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"Oh!  You live in the old Moore Farmhouse!"  

11/19/2012

2 Comments

 
As many of you know we recently moved to the western side of our fair state of Wisconsin.  We are about a crow's flight from the Mississippi River, and from our upstairs windows in the fall and winter we view the lovely hills of Iowa.   Living in the Drift-less region of Wisconsin has really made me feel as if I have been transported to the 1940's and Mayberry.  In those days people called you by your first name, a handshake and your word was a deal, "why buy new when good enough will do" was the motto; when folks stopped to visit they were always served ice cold well water, lemonade or coffee and cake.

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The Old Moore Farm House (now known as Flanagan Farmstead)
Our address reflects the town of Bagley but when we wish to vote we have to go the Wyalusing Town Hall.   Being new to the area we tend to notice folks are a bit reserved when they look to find out information about you.  A few weeks back we went to our town hall to cast our ballot for the President of the United States.  The gals behind the resin table were busy chatting away drinking their coffee and nibbling on their dry dollar store cookies when we walked in.  Registering to vote was really not a problem;  finding out who we were, and where we were living was pretty important for these "born and raised here" ladies!  After a bit of small talk they were able to find out information that satisfied their curiosity, but were still a bit reserved until I mentioned that we knew Norbert and Marge Moore.  "The Moore's!? Oh we know the Moore's!  Such nice folks aren't they? SO your friends with the Moore's?  How nice!"  After taking information down on our address they elaborated further on the house we currently reside in.  "Oh!  You're living in the old Moore farm house!"  One gal proceeded to tell me the many times she spent at the Moore farm house on the hill playing with Marilyn Moore in the summer.  Immediately we were an accepted part of their little community simply because we knew the Moore's and lived in their old farm house.  
We met the Moore's through the land owners we care-take for, Jerry and Joan .  Norbert and Marge Moore and Jerry and Joan have been great friends for many years ...and now we find the Moore's to be...well, good friends, teachers of the way it once was, and mentors also.

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Pictured to the right is Mr. Norbert Moore.  A survivor of two by-pass surgeries and "living on borrowed time" as he states it.  "Heaven's to Murgatroyd" is one of his favorite exclamations, and never will you see him leave the house in anything other than his functional bib overalls.  Norbert's family owned this farm house that we are so privileged to live in.  "Not after too long of a time," Norbert tells us, "It was pretty clear to me I was not made for farming".  I guess I can't blame him.  Even when he was living here in the mid-1930's it was rare to find electricity in the rural areas.  Many farmers were still storing sawdust covered blocks of pond ice in ice houses to be used for summer.   It was hard to learn how to change the farm lifestyle with such a daunting thing as electrification.  Imagine the products one had to purchase just to use the electricity!  What a cost!  Nevertheless,  Norbert and his young bride Marge lived in the farm house with his family for a time.  Based on the hard rural life and the fact that he just didn't like farming, he left the farm life to pursue a different vocation that he felt he would like better.  They moved themselves to Bloomington and Norbert became a heavy machinery worker.  He operated the huge Caterpillar and bulldozer machines we see working our road ways, and digging our ditches.  He really seemed to have enjoyed his career choice.  On his time off he would go down to the local drop off points and was overjoyed if he was able to help unload the big semi-trucks.  He would make $5.00 a day unloading those big trucks and loved every minute of it!  In those days, $5.00 was a good amount of money!  Heck, I can remember when $1.00 was a good amount of money.  You can't even buy a candy bar for $1.00 these days, but don't get me started on our awful economy!    He tells us many stories about the farm house when he lived here, when his father lived here, and his grandfather.  He pointed out all his siblings names carefully carved into the concrete in the pole barn, and tells how the telephone company came in and "drove" the huge poles into the ground at no extra charge.  "Bet they would not think of doing a service like that today!"  he states.  Norbert is the king of saving a penny and making do.  He and Flanagan talk numbers, and of the good 'old days when a man's word was solid and full of integrity.

