved to the farm near Pemberton and I babysat there the summer when Dan was born.
After this it, was the farm out by Dodge Center. I didn’t, get out there too often. I will always remember the surprise baby shower one of the neighbors gave for Char. It was just before the twins were born, but, of course no one was preparing for twins. What a surprise!!
COMMENTS FROM SISTER JUNE MARIE
When they were going together, Char kept Werner in a room in the attic where she boarded. Anyway, it was a place where he could hang his hat. I wonder how much he paid for rent. For all I remember, the exit for him was probably out the window and down the roof.
In the far and bygone times, when they were first married, they lived in a house on No. 6th St. in Mankato.
For a year or so Werner not only was so fortunate to have a young and beautiful wife, but also two or three of her younger sisters living in the same house. Oh yes, then there was his own sister, Theresa, and Charlotte’s grandfather. My, what a motley group!!
This group was added to as the first baby, Carolyn, came along. During the days she was continually rocked in her buggy by great grandpa. At night she sucked the nylon of a favorite blanket.
I can remember some nights when Char was kneeling by the bed leading the rosary with Werner answering from in bed. After a decade or two, I’d hear a different Hail Mary than I had been taught. (Hail Mary, full of grace the Lord is with Thee, Blessed art thou among woman and blessed is the fruit of Thy womb, Jesus."......zzzzz "Werner, wake up. Werner." zzzz I suppose she finished it alone with snores for accompaniment.
One night Werner had to be awakened during the night as someone was heard downstairs by Char.
"Werner I hear a noise downstairs maybe it’s grandfather housing around. (Snore) "Werner." "Ha" "The front door is standing open." Says Char from the top of the steps. So Werner slowly rolls out of bed, pulls on his pants and down the stairs he goes. (I would not have known any of these details, except that the story was told the next day.)
Anyway, when he came back up, he said he had gone through the house, but not finding anyone, he closed the door and jumped back in bed for the much missed sleep.
As she tried to get back to sleep, Char wondered if whoever it was perhaps was hiding in the basement or in grandfather’s bedroom. Oh well. Maybe not. And besides they’re still here today so it must have turned out all right.
I was fortunate to be able to visit the family (a young one at the time) when
they lived up on top of the hill in a garage and then the new house. Sometimes I took care of some of the kids. I remember Bonnie was one of the babies then.
About the year 1975, I got to go with them out West to visit Ron & Louise. En route we stopped to see Evie & Joe. I am grateful for that trip and the opportunities of seeing the West.
Char’s dad also was along. It was a kind of a scare for when we were by Ron’s we had to call the ambulance. Dad was taken to the hospital with pneumonia. (I guess) He had to return home by plane and I was his companion. My first plane ride.
RECOLECTIONS FROM THERESA
I don’t really have a lot to say about them except that I never saw your mother in a non-pregnant state the whole 14 years I was in the convent. And during those years my only contact was for very brief encounters.
During my freshman year at Good Counsel Academy I lived with Werner, Char, Carolyn, Grandpa Goettl, Evie, June and I think that’s all. I remember Carolyn in the high chair next to one of us as we all sat down for our evening meal together every night. She must have been under one year old and a very sweet baby. I have no special memories of that year except teenage bickering with Junie which I usually started and didn’t know how to get out of. I even remember quarreling by notes during retreat. How Werner and Char put up with me I sure don’t know.
The next thing I remember is the week before June and I entered different convents - Aug. of 1954. Werner and Char and maybe (Joe and Evie) (maybe Evie was pregnant,) took both of us (soon to be nuns) to the state fair and took in a side show which had sexy dancers dancing to "Strangers in Paradise". I remember feeling strange but Werner made some comment about knowing about the world before we isolated ourselves.
Then there was the time they came to Detroit to visit. In about 1976. Werner got up early and went walking around the neighborhood and when the rest of us got up he had already been to the local coffee shop and was studying the Detroit map, telling us that he had figured out and was driving to Tony Jansen’s which was a 20 minute ride. A few ours later Tony called and asked if Werner was on his way yet. For a few hours we wondered where he was. Then he called and announced that he was 25 miles west in Greenfield Village instead of a few miles away at English Colony Condominiums where Tony lived. I guess he got the two proper names twisted. (Opposite directions)
The thing that always impresses Peter is the fact that you can arrive at the Jensen farm any time unannounced and Char whips up a feast in 30 minutes fit for a wedding. Steak, rolls, fresh vegetables, you name it.
The thing that I am most impressed with is the spirit in the Werner Jansen home. I mean it. The kids all seem to be so close and enjoy each other. You should hear me brag about your large family to my co-workers who never could imagine such a crowd. We have your picture on our shelf in the dining room - a more beautiful family I have yet to see.
THERESA
There were lots of fun times we stared with Werner and
Charlotte. Sisters being married to brothers made our two families very
close. We always seemed to get along really well, as well as all the kids.
I’ll have to say here to that all of our kids have always thought of Werner
and Charlotte as being very special.
We spent many weekends playing cards and talking and,
dancing and. eating until all hours of the night. What fun we had! Our
weekends were also full of kids and toddlers and babies! Meal times were
something else; I don’t know how but it always seemed like everyone always
had enough to eat, Charlotte never would get excited about anything; yet,
everything was taken care of. Werner always seemed to get his work done
too, but then, he always has a lot of extra help on those weekends. Our
city kids loved to do the chores with the farm kids.
One weekend back in 1951, I think, when Werner and Charlotte
had built a garage and lived in it while they built the house, Joe and
I spent the night with them. We all four slept in their double bed. What
a crowed night that was. The bedroom was very small as I remember it; so
the bed sat in the corner of the room. Joe slept on the outside, then Werner,
then Charlotte and then I got to sleep against the wall. Well at least
I didn’t fall off dur1ng the night. Gee, we must have been skinny people
then. Tall but thin in those days.
Another silly thing we did and had a lot of fun with was
the trip we took to South Bend, Iowa to see the Grotto of The Redemption.
Carolyn and Ronnie must have stayed with Grandma and Grandpa for the night
because we planned to take two days and spend the night in a motel. Well,
guess what, for some reason we ended up spending the night in the car—all
four of us. I guess we decided to save money, so we pulled, into a roadside
parkway and slept in the car. It was hot and the mosquitoes were out, but
we did get some sleep. We were very stiff in the morning, due to our age
we didn’t let that bother us. We went on to have a very fun filled day.
