o.k. Ebbie:

A letter from my Mother:

Dear Jerry: I don't know what in my childhood would be suitable for a song, but I'll recall what I can.

My happiestr memories were from the "Waterman Farm" we rented from Mr. Waterman. I think you can remember the place. It was two miles this side of Milton. Soon after we moved to Milton, Mom died. I was 13, and after that my life was miserable. Dad was bitter that Mother was taken away from him and it was as if we weren't there, and the brothers were mean to us. Gladys and Helen were married, and Helen moved to Minneapolis; there was no one to talk to, so I don't care to recall that part of my life. But, on the Waterman Farm, I can recall many happy memories. There was lots of work to do, eight children and a farm to run. I will try to tell some of the things we did that kids now would really complain about, but they were a part of my life and I think it was beautiful.

We made our own butter; I can remember turning the crank of the butter churn until my arms ached, but when that sweet butter and good, fresh buttermilk were ready, the taste was heavenly and the work seemed worth the effort. We turned the crank on the ice cream freezer too, but somehow that didn't seem like work.

In the fall (see paragraph in my previous post..)



We also had to go out in the fields and help load the pumpkins and squash, and pick up potatoes and sack them. The air was nippy, our cheeks would be rosy and our noses and feet cold. If we could keep remembering all the good food Mother would fix gor us come Winter, it would relieve some of the discomfort.

Summer was more fun. We had a beautiful woods and we loved packing a lunch and walking down the lane to the woods. On the way, we'd pick black raspberries and there was a choke-cherry bush and they were good, too. I remember one hill in the wooded area that in the Spring would be yellow with butter cups. There also were violets, Jack-in-the-pulpits, shooting stars, yellow lady slippers and daisys. Sometimes at night if Mother and Dad weren't too tired, they would go with us and we'd build a bonfire and roast wieners and marsh mallows.

Fourth of July was always a big event, too. There was always an all-day celebration in Milton Park, starting with a parade and ending in fireworks. We saved all year to have 50 cents to spend for ice cream cones, Cracker Jacks and other good things. It is amazing how much we could get for 50 cents.

Then there was the Sunday School picnic. We'd meet at the church and get on hay wagons, horse drawn, and go to Lake Koshkonong. There would be ball games, swimming, horse-shoes and of course, lots of good eating.

Wash or laundry days weren't so much fun. There wasn't any washing maching. Everything had to be scrubbed on the scrub board. The sheets and men's overalls were the worst: all the wringing and rinsing out! The water had to be pumped from the well, carried in and heated on the stove. There were eight children and Mother and Dad, so that was no small task. Then the ironing was done with the iron that had to be heated on the old wood stove.

We didn't have electricity, so another disagreeable task was keeping the chimneys on the kerosene lamps clean. It seems like the bot black awfully fast.

We had carpets made of rags, they were tacked to the floor and every Spring they had to be taken up, put on the line and beaten clean with the carpet beater and tacked back to the floor again. The mattresses had to be opened up, the old straw removed and new straw put in. The pillows were filled with chicken feathers and they had to be replaced, too. So, Spring housecleaning was some different than today.

There was one thing I recall with nostalgia. The cows were always in the pasture in the woods. Every night, someone had to go drive them to the barn for milking. Buster, our dog, was good at rounding them up. To hop-skip and run down the lane, probably a mile, with Buster at our heels was something I loved to do.

Then there was threshing day. The farmers would exchange days until everyone had their grain threshed and stored. We'd be up early in the morning to see the big threshing machines come in; then all the farmers.

They would have dinner at the place they were working and each wife would try to outdo the other for the meal. The dinners were fantastic: tables full of pies and cakes, tons of potatoes, hams, chickens roasting, the smells coming out of the kitchen were so good you'd think you couldn't stand it. We had one farmer that was especially fond of cake and he's always get more than his share, if he could get there first, which he always seemed to do. Mother thought she'd slow him down by not cutting the cake right away, but that didn't stop him. He took the whole top layer.

We had a cook stove in the kitchen, but other than that, a big pot-bellied stove in the living room had to heat that old-fashioned farm house. Needless to say, there were many cold spots! Mother kept big stones in the oven of the kitchen stove and awhile before we'd go to bed, she'd take them upstairs and put them in our beds. We'd undress by the pot-bellied stove, then dash to our beds before we got too cold.

Another thing we used to do was take the Potato bugs off the potato plants. We'd get a penny for each ten bugs. We had a can with kerosense in it and a stick, and we'd knock the bugs off with the stick, into the can.

Then Dad and Mom bought the farm in Milton. We had electricity and a more modern home. Dad bought catlle and started a milk route. We loved to ride along in the milk wagon. Many of the townspeople would send their kids out to the farm for mil.. they could get it cheaper. They came early, sometimes 10-15 of them, and we'd play run-my-good-shee-run, red light, follow the leader and Aunty-over-the woodshed. Such fun!

To many, this would seem like an unhappy childhood, but to me it's the best time of my life. We never got into mischeit when our work was done because there were so many enjoyable things to do with our precious free time that it nhever occurred to us to get into trouble.

Mother's deep religious faith in God was an integral part of our lives, too. No matter how tired she was, all eight os us were bathed, dressed and taken to Sunday School. We walked to Milton (2 miles.) Dad didn't want the horses worked on Sunday. We didn't miss unless we were sick.

I wish my Mother could have lived. Remembering all these things has brought her back so vividly in my mind, and all the years I ached with longing for her.

Well, back to reality. I hop[e seomthing in this will be helpful. I doubt if I can get Dad to do this, but I'll try."

This letters spawned several songs. The verse and chorus I'll include here is a fitting response to the longing she's had for her Mother, all these years:

"I'm going to see my Mother
You know she left so long ago
What a blessed, sweet reunion
When I meet her on that shore"

From When I Get To Glory...

Jerry