By Rogert Thompson
As a young boy and teenager, I liked to spend my summers and Christmas vacations on my grandparents' farm they rented in northeastern South Dakota. Long summer days kept us busy with field work growing grain. Winters, though less busy, kept the cows in the barn which required bringing hay in from the haystacks for their feed, and necessitated constant shoveling of cow manure to keep the barn clean.
The basics of life seemed more difficult in the winter as temperatures outside dropped. Milking twice a day, hoisting icy pails of water from the well in the yard for all the cooking, washing and bathing, trips to the outhouse with its frosted wood seat, retrieving coal/wood/corncobs for the black kitchen cook stove as well as for the parlor stove all caused chapped hands, very cold feet and red noses.
This seemed ok and even unique for me since I lived the rest of the year in a town, but pretty monotonous for grandma’s family, who spent the long winters with these chores every day. Not much happened out of the ordinary in winter, not even meals, usually salt pork, potatoes and milk gravy.
I was 13 in December 1927 when I again visited the farm. Only two of my grandparents’ 10 living children remained at home, though others occupied nearby farms. Aunt Ida, 22, decided a party would definitely brighten up the short, frigid days that Christmas season. She created handwritten notes to take to all the surrounding farm families. That fairly flat part of South Dakota had little to break the wind, and roads piled with drifting snow made travel by old Model-T Fords impossible.
So, with me in the saddle of our pony and my younger cousin, Marvin, sitting behind, the two of us set out to deliver the party invitations. I remember plowing through some big drifts, but we succeeded in reaching every near neighbor.
At the final farm we put the pony in the barn and headed for the house to get warm. The two young men of the family arrived the same time we did in a wooden bobsled pulled by horses, bringing provisions from the local village store 5 miles away. The four of us sat at the kitchen table as their mother served us freshly baked bread just out of the oven along with jam. Delicious! When we finished, my cousin and I got back on the pony and returned to Grandma’s, completing our part of the preparations for the holiday party.
Winter chores seemed less tedious as everyone on our farm and neighboring farms anticipated my family’s upcoming Christmas social. When the day came, neighbors arrived in their cars (the roads now open from the snow) for an evening of entertainment. With the few furnishings in the parlor moved elsewhere, the kerosene lamps lit, and the pine board floor ready for dancing, the festivities began. My Uncle Alfred would trade off playing the fiddle and the banjo, and an accordion rounded out the musicians. Dances had long been a source of inexpensive recreation for farm families, most often on summer Saturday evenings. The dancers would leave a little money for the musicians in the hat left on the floor. Many who came knew the fox trot, the waltz, the two step, the schottische and square dancing. Though inept and shy, even I was enticed onto the floor a few times. As a family affair, the children enjoyed the music with their twirling around as much as the adults enjoyed dancing. For older men past their dancing days, they socialized in an upstairs bedroom playing the card game whist.
At midnight the music stopped and we all ate “lunch”. Each family brought some food, mostly sandwiches and cake to share. My grandma provided coffee, rolls and the sweat cream butter she churned in her wooden churn (the family’s major source of cash). When all had eaten, everyone resumed dancing and we danced until four in the morning. But cows on the farms would soon need milking, so reluctantly the menfolk went out to start the cars, and the families bundled up for their return home.
Our holiday celebration had no decorations and no gifts. The guests wore the best clothing they owned, inexpensive material and simply sewn. No one had much. But the fun of mingling with each other, of music and dance, of shared food and laughter, made that Christmas season most memorable to me.
No comments:
Post a Comment