I think it was our first trip ever to the Grotto so it was very inspiring.
I’m sure we left in plenty of time to get back home before nighttime.
Charlotte and Werner have a lot to be proud of. They have
accomplished many things over the past 35 years!
Evie
Marve, as a young boy, can remember Werner coming to date
Char in an old coupe like on a Sunday afternoon. Also when Carolyn was
born, Grandpa Tacheny ( Nick ) was mowing hay with an old horse drawn mower
behind a tractor and the sickle bar got hooked on something causing the
whole mower to break in half. He was really mad when he came
home dragging this behind his tractor. At the same time Grandma Tacheny
(Agnes) had just received word Carolyn was born. Grandpa, so excited and
happy to hear his first grandchild had been born, forgot all about his
broken mower.
Another delightful memory wag when Marv and I were married
at Holy Rosary in North Mankato. Charlotte served a nice wedding breakfast
to our whole bridal party at their new house up on North Mankato hill.
Also taking part in this glorious event, were our flower girl and ring
bearer—Carolyn and Ron.
Every Sunday afternoon when we were first married we (Char,
Werner, and us) spent many Sunday afternoons at Grandma and Grandpa Tacheny’s
farm playing horse-shoes and playing cards especially. On the farm we also
planted potatoes together, and come fall, we remember digging them together
and sharing them. Sharing other chores, Charlotte, Grandma Tacheny, and
I (Rita) also froze corn, picked. strawberries and cleaned chickens out
there together.
Going with Charlotte to visit Werner at the sugar beet
factory in Mason City, Iowa where he worked was another adventure we shared.
Visiting the Jansen Farm(s) was always exciting for our
family. When they movers to the farm at Pemberton, Brad "loved" to go to
Jansen’s while he was little—he and Dan had great times! At the farm in
West Concord, one time in particular, Werner and Marv butchered a pig in
the winter and hung it on a manure loader to cool. It was really cold and
they were afraid the butchered pig would freeze; so they put a coat on
the pig—Imagine, ha! We all played cards that night, and stayed over night.
The guys pretended they knew how to cut meat up which is what they did
the following day.
On the West Concord farm, another exciting event was on
New Years Eve. Poor Charlotte forgot to make ice cubes for drinks or else
ran out of them, so Werner went out to get icicles from the roof edge to
stir and cool our drinks.
Among the celebrations were the births of many of their
babies. One in particular was when the twins were born. We lived on Elm
Street in Owatonna about one block from the hospital. We remember Werner
coming over from the hospital with the "good news;" He was so flabbergasted
because it was number 12 and 13. We’ll always remember the look on his
face.
Living fairly close to each other, we remember going to
the tractor pull at the Steele County fairgrounds in which Werner participated.
He seemed to be having a ball!
Speaking of having a ball, the trip to California
in which we flew with Char and Werner for Ron and Louise’s wedding was
very exciting. We danced all afternoon, and the pink champagne encouraged
us to keep dancing although our feet ached! Also, the rented car was fun
in San Francisco—Marv would drive up and down the hills of Frisco, and.
Werner was the navigator with the map. We always got lost, but still found
the way. Not only did we get lost, but Werner’s gIasses always seemed to
be missing as he was always misplacing them or blaming Char for not knowing
where they were. What fun!
Rita
Char, Werner, Ray ant Jeri decided to spend a Saturday
in the spring of 1983 looking for bargains at the Apple Orchard Flea Market
in Monticello. This flea market was ideal for the men because of the good
buys on tools, and they always seem to find at least a half dozen things
which "they’ve wanted all their lives," if not just another screwdriver.
In addition to the countless merchandise tables, the market had a bar and
dance floor.
As the day wore on, Charlotte and Jeri got tired of tool
talk and decided to venture off on their own to see what they can find
to squander their husbands money. Jeri always made sure she was broke when
they went so she could con Ray into paying for her things.
On one of the gals rounds, as they passed the bar, they
saw Ray and Werner sitting there having a beer. As they pass, they say
"hi" and keep on walking. Char and Jeri’s feet were beginning to hurt so
they decided to sit down in a booth for a spell.
The men, at this time, observed them do this, and Werner
said to the bartender (who happend to be about 21 and very attractive),
"Do you think we’d have a chance at picking up those two broads over there?"
The bantering began between Werner and the barmaid. Ray and Werner were
beginning to play the "should we or shouldn’t we" game. Finally, the barmaid
said, "Take them a beer and find out if you can score."
Bringing Char and Jeri a beer, the men sat down and revealed
the story to them. During this time, the barmaid was very busy and didn’t
see or hear any of it. Well we were all hungry, so we decided to have a
hamburger. When we finished, eating Char and Jeri decided there were still
some more tables they just had to see, so they moved on. Ray and Werner
went back to the bar. The barmaid, asked, "How did you do?" Werner said,
"Those damn broads drank our beer and ate our food, then told us to shove
off." The barmaid said "Well, don’t worry, there are a lot better fish
in the sea." Ray and Werner cracked up so much, the tears were running
off their chins, They never did tell the bar-tender we were their wives.
On the way home, needless to say, the laughs and tears
started all over again. We still now and then, talk about it and start
cracking up all over again!
Jeri
I believe it was November of 1975 (or 1974?), when Mom,
dad and I took a trip to Detroit in my 1972 Maverick (still going strong
as of this writing). We started out at 3 or 4 A.M., Dad’s favorite time
of day to begin a driving trip. Dad did most of the driving and Mom and
I took turns sitting sideways in the back seat. As is customary when they
travel, Mom was the chief navigator. Dad was very complimentary towards
her; he has always admired Mom’s skill in navigation. We drove south into
Iowa and took I80 to avoid Chicago, this was on advisement from Tony. I
think we ran into very bad weather south of Lake Michigan. It was raining
and blowing. I can’t remember if there was sleet or snow too- anyway it
was tough going but Dad pulled us through.
We arrived at Peter and Theresa’s sometime that evening.
P.J. was a baby at the time. Theresa had much to say about the joy of motherhood
and wondered "where is the sacrifice?". It is hard to recall the details
of the time we spent there. I do recall an Oriental dinner at Tony’s new
condo. Mom loved it and of course Dad is always up for a new dining adventure.
We also visited the Ford Museum, which was great. Fortunately Mom loves
old cars and airplanes and Dad likes antique china and 19th
century fashions so they could enjoy the museum in a spirit of togetherness.
