ANOTHER LIFE
Some years ago I started writing a book about a woman whose life had become difficult but her memories sustained her. It is a good story but I know I will never finish it so I am going to take bits from it and share them with you. Most of the following is true. The timeline is the 1940s.
I grew up on a little 2 1/2 acre place just enough outside of town to be called "in the country". No neighbors and not much traffic on the highway in front of the house; just those going out to the Naval Base which was some few miles down the road. We had a windmill and water tank, an orchard with orange trees, a chicken yard and a back lot where I kept my few head of cattle. (I'll tell you more about them later) There was also an old grape vine which was lovely to look at or sit under but which yielded really sour grapes.
I was an only child (which by the way, helps during this stay- at -home time), and thus learned how to entertain myself, mostly with the nature surrounding us. I created a special hideaway for myself out of the overgrowth of castor bean stalks in the back by cutting a path in with my father's machete. I wasn't supposed to handle the machete but that was the only thing that would cut the tough castor bean stalks. My Mexican friend (don't get excited about that, it helps explain the following) had shown me how to use that and also how to throw a knife so that it would stick straight up in the ground.
My mother's mother, Gramby, lived with us and she was wonderful. She taught me things which were useful, many of which I still use today. We raised our own chickens so we obviously ate a lot of fried chicken. One of the things she taught me was how to wring a chicken's neck . Don't shrink from that;what do you think we could have done if we were going to eat one: give it a sleeping pill first?
Anyway, I learned how to do that and how to prepare it for frying up which included plucking the feathers, singeing the little pin feathers and cutting it up. Cringe if you must but if you eat chicken, that's what happens before it gets on your plate.
Speaking of chickens, as I have told my readers (if there are any) before, Daddy had a feed store and he sold baby chickens which were kept in cages in the front part of the store. Every Easter he sold chickens that had been dyed lovely pastel colors. Daddy gave my cousin Christine a pretty pink Easter chick one time and she named it George. Although they never planned to eat it, by the time it grew into an adult rooster it was so obnoxious, attacking everyone, that they couldn't stand it. One Sunday after George disappeared, they had a delicious fried chicken for lunch.
By the way, we never named our chickens or calves that we raised in the back lot. You can't eat animals that have names.
We had a milk cow named Daisy. You should know that no one eats milk cows. Anyway, I milked Daisy every morning and in the afternoon I would sometimes take a nap curled up in the crook of her soft neck as she too slept. I learned how to churn butter made from her milk and it was ever so delicious. Once it became butter, it went into a wooden mold and we put it in the ice box. This was before the refrigerators we have now and it actually had a block of ice in the top section of it; thus "icebox".
We were very self-sustaining in those days because, as I said, we had chickens, eggs, oranges from the orchard, a vegetable garden and milk from Daisy. We also had beef quite often when one of the ranchers would give us a some of theirs.
Since I am now a "lady of a certain age", there is a lot more to tell you but this is getting too long. Just wanted to share part of my happy childhood with you.
I grew up on a little 2 1/2 acre place just enough outside of town to be called "in the country". No neighbors and not much traffic on the highway in front of the house; just those going out to the Naval Base which was some few miles down the road. We had a windmill and water tank, an orchard with orange trees, a chicken yard and a back lot where I kept my few head of cattle. (I'll tell you more about them later) There was also an old grape vine which was lovely to look at or sit under but which yielded really sour grapes.
I was an only child (which by the way, helps during this stay- at -home time), and thus learned how to entertain myself, mostly with the nature surrounding us. I created a special hideaway for myself out of the overgrowth of castor bean stalks in the back by cutting a path in with my father's machete. I wasn't supposed to handle the machete but that was the only thing that would cut the tough castor bean stalks. My Mexican friend (don't get excited about that, it helps explain the following) had shown me how to use that and also how to throw a knife so that it would stick straight up in the ground.
My mother's mother, Gramby, lived with us and she was wonderful. She taught me things which were useful, many of which I still use today. We raised our own chickens so we obviously ate a lot of fried chicken. One of the things she taught me was how to wring a chicken's neck . Don't shrink from that;what do you think we could have done if we were going to eat one: give it a sleeping pill first?
Anyway, I learned how to do that and how to prepare it for frying up which included plucking the feathers, singeing the little pin feathers and cutting it up. Cringe if you must but if you eat chicken, that's what happens before it gets on your plate.
Speaking of chickens, as I have told my readers (if there are any) before, Daddy had a feed store and he sold baby chickens which were kept in cages in the front part of the store. Every Easter he sold chickens that had been dyed lovely pastel colors. Daddy gave my cousin Christine a pretty pink Easter chick one time and she named it George. Although they never planned to eat it, by the time it grew into an adult rooster it was so obnoxious, attacking everyone, that they couldn't stand it. One Sunday after George disappeared, they had a delicious fried chicken for lunch.
By the way, we never named our chickens or calves that we raised in the back lot. You can't eat animals that have names.
We had a milk cow named Daisy. You should know that no one eats milk cows. Anyway, I milked Daisy every morning and in the afternoon I would sometimes take a nap curled up in the crook of her soft neck as she too slept. I learned how to churn butter made from her milk and it was ever so delicious. Once it became butter, it went into a wooden mold and we put it in the ice box. This was before the refrigerators we have now and it actually had a block of ice in the top section of it; thus "icebox".
We were very self-sustaining in those days because, as I said, we had chickens, eggs, oranges from the orchard, a vegetable garden and milk from Daisy. We also had beef quite often when one of the ranchers would give us a some of theirs.
Since I am now a "lady of a certain age", there is a lot more to tell you but this is getting too long. Just wanted to share part of my happy childhood with you.
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