Chapter Nine - Two Families

This Sunday morning we awoke much earlier than the previous. The boys had cows to milk and feed. Remember Mom and I were on the breakfast crew. And now I had a horse to take care of. Before I did anything else I headed for the barn to check on Brutus. Jake and I led him to the creek for water. There I could tie him under a big willow tree for shade, where anyone could find him if they wanted to haul water, but really when Brutus worked, I wanted to be there, too. Dad and Poppop came over with a third of a bucket of corn and a cake of dry grass hay for him.
“He has grass to eat here all day,” Poppop said. “But it’s good if he has some dry feed in him, too. Oats would be better, but there are none here. Maybe your dad can talk to Butch later about his eating regimen. Watch that he doesn’t get anything with mold on it, especially if it’s dusty. Horses just can’t handle moldy feed like cattle do.”
I hurried into the butcher house to help Mom and Grandma with breakfast. They were making a big pot of oatmeal. Nothing they needed me for, but Lynette and I could set the table. We needed twenty-one bowls, cups and spoons. We scattered a few knives around the table even though we were out of bread. At least now we had some butter to add to the oatmeal. We still had sweeteners for it thank goodness. We had both sugar and brown sugar, which we were supposed to use sparingly. Also there was pancake syrup and Dad’s blackstrap molasses. Then just as the crew was arriving, we brought about five gallons of chilled milk and the last bottle of chocolate syrup from the springhouse. We distributed the milk in six pitchers around the table. There was hot water ready as we had a decent supply of tea bags remaining and a little instant coffee. I guess it was a little bit of everything for everybody.
“I wonder what we’ll have to eat up a Butch’s?” Lois asked.
“Don’t worry,” said Jean, “Butch’s wife Clare is a great cook and hostess. I’m sure she has something in mind or they wouldn’t have invited us. My concern is this: what can Sandy, Mel and I make that will keep until it’s time to eat? A month ago I would have picked up the phone and called her to ask what we should bring.”
“If you make something that needs to stay cool, just put it in containers that can be placed in his horse trough and it will be fine,” Harvey said.
“And how are we all getting up there?” Grandmom asked.
“Larry and I talked about that this morning,” Dad said. “Those who can bike or walk, should do so. The rest of us can ride in Larry’s pickup; it’s only two miles round trip. Won’t take more than a quart of gasoline. That way we can take a bunch of our lawn chairs, a couple folding tables, and load the food, too.”
“Good idea,” said Joe, “And honey,” he said to Sandy, “Don’t fret over what to make. Whatever it is, we’ll eat it, and be thankful for it. In fact, Larry, if you can spare me from the rest of the morning chores, I’d like to stay and give them a hand. It’s only about two and a half hours until we should leave.”
“Go right ahead,” Larry responded, “If everyone else pitches in we can get everything done in time.” I went to help the men as usual. We shoveled feed to the different groups. There was only one fence that needed to be moved. We were done with plenty of time to spare; time enough to run into Grandmom’s house, wash up a little, and put on some clean clothes and shoes. By then Larry had pulled his truck to the butcher house to load up. Sandy, Joe and Lois came out with several big bowls of food.
“Well, what did you come up with?” Mom asked.
Sandy answered, “We took stock and figured we had a lot of cabbage, some peppers, vinegar, enough sugar, salt and pepper.”
“So you made pepper cabbage.” Lois said.
“Right, but just two bowls. We also had cream.”
“So you made cole slaw, too?” Mom asked.
“Right again,” Sandy said. “In the other bowl we splurged a little, opened up a few cans of fruit, added some of the apples from the tree in the back meadow and some dry coconut and walnuts to make a little fruit salad.”
“Sounds right good,” said Dad, just as Joe and Mel came out carrying a couple boxes.
“If you like sour cabbage,” Mel bemoaned. “I hope Clare doesn’t have the same thing. I wonder if she’ll have some meat.”
“If she does, she does,” Mom said. “What’s in the boxes?”
“Four jars of chow-chow in case there’s not enough salad and some tomatoes; Clare might not have any and no meal in August is complete without tomatoes.”
“Ha ha,” Dad snorted, “well let’s get going. Alyssa and Lynette, would you bring the hymns?”
“Yessa,” we answered and went into the house to get a large piece of cardboard on which she and I had used a fat black crayon to write the words to two hymns, one on each side.
“Thanks,” said Dad as he put the cardboard in back of the truck right behind the rear window. “You’ll have to use your side mirrors,” he said to Larry. “I guess no cop will pull us over.” Larry just shook his head. “And Mel, did you practice enough?” Dad asked.
“Yes Daddy, more than enough. You picked simple hymns. For how many people will I have to play piano in front of, fifty?”
“Not quite that many. Are you nervous?”
“A little,” she answered.
“Don’t sweat it,” he said, “you’ll do fine.” People piled on and into the truck. I biked of course and others had started walking. My grandmothers were in the front of the truck and Larry let Grandpop drive. Joe came out of the house with a soccer ball and threw that in the pickup bed before beginning his hoof.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
“You never know, “he answered, “there are a few kids up at Butch’s. Do you want to sit around and listen to us talk all afternoon?”
“No, I guess I don’t,” I replied. Joe was a soccer coach. It was probably something he missed. So up the road we went, except for Harvey and Poppop. Dad had told me they weren’t churchgoers. Maybe they were believers; that I couldn’t say for sure. It’s sad when you can’t tell. Or maybe they just didn’t like church. Of course they both had excuses. Harvey said he needed to keep an eye on the cows, especially the one calving. Poppop said there was manuring to do. His sister, my dad’s aunt Mary, had said once that Poppop has been using that excuse to stay home from church since he was ten years old. To each his own.
Crystal View Farm was a beautiful place, well manicured. Of course, no one else had mowed lawns in weeks. Almost everyone stopped when the gas stations ran out of fuel. However people with push reel mowers could still keep after their lawns and Butch had a set of ground driven gang reel mowers that he usually pulled with a tractor. Now he pulled them with a team of Clydesdales and had the lawns looking pretty good.
Clare and Butch’s home had a big front porch facing a nice size lawn which was surrounded by big maple trees. When we arrived, there were already tables and chairs set up for the service. We unloaded ours to add to the configuration. Clare’s piano was in the front room, right next to the door, which was large enough for the boys to easily pull out the piano onto the porch. You couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day; blue sky with big puffy white clouds, a little breeze and the temperature felt like it was in the 70’s.
When Mel, Lynette and I took our bicycles around the back of the house to park them, we were greeted by a grand surprise. Between Butch’s chicken house and his barn there was a fire going and a spit with a good sized hog roasting away.
“Guess that answers your question about meat?” I asked Mel.
“Answers it well,” she said. Dad, Joe, and Larry had come back to put the bowls of salad in the horse trough and to greet Butch, who was turning the spit skewered into our soon-to-be dinner.
“I didn’t know you had hogs,” Dad said.
“Yesterday morning I didn’t,” Butch answered. “When we returned from your place yesterday afternoon I ventured over to Roger. It’s a five mile trip if you follow the roads, but all I had to do with my team was use the old lane through my woods, cut across one neighbor’s field, another’s lane, and I was there in 20 minutes, no sweat. Roger was kind enough to give me a couple hogs of varying sizes so they become ready for the butcher at different times. In addition to the extra milk we have from the two cows you gave us, I’m hoping I may use some of the corn you have here to feed them.”
“Not a problem at all,” Larry said.
“Oh, I brought some of Harvey’s empty barrels back from Roger, too. Our arrangement is that I can haul them over for him, when we’ve accumulated too much milk in return for some of the hogs he needs to move. He has quite a challenge there, but we can talk about that later. It looks like the others are waiting for us to get started. I’ll stay here to keep this pig rotating; Others will relieve me every ten minutes so no one will miss all the service.”
We headed for the front porch. Just about everyone was seated. Mel took her place at the piano and Dad got started.
“I’d like to welcome everyone here on such a beautiful day. I’m at an advantage here. I know everyone from my family who’ve just come up from Harvey Stump’s dairy and I know everyone else here as they’re part of my church family. We won’t take the time here for introductions, for after the service there will be time for food and fellowship. I encourage everyone to get to know each other then. With everything that has happened in the last several weeks we might be tempted to be thinking a lot about the past. And with uncertainty, we might also be wondering about the future. But for the present, for right now, I’d like you to forget everything else and just focus on God and his Son Jesus Christ for the next 15 to 20 minutes. Let us begin with prayer.”
We all stood as Dad led in prayer. He then introduced the first hymn,
“We praise Thee, O God, our Redeemer, Creator.”
Mel played pretty well and as the tune was fairly familiar and with the aid of our sign, the group sang terrifically. It was a good praise hymn, but in spite of Dad’s instructions we couldn’t help thinking of the past and the future when we sang some of the lyrics such as:
“Through life’s storm and tempest our Guide hast Thou been.
When perils o’er take us, escape Thou wilt make us,
Thy strong arm will guide us, Our God is beside us,
And with Thy help, O Lord, life’s battles we win.”
After the hymn, Dad led us in silent confession and then went on: “The scripture I’ve chosen today is from the Gospel of John, chapter 20, verses 24-29, the story of Thomas.”
“Now Thomas (called Didymus), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, ‘We have seen the Lord!’”
“But he said to them, ‘Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my hand into his side, I will not believe it.’”
“A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you!’ Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.’”
“Thomas said to him, ‘My Lord and my God!’”
“Then Jesus told him, ‘Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.’”
Dad continued, “Is it safe to say that no one here is in Thomas’s camp? No, not because you do not doubt. Almost everyone has doubted if just for a smidgen of time since your walk with Jesus began, or during the time before you accepted Christ as your Lord and Savior. That’s not it.”
“You’re not in Thomas’s camp because you have not seen the risen Lord; he did. You’re not in Thomas’s camp because he had to see to believe; you don’t. The last line in the last verse has always had great meaning to me when Jesus said, ‘Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.’ He’s talking about us, about you! We who are not in Thomas’s camp are blessed! Now I’ll renege on my own suggestion about thinking about the recent past and future; it’s hard not to, isn’t it? With what’s happening around us do you feel blessed? Believe me you should.”
“When you lose your job, you are blessed!”
“When you lose all the money you have in the bank, you are blessed!”
“When your retirement checks stop coming, you are blessed!”
“When the gasoline supply dries up, you are blessed!”
“When the electricity goes out, you are blessed!”
“When the food in your refrigerator spoils, you are blessed!”
“When you have to carry water to flush the toilets, you are blessed!”
“When you’re sick and tired of eating oatmeal or tomato soup, you are blessed!”
“When you have to leave your home just to find water to drink, you are blessed!”
“When your back hurts from picking beans, or your arms from shoveling feed, or your hands from milking cows or your feet from walking when you used to ride, you are blessed!”
“When your heart aches from wondering about the rest of our families and friends who we’ve not been able to contact, not knowing how they are faring to the point that you just want everything to go back to the way is was before, you are blessed!”
“Yes and when you see suffering around you, when you are persecuted for your belief in Jesus Christ and even when you suffer the final pain of death, you will be blessed!”
“And why are you blessed? Because the scripture says so, in Jesus’ own words: ‘Blessed are those who have not seen yet have believed.’ Why are you blessed? Because you have not seen, yet you believe! Your faith in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savoir has made you blessed. And it’s our faith that will pull us through this, will provide through Jesus’ love for us the things we need, will heal our bodies when they hurt, and fill our hearts with even more faith, with hope and with love for one another.”
“Love for one another - brings me to one more additional and somewhat counterpoint. In Matthew chapter 25, Jesus talks about judgment and the separation of the sheep from the goats. Where the sheep are judged as righteous and declared ‘Blessed by my Father’. Does anyone remember what the sheep did to receive the favorable judgment?”
It was quiet for a few moments, and then Ben finally got it started, “When I was hungry and you gave me something to eat.”
“When I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink,” Mom said.
“When the prisoner was visited,” said another.
“When someone was given clothes, and you looked after the sick.”
“And when the stranger was invited in!” concluded Jean.
“Good,” Dad continued, “So when we see someone hungry, thirsty, sick, naked, in prison, or a stranger we are in some sense seeing Jesus. Don’t let that confuse you; it’s not like Thomas seeing Jesus. We are still blessed by believing without seeing, that’s faith. But we are also blessed, again in Jesus’ own words when ‘Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me,’ that’s action. And I have a feeling that in the near future there will be numerous occasions when we will be able to put our faith into action by ministering to the needy.”
“In conclusion, hold steadfast in the faith and be prepared to put it into action then we will continue to be blessed just as Jesus has promised.”
Dad said a short prayer, followed by the Lord’s Prayer and we concluded by singing “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” and it was the last line that really caught my attention: “In His arms He’ll take and shield thee, Thou wilt find a solace there.” And I thought to myself, up until this point in my life it was my mother’s arms I wanted to be in when I needed solace. Alas, she would not be there forever, but Jesus would and with all the unforeseen things that might soon be happening, it would be His arms I wanted to be in.