It reminded me of their visits to the State Fair; Mom excitedly taking
in machinery hill each time with Dad, and he in turn enjoying crafts and
sewing with Mom.
Dad was his usual relaxed self on vacation. He was up
each day at 5 or so. He would go out for coffee and/or breakfast, then
come back and wake up the rest of us so as to be sure we didn’t get more
sleep than was good for us.
I think we drove through Chicago going home, as Dad was
sure this would be faster and of course the major objective of any vacation
is to get back home as soon as possible.
EARLY IMPRESSIONS
Being the first kid of Werner and Charlotte, I felt I
should try to write something from our early years together, especially
since my travel story is so recent. Unfortunately my memory of those years
is pretty cloudy for anything specific, but I do remember a few situations
and impressions.
I remember Mom asking me if I wanted to go to kindergarten.
We were in our house in North Mankato and she was ironing at the time.
I don’t remember my answer but I did go to kindergarten in any case. I
also remember talking with Mom while doing dishes in our house on Front
Street. I remember talking about school and I had a special buffet drawer
to put my schoolwork in. Deanna was born while we lived there and I remember
Mom talking to me as she took care of her. I remember that I wanted the
baby to be named Deann, Mom went along with it adding the "a". Sue, Bonnie,
and I used to sit around the kitchen table and Mom would talk with us as
she baked, etc. I guess the point of all this is that what stands out in
my mind about Mom in those years when I was 4 and 5 is that she talked
with us a lot. I don’t remember the words but I do remember the feeling
of pleasantness.
It is harder to remember things about Dad, as he was away
at work and not with us as much. I know he settled TV disputes by turning
off the set. Ron liked Roy Rogers and I preferred Howdy Doody. I remember
Dad bringing us our first puppy, Sparky when we lived in North Mankato.
Another memory I have of Dad is looking up at him in church and thinking
how tall he was. I wondered what it would be like way up there- if it would
be hard not to fall over into the pew in front of you, being up so high.
While specific memories of Dad from that time are few, I do remember that
his presence meant safety and security from boogie men, storms and all
manner of things that frighten 4 and 5 year olds (except spankings). Even
much later at the age of 10 or 12, I would only watch "The Twilight Zone"
if Dad was home and watching too.
Carolyn
We had just moved from town to the farm at Pemberton.
Dad set out to plow some corn stalks down in the lower field. I realize
it is probably hard to imagine but I hadn’t been put on the tractor yet
so that must have made me about 4 or 5 years old. At any rate, as Dad left
the yard, he told me to stay home. I suppose he had his reasons, like it
was getting dark or something, but who wee I to listen to whet I was told.
I followed at what I considered a safe distance so as not to be detected.
However, not being concerned about the return trip I didn’t really pay
too much attention to direction.
I would guess the corn stalks were too thick to plow or
maybe Dad had a case of pyromania, because the field was on fire and as
Dad plowed on one side of the field I became enthralled with the flames
and playing fire bug among the corn stalks.
As the fire died down I suddenly realized how dark the
rest of the world had gotten and looking around I could neither see the
lights nor hear the pup, pup, pup of the "B" John Deer.
Naturally, at this point, I realized I was doomed since
at best I could only make out silhouettes of tree groves in the moonlight.
Any direction could be the way home. The thought of calling out to be rescued
from this desolation crossed my mind but along with it came the concern
of who might hear me. Since in those days the odds of wolves and bears
being in ear shot was a much more likely possibility.
I picked out a direction that I felt was the most likely
and, crying as quietly as I could, set out. I recall falling in a creek
and losing a shoe, running into a fence and just falling down constantly.
The journey home seemed endless. Suddenly, I tripped over something and
landed face down in gravel. I guess the impact completely undid my composure
and I cried out loud. I quickly realized the noise I was making and fought
back the sobs and held my breath the way you do when you’re trying to listen
for a sound. As I listened I heard a dog bark in the distance. I laid still
and listened some more and suddenly there was more barking, only much closer.
Soon I heard the sound of his feet. I knew it was certain death so I jumped
to my feet and was ready to scream just as this smelly wet dog must have
jumped at my feet and licked my face. It was "Sparky", our dog. The gravel
road was our 4 mile driveway. I was so relieved to know where I was I started
crying. Sparky and I set out in the direction from which he came.
Naturally I caught hell for being all muddy and wet and
loosing my shoe. I survived this ordeal and went on to many other ordeals.
Sparky, however got shot by Marvin for chasing the neighbors livestock.
Being woken up in the middle of a cold night to pull the
old truck with the "B" John Deere to get the truck started so Dad could
take Mom to the hospital to have a baby. One of the little kids, don’t
you know.
At any rate, after the truck started, I drove the tractor
back into the yard and right over the drag that someone left sitting there.
Boy, the way Dad yelled you would think those tires were made of gold.
I guess I was lucky he was in a hurry to get to the hospital. You could
hear him yell all the way dawn the driveway and the truck didn’t even have
a muffler.
Ron
For an example; It was my job on Saturday to make the
bread for the week, which consisted of 9 loaves, a pan of dinner rolls
and a couple of coffee rings, all of which was consumed by Wednesday. The
rest of the week we ate the boughten stuff.
Not realizing the work and time involved, Dad suggested
I mix up a second batch while I was at it so we could have good bread all
week. Naturally, I protested as my arm was in great pain from mixing the
first batch. Luckily I had used up all the flour. Well, Dad wasn’t going
to let that get in the way so he went to the store to get some more flour.
A little while latter he returned with a 2 ½ lb. Bag. Luck was on
my side. (It took nearly 10 lbs for a batch).
Dad also believed in equal opportunity for men and woman.
Since females out-numbered the males he would have one or two of "the girls,"
usually me and/or Sue, help out outside. It didn’t matter if he had anything
for us to do, he just thought it was good for us to be outside. I spent
many hours in a cold shed watching him fixing the machinery and every few
minutes fetching his tools. The education was invaluable though, I now
know what a crescent wrench, pliers, screwdriver, etc. are.
Bonnie
I’m going to start off by rambling on about some of my
recollections of the past and then I will proceed to tell a most shocking
story of me that I tell my class each year to prove to them what a woman
I truly am!!