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This photo to the right is Mrs. Marjorie Moore.  She is a twin although her twin sister looks nothing like her.  She and Norbert make the perfect couple.  In this day and age where the divorce rate is at 49% for a first marriage, I commend these two as well as my own parents for sticking together and making it work.  One anticipates what the other will say, do, or what they have a need for. Today, folks sometimes seem too selfish to care about someone else that same way.   Marge is fun to talk with and to learn from.  Of course, she knows nothing about "Becky's Blog" or what a blog even is.  The Moore's do not own a computer and have no desire to subscribe to this modern way of thinking!  It is from Marge that I learned how to make the best tasting homemade egg noodles this side of the Mississippi!   When you first meet  Marge you might notice how shy she seems to be.  Quietly she will hide herself partially behind Norbert as a group of folks converse; once in a while she will throw a comment out here or there to see if you will respond.  After time, she warms up in conversation, and will talk of the good times she and Norbert had all through their marriage.  It wasn't all good times.  They like all of us have had many bad times.  She talks of her only son Mark, who has tragically passed, and his antics as well as her only grandson Jim, who also tragically passed as a young adult.  I could listen to Marge talk for hours on her ideas of marriage, family, and keeping a home.  A frugal woman, Marge just has a way of making things stretch to make it through the hard times.  Marge is a housewife that lived through those times that we like to think were better times.  In those days every good wife needed: 
  • Several neat, becoming, washable house dresses
  • At least two pairs of well fitting, low-heeled work shoes
  • A substantial stove with a reliable oven
  • A kitchen sink with running water, and an ample supply of hot water from the range reservoir
  • A handy cellar with steps that do not threaten to break the wife's neck or back
  • A washing machine (if the power is available) or a tub; a wringer, unchipped washboards, clothes lines, and a comfortable place to wash outside of the hot kitchen

Boy do we have it made in 2012!  Looking around at my small kitchen  Marge can tell me just how it used to look when she lived in the farm house.  "I sure wish I had my wood cook stove hooked up where the farm house once held a wood/coal cook stove" I tell her.  Quietly Marge looks around and says, "You have a nice kitchen.  I like the way you have this kitchen set up.  It is a good working kitchen".  I swell with pride as she looks around at my efforts to make the small area serviceable.  "Thank you Marge" I say fully knowing that compliment lifted more than my spirits; OH! how I attempted organization in such a small kitchen!  Her compliment reaffirmed my desire to continue to learn how to step back into time, and do my kitchen work the way my ancestors used to!  

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These photos are from the last week of October.  You see every Wednesday, unless it is raining or snowing, Norbert and Marge drive over to the area on the property where the spring flows out of a hill into a small pond.  Every Wednesday like clockwork around 11:15 they light a fire in the tin insert, and break out the hot dogs and condiments for a good old fashioned "weenie roast".  Shortly after we moved here to this little neck of the woods the Moore's decided it would be nice to invite us to participate in their Wednesday tradition. We could not have been more pleased!   Each week we make sure to get most of our required caretaker hours done on Monday and Tuesday so we are ready to go for the Wednesday "weenie roast".  It is so much fun to sit and listen to the Moore's tell us about days gone by and how bad (sometimes repulsive) this current time period is to live in.  "Sometimes I don't even want to turn on that blasted television set" says Norbert, "There is so much junk and perversion on that screen."  
Like a worker bee Marge is busy setting the small plastic table.  Gingerly she covers the worn table with a faded round gingham cloth then covers it with little containers of cold pork and beans, pickles,  and raw onions; she lays out various small bags of chips, hot dog buns, relish, and ketchup packets. Almost done, she makes sure we all have the re-usable black plastic ware from McDonald's (why not wash and re-use it right?) and our paper plates.  The men load up the sticks with hot dogs placing them over the flames as Marge and I talk about the last few days.  
Once we are done feasting on our weenies...we finish up the meal by roasting some marshmallows.  What a great time we have each and every time.  
Sometimes I am not sure they realize how nice it is to just sit and listen to their memories.     One thing I have learned from sitting for hours at my grandparent's knees is how precious it is to simply listen.
  