To be continued…. Mort

Chapter Eight - Ingenuity, cont...

“Harvey, Joe, Jeremiah, should we give the boys the go ahead to begin their proposed water projects?”
“Sure,” they answered.
“But,” Harvey said, “keep thinking about the other challenges. The wash machine and wringer, flour mill, oven, lighting for the barn, hay making and manure hauling come to mind.”
“We will,” the boys answered. Josh had gone up to the workshop. He returned pulling a water cart.
“In the meantime,” Jake said, “We can use this cart to bring water to the butcher house.” Josh had built a cart with two high bicycle wheels in the back, two smaller ones in the front on a swivel, and a tongue with a “T” handle that two people could easily pull on. On the cart he had fastened one of the plastic 55 gallon soap barrels with a petcock pointing down and an opening in the top.
“We’ll still have to dip the water from the springhouse to fill this tank,” Josh said. “We’ll have to make a trip every time it gets empty. And in addition to the two pulling, one or two can push.”
“Good job,” Dad said. “Let’s give her a test.”
I went along for the inaugural trip. We had to pick a route that wasn’t too bumpy or too soft so the wheels wouldn’t dig in. I suppose the more we use the same track the easier it will become. As we neared the house we noticed a wagon being pulled by two workhorses coming down the road. I didn’t know what breed they were, but they looked a lot like the horses in the beer commercials.
“What breed are they?” I asked Dad.
“Clydesdales,” he answered. As they drew closer I recognized the driver as Butch from the next farm up the road. Crystal View Farm it was named. I knew him from church. With him was another man I knew from church and who served with Dad on church projects, Ben.
“Hallooo neighbors,” Butch bellowed as he came into earshot. “How are you making out? And what in the world is that contraption you’re plaguing yourself with?”
“We’re ‘making out’ okay,” Dad answered. “But where did you pick up this guy, hitchhiking?”
“Naw, he dropped in yesterday. He’s a paratrooper, part of the UN’s peacekeeping force. Was supposed to land in Iran; missed it by a few thousand miles. Names Ben or Beni-du-howie, something like that. Seems like a nice guy; even speaks a little English and Pennsylvania German. Es sel net recht, Ben?”
“Ja, it’s kind of right,” Ben answered. Almost everyone’s chuckling. We all knew Ben except for Joe, Dennis and Aaron, who looked seriously dumbfounded.
Joe said, “What, a paratrooper, did anyone hear a plane Friday?” We broke up. I don’t know what was funnier, Butch’s introduction or Joe’s crew falling for it. But that was Butch; a man who could be counted on for a laugh and also for help when you needed it.
As Dad and I explained it to Joe and his sons, Butch continued, “Ben and his family have moved in with us along with three other families from church. They like our water.” Butch’s farm was in the same valley as Harvey’s, had the same creek, connecting meadows, and that same vein of water that fed our spring. His spring fed a beautiful, pristine pond, that you could see clear to the bottom and as well as see the fish in it, hence the farm’s name.
A great positive advantage, however, was that they had a ram pump in the meadow. It was probably there for over one hundred years. I can’t explain how it really worked; even Dad couldn’t, but it had something to do with the fact that the water line from the spring had been installed with enough pitch to a pit outside the house that tremendous pressure was created there. The pressure was used to operate some sort of piston in the pump that pushed the water up into the house. Not all the water now mind you, that would have defied Newton’s second law, conservation of energy. Every few seconds the pressure released with an interesting psssst sound when some of the water was freed to flow into the creek. It was always neat to stand there and listen to it. Trick was, once it was started, it needed to keep the momentum going; therefore, it was never turned off. As a result the water was constantly flowing into a horse trough in front of Butch’s barn, where his animals could drink fresh spring water all year long.
“So this contraption,” Josh answered, “is our way to get water to the house until we get a pump installed. It’s too far to run a line from your pump.” Josh and our family knew about the pump set up because Harvey farmed much of Butch’s land for years. In fact the farm had been my great-great grandfather’s once. So our family members had often gotten cool drinks at the horse trough while working there. Now the families that had moved in with Butch could, too.
“Yeah, they like our water,” Butch continued. “These families have a dozen kids and they like milk, too. That’s what brings us here. Do you have some to spare? We brought some eggs to trade.” Butch had seven horses, about 50 chickens, and a few beef cows with calves. Harvey’s cows were the premier dairy breed – Holsteins – black and white with a large boney frame and bred for milk production, but they were probably had the most contentious attitude of all the breeds. Butch’s cows were bred for meat, were shorter and rounder, and through crossbreeding came in many colors – solid red, white, tan, gray, roan, and some just had white faces. “How are the cows treating you?” Butch concluded.
“The cow business has been a challenge,” Harvey said, “we’re milking twelve cows right now, two each for the five boys and me. With six of us going at it, it only takes about 45 minutes to milk, carry the milk to the springhouse and wash up the milk buckets. Gives us more time for feeding and moving fences. I’m glad you came down though; saved me a trip. I’ve been meaning to talk to you. We have two of our top notch cows due to calve next week and a heifer that looks like she might calve a little later, too. They’ll provide us with even more milk than we can use. There’re two real gentle ones in the string that I think you and your guests should be able to handle. Didn’t you try milking those goofy cows you have?”
“Yes we did, yesterday afternoon and again this morning. Didn’t go too well, did it, Ben?” Ben shook his head and rolled his eyes.
“They’re only used to being suckled by their calves; couldn’t adapt to us. And by the way they’re not goofy, they’re just not black and white and nutsy like yours,” Butch concluded.
“Okay,” Harvey said, “to each his own.”
“Larry,” Harvey continued, “why don’t you and a couple of the guys round up the two cows that we think will work well for Butch and company; you know the ones. They are both accustomed to halters, right?”
“Sure do, Pop,” Larry answered, “And yes they are.”
“I think they’ll trail behind your wagon alright. A few of us can go behind you to help,” Harvey said to Butch. “In addition to any feed you might have, feel free to start pulling corn for them, and as it seems we might not be able to harvest the hay I have growing on your farm, let them graze in it. But only twice a day, when the dew is off, about an hour at a time. You have plenty a people to tend them. These two will behave well for your crew. Meanwhile let’s carry the eggs to the springhouse and fill a jug of milk for their lunch. If all goes well, tonight they’ll have fresh milk.”
While the men went to the springhouse I ran into the house to tell Mom about Ben. You see, Mom and Ben shared two passions. They both liked me and starlight mints. I found her stash of the red striped peppermint candy, grabbed one for Ben and we both headed back out to pay our regards to him.
The men were back with the milk and the boys had two cows tied to the back of the wagon.
“Here’s some butter for your crew, we successfully made some this morning with an ice cream freezer. It was our first attempt; it’s a little soft and maybe salty, so I hope you like it,” Mom said.
“Thanks,” Ben said, “and for the mint.”
“And for the milk and cows,” Butch said.
“And you for the eggs,” Dad said.
“But trading’s not a necessity,” Harvey added. “There’s plenty of milk and cows.”
“I know,” said Butch. “But I wish there was something I could do for you.
I got it!” he exclaimed. “My horses. You can use my teams to bring your harvest in. In fact, you could use one right away to pull that funny water cart of yours and other things around the farm. We lost my seventh one’s partner a year ago, it was rough on him; he could use a change of venue and a challenge to up his spirit. Alyssa, you like horses don’t you?”
“I sure do, and I always wanted one!” I blurted out.
“Then he’s yours, if it’s alright with your father?” One look at my eyes and Dad had the answer to that question.
“Not a problem and thank you,” Dad said.
“Yes, thank you, Butch,” said Mom and I, “We’ll take good care of him.”
“Are you a horse man?” he asked my dad.
“Never, but my dad was. He can help, plus Harvey and Larry are really good with their livestock.”
“That I know,” responded Butch. “Then it’s settled. His name is Brutus by the way, but don’t let the name scare you. He’s very gentle and obedient. He’s also old, so he won’t be able to pull heavy loads. Keep them light and only a few a day. He’ll want to do more, that’s his attitude, but you have to take care with him.”
“We will,” Dad said, “As he’ll become a valuable part of this operation.”
“Then jump on the wagon, Alyssa. You and the boys can lead him home. At some point, when you and he are more familiar, you’ll even be able to ride him. I’ll still be around to help you. Is there anything else we can help you folks with?”
“Sure,’ said Aaron, “We’re looking for a wash machine wringer and a flour mill.”
“Well,” said Butch, “Nothing immediately comes to mind.”
“But we’ll work on it,” Ben added. “Oh, we almost forgot.” He looked at my dad and asked, “Would you do Sunday services for us tomorrow? We’d appreciate it.”
“Sure,’ Dad answered, “Where and when?”
“Up with us,” Butch said. “About eleven; we’ll lunch afterward. Maybe do a little fishing in the pond. Everyone’s invited.”
“Thank you,’ said Mom. “We look forward to seeing everyone.”
We completed the livestock swap and brought Brutus home. He was immense.
“He’s too big for you to handle by yourself,” Dad said. “Make sure one of us men is with you when you move him. For the time being anyway, until I’m sure you can do it safely.”
We seemed to take to each other right quickly. Poppop gave him a good look over; he seemed as thrilled as me to have him. Together with Josh and Dad we pulled a couple of carts of water over, then found him a spot in the now empty dairy barn for overnight. It took everything for me to not stay with him. But eventually I found my own bed and finally fell asleep much different than I had woke up. I was now a horse owner.

