Them That Don’t Work……..

Five kidsThere was always more work than Mother could possibly get done by the time there were five kids.  In addition to the house and cooking, Daddy kept Mother running errands for the farm.  “Run up to Manolia and get me a magneto for the tractor.  On the way back, pick my saw up from the shop and a couple of cans of gasoline.”

Magnolia was forty miles away.  Unless Daddy got his request in early, by the time Mother got back, we were in from school.  If I saw a chicken thawing in the sink, I knew to get supper started.  No instructions were needed.  Chicken meant fried chicken. Ground meat meant meatloaf.  I’d change clothes, peel and boil mountains of potatoes, cut the chicken up and get it started frying, or get the meatloaf on and get some vegetables started, if Mother hadn’t left a pot of beans simmering on low.  God forbid, I should let the beans cook dry and scorch.  That was a catastrophe.  While the chicken fried, cornbread or biscuits went in the oven, no “light bread” ever defiled the table at our house.  Daddy frequently bragged about that.  It reflected well his authority and manhood.  Supper was on the table at the expected time.  As soon as dinner was over, we got the kitchen cleaned up.  After the first time or two I got a meal on the table, never Mother worried again if she was held up, knowing dinner would be ready on time.  Only once did I foolishly decide I had better things to do than cook supper after I had started that routine.  Turns out, I didn’t have anything better to do.  We also had dogs, cows, and chickens who didn’t take care of themselves.  They ate before we did.

At about the age of seven or eight, when I initially got the devastating news that I was going to start having “jobs” to do, I was appalled and disgusted.  I was a kid. I was supposed to play.  It was my parent’s job to take care of me.  Life wouldn’t be worth living!  Sometimes Mother would send me back three or four times till I did a job right.  Daddy had a much more time efficient method.  He’d just kick my butt and make it worth my time to get it right.  After three or four years of involuntary servitude, I realized it was easier to do what needed to be done than deal with the alternative and still have to do get busy.  Eventually, somehow I started needed doing without being told.

16 thoughts on “Them That Don’t Work……..”

  2. As a child who visited my aunt and uncle’s farm in western Arkansas, with numerous other cousins who lived in the mid-South back in the early 60s, I saw farming through an idealistic, child’s eye view of our yearly Spring break adventure. The barns, the animals, the fields and of course, the out houses brought a wonder of pioneer living to this city boy. My aunt was a very round woman and the uncle was a bean pole but they were very loving people. If memory serves correct, there were at least teens in numbers of us cousins from surrounding states, who went out to help with the chores during our week away from home. Meals were a feast and life was fun for a short period of time. Well, it didn’t take but a few years for me to realize that my chores at home were nothing compared to my cousin’s farm chores on a daily basis, plus, school. My memories are more respectful of that way of life back then. However, there’s still a part of me that finds that era a bit romantic.

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  4. Hey Linda,

    Another fascinating encounter with the past, and a testament I think to the rewards that can be achieved when a family unites and works collectively to achieve a common goal. What is also evident is the level of participation required by each and every individual, and the willingness to commit to this division of labour with a sense of absolute integrity: after all, each and every activity is relied upon by the whole unit, and one wouldn’t want to let the others down. I find that really inspiring…but still giggled at the phrase ‘involuntary servitude’ 🙂

    The photograph paints a thousand words as all images do and is a delightful addition to the post itself. Thank you for its inclusion and sharing a piece of your family history.

    Namaste

    DN – 14/09/2015

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