Now that winter approaches our picnics have ended.  Kind of makes us feel a bit lonely!  Once we went out for breakfast together at Ma's Bakery in Bloomington.  We talk about getting together on Wednesdays for sandwiches now and then.  I guess this farm lady better start planning some Wednesday lunches!

I for one am looking forward to this Thanksgiving week.  It is my favorite holiday!  I have SO MUCH TO BE THANKFUL FOR!  My parents are driving over for to spend some time with us.  It will be nice to light some oil lanterns, cook up a nice meal, set the puddings, and bake the pies.  Whether or not we feast on a big meal Thanksgiving Day is of no importance; spending time together and enjoying the company is.

  
Maybe we will see Norbert and Marge sometime over the holiday week.  I think I should call them up and invite them over for coffee and cake.  
After all, I bet you can tell that I like to get out the old cast irons and make a buttery or tasty treat.  


Let's just say I like to make these days my good 'ole days.

Readers and loved ones...what are the good 'ole days you are making for yourself?

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Psalm 107:1 "Oh give thanks to the Lord, for He is good, for His steadfast love endures forever."

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Re-purpose?

11/16/2012

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Maybe you would look at this quaint little crafty item and think, "Hmmm...how creative!"
I mean that is what I thought when I looked at it.   I guess if you have the old pair of boots and you no longer have use for them it would be a great craft to try your hand at.  It would work as a cute bird house as long as there is no lingering foot stink to chase the birds away from nesting in it.  

After a bit of contemplating I started thinking of our ancestors and what they would do with that old pair of boots.  I am not a betting woman, but I bet my grandparents would have found a way to re-tool that leather and re-sole those boots to get quite a bit more use out of them.  

It seems to me that we have become such a wasteful society, so much so that we think nothing of throwing away a perfectly good pair of boots for the birds.  

Yesterday as I was fondly hang my grandma's handkerchiefs on the line, I recalled a comment my older daughter had once remarked years ago.  After watching me wipe my nose with my lilac and pink hankie she exclaimed... "YUK!  Mom!  Gross! Why do you use those for your snot?  Get some Kleenex! "  

Am I that old-fashioned and frugal?  Why do I like to use "hankies" of all pretty sorts and save the $2.00 on buying a few boxes of Kleenex?  Do we not use and re-use our underwear everyday?  Isn't that just as gross?   

What ever happened to "Make Do and Mend"?  My grandparents certainly subscribed to this philosophy.  

During WWII German U-boats were threatening importation of goods.  Rationing and recycling was put into place to ensure the citizens of Britain were adequately enabled to survive such a plight.  From June 1941 clothes were also rationed; this meant that people had to make their clothes, shoes, undergarments, and so forth last longer.  The government started a Make Do and Mend campaign to encourage people to recycle and reuse the old clothes, fabrics, and other resources.     

So if I am using "hankies" am I just making do, old fashioned, or am I hip and trendy as I re-purpose?  Sheesh.
I guess I must be all of the above.  I can tell you that if I find a good old pair of cowgirl boots for a cheap enough price I am certainly not going to re-purpose them into a bird house.  You can be well assured I would clean them up and put them on my feet to go riding on my horse!





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Now I suppose most of you would look at the photo to the right and know exactly what you are looking at.  Then there will be some of you that will think it is some sort of a fancy dish to hold soup.  To those of you that think it is a pot for soup...ummm...well...sorry.  It is not.  This is a photo of a chamber pot.  NOT just any chamber pot.  This is our chamber pot.  I was totally enthralled to find this chamber pot in a small "off the beaten path" thrift store for only $12.00.  This to me was a good buy as most of the time you are not able to find one complete with its lid!  For those of us that like antiques the price was perfect.  I also had in mind that perhaps when we present to school groups we could show the kids the 'chamber pot' and tell of its use for a sort of a shock effect.  "Ewwww!  Gross!  Yuk!" are the comments I imagined those students proclaiming as they learned of the use of this bone china beauty.  

