As Albert and I both shared last time around, we had five children. The oldest was Louise or Weasy as the others called her. Then Stub, you may have known him as James if you went to school with him in Greenwood or Glenn if you knew him after he married and moved to Andover. Next was Ezzy, Evelyn, then Kathleen or Kappy, and last Bobby. As I said already, Stub lived in Andover and Bobby lived right here on the farm. The others moved around a bit. Louise locally and Evelyn and Kathleen a bit further away. I shared their adventures with us as they grew up. Now it is time for the grandkids and the time we spent with them.
Now Flora, let me tell a bit. Well gol’ dern there were a heap of ‘em. Louise had four, Stub with his two girls, Ezzy with her four wild injuns, Kappy had a brood of seven and Bob had his two boys and two girls. Happily, there were bunches here all the time.
Yes, Albert. Those kids were always traipsing through the house and running all over the farm. They were always into somethin’.
Grandma, Laurie, Bob’s third here. Since I live in your old house, I get first dibs. I spent a lot of time in this old house growing up; knocking down cobwebs, washing windows, vacuuming the car and helping out in the yard.
Harrumph. That gal, Laurie, she liked to help with the yard work; but, I remember a time when I had to point out that she was mowing backwards. She was throwin’ the gol’ dern grass back in the middle of where she was mowin’. Sometimes you just have to keep on these kids, ya know.
Grandpa, yes, you did point that out. And, you were always poking around asking questions just to make sure we were doing things the right way, or maybe just the Albert way.
Grandma was all about her flowers and Grandpa his ducks. They were special and I miss their smiles and that twinkle in their eyes.
Amy, Bob’s number 2, Grandma never sat still. Just zoom, zoom, zoom, all the time. And, she was always warning me to keep sunscreen on my nose so I wouldn’t get burned. She was caring and helpful.
Now, Grandpa, we never knew whether to believe what he said or not. Especially the panther in the woods; oh how I hoped it would not get me as I walked home after get-togethers at their house.
Now Amy, you know that all you had to do was put a piece of bologna on the fence and he wouldn’t bother ya.
I know you always told us that; but, again, can I believe you? Grandpa loved history and watching westerns. He was always ready to lend a hand or just his tools.
Bob’s boys, Jimmy and Michael, spent some time on the farm. It was like having our boys back again.
Flo here, Louise’s oldest. I knew Grandma and Grandpa when they had real teeth (ha ha), no additions on the house and Grandma’s hair was still red. I was named after Grandma. Grandpa told me stories about what it would be like when I was a Grandma…wind power for energy, water for city dweller wouldn’t be fit to drink, a special plastic would replace metal, wood and even be covering barns. He wasn’t too far off. He also used to tell me stories about Grandma hunting with her dog. Grandma hunting? I just didn’t see it.
I remember a time when they stopped by our house. It was Johnny Cake Sunday. The kids asked them to stay for dinner. Well, Johnny Cake Sunday meant all we ate was Johnny Cake, nothing else. They smiled and their eyes just twinkled like two young sweethearts out on a date. What a nice way to remember them.
As I always said, “You gotta eat.” Flo was the busy one, that Darla was the wild one and Ricky, he was the quiet one, always smiling and taking it all in. And, Lucinda the baby.
Hi, this is Susie, Ezzy’s youngest. My fondest memory is of a summer Mom and I visited the farm. I was about six or seven and had just recently learned to ride a bike. I eyed an old rusty one down by the barn. Complaints of boredom and loneliness coupled with persistent nagging about how much I’d like to ride that bike got Grandma to take up my cause.
“Albert, Albert, Albert, go down to that barn and get that bike and fix it for Susie so she can ride it.”
All Grandpa said was harrumph as usual. Then Grandma continued, “Albert! I said, go fix that bike so Susie can ride.”
After another “harrumph”, down to the barn he went, then into town to buy all the bits and pieces he needed to get it going.
Yes, I even asked her what her favorite color was and got a resounding “Blue.”