To be continued… next week - chapter nine

CHAPTER EIGHT - INGENUITY

Saturday started out a little overcast and cool. Perhaps a reminder that even though there were four weeks of summer left, fall would not be far behind. After the chores were done, the boys presented their plan to bring water to the butcher house and furnace. Josh was the chief presenter.
He said, “We decided to use the pump from Larry’s weed sprayer. It has high capacity, is fairly new, and is self-lubricated. It’s direct driven, by power-take-off now, but we can easily install a sprocket on the main drive shaft and rig up a bicycle to spin it by pedal/people power. We thought we’d set it up halfway between the spring and the butcher house, pitching the water line downhill to the pump so gravity would help to get the water started. We can build a little shelter around it so whoever’s pedaling would be out of the weather.”
“We know we’ll have to flush and reflush the pump several times to make sure there are no residual pesticides in it,” added Larry. “In fact, we might even disassemble part of it to make sure.”
Josh continued, “We think we should use a narrow diameter line, no bigger than one inch. We’d be sacrificing volume by using a small line so it will take more time to pump, but to our advantage the weight of the water in a smaller line will be less, requiring much less power to pull and push the water. It appears there is enough one inch plastic line in the barn. When we get nearer to the butcher house, we can switch to regular metal piping and tubing, some of which Dad brought from our old house.”
“What do you plan to store the water in?” Harvey asked.
“I’m getting to that,” Josh responded. “We had to really strain our brains to decide. We wanted to have a large capacity tank, so it would not be running empty all the time. Our two largest tanks are the sprayer tank itself at 500 gallons and the milk tank at 1000 gallons. We are recommending that we install the milk tank in between the butcher house and the furnace, high enough so the water feeds by gravity out of one end into the heating tank in the furnace for hot water and out of the other to an outlet into the butcher house for cold. We know it will be quite a project. We’ll have to use the backhoe to move it and lift it into place. And we’ll have to build a good base to support it. Its capacity was not the only determining factor in our decision, however. It is well insulated to keep the milk cold, so we reasoned it would keep the spring water cooler until we used it. But more importantly it should prevent the water from freezing in the winter.”
Dennis chimed in, “Our intention is to further insulate the outside of the tank and enclose it to protect it from both the sun and wind. We’d place it in the east side of the enclosure, and then in the rest of the enclosure we’d like to rig up showers. We can scrounge up enough piping to do that and both hot and cold water are right there. The shower room would have the furnace on one side and the butcher house with its stove on the other, so it should stay pretty toasty.”
Josh concluded, “Aaron’s working on a sieve to install on the end of the hose in the springhouse, so no critters like snakes, mice or frogs clog it, and we also realize that the line will have to put under ground to prevent it from freezing this winter. Another chore for the backhoe. So… what do you think?”
Harvey and Dad must have been thinking. You couldn’t see the wheels turning inside their heads nor was there any smoke coming out of their ears, but both of them were rubbing the beard on their chins.
Dad spoke first. “You all did a great job of thinking this project through. I only have one suggested change that I’ll mention later.” He turned toward Harvey and said, “But first I need to know if it suits Harvey to use his milk tank. Isn’t there a chance that we will get electricity again and then the tank will be needed to refrigerate the milk, especially if the milking herd increases toward its former numbers?”
“Yeah, I’ve certainly been pondering that,” Harvey responded. “Right now, my thinking is that we’ll take really good care when disconnecting the tank, while moving it and while repositioning it. Enough care that the whole project could be reversed in the future. Larry’s a co-owner here. Do you agree?” he asked Larry.
“Of course I had more time to think about it, and I’m OK with it. You put it well Pop,” Larry said. “Good care must be taken. We needn’t rush it either. We have water in the meantime. And thanks for your confidence.”
He turned to Dad and asked, “What is your suggestion for the project?”
Dad answered, “When Harvey’s and my grandfather lived here, before the wells were drilled, the water was pumped from the spring to the house by a pump in the cellar. Back then even that old pump was able to pull the water all the way across the meadow. Before you go too far, why don’t you just lay your lines on top of the ground and try your pump from the butcher house itself or from the cellar, where it might be even lower than the spring. That way the people doing the pedaling do not need to worry about the weather.”
“And besides,” Harvey added, “the meadow floods once or twice a year, then your pump and pedal contraption would be under water.”
“You’re right,” said Larry, “we forgot about that. We’ll definitely try it your way first. Additionally we’d like to move one of the hot water tanks from either the milk house or one of the houses. The tank in the furnace only heats about 35 gallons. The other tanks are 60-80 gallons. We have the materials and the know how to tie it into the system; it would help a lot with showers and laundry. We agree it’s doable, but what we haven’t agreed on is how to heat Harvey’s house.”
“It’s a dilemma,” Jake said. “Dennis and I keep looking and looking at it. We just can’t figure out how to drive that circulator pump in the furnace mechanically.”
“And if we come up with a way to make enough electricity to run the circulator pump, and it takes a lot, we’d have electricity to pump water, too. We could use the shower in the house. Then all this design and work to bring water to the butcher house becomes unnecessary,” Dennis said.
“But we haven’t figured out a way to make electricity, so we’ll have to come up with something else,” Aaron said.
“We can build a wood stove for the house out of a 55 gallon drum or other materials around the farm,” Jeremiah said.
“Or we could get our coal stove from the old house,” Josh said. “Right Dad?”
“Well, not exactly. I left that for the landlord; it was the only heat in that house.” Dad responded.
“You what!” Josh exclaimed, “What did you owe him?”
“I didn’t owe him anything. I guess I made a heart over a head decision. Something we all need to remember to do once in awhile. And I didn’t just give it to him. He’s giving me a couple things in return.”
“Like what?” Josh asked.
“Oh, we’ll see when I come back from our next trip over there. It’s kinda like that ‘player to be named later’ in a baseball trade.”
Joe jumped in, “I can see where we all need to step back at times and remember there are others in worse shape than we are. Our problems aren’t the worst in the world and can be overcome. The solutions won’t always be perfect. We will have disagreements, but things will work out.”
“Dennis,” he went on, “I’m wondering; couldn’t the hot water be circulated anywhere in the circuit? I’m not sure I’m phrasing that right. Do you know what I’m asking?”
“Yes I do,” Dennis answered. “And I think you’ve solved the problem. If we eliminate or bypass the circulator pump in the furnace and install one in the heating line somewhere in the house and use another pedal/people drive, then we can keep the hot water circulating around the house.”
“It’s a lot of pedaling when it’s cold,” said Josh.
“Another way to stay warm,” Harvey chuckled.
“Only until we figure out another way to drive the pump, like animal power or steam,” Aaron said.
“I like your positive thinking,” Jake said, “but we’ll still need a pump.”
“I know,” Aaron answered, “one thing at a time. Let’s get the spring water here first. We’ve time to find a suitable pump for the house.”
“But I have to come back to the possibility that just maybe,” Dennis said,
“we might come up with a way to make enough electricity to power both pumps, so we can shower in the house.”
“You just don’t give up, do you?” Aaron snapped.
“Boys! Knock it off!” their father yelled.
“It’s all right, Joe,” Harvey said, “they’re thinking. And as with most dilemmas there are two or more opinions. The boys are just defending their opinions with passion. We need passionate thinkers. Think of all the people you worked for or worked with who lacked those qualities. Dennis, you just go right on trying to find a way to make some electricity for the farm. Although,” Harvey continued, “even if we could make enough electricity to keep the showers in the houses operating, would we want every Tom, Dick and Harry who might join us traipsing into our house for a shower?”
“What do you mean,” Larry asked, “By ‘join us’?”
“What I mean,” Harvey answered, “Is that we have food, water, shelter and fuel. Four things a lot of people don’t have. And they’ll soon be out looking for some. People are going to find it here. We’ll share or trade with them, then some will move on; others may want to stay. We’ll only know a few of them; the rest will be strangers. I’d rather have them using outside shower and bathroom facilities instead of our home unless they’re ill, elderly, or otherwise incapacitated.”
“I see,” said Larry. “How many people might join us?”
“We just don’t know,” Dad interjected. “Let’s not dwell on it, but let’s recognize that as we come up with solutions to our challenges that the solutions might have to meet the needs of more than just the 21 people who are here now.”

To be continued… Mort

Chapter Seven - Pow-wows (continued)

