One of the chores we had on the farm back in the 40's and 50's was going after the cows for the evening milking. My brother [ 1 1/2 year older] was supposed to help. He was always foolin around in the creek that ran through the farm. Fishin, froggin and most anything else would capture his attention before the cow getting would. The cows were always on the back of the farm at the fartherst point from the barn. They would NEVER come to the barn by themselves but yet in the morning they were always there waiting to be fed and milked. The hot summer days full of dust, stickerweeds, flys and skeeters were always something to reckon with. The winter days were just as bad only it was the snow, cold winds etc along with ornery cows that didn't want to come to the barn. Seems I always had it to do myself while brother was messin around with something else. Those long ago days -the memory of milking the cows, the warm milk along with the cats [pappy loved cats] waiting to be fed, stickerweeds, flys, snow, cold north winds and even pappy and my youth--are all gone. The old homeplace, barn and all the other outbuilding are also gone. The creek is still meandering through the farm. My brother now owns the farm while all the rest of the family moved to other places not too far away. My wife and I moved all over the country working but finally settled down about 3 miles [as the crow flies] away from the old homeplace. Butchering hogs in the fall, cutting firewood all summer long, harvesting the crops, scoopin ear corn, sloppin hogs, raisin chickens. Seems like yesterday that all these things were commonplace in my life--alas-how quickly time flies and things change. How about home made biscuits, milk gravy along with fresh pork sausage or bacon, eggs and even fried "taters" for breakfast--cooked on a Home Comfort wood cookstove? Kinda makes your mouth water doesn't it? I surely would love to eat it but just a peek at the 8" scar down my chest changes my mine rather quickly! Matt. 24:44

-- hoot gibson (hoot@otbnet.com), June 28, 2000

Answers

hoot, I know what you mean. What is it about some of us that makes the dirt mix with our blood and where ever we go,the compass always points home.My husband never lived in one place longer than about a year while growing up. He had no place that was "home" untill we bought this place. He couldn't understand how I could have such a longing for a "place".

We now live about 10 miles from the place where I grew up.

-- Mona (jascamp@ipa.net), June 28, 2000.

Dear Mr. Hoot Gibson,--I went "home", this week end! I organized a family reunion. Purpose to clean up the family cemetery, & raise money to put a roof on the old one room school house! And to reunite family & pass down the family stories & history. My great, great grandfather was the second homesteader in that area in the 1850's. He & his wife ran an inn where the stage coach stopped, it was the only place for hundreds of miles you could get supplies, or mail! My papa was the justice of the peace, surveyor, & helped form the republican party. My father, grandfather, great grandfather,& great, great grandfather are all buried in the family cemetery, my hubby & I plan to rest there, as well as our daughter, & grandsons & famliies. The community was going to sell the old one room school that my papa had donated the land for, (as well as a church & family cemetery.) I rallyed & got family to attend the meeting & asked them not to sell. This week end we raised $825.00 towards a new roof. Now, some in the community say, they are going to sell--even after they said, they wouldn't, & we raised money! I have many more that will support the school if I can quarantee them that this board won't sell! Mr Gibson, I know you are a Christain & I am going to ask you, & any other people on this board to pray God's will for this old school & my old,"home", & this Duck Creek community! Thank you Sonda in Ks.

-- Sonda (sgbruce@birch.net), June 28, 2000.