I can remember the birth order as playing a big part in
our lives. To this day I’m not sure where the cut-off was, between the
big kids and the little kids. Your rank in the family depended on such
matters as: getting a fork or spoon; if you were to have a chicken leg
or a wing; if you could have one hotdog or two; if you had one scoop of
ice cream or two; if you had to do the milking or not. I’m sure there were
a few more ways of deciding things, but the bottom line was simple -- Were
you a big kid or one of the little kids?
And then there was the ironing that had to be done. We
stored a lot of clothes in the refrigerator rolled up in a plastic bag.
Each item had to be sprinkled first. The ironing never seemed to be done.
One final event that sticks out in my mind was on Saturdays
when mom would have to go to town shopping for everything. I mean everything!
She was usually gone from after breakfast until mid-afternoon. We were
to do the dishes and clean the house. As soon as she was gone we were in
her high heels, make-up, and her earrings. We would use soapsuds to make
beards and mustaches. We would have a gay old time until about the time
she was due back. Then dishes started flying, brooms started swinging and
dust clothes started rubbing (maybe we just blew off the dust). Mom would
come in and complain that the house didn’t look too clean. I think she
thought we were failures at housecleaning tasks. Little did she know she
would have two daughters (Pat dc Renae) as housecleaners at motels!!!
And now here is my shocking story! Cleaning the barn was
no sweet smelling Opportunity, but it had to be done, so we were told.
Dad always thought this was to be a family activity. One Saturday there
must have been 6-8 of us out in the barn swinging forkfuls of waste products
to the spreader a singing madly. Someone had the same rhythm as myself
and suddenly I felt a foreign object penetrating through my right ring
finger. I was startled! Trying to remain very calm, I did a little two-step
and then I screamed. I wanted to go to the doctor immediately, pitch fork,
waste products and all, but Ron insisted on pulling it off. Wonderful!
How could he do it without hurting me, I thought. He couldn’t!! It hurt
like hell!! But at least when the pitchfork was removed it wasn’t so cumbersome.
Meanwhile, someone maybe Dea, Dan, Bob, Bon, or whoever
ran out to the field to tell dad. In all the commotion Dad understood that
the tractor loader tooth had gone through me. OUCH! (I would like to see
Ron pull that one out!) Can you imagine the thought that went through him.
He high-tailed himself and the tractor home to the house to find Mother
getting ready for another trip to the doctor. (Dr. Hartung knew us well!)
Needless to say, Dad was quite relieved to find out the injury was only
a hole through my ring finger.
P.S. It hurt!
SUE
Since I am finding it difficult, to write about one exciting,
eventful occasion within the realms of my childhood, I have decided to
write about two moderately exciting situations. The exact time of when
each of these noteworthy episodes entered the fabric of my life is not
certain, nor is it a priority in making my contribution worthy enough to
read.
MODERATE SITUATION # 1
My living existence started out quite usual one summer
morning. I woke up early to a warm breezy Minnesota day. I quickly got
dressed and went downstairs. Standing in front of the kitchen screen door,
I enjoyed the fresh farm breeze, the sounds of tin clanking, a milk machine
humming, cows mooing, and pigs squealing faintly drifted into the kitchen
along with the breeze.
Mom was up preparing breakfast, organizing everything
before the chore troups crashed this peaceful kitchen scene. I’m not sure
who but someone was about two years old, and if my inclination is correct
this child was probably sitting on the floor pulling kettles out of the
cupboard banging them together with glee.
Breakfast followed with the typical course of events.
Setting the table meant tossing all the forks and spoons in the middle,
along with an open assortment of plastic bowls, cups and plates! It was
each child’s responsibility to collect what they needed. Butter-knives,
however, were carefully divided as the supply was always low, and I think
we had to be a certain age before we were allowed to use one. I’m not sure
how strictly that rule was enforced, but there were certain tribal regulations
one just didn’t question. Unfortunately I wasn’t old enough to use a butter
knife, so I just used the handle of my fork!** To this day I’m convinced
that is why i have a weight problem. The design of the handle on the handle
of our SuperValue Grocery Store bonus forks had a larger butter capacity
than the regular butter knives, and in order to use the forks to eat my
fried eggs after buttering my toast, I had to use up every morsel of butter.
After breakfast Bonnie and I gathered the dishes and cleaned
the table, wiped off the spilled sugar and milk. As Bonnie washed the dishes,
and I wiped them, I’m sure we were arguing about something. Again, my memory
fails me in recalling the exact topic, but I’m sure I was right and that’s
what really matters.
After finishing up the dishes I went outside to play.
We had many new baby pigs so I decided to check them out. The pig pen was
along the side of the barn and there were little doors for the pigs to
go inside or outside of the barn at their leisure. As I peered into the
pen, I saw only baby pigs. I crawled under the fence and decided to catch
one. Baby pigs have quite an ability to dart around, but with controlled
determination I manage to snatch one up. Grabbing it by the leg I let it
dangle by my side. The baby pig squealed obnoxiously as I continued to
run around the pen trying to capture a second one.
Suddenly, and most unfortunately, there came another type
of squeal. The additional squeal was much deeper and louder than the high
pitchy noises being emitted from the younger pigs. Turning my head, I found
myself face to snout (and don’t even try to ask who had the snout!) with
a very irritated sow.
Well, never having dealt with this type of situation in
my previous years, I lacked an ability to cope with this event. I reacted
in the only way I could—I panicked.
Crying and screaming, I clung to the captured little pig
with one hand and proceeded to pound the snout of the sow with my other
hand. The volume of all three sources of sound, me, the sow, and the little
pig, increased profusely.
The next thing I knew, I was being snatched up. Tears
streaming down my face, I turned my head only to see Super Mom had come
to my rescue! She gathered me in her arms, took the little pig out of my
hand., and crawled out of the pig pen. Today I would not be here to write
this moderately fascinating story had she not come to save me. And oh,
what a loss that would have been! Thanks Mom!
MODERATE SITUATION # 2
My living existence was the same as in moderate situation
#1. Mom, once again was up preparing breakfast as in moderate situation
#1. But the child who was playing with pots and pans was now around 3 years
old, and there was an additional baby crying in a crib in the living room.
Breakfast still followed the typical course of events as in moderate situation
#1, and I still was not old enough to use a butter knife. After breakfast
Bonnie and I still had to gather the dishes, except this time I was washing
and Bonnie was wiping. We were still arguing and I was still right.
By the time Bonnie and I finished arguing, and finished
dishes, it was practically lunchtime. We did manage to squeeze in sometime
to clean the bathroom and the living room before the gang was called together
for this second meal of the day.
