“Them that don’t work, don’t eat.” We must have looked like a hungry bunch because Daddy made sure we worked. Farm work was a regular thing, but when Daddy had invited folks in for a holiday, he kicked it into high gear. The place had to be groomed; brush cut, fence rows cleaned out, fields bush hogged. It was always good to have something new lined up to show progress; another few acres cleared, some pecan trees planted, a new field fenced. It wouldn’t do to have folks thinking we’d been just lying about.
Work was divided into “Man’s Work” and “Woman’s Work.” Women were lucky. As far as “Man’s Work,” Daddy believed in equal opportunity. Womenfolk were expected to work right alongside the men, just as hard and long. Due to our lesser strength and inferior expertise, however, we couldn’t be expected to handle complex tasks involving tractor driving, bush hogging, and equipment use. We were, however, excellent candidates for piling brush, chopping bushes, and wielding simple tools such as hoes, post-hole diggers, shovels, and wheelbarrows. Fetching and carrying were our forte!
Fortunately for the girls, once we had labored long and hard with Daddy, we were free to pursue “Woman’s Work”; that would be cooking dinner after a long day’s work. As often as not, Mother worked alongside us, so “Woman’s Work” started after “Man’s Work” was complete. “Man’s Work” was over at the end of daylight. Men couldn’t cook, clean, do laundry, or milk cows. Fortunately for men, according to Daddy, there was some obscure Bible verse I never heard quoted or referenced anywhere else, that said, “Thou canst not take what thou cannot give.” He also hinted at possible hormone issues. How’s that for rustication? I often felt sorry for Daddy and Billy as they collapsed at the end of a long day while we were cooking and cleaning. They must have felt just awful.
Anyway, back to the holiday. Once we’d worked like fiends preparing, the long-awaited guests arrived, amid compliments on the resort-like beauty of the farm. “I wish I lived here. It looked so restful.” (You should have been here the last week!) Daddy’s mood was effusive. He was a wonderful host. “Get Aunt Lou some more coffee and cake!” “We’re running low on iced tea out here.” He’d charm my cousins. They’d be riding horses, riding the zip-line running from a tall elm to way past the pond, and swimming in the pond. It must have looked like a theme park to poor, deprived children who had to lie about watching cartoons, riding bicycles, playing with friends, and drinking Kool Aid all the time. I felt so badly for them when they’d say, “I wish he was my daddy!” So did I!
Loved it!
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The division of labor…it was perpetuated for generations. But…we all turned out okay !
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Your father was quite the philosopher. You should write, Epistles According to Daddy. Each verse seemed to fit his purpose nicely. Our household and farm life was a bit different–as far as division of labor went. Dad milked the cows and farmed. Dad snapped beans, prepared sweet corn and vegetables for canning. Mom taught school and had her own income. I don’t think the two of them ever worked out who paid for what in the family budget. They were sometimes at loggerheads–arguing over money. It worried me as a child hearing them argue over money. Would we be homeless before long?
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I hope you write this. I know I will. At our house. All the money was Daddy’s except what Mother blew on groceries, utilities, gasoline, house payments, and a few clothes for us kids. Every time there was a financial crisis(about every week), he needed a total accounting from her. His spending was on necessities, whatever that was.
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I may, with your encouragement do it, the title, “It’s Only Money.” Another–may do post, is about farting cattle; title could be, the almost Biblical, “The Fiery Farts of the Wicked.”
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Oh our horses used to fart like crazy when we rode them.
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That doesn’t sound very fair. It sounds like you got through it alright (level-headed and still have a sense of humor.), even if you do hold some of those lop-sided behaviors of his against him. I applaud you for your tenacity and spirit!
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It was a long time ago
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Working alongside Linda, I kept waiting for my real parents to come!
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Our real parents were waiting too!
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Pay for the fun!
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Marvelous story. The last line zings. 😀 😀 😀
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Thanks.
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You are welcome.
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Wow, sounds like work was never done!
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Never!
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‘A man works from sun to sun – A woman’s work is never done!’ ~Elle
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this sounds like a case of “the grass is always greener” My mom was always a bit of a tyrant when we were young, but when I grew up I understood how her personality helped shaped me into the person I am today. Now that she is gone, I do miss her terribly
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We learn, even when we don’t like what we are learning.
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Oh…. reality is always a little different.
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You see I don’t live on a farm now!
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I completely understand… on the other hand you could switch roles and let your visitors play. Some would pay a lot of money to geth this authentic farm feeling… lol
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The work or the fun? How much would you pay?
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I am not in that target group… lol!
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