In acknowledgment of the reminiscences of a friend of mine about her childhood home in "The Valley," I decided I'd venture writing my own blog post on the subject. During the last few weeks I have heard a song on the radio that brought back some good memories from my childhood, and although the song has a melancholy tune that doesn't quite match my attitude, I think it captures the nostalgic feelings that many of us may have for the "good old days," days in which your home life protected you from many of the ugly blights of society and the bitter political wrangling over just about anything you can think of.
While life on a farm definitely had its challenges, it was a simpler life that taught the value of hard work and integrity. On a small family farm in south-eastern Idaho, my family of nine shared the responsibility of running approximately 1,400 acres of land. The chores were always suited to my age. I fed the chickens and gathered the eggs, or I would help make cracked wheat for the dogs and cats. Other chores included weeding a large garden, mowing an equally large lawn, or working in the fields. We would pull wild rye out of the crops, haul rocks off the fields, drive grain trucks, plow and weed the ground, thresh the seed grain for planting, etc. We even went hunting once a year to provide us with meat until the following hunt the next fall.
Looking back at those years, we probably could have gotten by without doing quite that much work! I can't think of a single farmer in the whole county that put as much time into hauling rocks or pulling rye as our family, but the older I got, the more I appreciated a good day's work and the the things that can be accomplished in that time.
About nine years ago, a little after my grandpa passed away, the farm that had been in my dad's family for generations was sold, the proceeds divvied up among his children as part of the inheritance. He had wanted to keep the farm in the family, but as often happens with inheritance, another small family farm became a statistic.
I will always look back on my childhood years with fondness because of the values I learned. While I would have liked to have raised my children under similar circumstances, the family farm served its purpose in my life. Physically the farm has changed since it was sold, as evidenced in this video, but in my memory, it will always be the farm where I grew up. And when times get hard I can think back to the lessons learned on the farm.
Paraphrasing the words of the Scottish poet, James Barrie, one author writes, "God gave us memories, that we might have June roses in the December of our lives."
Friday, April 30, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
County Fair
For the third consecutive year we had a great evening at the Pima County Fair. I've written about our past experiences at the fair, so I've already said most everything there is to say on the subject with just a few exceptions.
We rode on many of the rides that we rode on last year--thanks to the promotional discounts they give for the rides in the weeks leading up to the fair.
One of the recurring themes of this year's experience seems to be the boar or the pig!
A nice addition to this year's fair was the petting zoo. Within minutes of our entering, one of the many goats found Deb's pant-leg and peed all over it. Truth be told, the goats were rather obnoxious. One man who was wearing a solid green shirt had the goats swarming around him, apparently thinking his shirt was food! Sorry, no pictures of this phenomenon!
This critter was fairly skittish, but the girls managed to get close to it.
The excellent sea lion show was one of the highlights of our evening!
We rode on many of the rides that we rode on last year--thanks to the promotional discounts they give for the rides in the weeks leading up to the fair.
One of the recurring themes of this year's experience seems to be the boar or the pig!
A nice addition to this year's fair was the petting zoo. Within minutes of our entering, one of the many goats found Deb's pant-leg and peed all over it. Truth be told, the goats were rather obnoxious. One man who was wearing a solid green shirt had the goats swarming around him, apparently thinking his shirt was food! Sorry, no pictures of this phenomenon!
This critter was fairly skittish, but the girls managed to get close to it.
The excellent sea lion show was one of the highlights of our evening!
Can I see your ID?
A week ago after dark I noticed a few police cars parked across the street from us. I pointed this out to my wife, and she had a brilliant idea to pop some popcorn and see what neighbor was getting busted this time! When we didn't see anything going on, we went back to cleaning grapes for our trip to Mesa, Arizona the following day. A few minutes later I opened the back door to go outside and noticed that the door to the Arizona room was open, which occasionally happens when the kids play outside. I stepped inside just to make sure some thief hadn't come in our backyard to try to steal anything from the Arizona room. As I looked down the length of the room I noticed a couple of flashlights through the windows that look into the back yard. As I turned to look at them, they both came up to shine in my face. It's amazing how many things can run through your mind in a split second! Frozen in place, all I could do was say, "Hi! Can I help you?" Fortunately, they identified themselves immediately as the Tucson police.