After lunch Bonnie and I once again did the dishes. Our
speed increased slightly and we finished by early after noon. I then went
outside to play.
The yard was buzzing with summertime activities: tractors
running, hayracks being organized, and chickens running about freely.
Most of our chickens had a slight pecking problem, of
which I was accustomed to. However, this particular day, one particular
rooster decided I would be his target. Ruffling his feathers he began strutting
and crowing. Suddenly he charged right toward me with no intention of stopping.
Screaming and crying, I ran all around the yard. Finally, just when I thought
I had lived my last day, I heard Super Dad calling. He had been working
in the yard on one of the tractors. I ran for my life toward him, the rooster
continued his chase. As I ran behind Dad for protection, Dad grabbed the
head of the rooster, swung it around, and off came its head.
Although the situation ended in somewhat of a violent
manner, I was very please and thankful. My desire for vengeance toward
that nasty rooster was fulfilled as we ate that wretched rooster for dinner
that evening.
Today I would not be here to write this moderately fascinating
story had Dad not come to save me. And oh, what a loss that would have
been; Thanks Dad!
Copywrite date August 1984. Deanna Jansen.
As I rummage through the seemingly endless memories existing
somewhere in the substrate between my ears, I find it exceedingly difficult
to designate one recollection as more significant than many others. I finally
chose this one because it created a sufficient amount of excitement and
involves enough people to establish it as an event I think everyone in
the family must remember. I am not sure that I have all of the details
right, but this is what I remember.
It happened during the summer of 1971 or there-a bouts.
I would have been around 10 or 11 years old, and we were still living in
West Concord. Everyone up to Bonnie still lived at home. It was around
3:3O in the afternoon, and Dad had just left for somewhere with his pickup
to get or do something. Before he left, I suppose he, in his usual manner,
quickly scouted about the yard looking for a job for us to do while he
was gone. Being well trained in this area through years of practice, I
am sure he very quickly spotted, a half empty hayrack that needed to be
put up in the haybarn and, satisfied that this would take a sufficient
amount of time, immediately dispatched orders to Dan to get the job done—and
left.
The manner in which the bales got from the hayrack to
the hayloft was very simple. One person would take the bales off of the
hayrack and place them on a grain elevator, which transported the bales
to the hayloft where other people stacked them. I; knowing that Dan, if
left below, would surely delight in unloading the bales much faster than
poor Jeff and I could stack them, decided to (and somehow did) persuade
Dan to let me put the bales on the elevator and let him and Jeff stack
them.
The near tragedy occurred when Dan decided to teach us
an easy way to get up to the haybarn. Instead of going into the barn and
crawling up the ladder, he said it was much faster to just jump in the
elevator while it was running and ride up to the top. He wanted both Jeff
and I to try it just to see what it was like, assuring us that, not only
was it faster, but lots of fun as well. After hooking up the tractor, Dan
jumped in the elevator and showed us just how easy it was to do. Jeff,
being a veritable sucker for excitement, anxiously awaited his turn completely
ignorant of any danger that could befall an unwary elevator rider. I (of
course) thought the idea was utterly repugnant and decided no amount of
intimidation was going to get me to try such lunacy, and, thus, remained
stubbornly below to watch what happened to Dan and Jeff. Well, sure enough,
Dan made it to the top without incident, however, the same cannot be said
of Jeff. Little did Jeff realize that by getting on that elevator, he began
a perilous journey that he would survive only due to what seem like miracles.
To ride up the elevator, one places his feet on the moving
paddles and then balances himself by walking along the sides with his hands.
I suppose that for a reasonably coordinated individual it was a simple
feat to get to the top without any problem. Unfortunately, Jeff, at 8 years,
was unreasonably uncoordinated, and after hopping boldly onto the end of
the elevator, he soon found elevator riding to be quite beyond his capability.
I watched in utter disbelief as Jeff tried ineptly to keep his balance;
first almost falling over backwards then shooting forward until he was
practically on his head, with no apparent understanding of how to keep
straight. By the time he was a quarter of the way up, I was sure he should
have fallen several times. But by some incredible contortions of his body,
he somehow managed to stay basically standing up. However, when he got
about halfway up, he lost all control of his timing again, and stumbling
about to keep his balance, he managed to force his right foot under one
of the paddles he was suppose to be standing on.
"My foot’s caught!" Jeff cried frantically as if already
anticipating the pain he would experience at the top.
"Well, pull it out!" Dan yelled back.
"I ca-a—n—‘t; it's stuck---it won’t come out!" Jeff reverberated
in a terrified voice that was lifting steadily in a raucous crescendo crying.
"Stop the elevator---Bob, shut the P.T.O. off!"
Urgent pleas from both Dan and Jeff began to bombard me
with such ferocity that a horrific terror began to course through my body
driving me to near panic as I vacillated in confusion over what I should
attempt to do. The first clear thought that entered my tortured mind was
"get to the tractor" and this was accomplished in what seemed like a single
bound. I then scurried into the tractor cab and began with nervous but
very determine hands, to push and pull random levers in a desperate attempt
to make things stop. Had this been the 706 or 560 International tractors,
I could have easily shut them off, but the tractor we were using was a
Case tractor that Dad had just recently bought and I was very unfamiliar
with it. I had only been in the tractor once when Dan was showing me how
to ... well how to shut this and that off but which one vas the P.T.O.?!
I knew that enough time had elapsed since I began this trauma for Jeff
to migrate to the top, and if I did not get the thing shut off within the
next second, I thought sure it would be too late. Just then it flashed
into my mind, "Yes, that’s the one—the one with the red knob on top—That’s
the P.T.O. lever!" I lunged at the lever instantly shoving it all the way
off. To my relief, the elevator immediately stopped.
Relieved by the success of that attempt, I next ran up
to the hay-loft to see what happened to Jeff. When I saw the precarious
predicament he was in I was shocked! There he was dangling helplessly from
the very end of the elevator. It took me a while to locate all of his limbs,
but, due to the absence of blood, I decided they must all still be attached.
I saw his arms and left leg swinging about trying to hold himself up. His
right leg, however, was not visible. It had gone around the end and was
now located somewhere underneath the end of the elevator. Upon further
investigation, we found his right leg was bent back sharply at the knee
with the lower part of his leg pinned to the underside of the top floor
of the elevator by one of the paddles. The upper part of his leg was pinned
between this same paddle and the lower floor. The chain was quite tight
and was cutting off the blood circulation in the leg. It looked quite painful,
and Jeff made no attempt to conceal his discomfort.
