LET'S GO BACK TO 1950

                 This is a little spot in my yard that reminds me of the old days.   

                         

Let’s Go Back To 1950

July 25, 2012 

During a “moment” at work this week, I said, “I want to go back and start over.”  My co-worker said, “I want to go back to 1950………”  Immediately a vision passed in front of my eyes.  It was a vision of my mother and me planting Sweet Peas in the wire fence line of our barnyard in Neponset, Illinois about 1959.  This sort of has something to do with gardening, so I feel it is ok to blog about it on my garden blog.  No one said blogs have to be in the present time, did they? 

What was my summer day like in 1959?  I was about 5 years old in my vision, so this is how I remember it.

Happy, I was very happy.  At age five would you be any other way?  That summer day my mother had a square packet of tiny seeds in her apron, (yes apron).  She cut a little slit in the end of the packet to get to the seeds and to prevent them from dumping out all at once, getting lost in the grass.  Sweet Peas need to climb as they grow, so I guess that is why they had to be planted by the wire fence, next to the corn field.  This was a ritual she did every year in the same spot.  Mom had a butcher knife she used to loosen the ground.  Why?  Well, people did not spend money on unnecessary tools just after the great depression so you used what was available.  We did not have a trowel.  On our knees, cutting into the dirt and making a row for the seeds, we carefully dropped one seed every few inches.  Another thing I remember is that Mom was wearing a dress.  All women wore dresses then, no matter what they were doing: cleaning, gardening, canning, grocery shopping.  Women did not wear pants.  However, I do not think she had on her high heels!  I’m sure she had on lipstick though, she always wore lipstick.  Once the seeds were planted, we had to water them.  We did not have a long garden hose.  Well, maybe we did have one, but it was probably near the barn to either wash off dirty work boots or cool off the hogs.  So we filled a bucket with water and poured it over the seeds.  Funny, I don’t remember much more.  I guess they grew and if they didn’t it did not matter to me because it had been fun to plant seeds with my mother.

I might as well go on and reminisce some more.  Across the gravel road from our farmhouse was a patch of wild blackberries or maybe they were black raspberries, I’m not sure.  I’ll have to ask my brother because he is the one who picked the berries.  He was in high school.  I think it was around July or August when berries ripened.  He would take an enamel wash pan and fill it with fresh berries.   He and I would rinse them in the kitchen sink, coat them with lots of Domino sugar and eat them right away.  Oh that was good, and fun! 

 This reminds me of something else.  The white enamel wash pan with a red rim was the same pan we used when we popped popcorn on Saturday night.  Actually, it was many nights of the week-we loved popcorn.  We had a sack in the basement of ears of popcorn and we would shell the corn by hand.  Dad would pop two poppers of corn and melt a stick of real butter until it was foamy in the pan.   Then he would pour the hot foamy butter over the popcorn and shake lots of salt over it and stir it with a wooden spoon.  The house smelled so good, the popcorn was warm…..yum.  Dad would sit in front of the TV (we had 2 channels then) and watch Gunsmoke.  I’d sit on the floor between his legs and we’d share the pan of popcorn.  Mom might fill a small bowl for herself or not.  She did not snack very often.  Dad would also have a glass bottle of Pepsi Cola and a tin glass of ice cubes by his chair.  I’d get to take a sip out of it.  The bubbles tickled my face…FUN.

You know of course that “pop” was a luxury item.  Dad would buy a wooden case of twenty four bottles and he kept it in the basement, where it was cool and dark.  I can still see the wooden box sitting down there on a ledge.  It was “fun” to run down there to get Dad his bottle of pop.

Somewhere between 1959 and 2012 the fun has drifted.  I still enjoy gardening tremendously but it is more work when you are the adult and have to gp get the tools, clean the tools, put the tools away, worry about the weather, water the plants, and sweat profusely.  Did I mention that nothing hurt in the 1950’s at age five, as it does today.  I had no aches and pains that I recall.  Now, I sit down at night in front of the TV with my Diet Caffeine Free Cola and watch re-runs of black and white television programs from the 1950’s.  It is my way of going back.