At first, I flitted around him like a gnat, asking annoying questions, expecting in all to be done within, oh, fifteen minutes, twenty max. Then I hovered. Eventually, I wandered away, despairing that it may never happen.
Yes, she was feelin’ down so I gave her some cookies. Cookies fix everything, right?
I don’t really remember if it was a day or a week, Grandpa came in and said, “aren’t ya goin’ to ride your bike?” I ran outside. I couldn’t find that old bike anywhere. “Where is it Grandpa? Did you leave it down by the barn?”
Now, that young un’ she just kept a askin’ where the old bike was. And, I kept a tellin’ her it was right there. For once I wasn’t teasin’.
Oh, yes. There it was, a beautiful baby blue bike that looked brand new. And all Grandpa said was “paint’s dry by now,” as he walked back into the house. I took off for a ride, circling round in the driveway. Mom came out and asked, “Did you thank your grandpa?” Of course, as a six year old, I hadn’t. So, I slinked up beside him as he napped on the couch and said, “thank you Grandpa.” And not surprisingly, I got, “Harrumph.”
Greg here, Ezzy’s third. I remember frog hunting with a BB gun at the pond and Grandma would fry the legs in butter for us. I can’t remember who told me this story, but…One time during deer season, Grandpa was lying on the couch and Grandma was nagging him about getting up and going hunting. Well, Grandpa told her he wasn’t going, he was tired and his back hurt. Then when Grandma went to the kitchen, Grandpa slid his shotgun from beneath the couch and quietly slipped out the door.
Ya know, I can’t let that gol’ dern woman always be right.
As Grandma said, we moved away…to Kansas at first. When we lived there, Grandma and Grandpa came to visit. Grandpa made a 3-wheeled go cart and brought it from NY for me. But, the best story of travels between Kansas and NY was the time that Randy and I came back to the farm with the grandparents. Randy and I each got a corn cob pipe when we made a stop at a truck stop. At the farm, all the women went somewhere and it was just us guys. Grandpa was smoking his pipe. Randy got his out and asked if he could have some tobacco too. Grandpa packed Randy’s and I think he even packed a spare for Robbie (Kappy’s second). They were all smoking and being cool, so I got my pipe out too and Grandpa loaded it up and lighted it for me. I took one big puff and inhaled it deep, then bolted for the bathroom. When the ladies got home they just thought I didn’t feel well. We never did tell them the cause of my 3-hour flu.
Cassandra, Greg’s oldest, that makes me a great-grandchild. I didn’t grow up in New York and unfortunately didn’t know Grandma and Grandpa as well as many others. My childhood was a time of computers, CD players for music and cordless phones. The farm was so opposite of everything I knew. People up early, tractors, swimming in a dirty old pond and animals making noise when I wanted to sleep until noon. The few summers I spent on the farm, let’s just say I did not look forward to them. But, looking back, I would give anything to have another long summer there. The days were slow and carefree; there was always good food to eat, jam to make and endless woods to explore. Dad and I used to joke that the drive from Manassas, VA to Greenwood was actually a journey back in time.
When I was getting up, so was Grandpa…from a nap. He would be all disheveled.
You would think a man could relax in his own house wouldn’t ya? Nope. That Flora would just say, “Allllbeert” and off I would have to go to comb my hair and tuck in my shirt.
Yes, he would return with his hair slicked back; but, no amount of hair paste could tame those eyebrows! I remember his eyes. No matter how old he got, they were still wide open and innocent; inviting you to “come play with me.” They seemed to whisper, “listen to my tall tales” … just like a child.
Randohn here, Greg’s second, the front door was between Grandpa’s chair and the TV. He was always watching westerns. Cassy and I were always running in and out the door. And, Grandpa would say, “slow down you wild injuns,” followed by a few howls as we passed.
Cassie back, I would get “Where you goin’ Annie Oakley?” We loved to watch him watch the westerns. During the fight scenes, he’d get a jab in here and there and mumble something or other about what a dirty rat the bad guy was. For a moment, he was right there, he was the sheriff and that town wasn’t big enough for the both of them.