LITTLE DID I KNOW that Mr. Flanagan decided to "re-purpose" this gem for use at night!  GROSS!  Yes dear readers, you are reading my words correctly.  Those of you who know our Mr. Flanagan will not be surprised at this tid-bit of news.  You see, our only bathroom is located downstairs and our bedrooms are all upstairs.  Mr. Flanagan got annoyed with having to go downstairs each time he "had to go" in the night, so on a whim he decided to use the chamber pot!  Well...is that so bad?  Our ancestors had to go outside to use the outhouse; at night they used a bucket or a chamber pot.  Why not use the item for what it was created for in the name of convenience?  I should add no matter how good of wife I try to be, I refuse to empty and wash out that chamber pot each morning. I am pretty sure we won't be using this item for our presentations now.  I cannot stomach the thought of "passing around" the historic antique knowing it is currently being used.  BUT..didn't I purchase the item and tote it home with excitement?  Did I not place it on the hard wood floor of our farmhouse bedroom?  Did I not ponder how often this purchased antique held umm...well...waste?  Yikes.  


I guess that just shows how we change as a society.  

 
I have to tell you living on this little hobby farm has its experiences that is for sure.  How can it not with Flanagan for a husband!  I also have to say the environment kind of lends itself to the re-purpose-recycle-homemade movement.  Once considered "old-fashioned" now considered "cool".  

Now I am looking forward to learning how to use and re-use everything!  Heck, in this economy it will be one of the smartest things I can do for our little household!

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When a Lady was a Lady

11/9/2012

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In light of the recent presidential election I had posted a photo on my Facebook Wall.  It showed the following photo...

Now I for one cannot imagine suffering torture, prison, and beatings just for the right to vote.  Today we find many liberties that our ancestors were not able to take part in, and I  am very thankful for those liberties.  To think that women just 70 years ago went through such turmoil just to voice their choice in an election; today we have slews of women that do not exercise that earned right, nor do they wish to even involve themselves in the election process, or inner/outer workings of our Government.  I guess that is their choice, but wow...did our fore mothers go through the pits to earn that right!  Despite who has taken the office of the presidency, I truly respect that office and pray for the man to which the authority has been given.  As I ponder the plight of our fore mothers my mind wanders to third world countries in which even today events such as beatings, prison, and suffering occur for simple things such as carrying a Bible or exposing the hair or face.  What a poverty to hold a race in such a menial caliber.   
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Many of us study history and how it affected the human race over time.  Sometimes when I look at the female race within the boundaries of  history I reflect upon when a lady was a lady.  There were and always will be good ladies, and bad ladies.  I feel overall a lady acted, dressed, and emitted being a lady even in the poorest of conditions.  The picture to the right is one we would all agree features a beautiful lady.  She is adorned with a lovely scarf and wears her tresses demurely around her face.  Her bosom a pale and lovely shade, and roses surround her as if to say one would smell them if she walked into a room.  

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Then there is the farm woman or the working woman.  Even though she totes a bucket and wears a wool work apron she still emits femininity.  Graciously and respectfully, she wears her hair off her face if not for a bit of style for practicability as she does her daily chores.  Perhaps her hands are not soft or supple, and it may be that her scent is not of roses, but you can almost smell the bacon upon her clothing from the recent breakfast.  I am not one to say that folks in the represented time frames were not smelly; they had to be smelly after working in the humid heat of the day in long sleeves, skirts and the like!  I do believe our human race has found many ways over the years of masking the odor of a hard day's work.    