Friday afternoon the women had their own pow-wow, with a few men contributing. All four of my grandparents were there, of course Mom, Jean, Lois, Sandy, Amy, Lynette, Mel and I. Dad was there, too. Lois was a nurse and the dominant one in the group; she had been coordinating the meals and giving a lot of the orders.
Mom had said to me, “This is Jean’s place and it could make some conflict with Lois being so bossy.” Mom, however, played the peacemaker, kept her ear tuned to the situation and had to tactfully step between them now and again. So far things had been amicable.
Unlike Dad and Harvey the night before, who had laid out the challenges for the boys, today Lois asked us, “What are our challenges?”
“Well generally” Sandy said, “our responsibilities are food, laundry, bathroom and dishes.”
“So far so good,” said Lois. “We have hot water; we have quite a bit of laundry soap, dish soap, and bath soap. Why don’t we tackle laundry first? The boys did a good job of getting us hot water. We still have to carry water but I hear they’re working on that. We have plenty of wash lines and Poppop’s working on clothes pins. Jeremiah told me last night that the boys
are trying to convert one of the wash machines to mechanical drive. I don’t know how they’re going to power it, but we’ll see.”
Mom said, “I think we should ask them to build some kind of wringer, too, like our parents had when they started out. We wouldn’t have to squeeze them out by hand then.”
“Good idea,” said Sandy said, “I’ll say something to Aaron and Dennis.”
“Okay,” said Jean, “that should cover laundry for now. The next biggest item is food. At this point, we have a lot but conservation is the name of the game. Not only for food, but backing up a little bit, with soap, too.”
“It really helps,” Mom said, “if we prewash the dishes and pots and pans in good hot water before we put them in the soap water. That takes a lot of the grease and dirt off first and requires a lot less soap that way.”
“Mel said, “I think it’s really efficient for us to be eating our meals all at one spot. There are 21 of us. It sure saves time in both preparation and clean up to have it all at one place.”
“And,” said Amy, “I like how we can take turns cooking; where one group does breakfast, another group does dinner, and a third group does supper.”
I was on the breakfast cooking crew with Lynette, Mom and Grandma.
Lynette added, “It’s also good that we all don’t have to do dishes every meal.” This had been accomplished by dividing the work so that each of us only has to do dishes once a day. I was on the supper dishes crew with Mom, Jean and Lynette. Our placement had been Dad’s idea, so that Lynette and I could join him and the other men immediately after eating breakfast and dinner to help with the cows, in the garden or in the fields. Not that I was always anxious to work in the garden or move fences, but I loved working with the cows. Another benefit was that after supper Dad, Poppop, and Grandpop would often help with the dishes, too, lightening the load for our crew.
“I’m glad you like the way it’s working,” said Lois. “So, I guess, we’ll continue to do it that way.”
“Now,” Mel said, “the menu’s a different matter. I’m getting sick of tomato soup.” Of course, Dad loved tomatoes, and according to him, soup was just another good way to enjoy them. Fortunately we still had a few boxes of crackers. Dad could enjoy his soup without crackers, so he’d share his with Mel and me. It made the tomato soup a little more tolerable.
At this point, much of our menu was milk-driven. We still had supplies of cereal and that large bag of oatmeal that we could eat with milk, but those would be gone sometime. We also had some boxes of pudding. It was hard to chill in the springhouse, but that, too, would run out in the near future. We had quite a bit of tapioca which Mel loved to make, but at some
point, we’d run out of sugar. I’m not sure how we’d like it without sugar. We also had eggs to use in the tapioca pudding and other types of custard. We probably should save the pudding, tapioca and sugar for cooler weather; none would spoil until then. With plenty of milk on hand, we could also make milk gravy.
Lois said, “We have all these fresh vegetables to eat and all this milk. I sure wouldn’t mind if we could get some butter produced.”
“Well,” Sandy said, “I guess none of us has a butter churn, but does anyone have a homemade ice cream freezer, one that we can crank, or the boys can set up with a mechanical drive? We could try to make butter that way.”
“That’s a great idea,” Grandmom said. “Our ice cream freezer is crank-driven, so we can make butter. We’ll have to experiment a little to see how long to churn it and how much salt to add to make it work.”
Poppop chimed in, “Remember, we have to use cream, so we have to separate that somehow.”
Jean said, “We’re always stirring it into the milk we use now. We’ll just have to skim it off instead; maybe someone could come up with a separator some day. We can also use the butter for frying. I doubt if the men will come up with a way to squeeze oil out of the soybeans, but you never know. Eventually, however, we will do some butchering, then we’ll have lard and beef tallow for frying.”
“But butter is better,” shot back Mel. “It will absolutely improve the tomato soup!” Everyone chuckled.
“What can we use the buttermilk for?” Sandy asked.
“Well,” Mom said, “we can still drink it. Some of us were used to drinking skim milk anyway.”
“Or,” Lois said, “we could use it in baking.”
“Baking,” Jean said, “we haven’t done that for a while. Do you think the men can make some sort of oven using this stove?”
“I hope so,” Dad answered. “We’ll get them working on it, but what about leavening?”
“Oh,” Jean said, “Larry has a 50-pound bag of bicarbonate of soda that he used to put in the dairy ration. You know it as baking soda. He gave that to us knowing we might be able to use it.”
“And,” Mom said, “I think we also have some yeast in our supplies, but only a little.”
Sandy said, “There’s a recipe for Friendship Cake. It’s like sourdough where you keep feeding the yeast and only using part of it when you bake and you save the rest for more stock. I think you can perpetually keep the yeast growing that way.”
“That’s a great idea,” Lois said. “I’m pretty sure I can find that recipe but we need flour to keep the yeast growing and, for that matter, for any baking. We don’t have a lot. We’ll run out sometime.”
“Yes,” Jean said, “but there’s a lot of wheat in the barn.”
Grandpop said, “Sounds like another job for the boys to come up with a mill or a grinder to make flour.”
“I imagine,” Dad said, “We can come up with something. We’ll put it on the list.”
“It will be whole wheat flour,” Grandmom said.
“That’s good,” said Poppop, “it’s healthier for us anyway.”
“Then,” Mom added, “the final thing that we need to remember as far as food is concerned, is that we need to stay on top of things in the garden or in the fields, so that we use up fresh items in our cooking before they spoil.”
“That’s correct,” said Lois. “Conservation. We need to save the food that’s canned, dried, or in good packages for later use and use the fresh items as soon as possible.”
“Let’s talk about bathroom facilities now,” said Sandy. “We’re carrying a lot of water for flushing the toilets although the boys are working on a solution for that.”
I said, “I can pee outside like the boys do.”
“Yewh,” said Lynette and Amy.
Mom said, “I don’t know if you have to do that Alyssa, but every little bit helps.”
“Beats carrying all that extra water,” I answered.
“I don’t know,” said Jean. “Maybe at some point we’ll build an outhouse. But in the meantime, we might have to stop using the toilet in the house and use a bucket as a toilet instead so we only have to carry that out a few times a day instead of carrying all that water in the house.”
“Wait a minute,” Sandy interjected, “We’re carrying water in anyway to take baths. We just have to dip it out of the tub and use that water to flush the toilets. Buckets we have, let’s just remember to not let the bathwater down the drain.”
“Why sure, that’ll work,” Jean said. “Let’s talk about showering now.”
“Yeah, I sure do miss them,” Mel said. “I mean, when we wash in the tub we have to carry both hot and cold water.”
“I think,” Dad said, “The boys are working on a plan to build a shower room in the space between the outside furnace and the butcher house, so it would be warm in the wintertime and you wouldn’t have to carry the water.
It might be a trick to get it blended so that it’s not too hot or cold, but they’re working on it. They’re also trying to rig it up so that the overflow, the used water, would be caught to use to flush the toilets.”
“Well, I hope they figure that out,” Lois said. “I wouldn’t mind having a shower again.”
“Tell you what’s on my mind,” said Amy, “We’re going to run out of toilet paper too.”
“Ouch!” said Grandma, “Corn cobs are a pretty rough option.”
“Oh that’s very true,” said Mom. “We have to save any paper we have; tissues or paper towels may not be used for other purposes. We might have to use newspaper eventually. Any paper must be saved them for toileting.”
“I guess no one knows how to make paper or tissues?” I asked.
“No,” Mom said, “I don’t think anyone in this crew does. At some point, we’re going to have to use cloth. We brought with us the cloth diapers that I used when you were a baby. We can cut those into smaller pieces and use them to wipe, then they’ll have to be washed separately, perhaps the last thing we do on laundry day. We wouldn’t want to cut all of them. We might need some for babies.”
“Hey!” Lois exclaimed, “No one here is having a baby, are they?”
There were blank stares all around, so Sandy answered, “It doesn’t appear so, but you never know; none of us are getting our prescriptions filled now.”
“Plus,” Mom said, “others might join us over the next few months. Some could be expecting. We also can cut up other pieces of clothing if we need to, like some of our husbands’ holey tee shirts that they love to wear.”
“Those thick diapers can be cut for sanitary napkins, too,” Jean added. “We’re sure to run out of them, too.”
“Enough talk, already,” Grandma said. “It’s time to get supper started. Who’s on the cooking crew tonight?”
Lois said, “It’s Grandmom, Amy and I.”
“What’s on the menu?” Dad asked.
“Boiled cabbage and tomato soup.”
“Oh, boy,” sighed Lynette. “I can’t wait.”
After supper, Lynette, Amy and I were sitting outside with my dad and uncle Jeremiah.
Jeremiah said, “I saw Orion for the first time Wednesday morning.”
Dad said, “That’s great. I saw it this morning.”
Orion is an ecliptical constellation. It lies on the imaginary circle in the sky that the sun appears to travel on as we revolve around it. Unlike the North Star and the Big Dipper, which at our latitude can be seen every night of the year that’s not cloudy, about three months of the year we cannot see Orion because the sun appears in the sky at the same time. Sometime starting in late July, Orion rises early enough ahead of the sun that it can be seen before dawn. Orion is the hunter and our family treats it as a good omen, an announcement that hunting season will soon arrive.
“I guess we’re not sure how this hunting season will pan out,” Dad said. “With everything else going on, it sure makes me feel good to see Orion, even though we don’t know exactly where this year will take us.”
“Exactly,” Jeremiah answered, “seeing Orion brings me comfort, knowing that some things just don’t change.”

To be continued.... Mort

Chapter Seven - Pow-wows

Over at Harvey’s, much of the work of course was taking care of the animals but our initial job was settling in. Many of the items from the second caravan didn’t go into the house, but instead, went into Larry’s tool shed. It was a real roomy one with a nice shop. Larry even had an acetylene torch and a welder, the latter however would take a large draw of electricity to operate, but we still had fuel to make some if a dire need arose. Everyone else’s tools were housed there too, including every lawn or gardening tool that wasn’t being regularly used in the livestock operation. All the other things we brought from home, the hardware and building materials, found a spot in the shed. Dad just hoped they would be useful one day.
Dad made a sign and hung it on the tool shed door.
Anyone - may use these tools
Someone - might break them
Everyone - must return them regardless of condition
No one - shall be irresponsible concerning this matter
Behind the shop all the vehicles were parked in a nice row. There were all kinds: pick-ups, SUV’s, pleasure cars, sport cars, all-wheel drives: seventeen of them in all, not counting farm trucks, tractors, combine and backhoe. Dad, Harvey, Joe, and Jeremiah issued strict orders on their use, that is they would only be used if deemed necessary. Collectively their fuel tanks held a lot of gasoline that might be needed one day.
After taking care of the livestock, much of the work the first couple of days centered on Harvey’s butcher house. It was much more extensive than the one we had had at home. The first day we did Poppop’s and Harvey’s freezers just like we had done at home and because Harvey and Larry had made electricity a couple of times right after it had gone off, the food in there was still in good shape.
Next to Harvey’s butcher shop, he had a wood-burning outside furnace that he used to heat his home. However, it needed electricity to circulate the hot water into the house. Not a problem in August; the house was hot enough. But it had automatic electric controls on it that prevented the fire from burning too hot when the water wasn’t circulating. Dennis, from his experience with working for a HVAC contractor was able to rewire the controls to operate at 12 volts. Then he used a car battery from one of the vehicles to keep the fire burning. That at least gave us hot water to use, so Thursday we finally got around to doing some laundry. The butcher house was set up with a stove, a nice double-kettle; had plenty of room for tables, so the boys set up three long ones, at which I believe thirty people could have sat.
We couldn’t use a washing machine the way it was, but we had the kettles and tubs and we still had laundry soap, so we went at laundry. It was a good spot for that. We had plenty of rope for wash line. Clothespins were another matter; they were in short supply. Poppop liked little wood working jobs, so we put him at fabrication. It would take some time; we’d have to do with the ones we had until he could provide some. Some of the wash could be just draped over the lines and still get dry. It was a whole day affair. We certainly didn’t run out of work.
Aaron, Dennis, and Josh were the mechanical-minded ones and they were constantly pondering how to improve our lot. Eventually they rigged up some piping so that we could easily use the hot water from the stove and made our laundry work a lot easier. We still had to carry all the water over from the springhouse; we were many hands, but we also had brains.
That evening, Dad and Harvey had a pow-wow with Josh, Jake, Larry, Aaron, Dennis, Jeremiah, and Joe. I got to listen in.
Dad said, “We have a lot of challenges, but we also have a lot of skills. We have a contractor, a heating person, mechanic, farmer, and a butcher. We can get everything done. We just have to figure out a couple of things. Here are some of the challenges that Harvey and I see we need to work on:
- Heating Harvey’s house.
- Lighting. We’re making do with flashlights and candles but if there’s any way we could rig up some electrical system, it would be helpful; especially when winter comes and we need to milk and work in the dark.
- We’d like a better way to get water to this butcher house.
- We’d like to have some kind of washing machine set up.
- There’s also a challenge with the bathroom facilities; maybe some kind of showers could be set up
- INCLUDING the fact that we’re going to run out of toilet paper.
- Eventually field work will need to get done.
“Now that there are more hands,” Harvey said, “I wish we could figure out a way to harvest some of this hay that’s matured. It’s too difficult to get our livestock to some of the fields that I have on neighboring farms. And long range, we need a way to haul the liquid manure in the storage tank to the fields next year.” Up until the power went out, much of the manure from Harvey’s cows and some from the heifers was pumped into a concrete storage tank, and then later hauled out to the fields using tanker trucks. Without fuel, some other method would have to be devised to use that manure. At least now that the livestock were outside and moving from field to field the tank wasn’t getting any fuller.
Dad said, “We have a lot of stuff here, and a lot of people. It reminds me of a story I heard from a missionary one time. He was sent to Africa to help the natives and the first thing he noticed was that during the dry season, their cows had virtually nothing to eat. They just survived on brush and some dead grass. They gave very little milk during that time and some even died. However, during the rainy season, there was lush grass but it rained every
day so hay making as we know it, was almost impossible. The missionary reasoned that some of that grass could be stored as haylage. He had been told by his superiors that to solve problems, you had to use the resources that you had. He couldn’t just be ordering up a silo to store haylage or a chopper to chop it. The missionary figured that if he couldn’t build a silo up, then he
would build one down. He had plenty of labor. The natives he was serving were willing, so he had them dig a 12 foot diameter pit about 15 feet deep. They had tools to do that. They also had machetes, so the hands could harvest the grass and get it to the pit. There the older fellows chopped the grass into shorter pieces, like it should be for a silo, and threw it into the pit. When the height got close to the top, some of the children jumped and walked around on top the chopped grass to pack it. To cover the pit, they sheathed some of the long stems of grass, layered them tightly on the top then laid even more brush on top. Eventually, during the dry season they opened the pit, and after removing maybe a foot of spoilage, there was good haylage to feed their cows. The point of the story is, just like in Africa, where they had to use what was available to them, so do we.”
“So,” said Aaron, “to get the water to the butcher house from the springhouse, we need a pump. What kind of pumps are here?”
Jake said, “There are pumps on the wells now but they need electricity.”
Dennis said, “You have a milk pump on the pipeline and also a vacuum pump for the milker system. They’re electric also, unless we could convert them to mechanically driven.”
Josh said, “They’re water pumps on every vehicle we have here that don’t need electricity.”
“That’s right,” Larry said, “and also the fuel tank has a hand pump on it that doesn’t run by electricity. I also have a pump on the sprayer that’s mechanically driven.”
“Okay,” Harvey said, “you’ve gotten the idea. We have a lot of pumps that we can move water with. I think we can round up enough hose and pipe to lay to the springhouse even if we have to borrow some from the barn, but none of that’s being used anyhow, so it won’t be missed.”
Josh said, “There are disadvantages and advantages to each of those pumps and we still need an energy source to use one. I guess we either have to use a mechanically driven one, convert an electric one to mechanical or create electricity for an electric one. What are our possible energy choices?”
Jake said, “We have people and we have animals. We have limited fuel.”
“Until we learn to produce our own,” Aaron said.
“OK,” Dad said, “you guys are on a roll. We don’t have to solve this immediately. Ponder it a while and maybe some of the solutions you come up with can be used to meet some of the other challenges.”
“In the meantime,” Jake said, “couldn’t we build a little cart that two or three people can pull or push 50, 60 gallons on a trip instead of just carrying ten gallons?”
“Great idea,” Josh said, “I can start on it tomorrow. You know I think you’re the smartest brother I have.”
“I’m the only brother you have,” Jake answered.
“Once again you’re right,” Josh retorted, “astounding intelligence!” Everyone laughed. It was good; we needed things at which to laugh and fortunately, at this point we were still able to do so.
To be continued… Find out what the women are up to, next week. Mort

