Happy Mother’s Day, mom!
My mother was born in 1917, and she has a pretty good chance of seeing 2017. She’s still living in her own home, taking care of herself and even mowing the grass.
If you ask her how she has managed to be in such good shape at 96, she’ll tell you it is because she worked hard on a farm for over 50 years.
Her stories of the farm in her childhood days are wonderful — how her parents and older brothers worked the land with horses, the sharing of labor and crops with neighboring farms, bartering farm produce for needed goods during the Great Depression.
She worked hard on the farm, an equal to any of her brothers, and played just as hard, too. She was a star catcher for the Remington-Rand baseball team, and she has some great stories about the big games against the girls from the rival Whirpool Corporation.
After marrying dad in 1940, she moved a few miles from the farm but still spent many days there helping with the farming and gardening. In 1951, they bought three acres and spent the next three years living in a tiny shack on the property while they started the house where she still lives. She designed it, her husband, brothers and friends built it, and my older brothers helped the best they could. They grew some crops on the property, including pickles, sweet corn and currants. It was the pickles that convinced my brothers they wanted a career outside of agriculture, and all three were successful in their quest.
I arrived on the scene in 1956. By the time I was big enough for farm work, they had stopped growing pickles. Maybe that’s why I’m where I’m at today. Back at the home farm, her mom and one brother were left to run the place. Still, the farming continued at a good pace, with peaches, cherries, plums and black raspberries as the income crops. They also grew many vegetables for personal use and to give to friends or relatives.