Karen, Ezzy’s second here. Summer gatherings on the farm were plentiful and were always huge. The beer and pop were kept cold in the spring next to the house. The men seemed to gather around the spring house for some reason (ha ha). The women were always in the kitchen or sitting around the dining room table. The kids were spread across the yard, barn and the fields, looking for trouble. We played tag, hide and seek, kickball, jump rope. Grandma and Grandpa had a basic swing set and my favorite the twirly bird. I don’t know what you actually call that thing, but we called it the twirly bird. A seat on each end with a handle that you pumped.
Kathy here, Kappy’s oldest and Karen’s partner in crime. It would spin as fast as you could pump. Sometimes we would get it to lift as we went around.
Yes, Dizzy and fun!!! Funny, we didn’t get in trouble for much on the farm. We played tag on the beams in the hay mow in the barn, were snapped by the electric fence, that was just a lesson, ate mud…
My philosophy, a child’s body knows when it needs something. So, if one of them was eating dirt, they must have needed it.
Kathy, here. They didn’t even give us a hard time when we threw shovels of cow excrement (the nice word for it) at each other and had to run to the pond fully clothed to rinse off. Now, Uncle Bob, that was a different story all together.
Kathy Lou, I bet she isn’t happy I added that Lou (ha ha), and I spent endless hours and days at the farm. We would go through the cookbooks and find something that sounded delicious and proceed to make it. Grandma gave us full access to the kitchen and everything in it, even as grade school children. One day we decided to make Molasses taffy. Grandma jumped right in to help, explaining this and that.
Kathy here, dropped the Lou, that was a fun day. We were stretching that taffy from room to room. All the other kids came in from outside to help. Looking back, I don’t even think they washed their hands. Makes me a bit queasy thinking about it.
In the end, it wasn’t as good as the taffy at the 4th of July carnival and so much work. We learned our lesson; proceed with caution when selecting recipes to try. The feeling I have the most about the kitchen from Grandma was total acceptance. We were never criticized, just constant encouragement, praise and help.
Kathy again, Grandma and Grandpa would eat anything we made and smile the whole time.
Correct. Grandma taught us to sew on a button, fix a tear and even to knit or crochet.
Karen, Kathy again, do you remember the knitting machine? Aunt Bernice had them too. We would whip up a scarf in no time on that thing.
Grandma took up ceramics. She would buy unfinished pieces, bring them home and teach whichever grandchildren were around how to clean the greenware and paint it using whatever technique she was learning in class. Looking back, Grandma was always teaching. If you tore your shirt, she didn’t just fix it, she showed you how to mend it. Spill a plant, you got a lesson in splitting and repotting. And, you always got a great story that went along with it. I sure wish I had taken the time to really listen to those stories. I was always in too much of a hurry to get back outside and play.
Holidays on the farm were as huge as the summer get togethers, but everyone had to fit in the house.
Kathy again. The only word for it, chaos!
I know I am saying a lot about the farm as opposed to Grandma and Grandpa; but, the farm was Grandma and Grandpa. You can’t have one without the other.
As they aged, well their bodies did, but their spirits didn’t. Grandma had the cutest giggle, even at 80. Her giggle sounded like a swooning teen when one of the boys would tell her how great she was…giggle, giggle, giggle. It was adorable.
I learned so much from my time on the farm. Be kind to all. Accept everyone. Help those in need. Have patience. Work together. Grandma and Grandpa helped anyone and fed everyone who stopped by.
Amanda, Karen’s daughter here. I remember Grandpa telling us great grandchildren about the purple alligator in the pond. I remember times when Grandpa and I would sit on a bench outside our backdoor and he would pick up ants and pretend to eat them. He would even pretend to fry them up in a pan with a little butter for a snack. To this day, I don’t know for sure what was real with him. He was a sucker for children. He always had room on his knee or an arm to hold a baby. Great grandpa had a lot of love to give. Shh, don’t tell, I think he liked to keep it a secret.