"My leg—It hurts!" Jeff moaned anxious for Dan and I to
rescue him. The first thing we did was put some bales of hay under the
end of the elevator for Jeff to prop himself up. We then tried to figure
out a way to get the chain loosened up. We still hadn’t come up with anything
when a few minutes later Dad came driving back on the yard.
"Jeff’s leg is caught in the elevator!" I yelled to him
as he got out of the pick-up.
"What?" He retorted quizzically as if the statement was
not descriptive enough.
"Jeff’s got his foot caught under a paddle." I replied.
"Well, how the hell did he do that" Dad demanded vociferously
as he climbed the elevator to see for himself.
"He tried to ride up and got it caught under a paddle."
I reverberated hoping to end what was beginning to be a redundant, if not
irrelevant conversation.
When Dad finally saw Jeff’s predicament, he knew he had
to get him out as soon as possible.
About this time, Bill Smith came driving into the yard.
After we explained the situation to him, he was more than willing to help
with the rescue operation that was already in progress. "I could take a
hacksaw and cut a link." Bill suggested. But Dad thought the hardened steel
links were probably difficult to cut through, and it was hard to find room
enough to get to them with a hacksaw. After fetching the hacksaw, we found
this to be true. After other false starts, we finally found that by taking
the blade off of the hacksaw and using it by itself, we could find enough
room to whittle away at part of the chain. The process, however, was very
slow, and Dad in his desperation eventually ended up cutting just a little
of the chain and then hammering and prying on the chain until it broke
apart. This being done, we were able to pull Jeff out.
We took Jeff to the house and on the way met Bonnie and
Deanna as they were leaving to do chores totally oblivious of what had
transpired with Jeff. We told them and Mom what had happened and Mom decided
to take Jeff to the hospital to find out if any bones were broken in his
leg or something.
To our amazement, it was found that, although the heavy
steel paddle that was pinching Jeff’s leg against the elevator was bent
into a U-shape by the pressure of his leg and had to be replaced, the Doctor
found nothing wrong with Jeff’s leg except for a slight bruise. Had Dan
not shown me how to shut off the P.T.O., or had I gotten there a second
later, I suppose the story would have been quite different. Jeff could
have become a monoped. As it turned out, Jeff was walking and ready for
hard labor the very next day. How lucky can one get?!!
Bob
One incident I recall was when Mom and Dad decided to
help their newly married daughter move down to Lawton, Oklahoma. This was
a very well planned trip with a few variations. We had several well thought
out ideas, among them was for Lisa and I to drive down in my Ford Pinto
while Mom and Dad followed in their L.T.D.
But, like all well thought out ideas, it can’t work out
that way. Our final solution was for Mom, Lisa and I to drive down in the
pinto (such a roomy car!), and for Dad to take the L.T.D. and trailer a11
by himself. Of course, the pinto was only packed with three grown human
beings, three large suitcases, pillows, blankets, and most importantly,
a cooler full of food. It was a little cramped, but what the heck, it was
only a 16 hour drive. Dad, on the other hand, had plenty of room with a
car twice the size of the pinto to himself.
The pinto left on Wednesday morning, October 12, 1983.
First we headed to Winona to pick up Lisa; then the three of us (Mom. Lisa,
and myself) headed to Burlington, Iowa (just a bit out of our way -- 6
hours) to visit Sr. June Marie. We left Burlington at 10:00 that evening
and headed south again.
We ate plenty in the trip. Every time we saw a sign advertising
a restaurant, we’d stop just to get out of the car. We would, of course,
order something to eat each time—after all, what is a restaurant for! We
also had the ice cooler full of food just in case we got hungry in between
restaurant stops. It’s a wonder we made it to Lawton as soon as we did.
Although Dad left for Oklahoma 24 hours after we did,
he made it to Lawton 7 hours after we did. Just because he made better
time, didn’t mean he didn’t eat just as much. Every time he stopped, he
ate something—to keep awake of course! That doesn’t seem like a lot, but
when you figure the car only got 10 miles to the gallon, he ate plenty.
Mom, Lisa, and I arrived in Lawton Thursday afternoon. Dad arrived at 11:00
p.m. that night; he could drive faster than usual because there wasn’t
a lot of farm land to look at anyway!
Friday morning we went looking for a place for Scott and
I to live. We found our apartment and started moving in. Dad made friends
with my landlord right away. They talked of real estate, and Dad was ready
to invest in some right there in Oklahoma! But, as the weekend came to
an end, the farm was calling him back again—after all, it was harvest time.
They left Sunday morning and headed back to Minnesota.
Written by
Patricia Martens
I guess the one major event that took place in my youth
was the time when Ron and I were pheasant hunting across the creek from
the yard site in West Concord.
Glen Wencell was picking corn at the same time Ron and
I were in the same field. This picker scared up a bunch of pheasants when
we were walking through the corn that had not been picked yet. Ron had
the gun and began to blast away at them. I ran out to see what he was shooting
at.
Glen was going down a row of corn about the time the pheasants
flew up and I ran out in front of the picker and tripped on a corn stock
and could not get away from it. Glen didn’t know I was there because he
was watching all the excitement too.
Meanwhile, the picker was in the same row and began to
roll closer and closer to me. Just as if I was a stock of corn, it drug
me into its mouth and as its rollers were forcing me into the ground the
chains were pulling me through the rest of the machine where the ears of
corn would go, and I yelled.
The PTO on the tractor was clutch driven so luckily when
Glen heard my cry he pushed in the clutch disengaging the picker. However,
I was stuck in its snoots. Glen yelled a Ron to run to the yard and get
a tractor and chain to spread the snoots apart. Before Ron had a good start
Glen’s adrenaline started pumping and he took hold of the snoots and pulled
them apart by hand.
From that hour on it was a day of leisure for I was then
qualified to have the rest of the day off.
One other incident occurred on this farm the first year
we moved here. I was hauling a feed bunk from the yard into the hog barn
with the 560 and loader. I was going up the hill behind the house and it
overturned. (A group discussion may be held on this topic on the day this
is read).
Moral of the story—Don’t Farm!
Once upon a time, there was a farmer named Werner. Werner
lived on a farm near Mankato. On the farm he had a wife, Charlotte and
the last few of a long line of kids.