Chapter Six - Change at the Dairy, continued

Now the watering, milking, feeding, and handling of manure could pretty well be accomplished but one tricky thing was cooling the milk. Their spring had a tremendous flow of water and had a nice springhouse. There was a constant need to bring that water to the buildings for everyone’s use, so there was traffic back and forth. The water itself in the springhouse was around 55 degrees, not as cold as milk should have been, but it only had to be kept a day. Every twelve hours, you got fresh milk. So, it only had to be cooled enough to drink or cook with and whatever wasn’t used, went to the hogs.
So, the trick was getting it into metal containers and carrying it over to the springhouse every milking. Years ago, there were cans that held 80-pounds of milk, which is roughly ten gallons. But most of those had disappeared over the years. They had been painted or otherwise decorated and were now on someone’s porch or in their antique collection. Luckily there were enough stainless steel milker buckets that the little milk that Harvey’s dozen cows produced could be kept in the cool water until we used it.
Back on our farm, Tuesday morning was quite busy. We still had the fruit and corn in the drying beds. Dad said it would take a few more hours of sunlight but our main chore was loading things to take to Harvey’s. Dad and Grandpop’s pickups were already loaded. The hay wagon next to the backdoor was getting filled. We tried only moving things of value using the same list that Dad had made for his in-laws. We did take every dresser with our drawers intact. Mom said that would save us the trouble of sorting through them. We left virtually all the other furniture in the house. Even left the computers behind; wouldn’t be much use. But we took Mom and Dad’s hard drive.
“There a lot of files and programs on there that might be useful on Larry’s computer if we ever can spare a little electricity to run it,” Mom said. Other items that we didn’t need were all put in one bedroom so they’d be out of the landlord’s way. We didn’t have to do all the loading by ourselves. Dad’s cousin, Joe, and his boys, Aaron and Dennis, arrived in Dennis’ pickup with one of Harvey’s hay wagons towing behind, so we had a lot of help to get our goods loaded. Of course, we wanted to load all the food and we had to be extremely careful with the jars that we had just canned. It was necessary that they not be jostled so that their seal wouldn’t break; they ended up in car back seats with clothing from our closets. One big item we needed to load was the piano.
“Perhaps not a necessary item,” Dad had said, “But neither Harvey nor Poppop’s house has one and I sure enjoy hearing Mel and Alyssa play the piano. Without radios and record players, I think it will be something that we will find a needed comfort item.” We had plenty of hands and room on the pickup, so we got it loaded.
So the first procession to the new home was three pickups, two hay wagons, three cars and Dad drove his vintage tractor. A Farmall model A built in 1939. We used it in the garden and I loved to ride on the back when Dad was cultivating. One day he was going to teach me to drive it. That’s if we could spare some gasoline. It was his grandfather’s and originally was used on Harvey’s farm before the farm was Harvey’s. It was going back to its original home, just like Dad was.
When we got to Harvey’s, it was a little challenging where to go with everything. My four grandparents were going to sleep in Poppop and Grandmom’s house. Dad’s brother, Jeremiah and his wife were already moved into that house. Mel and I were going to stay there with my cousins, Amy and Lynette. Dad and Mom, Josh and Jake moved into Harvey’s house where Joe and his family had already settled. Harvey had a big house. It even had an extra kitchen upstairs, one that we didn’t need to use as a kitchen but all the items we had brought from home that might be valuable one day, might be of use one day, were piled in there. Everything fit. We could organize it later. The food was stored in the downstairs kitchen, the room closest to the butcher house where the stove was.
We went back home for the second load and it was a bit more challenging. We had everything out of the house that we deemed useful and valuable but then as we rummaged through the sheds, we had to determine what could be useful at the new home as far as tools, bolts, lumber, wire, scrap metals and all those things that you can accumulate on a farm in 20 plus years. But, the men went at it, and soon the pickups and Harvey’s wagon were full again. We collected the dried fruit and corn and packaged it in freezer boxes and other small containers with tight lids that we had amassed while we were packing things from the house. We loaded the drying frame onto the hay wagon so we could use that over at Harvey’s.
When we were almost finished, Norm and Jim stopped in.
Jim said, “Our canning went real well.”
“And there was none we had to throw away,” added Norm. “But we’re still going to run out in a month or so. Do you have any advice?” he asked my dad.
“First,” Dad responded, “I’m glad you could save what you did. I suggest you put off eating anything that is canned until you absolutely need it. In the meantime eat as much fresh produce as you can scrounge. Remember you are welcome to things in the garden here. All the crops growing on this farm belong to Chester Fronheiser; you know where his main farm is don’t you?”
They nodded in agreement. “He has a few cattle and will need help taking care of them and harvesting crops without machinery. Maybe you can trade labor for some of his grain or meat if he decides to slaughter any animals. Also there are many Mennonite farms on both sides of town that have acres and acres of vegetables and some fruit. Produce that no longer has the market where it was originally intended to go. However, they’re industrious and by now have probably determined that they need to harvest and preserve as much of that produce as they can. Maybe, they could use some extra help, in return for some of that food.”
“It would be something to check out while we still have gasoline to drive over there,” Jim said.
“As benevolent minded as they are, I’m sure you’ll be able to work with one of them. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they shared their bounty even if people didn’t have much to offer in return,” Dad continued. “I just hope people don’t take advantage of them.”
“Let’s hope not,” Jim added, “Them or anyone else for that matter.”
“Check on the place here and certainly, use the water. There is wild game around. You might have to learn to trap or shoot. And don’t throw anything away. I don’t only mean food. Empty jars, bottles, cans, plastic bags, old clothing or shoes. No more store to run and get what you need. You just don’t know what you’ll be able to use one day. You know where we’ll be if you really get in a bind. We’d be glad to help you out if we can.”
“Thanks for all the help,” said Jim.
“And the advice,” added Norm, “and good luck at your new place.”
“And good luck to you, too,” we all responded.
As they left it seemed like we had everything in order and were preparing to leave when Mom exclaimed, “Hold it, we’re forgetting the chickens!”
It was no problem; there were only eight. We had a chicken roundup. One feed bag held them all. We had to leave some friends behind, almost left the cats behind. Mom had said no, but when I reminded her that there was milk to spare at Harvey’s, she relented. So on to a new place and new adventures.