I turned on the lights to the back yard and they informed me that a neighbor had called to report that our van door was open and it looked like someone may have broken into it. I went over and checked it out, but everything was still there. It looks like the kids left the van door open too! I closed the door and resolved to lock the back gate more often to better ensure against theft--since we have been the victims of it since moving to Tucson. It was at that point that the police officers asked me for identification. It almost made me laugh, since the thought passed through my mind to say, "Do you know who I am?", and then belligerently badger them all the way to their vehicle. Okay, so I didn't give the thought serious consideration, but the question did bring to mind the incident between Henry Louis Gates, Jr. and a Massachusetts' police officer last summer. I respect the job the police have to do and I'm sure they've probably heard enough people give them that line since the Gates' incident.
I was thankful that we had a vigilant neighbor that was willing to call the police when he saw something that looked suspicious.
My wife, who had been inside, had a different experience. When she heard me say, "Hi! Can I help you?", she thought someone hiding from the police, whose vehicles were parked out front, had hidden in our back yard. Some of the thoughts passing through her mind were, "Should I call the police? Should I close and lock the back door?" etc.
In the end, we were relieved that nothing had happened, but we found it somewhat ironic that the police had come for us and not for the drug-dealing neighbor across the street.
I turned on the lights to the back yard and they informed me that a neighbor had called to report that our van door was open and it looked like someone may have broken into it. I went over and checked it out, but everything was still there. It looks like the kids left the van door open too! I closed the door and resolved to lock the back gate more often to better ensure against theft--since we have been the victims of it since moving to Tucson. It was at that point that the police officers asked me for identification. It almost made me laugh, since the thought passed through my mind to say, "Do you know who I am?", and then belligerently badger them all the way to their vehicle. Okay, so I didn't give the thought serious consideration, but the question did bring to mind the incident between Henry Louis Gates, Jr. and a Massachusetts' police officer last summer. I respect the job the police have to do and I'm sure they've probably heard enough people give them that line since the Gates' incident.
I was thankful that we had a vigilant neighbor that was willing to call the police when he saw something that looked suspicious.
My wife, who had been inside, had a different experience. When she heard me say, "Hi! Can I help you?", she thought someone hiding from the police, whose vehicles were parked out front, had hidden in our back yard. Some of the thoughts passing through her mind were, "Should I call the police? Should I close and lock the back door?" etc.
In the end, we were relieved that nothing had happened, but we found it somewhat ironic that the police had come for us and not for the drug-dealing neighbor across the street.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Trap Restoration
The other day I was getting something out of our laundry closet when I noticed some rust sticking out of a mess of garden tools and paint cans. The rusty objects were two traps that I kept from the farm where I grew up. Like the license plates I have written about in an earlier post, I initially found these traps in the old homestead that served as my great grandparents' home before 1916. I have hung onto them with the hopes of one day being able to clean them up without damaging them too much.
I recently started looking for different rust removers that might help me clean the traps, realizing that in order to get what is probably more than a half century's worth of rust off the traps, I would have to fully submerse the traps in the solution for an extended period of time. I found most rust removers that sell in large quantities end up running about $20 per gallon, which is a little out of my budget. My wife suggested I try vinegar, so I went to the store and bought a gallon of vinegar and gave it a try. I didn't soak the first trap long enough, but it still came out better than I had expected. This picture shows one of the traps in the vinegar. The other bucket is a bucket of water. In order to keep the vinegar as clean as possible, I worked on the trap in the water bucket, only using the vinegar to soak the traps. I had to keep them submersed as much as I could since the iron would quickly begin to discolor again with rust if it started to dry. Consequently, I had to empty and refill the water bucket numerous times. When I had finished cleaning it, I had to quickly run a cloth over it to clean it and then, with another cloth covered in oil, I oiled the trap before it could rust again.
This picture shows the difference between an uncleaned trap by a cleaned one. Gabs wanted to see how they worked, so I set one of them and sprang it with the metal rod used to anchor the trap. They still work as well as ever.