Every Spring Werner would work hard in the field, getting
the soil ready to plant his crop. First he had to spray the field to keep
his foxtail down, then he had to work the field to get the spray worked
in, then it was time to plant. First Werner would plant his corn. After
the corn came the beans. After the planting was done Werner would worry
the corn out of the ground. Once the crop was up Werner would go out every
day and cultivate it. At the end of the day he came home and told everyone
that he couldn’t believe how many weeds were in the beans this year.
Then came time to start walking the beans. The kids and
sometimes his wife would go out every day and start walking. Even though
they worked very hard it just seemed like they weren’t getting anywhere.
Werner was puzzled at what to do.
One day while Werner was driving down the road, he was
looking at the neighbors bean field. Something caught his eye. Out in the
middle of the field there was a tractor; "But Wait," there was more. In
the front of the tractor was a bar with seats on it. On the seats there
were people and they were spraying the weeds instead of pulling them. Werner
immediately went home and began building his own bean buggy. It took him
all day and when he was done he showed his wife. Charlotte was very impressed.
The next day the whole family went out on the bean buggy.
Charlotte always sat on the seat closest to the tractor so that Werner
could keep an eye on her because she missed a lot of weeds. When Charlotte
missed a weed Werner would always stop and very politely let her know and
she would turn around and spray them. They finished spraying the weeds
in the beans in less than a week, and they lived happily ever after.
By Jeff
Flipping back through the chapters of my childhood, I
find endless exciting along with challenging events that deserve equal
attention in their ability to create a terrific story. However, I will
choose only one vividly impressed in my mind that will sum up the fact
that when it comes to wisdom and foresight, Mom and Dad seem to have an
overabundance of both.
This story I’m abort to relate occurred during the summer
in which we were fortunate enough (from us kids point of view,) to have
auctioned off all but one of our cows and rented all our land to our neighbor.
This farm in the rural area of the populous Good Thunder, Minnesota was
the breeding ground for the childhood development for much of the "2nd
bunch" comprising Dan, Bob, Pat, Jeff, Lisa, Renae, Mike and Michelle.
In the course of this summer the average day began with
instructions from "Farmer Werner" on the tasks that were to be accomplished
outside by the girls as well as the boys (Werner was always considerate
enough to leave Mom with one girl to do the household chores). After ending
with his authoritative note... "I want it done 100%!" he rushed off to
work at the Guaranteed Gravel and Sand Company. Mom then, with her designated
kid misfit for masculine outdoor activities, (Usually Pat, Renae, or Michelle)
would give her instructions dealing with the household matters, and she
too would rush off to her legal secretarial job.
As the summer wore on the verbal instructions were replaced
with written notes placed around obvious spots in the house since Dad many
times left for work before we were up. Of course he was sure to leave the
radio playing full blast when he left at 5:30 AM preventing us from what
was so frowned upon—oversleeping.
With no real authority figure to command our every move,
we usually allotted ourselves various breaks throughout the day. These
breaks, supervised by Bob and Jeff, were used naturally to construct fun
innovative games and other items for playtime festivities.
One of these innovative items constructed was a swing
located in the hayloft. This swing, which swung a lengthy three quarters
of the length across the hayloft, consisted of one rope which hung down
from an iron pulley runner that was along the ceiling of the loft.
In order to ride the former of these two swings, we would
grasp the rope and carry it as we climbed to the top of the stack of bales
(10 - 15 ft. high) which were on one end of the loft. At the top of this
stack clenching the rope, we’d leap out into midair trying to situate ourselves
on the board seat as we went swooping across the hayloft. The ride was
pure ecstasy. It made the visions of the Valley Fair roller coaster, with
which we were all so foreign, seem like only a kitty ride. Day after day
taking turns on this exasperating ride, we, dismissing all other chores
from our minds, would let the hours go by.
One night during supper while Dad and Mom debated on more
frivalous issues like what was happening in the news—local, national, or
worldwide, the rest of us kids were discussing the terrible dilema we were
encountering dealing with the fact that the rope on our swing was about
to snap. We needed to figure out how to deter this tragedy from occurring.
Not apparent to us were Mom & Dad’s tuned in ears as they began to
pick up on our conversation. Realizing this swing we so worshiped could
be detrimental to our health and well being if the very ancient rope happened
to snap, Mom & Dad became very involved in our conversation. Informing
Bob & Jeff of this swings danger, Dad, in as calm a voice as was known
to him (heard within a 10 mile radius) warned us that the rope was too
old and would easily break even with a light weight force exerted on it
(that put in the red alert!).
Well, take it down, they did, however, not for long. You
see, Bob with his expertise in Physics dealing with the force of gravity;
how much one kilogram of fat and/or body mass it takes to exert a force
great enough to decompose a rope, etc.; figured he would deter the mishap
by placing a padding around the iron pulley bar where the rope was attached.
What better item could be used for padding than an old furry winter coat
which Bob & Jeff quickly employed as a panacea for the rope-breaking
dilemma. Having overcome all of Mom & Dad’s perceived dangers, we were
once again in full, should I say, "swing".
With no apprehension of the rope breaking, Michael and
I decided to sneak away on our own, avoiding the "turn taking" aspect,
one late afternoon. Unfortunately, for me, this turn was one I would have
been better off missing. Grabbing the swing & trudging up the haystack,
I made sure I got as high as possible. After reaching the top, I prepared
myself for take off. Leaning back and pulling taught on the rope I leaped
off the haystack. My stomach turned to butterflies as I whizzed through
the air and settled my lower half on the board seat. Suddenly, as if it
were beckoning me to go back, the rope jolted and before I knew what had
happened I was lying motionless on the hay loft floor which had only a
very thin layer of loose hay covering it. I must have let out some sort
of painful noise, for Michael, while on the other swing, stared down at
me with his huge brown eyes filled with terror. Now, not only did I feel
like parts of me had been dismembered, but Michael left me with no indication
of proving otherwise. He yelled out in horror, "What happened!!"
Answering this question the only way to emphasize the
pain I was experiencing, I strained out, "I’m dying". This answer did nothing
in relieve some of the freight in Michael’s eyes; in fact, it only made
them grow larger. "Go get Mom and Dad", I said thinking it’d be the last
time i had to say, in my last few moments of life, whatever people say
to loved ones. With flashbacks of Mom & Dad’s warnings to us all, however,
I quickly changed my mind & croaked, "No, don’t get Mom & Dad;
get Bob & Jeff!". Somehow I thought they could scrape up my bodily
parts and dispose of them and me without ever having to explain to Mom
and Dad the loss of their 10th child. I though that way Bob
& Jeff would not get in so much trouble for not having the swing taken
down and keeping it down.
