This left-handed woman lettered in basketball all four years at Dexter High School, astounding her older brothers! (Yes, I’m the keeper of the letters.)
Men For Dinner When a farmer had help from neighbors with fall harvest or making hay, his wife hosted noon dinner for the men, who, tired and dusty, moseyed to the house, parking their seedcorn caps on the trunk of the Chevy as they rolled up sleeves to wash up in the back room, nodding a “how do” as they entered the kitchen. “Make yourselves at home,” Warren offered, as men in bib overalls parked along the wide Formica table, enough room so they wouldn’t bump elbows. Set with pink and green oversized Melmac dishes, so Uncle Bill wouldn’t have to pile his with two layers of pork chops, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn and Jell-o salad, rolls and butter. Doris filled serving dishes in the kitchen among her white Youngstown cupboards, while her daughters brought them to the table, refilling water glasses and coffee cups, removing dishes when they were done, just in time to serve apple pie or spice cake for dessert. Meadowlark Songs
“Yes, I’m the keeper of the letters.” I love technology. It really has simplified our lives in so many ways. My hope though is that letter writing eventually finds its way back into our culture. Your simple comment made me think of your books and how much history would be lost if you didn’t have those letters to give perspective on what was happening at the time! Interesting! 😎😎
Thank you, Brian. I’m thankful I began to pay attention, especially to Mom’s Depression Era stories. The letters sure helped with backstories, which I’m so fascinated by.
Those noon farm dinners were huge! I was lucky to spend some time with farm friends in Minnesota as a teen and I was amazed at the amount and variety of delicious food my friend’s mom made for the men. One time I remember driving out to the men in the field with their food because they had to keep working. I am now lucky again to be welcomed into the lives of several farm families in my area. They amaze me—so much talent, knowledge, and community spirit.
What great memories, Lori. We took a little something to the field, usually mid morning and mid afternoon, to tide them over. Mom learned from scratch as a new farm wife after the war. She said she studied cookbooks! She sure did!
I bet it was so delicious!
Mom never had a chance to learn to cook until after the war, so she read cookbooks! She learned well.
I love cookbooks! 💕
I used to, before I learned I can no longer have gluten. Wow, did my recipes change a dozen years ago!
That must have been so hard! I’m a vegetarian but was raised on typical Midwestern foods mostly so I have made a lot of changes and new discoveries.
Thank you, Lori. Hard, but normal for farm families.
Such a vivid memory poem! I felt as if I were right there.
Thanks so much, Liz.
You’re welcome, Joy.
Farm work really worked up an appetite! The cooks truly had their own labors to feed the workers from the fields.
They sure did!
What a wonderful memory, Joy! It’s nice that the helpers were fed.
They looked forward to a hot meal at noon, usually Uncle Bill, a couple of high school boys, maybe a neighbor.
I can easily imagine the amount of food those hungry and hard working farmers would eat. That would have been no easy task for a farm wife. You and your sister we’re probably racing around like your chickens trying to keep up! Great account, Joy. 🙂
Thanks, Nancy. I knew how to stir gravy, but not how to make it, just did whatever Mom pointed to!
I love the imagery around that lunch.
Oh, thanks for your comment, Dan!
What a vivid poem, Joy. I could almost hear the “How do” and smell the aromas. Not to mention, my mouth watering for the apple pie. It’s so wonderful that you kept the letters. How you’ve preserved your family’s history is so beautiful. My mom’s name was Doris. She passed in 2012, and though I think of her all the time, your Doris in the poem brought her closer. ❤️
Bless you, Lauren. Your comment is so dear. My mother lived until 2015, age 97!
My pleasure, Joy, that’s amazing about your mother. My dad passed in 2017 just two months shy of his 98th. Mom was 90, and my father-in-law made it to 100! Sadly, my mother-in-law passed at 59 from lung cancer. We miss them all. Thanks for sharing your family. ❤️
Bless you, Lauren.
❤️🤗