I soaked the second trap in the vinegar a little longer than the first, and it cleaned up even better.
The traps' pans, which were almost completely illegible when covered in rust, revealed that the traps date back to 1917 or 1918 based on the patent dates. Debs probably thinks I'm crazy to spend so much time repairing traps that I will never use, but it's a lot of fun preserving pieces of family history!
I recently started looking for different rust removers that might help me clean the traps, realizing that in order to get what is probably more than a half century's worth of rust off the traps, I would have to fully submerse the traps in the solution for an extended period of time. I found most rust removers that sell in large quantities end up running about $20 per gallon, which is a little out of my budget. My wife suggested I try vinegar, so I went to the store and bought a gallon of vinegar and gave it a try. I didn't soak the first trap long enough, but it still came out better than I had expected. This picture shows one of the traps in the vinegar. The other bucket is a bucket of water. In order to keep the vinegar as clean as possible, I worked on the trap in the water bucket, only using the vinegar to soak the traps. I had to keep them submersed as much as I could since the iron would quickly begin to discolor again with rust if it started to dry. Consequently, I had to empty and refill the water bucket numerous times. When I had finished cleaning it, I had to quickly run a cloth over it to clean it and then, with another cloth covered in oil, I oiled the trap before it could rust again.
This picture shows the difference between an uncleaned trap by a cleaned one. Gabs wanted to see how they worked, so I set one of them and sprang it with the metal rod used to anchor the trap. They still work as well as ever.
I soaked the second trap in the vinegar a little longer than the first, and it cleaned up even better.
The traps' pans, which were almost completely illegible when covered in rust, revealed that the traps date back to 1917 or 1918 based on the patent dates. Debs probably thinks I'm crazy to spend so much time repairing traps that I will never use, but it's a lot of fun preserving pieces of family history!
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Air Show
Well, I'm momentarily back in the blog world. It seems like I just completely quit when the school year starts and then start up again as the second semester of the school year enters its second half. This year I actually wrote a few posts but decided not to put them up because of their negative slant--kind of like the maxim, "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." I've had plenty to be grateful for, but as I imagine most everyone can relate, sometimes the negative seems more prevalent.
Anyway, yesterday I was able to relax a little and go with my family to the Aerospace and Arizona Days air show at the Davis-Monthan Air Force Base. Somehow we missed it the first year that we were here, and they haven't had the show for a couple of years, so when we heard that they were going to do it this year, we packed the van and drove to the base. It was interesting to observe the behavior of the different military personnel. Some of those who helped direct the parking were prone to treat everyone like animals (or military personnel of an inferior rank), tersely shouting out orders; while most those who gave tours of the aircraft were very congenial and informative.
Our kids survived nearly four hours out in the sun as we went to the different aircraft parked on the tarmac and watched the different aircraft stunts and maneuvers.
Here Gabs gets to try on an oxygen mask.
Erik loved climbing all over the aircraft and trying to press buttons.
These were some of my favorite planes. Unfortunately, I didn't get any pictures of the simulated bombings done with the A-10 Thunderbolt II, the upper plane.
We were about to head home after a short lull in the program, but we were glad we stayed a little longer. We really enjoyed the precision, speed, and sound of the F-16s.
In one of my sister's blogs, we learned that earplugs/hearing protection is advisable with these birds. It was helpful on a few of their passes, but most of the time they didn't come too close.
After a long day in the sun, Erik was ready for a nap. A thorn punctured one of the stroller wheels, so our trip back to the vehicle felt longer than it should have.
As for pictures of myself at the show, I'll spare you! Debs thought I looked like Papa Bear in the Berenstain Bears books.
Anyway, yesterday I was able to relax a little and go with my family to the Aerospace and Arizona Days air show at the Davis-Monthan Air Force Base. Somehow we missed it the first year that we were here, and they haven't had the show for a couple of years, so when we heard that they were going to do it this year, we packed the van and drove to the base. It was interesting to observe the behavior of the different military personnel. Some of those who helped direct the parking were prone to treat everyone like animals (or military personnel of an inferior rank), tersely shouting out orders; while most those who gave tours of the aircraft were very congenial and informative.