While waiting for Bob & Jeff to scrape me up, I slowly
tried to lift my head, which had previously been pressed face down in the
loose hay. With my neck muscles still functioning, I reluctantly turned
my head, with much discomfort towards my lower body fearing what bodily
parts I might be missing.
The first thing I noticed, not only because the greatest
amount of pain was coming from that area, but also because it seemed to
be one of the most outstanding features of my body throughout my previous
lifetime, was my buttocks, and surprisingly enough, still attached to this
area were two legs extending out with only scraches from the hay on them.
Looking from side to side I found I was also fortunate
enough to still have both arms as much a part of me as they were before.
With these signs of still being whole, a little hope was shed on my future,
and I began trying to prop myself up.
After what seemed like hours, I heard footsteps down in
the barn below. In a determined attempt to greet Bob & Jeff at the
hayloft hole entrance &/or exit, I began walking with my hands dragging
the rest of my body behind. There at the hole I saw a farmer cap popping
up. Ready to cry to Bob & Jeff about how their safety padding hadn’t
worked, I noticed the head under the cap belonged to neither Bob nor Jeff.
Instead it was a head filled with much more intelligence, foresight and
concern. Dad carefully choosing his words, "What the hell’s going on up
here? I thought I told Bob & Jeff to take down that swing. Those ------
-----s they never listen!"
During Dad’s release of feelings, I found myself slowly
rising to my feet with my back hunched over still in too much pain to straighten
out. Trying to show as little pain as possible I was
fine and only felt a little pain on my rear. I began to climb down the
elevator that led outside a Dad rumbled on about having Mom take me to
the doctor. As I walked to the house, there stood Bob & Jeff, and I
gave them a look of distrust in their ability to make exciting extracurricular
activities. Along with this look I showed feelings of remorse since it
would be a long time before Dad would let them forget that he had been
right from the start. Of course, he repeated the events of this entire
mishap—not because of the fact that he was right, but because of the fact
we should have listened to the for-warnings he and Mom had given in the
first place.
I must say it’s nice to be able to set examples. But,
I think next time we’ll take it for granted that Mom and Dad know best!!
LISA
I remember on day when Mike, Michelle and I were pretty
little and we were living by West Concord. The basement was flooded out
and we were down there playing.
Mom saw us down there and started yelling at us to get
upstairs. We would have willingly went up but we saw Mom standing at the
top of the steps waiting for us with a broom in her hands waiting to hit
us as we walked by. So we tried to hide but she kept warning us, the longer
we wait the harder she’ll swing.
Finally, after much thought, we started walking up; each
trying to dodge by Mom as fast as we could. Michelle and I weren’t quick
enough and we felt the pain, but Mike was speedy and dashed past Mom before
she had time to swing. He never did get hit for that.
By Renae
Last year, on Christmas Eve, we were naturally heating
our house with wood when we noticed the walls getting hot and smoke in
Mom and Dad’s bedroom. Well, we were all paranoid, seems as how our shed
had burned down only a month before.
Inside Dad and Mom were horrified that the whole house
was gonna go. However, they both stayed considerably calm.
Jeff, Mike and I were dumping pails of water from the
milkroom down the chimney. All that did was turn our walls yellow.
Dad opened the pipes down in the basement and Jeff put
a log chain with something at the end of it and pushed the burning coals
out the open pipe.
We were never going to burn wood again but that's how
we heated the house the rest of the winter.
By Michelle
I remember going to California with Mom and Dad. Of course,
Dad drove the whole way because of his lack of trust in Mom’s driving and
sense of direction.
He would tell of times awaking, astonished to find the
new horizons Mom was exploring. You see, these horizons weren’t in the
same direction as their destination.
By Mike You know how sometimes a person’s memory is like a camera,
and of all the things you love about a person, one little mental "snapshot"
stands out in your mind? Well, I have a little "snapshot" of each of you
that I’d like to describe.
Werner, I remember a lot of things about my First Communion
day. I remember waking up very early and staring at my white dress and
veil and shoes that were hanging over the back of a chair by my bed. Mom
had told me that I couldn’t get up until she called me, and I didn’t think
she’d ever get up! I just laid there and stared at those special
clothes. She must have called me, because the next thing I remember is
coming down the stairs in our house in Maple Plain. As I rounded the corner,
I saw you, Werner. You grinned and clapped your hands, and I ran to you,
and you picked me up and swung me around in my white dress and veil! I
remember how you looked, how I felt, and that picture is always with me.
Charlotte, I love you for being my Godmother, always remembering
my birthday, and your laughter. But my "snapshot" of you took place at
Sue and Ken’s wedding. We were all at the farm, and you came out of the
house, flopped down in a Lawn chair, put your feet up and said, "Well,
I know we have enough ham sandwiches now so I’m going to relax." And. you
laughed long and hard.
I hope you both have a wonderful Anniversary. Thanks for
adding so much love to my life!
Sincerely,
Barb
FAMILY MEMORIES
BY EVIE
RECOLTECTIONS FROM
MARVE AND RITA
A DAY AT THE
FLEA MARKET?!! By Jeri Jansen
TRAVEL WITH
WERNER AND CHARLOTTE
I REMEMBER WHEN;
By Ron
I Remember:
RECOLLECTIONS FROM BONNIE
I recall, when I was a senior in high school, Mom spent
a couple of weeks in the hospital having her legs operated on, so Dad had
to do the grocery shopping. He didn’t believe in spending a lot of time
in the store so he did a lot of running for one or two items at a time;
Usually a very expensive brand in a very small quantity to feed a very
large family.
MEMORIES BY SUE
STORIES FROM
DEANNA
TITLE: Almost Eaten Alive
AGE: Approximately 4
SETTING: Pig Pen
TITLE : Chickens Revenge
AGE: Approximately 5
SETTING: FarmYard in West Concord
ADVENTURES FROM
BOB
THE OK MOVE
PICKED LIKE CORN, by Dan
THE BEAN BUGGY
THE END
MEMORIES BY LISA
"And We Were Swinging"
MIKE GETS AWAY WITH IT
ALMOST BURNING DOWN THE HOUSE
CALIFORNIA TRIP
THE STORY! By Barb