Saturday, August 18, 2012

MY MOTHER THE FARM WIFE



In a sense, my mother was not the epitome of a farmer’s wife. For that matter, my dad wasn’t the epitome of a farmer either. We had a life in town. But my mother appreciated land ownership and the small farm as a way of life and stepped up to help my dad when he needed it.
When I was very young, Mother didn’t have a role at the farm. Grandma Ina and Aunt Lynn (Myrtle) lived here, and my dad came on weekends to bring groceries and do the chores. Mother stayed in town to care for the family. Mother was a good cook – a job requirement for a farmer’s wife – and on summer Sundays, she would fix dinner in her kitchen and carry it to the farm. I can still remember the aroma of fried chicken mingled with country dust as we drove up the Gilbert Grade. (When I was very small, I rode “safely” behind Mother’s shoulder.) And as we drove, she taught me nursery rhymes. She was a great believer in the importance of early memory work, and she considered the ability to recite nursery rhymes a must in any child’s early education.
 
And there would be a pie for dessert. My dad appreciated Mother’s delicate, flaky crust. They both liked lemon meringue pie, which later became lemon chiffon pie, but Mother also baked fruit pies in season. Her favorite pie was made with transparent apples.

Grandma Ina passed away in 1957, and then Aunt Lynn moved away. Chuck, my dad’s chief farm hand, graduated from the University of Idaho in 1958 and that summer was the end of his regular involvement in harvest, I believe. So the summer of 1959, Daddy had to have help with harvest, and my half-sister Nina agreed to ride the combine for him. Mother and I also stayed at the farm to cook, keep house, and look after Polly, Nina’s baby, who was just a year old. And, Mother also drove the lentils to the grain elevator, the Nezperce Rochdale, in Daddy’s 1956 Ford pick-up.

My mother had a well-defined sense of herself – of her role as a woman, and I'm sure she didn't think she should have to haul the lentils to Nezperce. But she also had a sense of duty, so she complied. It was stress for her, but she did it because it was necessary. I wasn’t quite ten, and she refused to leave me alone at the farmhouse with Polly, so when she had to leave, we went with her. The round trip probably took an hour and a half, and we didn’t dally because we only had the one hauling vehicle. We had to get back to the farm so that Daddy could empty the hopper.

One time we made the trip to Nezperce, weighed in, went to the elevator where they dumped our load, and then headed back to the farm. “Kathy!” Mother suddenly exclaimed, “we forgot to weigh out!” We should have returned right then to the elevator. At that point the man at the scales probably could have adjusted for a gallon or two of gas and that would have been that. But that’s not the decision Mother made. She thought of my dad expecting our return, probably ready to empty the hopper, no way to get word to him about a delay, and she decided to continue to the farm. She undoubtedly also hated to face the man at the elevator. Daddy later called the Rochldale to “fess up,” as it were.

Were those the “good old days?” I don’t think so. The good old days were already long gone. Ours was a very small operation. Those farmers wanting to continue were buying more land. It was a transitional time for us – a time of coming to grips with the fact that we couldn't continue this way forever. KW

[The pictures were all taken in 1959. 1) The house in town, a Sears Craftsman. 2) A four-generation picture: Grandpa C.O. Portfors, my mother Dorothy Dobson, Polly and Nina Profitt. 3) Nina and Polly sitting on the wall at the Orofino house. 4) Half-sister Joni on the combine while her husband Pat Nunan operates the D2 Caterpillar. This is the only picture I have at this time that illustrates the harvest process. You can see the pick-up in the background. I don't remember how the old wagon was used. (Take it, Chuck.)  5) Family lounging comfortably in the yard at the farm. The building is Ina's first house, which Daddy used as a machine shed. The tree is not the silver maple of today.]


9 comments:

Chuck said...