Look for Chapter 7 next week… Mort

Chapter Six - Change at the Dairy

Harvey’s dairy was a pretty modern dairy farm for our area. Harvey and Dad had talked over the situation several times in the months preceding the collapse. The last time a milk truck had hauled away Harvey’s milk, was two weeks before the electricity went out. Harvey hoped that at least that shipment found its way into the food supply. Right off the bat Harvey took two of his more gentle milking cows to Roger, a neighbor over the hill, who had hogs but no cows. He traded them for three dozen piglets. So any milk that wasn’t consumed or fed to the calves was fed to the pigs. Then some was poured into 30 gallon plastic barrels that Harvey had purchased dairy detergent in. Roger came periodically and took the milk, even if it had soured a little for his hogs. Still a lot of the milk produced the last fifteen days had been thrown away.
The first thing Harvey did to decrease his production thereby reducing the waste, and also decreasing the work load, was to divide his producing animals into three groups.
The first group were those animals that would be amiable to being milked by hand as Harvey knew he couldn’t make electricity forever. He only had so much fuel. He picked out a dozen cows that had good temperaments and milked easily by hand. Twelve cows gave a lot of milk; more than Harvey, his family, my grandparents, the calves and pigs could use. But he knew more people would be coming.
The second group of cows, those in late lactation, were not giving an abundant amount of milk, and could, therefore, be immediately dried off, or taken out of production. It was a difficult thing to do. They were used to being milked twice a day. What Harvey and Larry had to do was pen them where there was no water for two days. It was uncomfortable for both man and beast. The cows did a lot of bawling, but it was necessary or they would have felt much worse filling up with milk. By the time our family moved over, they had been successfully dried off, and were content.
The third group of cows were those that were still in decent production but were not the type of cows that you’d want to milk by hand. Either they were ornery or milked hard by hand because their teats were too small or the teat opening didn’t allow a good milk flow. This group Harvey put in a separate area and gave all the calves under two months old to them. The calves suckled those cows so that they didn’t have to be milked nor did they become too uncomfortable because of their udders being filled with milk. Plus the calves no longer needed to be fed by us. These calves grew terrifically on a milk diet and the cows seemed to adapt to it.
On Harvey’s dairy, water was not a problem. He had a creek running right through the middle of the farm, so the producing cows, the dry cows, the cows that were suckling calves, and the heifers all could be partitioned with access to water. Additionally, Harvey had a spring that gushed water abundantly.
“The finest water in the county,” Dad had said once. It was about 400 yards from the houses, however, so for our own use, it gave some carrying.
Feeding the cows was a bit more of a challenge. Harvey had one silo that required electricity to get the feed out. However, it was a sealed oxygen-limiting silo, so they just left it sealed.
“You never know,” Harvey had said, “Maybe one day we’ll get electricity again and we’ll be able to use that feed.”
Fortunately, much of the feed the cows were fed was stored in long plastic bag-like tubes. Larry usually used a skid loader to load the feed into a feeder wagon and with a tractor, would distribute it to all the animals on the farm. In order to save fuel, it took some adjustment on Larry’s part. Harvey, Dad, and Larry knew that the diesel fuel they had would have to be saved for the most important jobs. The one that came to mind was for the combine that was used to harvest the soybeans in fall. The second one was to save some fuel for plowing the vegetable patches next spring, possibly preparing some soil for planting this fall and finally, saving some for a backhoe that Harvey had. You just never knew when the backhoe might be needed.
Larry had to adjust to feeding his cows without using equipment. This was accomplished by moving the fences as close to the tubes of silage as they could so that the feed could simply, though it wasn’t easy, be forked or shoveled over the fence where the cows could eat it. Also, fences were rearranged so that the animals could graze in certain parts of the farm. Larry had two solar powered electric fencers. Fences with a little shocking power, which the cows had been trained to respect, kept them from wandering into the other crops. So, in addition to all the extra work milking and shoveling and forking feed, there were fences to be moved all the time. Fortunately, by the time we arrived, Dad’s brother Jeremiah, his wife, Lois, and two girls, Amy and Lynette, who was my age, had moved back to the dairy. And also Harvey’s cousin, Joe, his wife, Sandy, and their two grown boys, Aaron, and Dennis. When Dad, Jake, and Josh arrived, it really helped Larry out with all the work he needed to do to keep his animals milked and fed.
In the meantime, the crops in the field would have to wait until other things were taken care of. The soybeans and the corn were a couple of months away from harvesting. There was time to plan that, but Harvey did have many acres of hay that were difficult to harvest without using machinery. The solution was to move the fence every few days so that the cows or heifers could graze those hay fields. Again, more labor, but there were many more of us to help now. It was good, however, that the cows were outside more. Normally, during the heat of the day they would be under roof with many fans blowing on them to keep them comfortable. With no electricity it got way too hot inside of the buildings. With all the shifting around of animals on the farm, it also spread the manure around the farm saving more work. The worst situation would have been to have all the livestock at the same spot where their manure would accumulate, thus requiring tremendous amounts of labor to keep the manure hauled away.
Larry also had to feed his cows a little differently. He used to feed for peak production, formulating a ration consisting of his homegrown corn, corn silage and haylage, then adding supplements, minerals and vitamins purchased from the local feed mill. It was no longer necessary to feed such a souped-up ration; the cows produced all the milk we could use. Larry had some of the supplements on hand but the feed mill no longer had supplies available. He also stopped feeding salt to the animals, saving a couple of bags that he had on hand for our own use as it was necessary to preserve any food we would raise or butcher in the coming months.
The local feed mill was also in a predicament. Just a month earlier, Harvey had sold all his wheat harvest to the mill but since the collapse, the mill had no way of paying for the wheat nor did they have a way to sell it. Everything had come to a halt. They said they could have written checks to pay for the wheat, but those checks would have been worthless, so anyone who had brought wheat into the mill was welcome to come and retrieve it. Harvey and Larry brought a portion of their wheat, about 1,000 bushel, back to the farm. They said we could feed it to the cows if necessary. We could feed it to the few chickens that Mom had. We could sow it this fall for pasture or to harvest with the hope that until next July we’d have fuel again. Or, we could possibly use it ourselves for food.
Of course, Harvey wasn’t the only farmer to bring wheat into the mill. They had thousands of bushels of wheat plus corn and oats on hand. Not all farmers had retrieved their grain as Harvey did. Many were from neighboring counties, a much greater distance away and perhaps couldn’t spare the fuel. Or maybe they had no place to store their grain. The owners of the mill allowed those farmers as well as Harvey to take merchandise in return for their grain. Harvey brought an assortment of veterinary medicines, a selection of rubber boots, gloves, a scythe, several bags of hydrated lime and even four bags of seed corn left over from the spring planting. The owners of the feed mill said any remaining grain would be available to the local people for food as they needed it. It was dry and stored properly. They said with no electricity, they couldn’t keep the fans in the storage bins running so they would also have to be diligent about keeping insects out, a harder task with limited pesticides, but they’d do their best.

To be continued… Mort

Chapter Five - continued

We got a good night’s rest, got up very early. The neighbors started arriving. Josh got a fire started. The rest of us got some tables set up in the butcher house where we’d have room to work. It was a nice day, a little breeze, temperature in the 60s to start. The sun came out bright.
“Well, let’s get to work,” Dad said. Jim and Hallie had come up. Bill and Marie came down. Of course, Grandpop and Grandma were there. Dad went on, “We’ll start in the freezer in the kitchen and see how that food is.” He opened the freezer door and said, “Well, Alyssa, you were wrong on Saturday. You didn’t have your last ice cream. Here’s a full half gallon, a little soft, but it will be a treat this afternoon.” He threw it into a mixing bowl. “Put it into that blue cooler, the one with the most ice; and here’s a couple of packs of hot dogs, they’re in good shape yet. They’ll keep a day or two in the cooler. Take those along.”
The next thing he found was a couple of packs of fish. He said, “I don’t have any way to keep them, so we’ll eat them today when we get a chance.” There was frozen orange juice.
Jake said, “I’ll mix that with plenty of water in that big orange water cooler and add some of that lemon juice in the cooler before it spoils. We can drink it as we work today. Might as well dump these couple of ice cubes in also.”
There was a pack of soft pretzels. Dad said, “Put that aside. We can figure out a way to heat up those for a snack.”
“That would go well with the ice cream,” Mom said.
“Yeah, that’s true,” Dad said.
Then there were a couple of boxes of raspberries. Those he gave to Marie to go out into the drying beds. “But,” he said, “no hurry with those; we’ll have some more things from the basement freezer. And then finally, there were some peppers. Those went to the butcher house to be used in some of the foods we’d be making.
When we went downstairs Dad got five boxes and labeled them: soup, dry, eat, chili, and chow-chow.
“Chow-chow,” Janice said, “what’s that?”
Janice was new to the area. The area we lived in was that part of southeastern Pennsylvania that Thomas Penn had purchased from the Indians right around 1700. It was the area bordered by the Blue Mountain on the north, the Delaware River on the east, the South Mountain which ran just beneath Allentown and Reading to the south, and the head waters of the Susquehanna tributaries to the west. It had some very fertile ground in it and another section of ridges and valleys that were farmable but somewhat hilly and a little drier, lighter soil. This area had been settled by Germans in the early 1700s and chow-chow was just one of the Pennsylvania German dishes that we ate. Simply put, it was pickled vegetables.
So we opened up the second freezer. Everything was nice and cool. Some was still a little frosty.
“Looks good,” Norm said.
Janice added, “I think our freezers will be alright when we go at it tomorrow.”
“Let’s hope so,” Jim said.
The first thing Dad grabbed was four or five loaves of bread. “Won’t spoil right away,” Mom said. “It’ll last us a while or we can share it if some of you need some.”
Dad found four packs of beef. We sent them out to Josh. He said to start boiling them in the largest canner that we have. We had one that held about twenty quarts. He also found about six pounds of hamburger. That went to the butcher house also.
He said, “I’ll show Mom what to do with that when we get out there.”
We found a few packs of sausage. Mel took that out and put it in the coolers. “That’ll last a day or two,” Mom said.
There were quite a few boxes of tomatoes. Dad split them up between the “soup” and “chili” boxes. Then he found blueberries, strawberries, and more raspberries. They all went in the “dry” box. He found peas. They went in the “soup” box. There were sugar peas. One went into the soup.
Mom said, “The rest we can eat with our meal tonight, with that fish.”
Then we found broccoli. Normally, we don’t put a lot in soup but we can’t eat it all today. So, we threw it in. We found cauliflower.
“That’s very good in vegetable soup,” Mel said. So we threw it in that box except for two packs Dad grabbed.
He said, “It’s good in chow-chow, too.”
Then, we found a couple of packs of chicken. Mom said, “We’ll cook that for our noon meal. I can use some of the corn and make soup and throw in these two packs of frozen pasta.”
Some of the remaining corn went into the “soup” box and the rest we’d have to try to dry. The last thing we found was a package of unbaked bread. Mom put the five loaves on a tray, covered it with a towel, and set the tray on a stool near the stovepipe behind the stove and out of the way.
“There it should have enough heat to make it rise, then Pop can figure out how to bake it,” Mom said. So all the things in the freezer were distributed and it was time to get to work.
Marie, Bill, Dad and I carried the fruit and the corn up to the dryer setup. We had to open every box and pour them on the screen carefully. We didn’t
want fruit all over the place. We had room for a few bags of corn and then
the screens were full. He laid the next grid overtop and then we put the glass panes on top.
He said, “You might be bored, Alyssa, but you have to keep your eye on this a little bit. We don’t want a lot of flies or birds getting after this, even though it’s protected by the glass. We’ll just let the sun do its work. Also the boxes and lids need to be washed to put the dried fruit into when it’s finished.” Oh boy, I thought, more work.
Back in the butcher house, Grandma had cut up some onions and Mom had started frying the hamburger with some onions added and some of the peppers. The beef that Josh was cooking was pretty well done. He fished it out. Grandpop and others sat at the table and de-boned it. When the chicken had been cooked, they de-boned that also.
Dad threw the soup vegetables and some of the onions into the beef broth with the tomatoes; it made the kettle pretty full when the meat was added. In the second biggest pot we had, Mom kept dumping the hamburger in as she fried it. Josh had another kettle going with the kidney beans, so as they were cooked, they were thrown in with the hamburger and tomatoes, and soon, there was a batch of chili being made.
“I still don’t remember,” Hallie said, “How to make chow-chow.”
“We’ll get there, Dad said, “But first we’d better can this hot vegetable soup and get that out of the way. What’s important in this canning process is that you get it very hot, boiling, if you can. Then carefully stirring so it doesn’t stick. The second thing is to put enough salt in, to keep it preserved.”
So he added salt to the soup. He added salt to the chili. When the soup was good and hot, we started putting it in the clean jars. It was an assembly line. Norm and Jim filled the jars and passed them to Bill and Mom who put the lids on. Janice wiped them off and Dad and Jake carried them outside where a table was set up all by itself.
Dad said, “It’s also important that once the jar lid is tightened, that you do not disturb the jars much so they can seal properly. Remember, if any of the lids don’t seal, you have to eat those in short time because the bacteria will grow and spoil the soup and make it unfit to eat.”
In due time, the vegetable soup was canned. It gave nineteen jars. By then, the chili was hot. We used the same system to jar it. It yielded eighteen jars. It gave us room on the stove. Mom’s chicken concoction was ready to eat. We had brought enough tables out to work on and now to eat on. Dad threw the soft pretzels on a cookie tray, covered it with aluminum foil and set it on top of the stove. It was around noon, so we dug in. When most of us were finished eating I went and got the ice cream. It was more like a milkshake but it tasted good, especially with some warm soft pretzels.
After lunch, Mom checked on the bread rising behind the stove and said,
“This has risen enough, but how are you going to bake it?”
Dad said, “I’ll use a grate from the kitchen oven, lay it on top of the stove plate, and place the bread on the grate, and cover it with the lid of the big roasting pan that we have. It should work like an oven as Josh has the fire going strong yet.” Made it pretty hot in that butcher house. Fortunately, we could have all the doors and windows open and there was a big shade tree above it and like Dad had predicted, it was a much cooler, drier day.
“Now,” Dad said, “Let’s get started at this chow-chow.” It took a few more pots. We put the vegetables in separate containers. Dad continued, “With chow-chow you have to be careful not to overcook them. You still like them a little crisp. So as all the vegetables were heated to the right tenderness, they were poured back into the large canner. In a separate pot, Dad made the broth for the chow-chow. It was two parts water to two parts sugar to three parts vinegar. He added celery seed and pepper and of course salt. When the vegetables were all cooked, the canner was placed back on the stove, the broth added, and the whole mixture brought to a boil.
We went back to the assembly line process again with one addition. Mom said, “Before you close the jar lids, you should make sure there is at least one inch of juice above the vegetables.”
Hallie said, “I think I got it now.”
Dad said, “I hope none of you have too much trouble when you try this yourself.” It gave another eighteen jars of the chow-chow.
Next, we went after the dried fruit. Must have been about three in the afternoon. “Not quite dry enough,” Dad said. “We’ll have to let the sun work on it. Some might have to finish tomorrow. In the meantime, let’s get the containers with tight lids ready.”
“While we’re waiting,” Dad said, “I have some announcements to make. First of all, I’d like to thank everyone for helping today. Please take a couple of jars of your labor home with you. I wish you luck with emptying your freezers and preserving the food. We’ll try to help as much as we can, but starting tomorrow, we’ll be moving.”
“What,” said Mel, “We’re moving?”
“Where?” Jim said.
“And why?” Marie wanted to know.
“We’re moving to the farm my parents live on, Harvey’s dairy farm,” Dad answered. “They have a good running spring and have about 130 head of cattle to care for. I’ve previously talked it out with Harvey. They have a lot of work to do and they need our help. What with taking care of my parents and all the cattle and the crops that need harvesting. My brother, Jeremiah, and his family are already there, and Harvey’s cousin, Joe, is there, too.”
Moving, I thought to myself. This is the only place I’ve ever lived. I think Mom and Dad lived here over twenty years. But, I did miss milk and we’d have plenty of that at Harvey’s dairy. I always loved being around cows and calves. Harvey’s wife Jean and I were good friends and I loved being at the farm with Poppop and Grandmom. So, I guess, we have to leave our old homestead.
Harvey Stump was Dad’s second cousin. Harvey’s father and Dad’s father farmed together until Poppop retired and Harvey’s father had passed away, then the farming had all fallen to Harvey.
“So,” Dad continued, “tomorrow will be another busy day as we start trucking things over to the dairy farm. Plus, finish up these dried fruits. We also need to empty Harvey’s and my dad’s freezer, like we did today. Harvey ran his generator a few times to help get the farm work done before the help started arriving, so the food could go a few days longer. But please,” he said to the neighbors, “Don’t hesitate to stop and ask us for help if you need it. We’ll leave you a couple screens and panes to help you dry some things. And you’re still welcome to the water here. The landlord will be moving here in a few days. He lives in town; limited water supply. I think he, his daughter, and son-in-law will be moving in here. And, by the way, don’t hesitate to check on my garden. Keep picking the vegetables as they ripen. You’re welcome to them. However, the top three rows are shell beans. Don’t worry about those. Let them dry on the stalk. That way, they’ll keep through the winter and could possibly be used for seed next spring. It doesn’t matter if they turn brown. We’ll stop back and check on them every week or so. Again, I need to thank everybody for the help today.”
We all said our goodbyes although we’d probably still see each other over the next couple days.
“I’m going to miss you,” Marie said as she gave me a big hug and fought off tears.
I didn’t fight them off as easily. I sobbed, told her I’d miss her too. Then I thought a bit and said, “But we’re not moving to Ohio. We’ll only be five miles away. Our bicycles travel that far. Don’t worry; we’ll get to see each other.”

