Webster's defines a menagerie as a collection of wild or strange animals kept in cages or enclosures for exhibition.

My menagerie is kept on an office windowsill. The molded plastic pigs, cattle, ducks and sheep are gifts from someone who perhaps thinks their presence keeps me well-grounded. When things get testy, I occasionally toss a chicken or pig in the air. It may seem strange but works well as stress-reliever.

In the late 1950s, when my sister took it upon herself to improve her brother's behavior, plastic animals played an important part in my refinement. For each week that I did not step out of line, she would give me a plastic animal for my farm collection, which included a homemade barn, fencing and a tractor with real rubber tires.

Mother admired Marilyn's efforts in part because her own attempts hadn't been successful. She had other concerns, what with half a dozen boys to feed. She did so with mountainous stacks of pancakes, homemade syrup and bacon cured in the smokehouse served after morning chores. Supper often included steaks so big they spilled over the plates, mashed potatoes and gravy and pies made from apples kept in the dark fruit cellar. Pressure-cooker canned pork, beef and chicken were quick-fix meals.

Work to do

She had many other things to do. Pumpkins, squash and ground cherries were the last produce taken from the garden. The Leghorn hens that had a wild run of the farmstead during summer needed to be caught and put in the coop, where fresh corn cob bedding would keep them dry and inspire them to lay enough eggs to sell. The foraging geese and ducks would be penned up and fattened on corn until the weather turned colder, and their feathers contained less pins to be plucked.

Dirty clothes -- sorted into huge piles in the basement -- needed to be washed twice a week and hung on the line. The stubborn dirtiest were scrubbed on the washboard. Wet clothes were a heavy load up the stairs. Sometimes she had help, but most times not. Bread loaves, buns and frybread were baked at least once a week, with yeast culture carefully kept to push the dough over the huge black kettle's sides.

Perhaps out of guilt, the family purchased a ringer wash machine, which she did not like or use very often because in her estimation, it didn't get clothes clean enough. Looking back, we marvel at what she did and wonder what she might have been if she lived in our so-called modern time.

Sister Jeannie thinks she would have been a successful business owner. She might well have a dress shop, fabric store or bakery.

I'm not sure what she would be, but she would have had success in most any career.

Home for dinner

Our children came home for Sunday supper. Kathy, who had bought steak on sale, asked them if they wanted potatoes baked or mashed.

"They have to be mashed," Sarah said. "A baked potato just isn't the same."

Mother would have agreed with her. The steak -- ounces instead of a pound, the gravy-covered potatoes, and the apple pie were perfect. I commented that we used to eat like this all the time years ago. Then we would talk about cows about to freshen, how many acres still needed to be harvested and when the chickens would start to lay good.

We spoke with confidence that all those things would get done. We would linger over the table, until she would say it was time to clean up. Everyone would scamper away except for her youngest, who would fuss about carrying the garbage pail to the hogs and complain about wiping and putting away what seemed to be a thousand plates, utensils and cups.

Mother would shake her head and wonder aloud what kind of boy she was raising.

Mychal Wilmes is managing editor of Agri News, a weekly agriculture newspaper published by the Post-Bulletin Co. His column appears every Monday in the print edition of the Post-Bulletin.

There are 0 comments - Display All Comments