Joe, Kappy’s fourth, we stayed with Grandma and Grandpa when we visited Greenwood. I remember a time when we were there and Randy and John built this lean-to structure in the woods. We decided to camp in it. Carol Mann, our cousin, Kathy and Karen took me, Joan, Trish, Greg and Jeff with a couple sleeping bags and some blankets up there for the night. It began to rain and that structure started to leak. The leak became a flood. Those boys were not construction engineers yet for sure. We all grabbed what we could and were walking back to the house.
Joan, the third here. Jeff (the sixth), oh he was probably three or four, says in a little scared voice, “hurry, I hear footprints.” We still call footsteps footprints to this day.
Trish, number five here. I was always running around with Greg. I don’t know who got who in trouble; but, we always found it. Well, as much trouble as you could get into with Grandma or Grandpa, which looking back wasn’t much. I remember swimming in the pond and catching peep toads in our shoes on the way back to the house.
Joan here again, I remember Grandma standing on the side of the pond while we swam. She was a good swimmer when she was young; but, we never saw her do it. I don’t know what she would have done if anything happened standing there with her shoes and everything on. The feel of sinking deep in the mud on the way into the water, yuck! Made you run quickly in and just as quickly out. Also, made it so you didn’t want to put your shoes back on, hence the ability to use them for the peep toads.
Kathy here. We would all fill our shoes with as many toads and we could gather and then count them on the steps of the back porch to see who won before sending them back on their way to be caught again the next day. Won what, I don’t know. Just bragging rights, I guess.
John (Kappy’s second), I even remember using those toads to scare Christy and Peggy. That probably wasn’t nice of us; but, it was fun.
Peggy (Stub’s second) here. I remember that. They would dump a shoe full in my lap and I would scream, brushing them off as I stood up, and ran away.
Yes, Stub’s girls, Christy and Peggy, weren’t as wild as the rest of the kids.
Kathy again, one summer, we were moving…again…and all my shoes got packed in the moving van while I was at Girl Scout camp. When I got to the farm, I had to go without shoes for weeks. I don’t know why Grandma never got me more shoes…maybe another lesson? One I learned well; I still hate to wear shoes.
John or Robbie as I was called back then, I spent a lot of time with Grandma and Grandpa in the summers. Along with Randy, I would help Uncle Bob with the farm work. We stacked hay, cleaned the barn, helped with the milking, whatever. My fondest memory may be when Grandpa gave us a truck. Randy was probably about 13 and me 11, I guess. The truck didn’t run and Grandpa was pretty sure it never would. So, he told us we could have it to drive on the farm if we could get it running. Guess what, to his surprise we did. And, we didn’t even need to buy any parts. The stickler, it did not have any brakes.
Those gol’ blame boys drove that thing all over the farm, just a flyin’.
Gramps remember how we would use the tree to bounce off when we came around the corner from the 40-acre field to get back to the house?
Randy (Ezzy’s oldest). I don’t know how we survived some days. Remember the mini bike? Gramps gave us that one summer. We raced all over on that thing. And, Whitey?
Yes, that horse was never really broke. Randy would have to try and break her in when he got here every summer. Some days were better than others with that somesabitch ol’ horse.
Okay, last but not least, Lisa here (Kappy’s seventh). My best memory of being on the farm was a time when The Twins (Donna and Dawn from my dad’s side of the family that always came to the farm with me), and I asked Grandma for a snack. She offered us peanut butter fudge. You would have to know Grandma, she didn’t just give us one piece each, she gave us the whole package. We girls proceeded to the sun porch and devoured that whole box of fudge. Boy, we did not feel too well after that. But, as you have heard from the others, it was a lesson and that is how Grandma taught them, through experience.
Well, I guess they learned from it. Albert and I enjoyed teaching all the grandkids and great grandkids. We also enjoyed sharing our stories, even if they didn’t always sit still to hear them; and just having them around. The farm was so much more of a joyful place by the time we had the grandkids. Life was a bit easier for Albert and me.
Speak for yourself, woman; those gol’ blame kids…okay not really. Sh, don't tell; but, Flora and I enjoyed every minute with our brood of wild injuns.