To be continued… wonder what’s going on at the new place… Mort

Chapter Five - Calculated Moves

The sun woke before we did on Sunday morning. No matter, we had enough time to get everything done that needed to be done. Only a little water to carry. It was a hazy morning, still kind of sticky, but Josh got the fire started anyway. When the stove was good and hot, Mom made eggs. They had brought bacon yesterday from Grandpop so we used that up. Mel made toast on the hot stove plate, used up the oldest bread. We still had plenty of butter and jelly. No milk, though. I missed that.
I said out loud, “I wonder when I’ll be able to have Cocoa Puffs again?”
Dad answered, “Oh, that might be sooner than you think.”
We had plenty of time to get ready for the church service. I put my swim suit on under a nice loose shirt and shorts. Everyone else dressed casual.
Soon Jim, Hallie, Norm, Janice, and their children arrived with their water jugs. Hallie also had a picnic basket.
“Just some things for lunch after church,” she said.
So we all joined the procession. I took my bicycle. Dad had put a Bible and a hymnal in my saddlebags. Everyone else was on foot. Right down the middle of the road we went. No traffic to be concerned with. When we got to Marie and Bill’s, there was an interesting nice smell. Bill had started a charcoal fire.
Jim said, “Ah, there’s an interesting way to cook. Didn’t think of that one. I think I have a half a bag in my garage, too.” The others were soon there. Tom, Louisa, AnnMarie, and Jeff, Jeff’s parents, and some others I didn’t even know from the neighborhood. John was there too, with his wife, Sarah.
When everyone was there, we all sang “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands”. It went well, without hymnals, but you repeat a lot and it’s a song that even the un-churched are familiar with. Dad led us in prayer, praised God, prayed for forgiveness, and thanked Him for all the things that He does for us. We prayed especially for those people that were struggling. There certainly were many who were worse off than we were. Jim and Hallie sang a duet, “How Great Thou Art”, and then Dad got his Bible and read a scripture, Psalm 121.
“I lift up my eyes to the hills where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of Heaven and Earth.
He will not let your foot slip. He who watches over you, will not slumber.
Indeed, He who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
The Lord watches over you. The Lord is your shade at your right hand.
The sun will not harm you by day nor the moon by night.
The Lord will keep you from all harm. He will watch over your life.
The Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.”
Dad kept his comments short. He stressed that Jesus would take care of us and that we needed to trust in Him. To end the service, we all sang “Jesus Loves Me”.
Bill went in the house, came out with a whole box of hamburger patties. He said, “I know I shouldn’t have opened the freezer, but Marie and I really wanted to share these. We all deserve a treat today.”
Hallie said, as she grabbed her picnic basket, “I have been saving a big bag of potato chips. Don’t know when we’ll have those again.”
“And,” Marie said, “I also had good hamburger buns.”
“Well, get to work then,” said Norm. “Get those babies frying.”
Bill said, “I opened the freezer quickly. I knew where the hamburgers were, grabbed them, and closed it. And as you can see, they still have a little frost on them, not frozen solid, but still really cold, so I think the food in there will be fine for a day or two more, until we learn how to preserve it. Are you still planning on doing that tomorrow?” he asked my dad.
Dad said, “Bright and early tomorrow morning. We need to get an early start so we don’t run out of light in the evening. Like I said before, if you want to come, lend a hand, and learn, hopefully you can save some of your own food in your own home. Don’t bring any along. I’m sure we’ll find some things in the freezer that we’ll have to eat as there won’t be a good way to preserve it. So, in addition to the work tomorrow, we may also have a feast. And please, everyone bring a couple empty jars so you can each take some with you.”
While Bill threw the burgers on the grill, and the mothers were getting together the rest of the fare, some of the kids and myself got into the pool. It wasn’t even noon yet but the water was warm. It was another hot, sticky day. John left and came back several minutes later. He had a five-gallon bucket full of ice and a gallon of lemonade and a gallon of tea. He said, “As I have my freezer running, I can spare the ice and just make more. We all deserve cold drinks today.”
“Thank you very much,” Marie said. “I sure like how everybody pitched in to make this little meal for us.”
“Sure is hot,” Jim said.
“Yeah, but not as hot as last summer,” Hallie answered. “Remember last summer, some of the trouble in California, the tremendous heat? Even around here.”
“Yeah, we remember,” Norm said. “And remember all that talk about global warming, that it was our misuse of fossil fuels that caused all of that.”
“Well,” Hallie said, “Did you see that Al Gore movie about the environment?” No one had, except Hallie, I guess. She continued, “It was something. It was kind of compelling. Maybe if more people or at least people in power that would have had the foresight or capability of developing alternative energy, this collapse might have been prevented.”
Jim said, “This collapse that we just experienced could not have been prevented simply by solving our oil dependency. There were other factors that contributed, right?”
The question was directed toward my dad. He said, “Probably, there were circumstances that were already set in motion and really hard to reverse. One thing was the strain of the war with Iraq. Even though it was ending, the budgetary strain was too hard to overcome. Then adding the high cost of energy on businesses and on the government itself really put tremendous pressure on the dollar.”
Norm added, “And the fact that that our dollar wasn’t backed by anything of value like gold or silver. That had to have a lot to do with it, also, didn’t it?”
Jim said, “I’m pretty sure you’re right Norm. But the Chinese abandoning the dollar in favor of the euro had to be the final nail in the coffin.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Dad said. “Either way, now that we aren’t driving and burning fossil fuels, if Gore is right, global warming will be reversed and our summers will be cooler and wetter.”
“Yeah right, if Gore is right! I’ll believe it when I see it,” Janice added. “And our winters will be colder and snowier so we’ll have to work harder to stay warm.”
“If just working keeps us warm, no problem; we won’t run out of work to do,” Marie said.
Bill added, “So maybe a couple smart moves on the administration’s part, and I know that’s an oxymoron, could have prevented the collapse. Maybe we’ll even have our electricity back and oil available by winter.”
“There are a lot of maybes in life,” Mom said, “But we play the hand with the cards that we’re dealt. I’m tickled to death by the way we’re all cooperating and making a go of it.”
Soon the burgers were ready. Janice had a pack of cheese. Someone had brought some of Dad’s tomatoes; another had some lettuce, so we had California cheeseburgers. Didn’t remember when I had those last. The adults ate first. We got out of the pool to eat then while some of the adults took their turn and jumped in. It must have been around one PM when the sky started getting black to the west.
Jim said to my dad, “It looks like that rain you talked about is coming. We’ve got the farthest to walk, we’d better get started honey,” he said to Hallie.
“Yes, looks like you better get going,” said Marie. “Thanks for the potato chips.”
“Jim answered, “You’re welcome, and you for the burgers, and for having us here, and for the refreshing dip in the pool.”
“And,” Norm added, “For those ice cold drinks, John.”
“No problem,” answered John. “And please, let me know if anyone needs anything. I might be able to help.” As the storm clouds thickened, everyone headed out.
“See you tomorrow,” Hallie said to us as they hurried down the road.
“Bright and early,” Dad answered.
We were home before it started. I’m not sure if Hallie and Jim made it. They lived a good half-mile down the road, but soon a nice steady rain started. It lightninged and thundered some, but not too close, and it wasn’t terribly windy. Within a half an hour, it was over, and the sun shone brightly in the western sky.
Josh looked at the thermometer and said, “It’s only 72 degrees now; must have dropped twenty degrees from the storm. Nice, cool, dry air moving in.”
Just then, a pickup came up the road. It was our landlord. Dad and he talked a bit. There was a lot of motioning over at the water hydrant and the old springhouse. Then they were looking in and around a few of the sheds on the farm. Took a walk into the cellar. He gave a wave to all of us and went on his way.
“What was that all about?” Josh asked.
“We were just discussing how we could run the water into the trough in the springhouse so it would work as a cooler. Getting the water in is easy. We have plenty of hose, plastic pipe that we could rig up, but someone will have to figure out how and where the water could drain from it. Maybe you could look at it tomorrow if we get our other work finished.”