Things changed after I left, but brobably the wagon contained the fuel, whatever was needed to put the seeds in (such as burlap bags), servicing equipment. It is amazing we could get the harvesting done with the tiny combine, the four bottom plow, and the small tilling implements.

I miss those days.

Leah said...

My goodness, Nina sure looks like her mother. In fact Nina and you look alike, too. A great memory photo of Nina and Polly.

My personal opinion of "the Good Old Days" is this. Everyone has memories of long ago when life was simple. There are highlights and lowlights in anyone's past. We all wax nostalgic about the highlights (good times). In our memories the lowlights get pushed aside. The very hard physical labor, hardly any modern conveniences and people's short life spans are not pleasant thoughts. I think it's good that we remember happy times from the past and call them "the good old days."

Your mom really was a good wife, pitching in at harvest time and helping out at the farm. Vance was surely proud of her spunk.

Kathy said...

Chuck says his sisters are reminding him of his mother and grandmother. We have family resemblance,but in form and figure, I'm more like the Dobsons. Nina and Mother were much the same person. They both had a strong interest in sewing and sought and taught perfection in their work. Nina made her pants and jacket as well as Polly's outfit. She sewed a lot.

I think it's good to remember the highlights of "the good old days." Certainly we shouldn't nurture grudges and hurt feelings. But there was struggle here,too, and personal conflict, and I'm trying not to hide from the issues. In my youth,I lived through this transitional time,and no one talked to me about it, but now I find that I want to share what I know of the struggle to keep the land.

Leah said...

When was the Sears Craftsman house built? Were Dorothy & Vance the first owners?

I think I see a 55 Chevy on the right in the picnic photo. My first car was a white over green 55 Chevy, an iconic model.

Kathy said...

The Craftsman is really worthy of its own post. I've asked Harriet to help me with a few historical details -- then I'll write it up. The house was built about 1913, so it was already 30+ years old when Mother moved in. Over the years she and Daddy remodeled extensively.

I think that's a Chevy, too, and I don't know where it came from. Nina and Jerry had a black Chevy. Another photo shows my grandfather's '56 Lincoln parked in the drive. The Rambler was Joni and Pat's, and the pick-up was Daddy's.

Chris said...

Re the "good old days": Dan remembers going to Virginia City, Montana with his grandparents as a young boy. His grandfather, born in 1890 and orphaned at age eight, when asked what he thought of the old items displayed, looked it all over, snorted and said, "It warn't nothin' but a whole lot of work."

Chris said...

And regarding the photos: Love them! I so remember the house looking just like that. And Polly! How can anyone look exactly the same all these years later?? Thanks for the memories. :-)

Leah said...

Don't you think that when people reminisce about the "good old days" they're talking about their childhood. Being with mom, dad & siblings, eating mom's wonderful food and playing outside when outside was safe. Of course, a child who was orphaned had a vastly different life and sadly only remembers hard times, as Dan's grandpa. My mother was adopted in 1924 at age 4 & was abused by her adoptive parents. Sadly, she never had any "good old days" stories.

One more thought about life long ago. Material things were hard to come by and children (& adults) appreciated gifts and toys, no matter how small. As for children today & the things they "have to have," I'm not even going to touch that.

Kathy said...

The concept of "the good old days" is simply nostalgia for whatever reason. We don't all remember things the same way. My childhood was secure but not carefree. My parents were demanding and had high expectations. I wouldn't go back there if I could. But in my mind, I can accentuate the positive, and that's what I try to do.

Also -- as I remember the positive, the trials take their place as life lessons. Chuck says, "It is amazing we could get the harvesting done" with that tiny equipment, and then finishes with "I miss those days."

Chris tells of Dan's grandfather: "It warn't nothin' but a whole lot of work." My grandfather lamented the passing of his youth and longed for the "good old days" when a man could swing an ax, cutting trees, for a dollar a day." My mother snorted as she closed the door after him -- hard work for low pay, she said, but he was nostalgic over the physical abilities he no longer possessed.