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My Ma And Pa (page 2)
Mama was almost as much at home in the field or the stable as she was in the house. She was the guiding light as well as the helping hand when a helping hand was necessary. In the shelter of the house her duties of homemaker included mending clothes, darning sox, making new and making-over old clothing to fit the next in line. Then there were kitchen duties, preparing meals, baking bread, pies and cookies -- Mmm. I must not forget the dairy products, from which much of our revenue was derived. She was an expert butter-maker. We all tried to help here, in a number of ways. I remember standing barefoot on the damp cool cellar floor making that wooden barrel-churn go round and round until at last its load of ripened cream gave up its mound of yellow creamy gold -- butter -- sitting in a little pool of buttermilk. After draining this off into a pail by pulling a cork in the bottom of the churn, the butter was ladled out onto a "butterworker", where it was salted with just the right amount of salt to taste. With a special long roller, Ma worked and reworked this batch of butter until it was determined that all of the buttermilk had been worked out. At this point in the process, the butter was made into one-pound prints, wrapped in "butterpaper" and stored in a cool place in the cellar until come Saturday morning, market day.
Then there were always wash days. Wash days were fair weather days, if possible, because our clothes dryer was the great outdoors, heated by the great celestial sun, when it chose to shine. Usually most of the family took part in wash day. There were pails of rainwater to be carried from the rain barrel or from the cistern pump, to fill the wash boiler on the kitchen stove to be heated. Ma did the supervising as well as much of the labour. The real dirty spots needed to be hand soaped and scrubbed on that washboard, using homemade lye soap, or store-bought Sunlight Laundry Soap. The labour-intensive hand-operated washing machine already containing the right amount of hot water and soap, or soap flakes, was ready to receive the first batch of dirty clothing. The manly job was now to rotate this washer back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, endlessly, until Ma would say "Well, it must be-done now, you can go and play until I want you again". It was not long until I would be called to come turn the clothes wringer.
Well, Pa had inherited this rundown, ninety-six acre farm along with its mortgage. Now, Mama was in on it as well. For years, they planned, schemed and struggled to keep food in the cellar and on the table (all of which they grew), as well as pay the taxes and interest on that mortgage. Then there were also other expenses to maintain and keep this old Willowview Farm producing to meet expenses. This was an unstoppable merry-go-round.
My parents' philosophy was to build a home and a family who could contribute to the
welfare of their society. Making money was the means to that end. We were taught that the
secret to real success was to work together in cooperation on whatever project we
undertook.
It became quite evident that our Papa was not cut out to be a plougher of fields, a planter of seeds, or a milker of cows. His aptitude and contribution to the family was in other fields of endeavour. He would have liked to have been a machinist, a builder of mechanical things, a repairer of machines. He was at home tinkering with the various farm machines, designing new gadgets, etc. He was happy when confronted with some mechanical problem, working in his workshop or fixing some implement to make it do for yet another season.
Apart from the building of the addition to the house, I can recall several major projects of his. Horse-drawn bobsleds are very important to the life on a farm. I remember it was decided that ours was no longer of any use and beyond repair. A new one was necessary, but too expensive for our budget. The thing to do was to build one. So Pa got busy and using the old sled for a pattern, built himself a new one. Some well-seasoned oak wood, with the help of a planing mill, became the runners, bolsters and other necessary wood parts. Partly with the help of Sam Claire's Blacksmith Shop forge, as well as his own equipment in his beloved workshop, he fashioned the iron work, including the runner shoes. When it was all finished, he gave it a coat of carriage red paint and it looked as good as any factory made item. He was quite proud of what he had made.
Then there was that Buzz-saw with its swinging table. This always stood in the wood-yard ready for use. It had a twenty-four inch circular blade and a sturdy oak wood frame. The mandrel and driving pulley were, of course, store bought. The motive power to drive the saw consisted of a six horsepower, single cylinder, gasoline engine mounted on a wooden skid frame. Since this was before Hydro-electric and the days of Fordson, this engine was the chief motive power. In the barn it was used to drive either a grain grinder for making "chop" for feed for the livestock or a "cutting-box" for cutting corn stocks into bite-sized pieces of fodder for our cattle. (We never did own a silo.) So it was our old faithful "Olds" that had to be dragged back and forth between the barn and the wood-yard using a team of horses.
I remember the "surrey" he acquired from a friend of the family living in Detroit. It seems that they had bought one of the latest in horseless carriages and would have no further use for this horse-drawn vehicle. It arrived at Komoko station in good condition in several parts but without a top. It was quite easy for Pa to design and fabricate such a surrey top, complete with sidecurtains and fringe. This was quite a project and was for some time our pride and joy. Only two other families in the whole neighbourhood had a surrey just like this one. This was to be our family conveyance in the summer months until Henry Ford came along.
By the early twenties, many of the neighbours were buying cars. It seemed to be the thing to do. Pa got to looking around. One day he announced that he had seen a good used Ford, Model T touring car for sale in London. After a little discussion, he decided to make the purchase. Well, this was just up Pa's street. Just look at-the fun he would have fixing and refixing, adding to and subtracting from this simple little car. He soon learned to drive and soon found things to do to his "Tin Lizzie". The windshield needed a wiper and a sun visor. For winter driving a heater of some sort was needed to help keep the feet warm. Pa came across again with a fabricated sheet metal device to collect the heat from the heated exhaust manifold and discharge it into the area near the driver's feet.
One spring he heard that a neighbouring farmer had devised a method for using steam heat to process maple sap for making syrup and sugar. He was using the live steam supplied by the steam tractor he used for operating his threshing machine. Well, Pa thought that he could do likewise. He did not have a steam tractor, but he did have access to a used steam boiler that Uncle Michael, Pa's brother, had used in the process of making honey, that time he had an apiary of sorts. Using several lengths of half-inch iron pipe with screwed fittings, a serpentine heating coil was fashioned to lay in the bottom of the sap pans. One end of this coil was connected to the boiler and the other end vented into an open tank. The resulting condensate was then hand pumped back into the boiler to be reused. So with hard-wood or soft coal feeding the boiler and some strong arms on the pump handle, we did make the nicest maple syrup anywhere around. More technology was thus being added to our farming and Pa was enjoying this other accomplishment of his.
My parents took great pride in their family of four sons and a daughter, each one different and special in his or her own way. The goal of growing a family to occupy its right place in the greater pattern of society was more important than acquiring monetary wealth.
Ours was truly a subsistence living from day to day, hoping that tomorrow would be better -- better weather, better growing conditions, and another chance to pay the taxes.
In a few years, Mama had established herself in the Coldstream stream of life as well as in the Quaker religious circle. She had strong convictions and always tried to do that which she felt she had to do. She always went about her business in a quiet, unassuming way, as becomes not only the Quaker way, but Mama's way.
Papa was a very generous man, giving all he could to our little neighbourhood in ways peculiar to himself. Although sometimes misunderstood, he gave without thought of receiving. During the later part of his life he was bothered with poor health, with a very worrisome chronic cough. This prevented him from always giving of his best.
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As my narrative unfolds, I will tell more about my parents, my Ma and my Pa.
Next Chapter: The House Where I Was Born