To be continued… Mort

Chapter Four - Neighbors Cont.

Janice said, “Back to preserving our food that we have in the freezer. How’s that going to work?”
“Well,” Dad said, “You’re welcome to come up when we do it and give us a hand, and learn the process. I didn’t open any freezers yet, and it’s really hot. I don’t know how long it will stay cold or frozen. I don’t know how yours are. I know it won’t be tomorrow; tomorrow’s Sunday, a day of rest.”
“You’re not going to work tomorrow?” Norm asked.
“Not on Sunday,” Mom answered.
“Oh sure,” Jake said, “we’ll carrying water in. We’ll keep the fire going. We’ll feed the animals and feed ourselves. And do the dishes. There’ll be enough work even though we aren’t doing any.”
“Well, that’s something,” Hallie said.
“That’s the way it has to be,” Mom said. “God got us this far and He asks little in return, but one of the things He asks is keep the Sabbath Holy. We’re probably in enough trouble already without having Him mad at us.”
“Now Mom,” Dad said, “It’s not that He’d be mad at us. He knows the trouble we’re in and He knows how weak we are but in Him is our strength. He deserves to be honored tomorrow and every Sunday. Actually, every day.
“I suppose that’s true,” Marie said.
“Poor choice of words on my part,” Mom said. “But you’re still welcome tomorrow to come up for water if you need it or anything else you might need, even if you want some fresh vegetables.”
“Yeah,” Mel said, “take some of that zucchini. It certainly isn’t my favorite, especially when they mix it with tomatoes.”
That’s the way Mom liked it, but not the rest of us.
Dad continued, “If you are coming around tomorrow, I guess most of us aren’t going to use any gas to go to church, a church without electricity. I’d be willing to have a little service for you.”
“Well, that would be nice,” Norm said.
Marie chimed in, “We could have it at our house, if you’d like. Our pool is still filled. Chlorine is up to snuff. Haven’t been able to run the circulator, but the water is still pretty clean for how hot it’s been. After a little worship, we could cool off a little bit.”
I thought it was a great idea. I often went up and swam in Marie’s pool.
“Look out,” said Mel, “Give Dad a pulpit and a pool and it’s liable to bring on a baptism.”
“Well you never know,” Dad responded.
“That’s real nice of you,” Mom offered, ignoring Mel and Dad, “What time do you think we could get together?”
Now time was an interesting subject. One of the first things Dad had done was take the batteries out of the clocks to save them for flashlights or whatever. He had his wristwatch. Josh had one and Jake. I also noted most of the neighbors had one. But here of late, when the sun got up, so did we; time wasn’t that important, but Dad still had an answer.
“I guess we don’t want to wait until it is too hot or that it’s too cold to take a dip in the pool afterwards, so I guess midmorning, 10:00 or 10:30. We don’t want to start too late; it’s going to rain by tomorrow evening.”
“How do you know that?” Jim asked.
“See those little wispy clouds? My grandfather always said when you see those you’d have rain by the next evening. He had to know that kind of stuff. When he started farming they had no radio, TV or Accu-Weather forecasts. Turns out my meteorology professor in college, justifying my grandfather, said the same thing. He told us that those wispy clouds are the leading edge of a cold front. Therefore my forecast is for cooler, dryer air on Monday.”
“Or maybe hot and sticky?” Mel said.
“OK, maybe hot and sticky. But either way tomorrow will still start out hot. So we’ll meet up at Marie and Bill’s then?”
“Sure,” Norm said. And the others agreed.
Marie added, “I’ll have some food for us, too. Some of these fresh tomatoes and some other things just the two of us will have trouble eating before they spoil.”
So the neighbors left and we continued with our chores. Just a few moments later, another pickup came down the road. It was one of Jake’s friends, Tom. He had his girlfriend along, Louisa, and his parents, AnnMarie and Jeff. Jeff’s parents lived on a farm one valley over. Jeff’s family had come out from town to stay with his parents and care for them. The farm had spring water, too, so they were doing all right.
Jeff said, “We thought we’d stop in to see how you were doing and if there’s anything we could do for you.”
Dad said, “Well, we do have a big chore today yet if Tom and you would be willing to help.”
“What’s that? Tom asked.
“Jake and Josh are going out to fetch mother’s parents here. They live a mile or two out of town. They have no water of their own. Fortunately, there’s a Mennonite farm next to them that has a windmill and last we talked to them, they were able to get fresh water to drink. But in earlier communications with them, it was decided that they’d be coming here. We were going to go out with the pickup and load up all the goods that we felt we could use and bring them here this afternoon. So, if Tom would want to go with his pickup too, it would be a big help.”
“Sounds good,” Tom said. “Are you going to go along, Pop?”
“Sure,” Jeff answered. “Are they expecting us?”
“Yeah, they’re expecting us,” Dad answered.
Jeff asked, “So they know what we’re supposed to bring back?”
Dad said, “I have a list all prepared. It’s on the pickup seat.” Jake went and got the list. Here’s what it looked like:
Their car and truck.
All and any medical supplies like alcohol, witch hazel, prescriptions.
Canned food. Packaged food that doesn’t need refrigeration.
Soda, beer, and liquor.
Containers, especially those with lids.
Cleaning supplies, personal hygiene items, any old eyeglasses.
Hand tools: carpenter, plumbing, food prep, knives, and gardening.
Any liquid fuel, if it can be safely transported.
Guns and ammo. Any seeds.
Coinage, gold, silver, precious gems.
Bedding, mattresses, towels and washcloths.
Toilet paper, paper towels.
Batteries, flashlights, candles, lanterns, matches.
Shoes, socks, underwear.
Bicycles, Grandpop’s moped.
Bring a few eating utensils, plates, bowls, and large cooking pots.
Any self-help books, especially medical ones.
The family Bible, stationary, pens, scotch tape.
Jeff responded, “That’s a neat list. I think when we’re done with your in-laws, we’re going to back to our house in town and make sure we have a lot of these things to bring out to the farm.”
“You’re welcome to do that,” Dad said. “Here are a couple of things I wouldn’t worry about bringing. Electrical appliances unless he has a generator - that might come in handy one day or any two-way radios or any 12-volt items, like an air pump. If he has a 12-volt air pump, that might really come in useful. Most books and magazines you can leave there. Records, tapes, DVDs are no use. Dress clothing isn’t really going to be needed with the exception of bring the shoes that they have. We don’t know when we will be able to buy shoes again. And forget the furniture. But there are two exceptions. Try and get every table they have on the truck and if you have room, a couple of chairs.”
Jake said, “I’ll get the two-way radios, Dad. They are charged up and we can stay in a little bit of contact if Grandpop has any questions.”
“That’s a good idea,” Dad said. “I’ll turn mine on about twenty minutes after you leave here, and then you can get in contact with me if you need to.
Listen, Jeff, you’ve been around a little bit the last day or two. How are you finding things?”
“Haven’t really seen anything too bad yet, Jeff answered. People are a little anxious. Didn’t really see any looting at all, but people are on edge.”
“Do you have a weapon with you?” Dad asked.
“Yeah, I got a loaded one behind the truck seat,” Tom said.
“Jake,” Dad said, “You best get one too, load it up and keep it behind the seat. Follow Jeff’s lead, but it’s only for last resort measures.”
“I understand, Dad,” Jake said.
“And another thing,” Dad said, “Before you leave, use the pickup, pull the hay wagon out of the barn and park it near the back door. That way, we can just back the trucks in the barn when you come back and we don’t need to unload everything tonight. Put the food on Tom’s truck and we’ll make sure we get that one unloaded.”
“Okay, Dad,” Jake said, “but why do you want the wagon near the back door?”
“Oh,” Dad said, “we might have to throw some things out of the house to make room for what we’re bringing from your grandparents.”
“Okay, Dad. Well, let’s get rolling.”
As they went down the road, we got back to our work. Mom and Mel took over with the jar cleaning; that was coming along pretty well. Louisa and I were given a job by Dad.
He said, “Go out in the shed and gather up all the storm window panes that I have and the screens. There’s a few above the chicken house also, if you could work them out please. Bring them to the butcher house. We want to clean them up. There might be one or two in the cellar also.”
“What do you want those for Dad,” I asked.
“We’re going to make a drying bed. They need to be nice and clean. You’ll see how it works on Monday.”
So we started gathering and Dad started getting some wood together. He put it in a nice flat sunny spot and made a frame, like a grid work, that the screens could be placed on without falling through. Then he took narrow boards, about an inch and a half high and laid them on top of the screens. He put the panes on top of that. He said the sunlight will come through the glass and dry the fruit that we’d spread out on the screens. We weren’t going to do that until Monday, but we needed to be ready. Finally, we covered the drying beds with blankets to keep animal litter off.
As evening approached, Tom, Jeff, the boys, and my grandparents arrived. There had been no trouble, nothing unusual. We unloaded Tom’s truck, put the coolers in the ground cellar, a couple of mattresses in the cellar. The other trucks could wait until Monday. Tom and his family were anxious to leave and get back to their family. We bid them well and mentioned about the church service at Marie and Bill’s.
As we wrapped up the chores, Mom and my grandmother laid out a supper for us. We didn’t need anything hot, just lunched on the food from Grandpop’s refrigerator. He even had some ring bologna that had kept.
“Eat it up,” Dad said, “Might not have anything like this for some time.”
“Alyssa,” Jake said, “Over in the blue cooler is something for you. Help yourself.”
I opened the cooler and found a little ice cream that had been left in Grandma’s freezer. He had put all the ice in that cooler to try to keep it frozen. It was pretty well melted, but still tasted great. I shared a spoonful with those that wanted some and said, “I guess this is the last time we’ll have this for a while, too.”
As the sun went down, everyone was tired enough to sleep. Grandma and Grandpop slept in my room, so their mattresses in the cellar were for us kids to sleep. It was much cooler down there. Jake had set a couple of buckets of water around, then right before we turned in, he threw a bucket of water all over the cement floor part of the cellar. That made it even cooler. Jake said a prayer for all of us and as I fell asleep, I just wondered what tomorrow would bring.

To be continued… Chapter Five - next week, Happy New Year, Mort