Our kids survived nearly four hours out in the sun as we went to the different aircraft parked on the tarmac and watched the different aircraft stunts and maneuvers.
Here Gabs gets to try on an oxygen mask.
Erik loved climbing all over the aircraft and trying to press buttons.
These were some of my favorite planes. Unfortunately, I didn't get any pictures of the simulated bombings done with the A-10 Thunderbolt II, the upper plane.
We were about to head home after a short lull in the program, but we were glad we stayed a little longer. We really enjoyed the precision, speed, and sound of the F-16s.
In one of my sister's blogs, we learned that earplugs/hearing protection is advisable with these birds. It was helpful on a few of their passes, but most of the time they didn't come too close.
After a long day in the sun, Erik was ready for a nap. A thorn punctured one of the stroller wheels, so our trip back to the vehicle felt longer than it should have.
As for pictures of myself at the show, I'll spare you! Debs thought I looked like Papa Bear in the Berenstain Bears books.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Would you just hold still and smile?!
This evening we decided we would try to get some family pictures in our desert surrounding, so we grabbed our camera and tripod and headed for the foothills of the Catalina mountains. There is only a small window of time where you get great lighting during the morning and evening hours, and we were hoping to get enough shots during the evening hours to get something worthwhile.
We'll have to rethink that one. Bells and Erik decided not to listen to their parents' warnings to stay away from the cacti, and as a result, we all had a fairly miserable experience. Even if we had taken a photographer with us, we would have been lucky to get them both to smile at the same time. To add to the problems, I didn't use the remote, which meant that we never were positioned quite right. Oh well! At least with some photoshopping, blurring, and sepia-toning, the pictures are somewhat respectable. Now we just have to re-plan a trip to the foothills for another valiant effort--this time with a remote.
When the younger two would have no more of it, at least we were able to get Gabs to look at and smile for the camera.
And when the lighting was gone--which happened much too quickly, at least I could turn the camera on the desert sunset for a moment while Debs and Gabs herded the whining duo to the van!
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Trick-or-Treat
I used to always love dressing up for Halloween and going trick-or-treating. Obviously my children feel the same way. This last week we went to a trunk-or-treat activity a few days before Halloween where a lot of people from our local church parked their cars so all the kids could go around and get candy. Bells and Gabs both dressed up as witches and Erik was a little lion this year.When we tried Erik's costume on him earlier in the month, he wasn't very fond of it.
He seems to have adjusted over the last few weeks.
Scott Evans put his head on a platter and the kids had to grab the candy surrounding his head. The message was clear, "You better not take more than one or he might bite your fingers!"
One lady had a cannon that she used to shoot out the candy.
The kids would then rush to pick it up. There was just one hitch. The cannon kept shooting the candy into a low-lying mesquite tree, and anyone that has been around a mesquite tree knows that they have sharp thorns that can grow to be several inches long.
I couldn't help but laugh at the little kids that would rush over to the mesquite tree and while repeatedly saying, "Ow!" or "Ouch!" they reached and stretched to get the candy from out of the tree. Anyway, it was fun until the kids started to ask an innocent bystander to fetch the candy for them--I was the bystander. After my hands and arms got more scratches than I cared to count, I started to use my feet to pull the candy out, thinking my jeans would protect me from the thorns. Nope! I was pulling thorns out of my pants the rest of the evening.
So let me explain why the candy kept getting shot into the mesquite. The lady wasn't out to get the children, she just didn't have anywhere else to shoot the cannon without having it hit the surrounding cars. If she pumped just a little air into the cannon, the candy would fall on the ground right in front of the cannon and the kids would be bumping into it. Very rarely was she able to find the happy medium that would make the candy land just in front of the mesquite. Gabs' favorite moment was when the candy flew into the tree, scaring a black cat out like it was a horse breaking out of the gates at the Kentucky Derby.
On Halloween night, Debs and the kids made caramel apples, mummy dogs, and cheese-stick fingers. Although it's hard to remember just how much I enjoyed Halloween growing up, I think I enjoyed watching my kids more than going trick-or-treating myself. I'm looking forward to next year!
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