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THEN along came the roaring 20's!  WOW did women change.  The photo to the right is a pic of my Gram.  Some say I resemble her; I know I can sure cook a good dinner like she could!  I can remember my grandmother telling me that when she was a mere 18 years of age she decided to cut her hair.  Now mind you her hair was a long braid down her back, and it touched the top of her tail bone.  She and her sister took that braid and made one smart "clip!"  Well, "As I held that braid in my hand," she said, "I thought of two things...1. I am liberated from it hanging in my face and all over, but I loved having long hair ...and 2. my mom is going to be so angry!"   She was right her mom was very angry and my grandma officially became a flapper type of gal.  Not long after she found herself married and quite pregnant.  Ooops.  So much for her freedom!  I still have that braid.  She kept that piece of her youth and passed it on to me.  I love remembering the story she told me when she handed it to me.  I also thought, "Hmmm....who keeps their hair like this?  Why?"  I think it was because my gram was a lady.  Her long hair kind of made her feel like a lady.  After she cut it off I believe she regretted the femininity of what she had.  

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WHAT HAPPENED?


What happened to a lady being a lady?  Now instead of embracing our fair sex we change it.  Women inject things into their bodies to become fuller, rounder, bigger, smaller, browner, or paler than than how they are.  Clothing has become tighter, shorter, skimpier, smaller, well let's just say almost non-existent.  And to think folks were appalled in the early 1800's by the empire waist and sometimes sheer fabric!  If our ancestors...if my gram...could come back today and see the state of what a lady is today I bet they would almost pass out and die all over again.  I cannot avoid what some call "artists" or "stars" like Lady Gaga repulsive.  Really...what makes a person named Gaga a lady?  I cannot in any way think of her as a lady.  No apologies here I am not quite an old geezer, and  I am allowed an opinion.  She is not an artist to me.  She happens to be a focal point of our youth unfortunately leading them down a terrible "this is what we are supposed to look like and act like" path.  I cannot drive past a billboard, go to a local department store, or watch a commercial on television without being inundated with what the 'lady' is supposed to look like today.  HOGWASH!  Now I am not overweight, I have some wrinkles, I am not pale or brown, I have a few rolls here that should be there, but I refuse to inject pig fat into my lips so I can look appealing.  I would rather fry my pig fat in a cast iron skillet thank you very much.  So here is to the ladies that take the time to look like ladies.  The gals that appreciate who they were created to be and embrace modesty while promoting a social moral compass that steers the rest of us.  
When I see the "hey guys look at me"  woman in a mini-skirt with make-up everywhere and an exposed cleavage to boot...I cannot help but think of the Bible verse that says:  Proverbs 11:22 "Like a gold ring in a pig's snout is a beautiful woman without discretion"! 
 

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Bottom line to me is...it doesn't matter if you wear make-up or not, it doesn't matter if you wear long or short hair, it does not matter if you wear jeans or skirts, it is not for me or anyone else to judge...what matters is that a lady is a lady.  Keep that moral compass shining and protect the femininity we still have!  Dress, act, talk, portray, be...a lady.

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A Country Lesson in Patience

11/5/2012

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Well...here it is.  "What?"  "Here is what?" you ask.  Well right there on the plate smothered in butter, salt, and pepper.  You cannot see the bounty on this plate?  
"See what?  THE FORK IS BIGGER THAN THE BOUNTY!"  
You are right.  You see what you are looking at is my potato harvest.  Yup.  This is my potato harvest.  One potato.  What happened?  Well I call it a lesson in country patience.  You see I simply was not patient to wait for the tubers to send out more tubers thereby causing more potatoes to form.  Thus I ended up with one measly potato not enough to feed a mouse.

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So now you ask..."What in the world is this a picture of?"  "Well that is pretty simple", I say, "Anyone can see that is a photo of homemade yogurt!" Really, the bottom line is that this is also a photo of a lesson in country patience.  You see I followed the recipe to a tee.  I slowly boiled the milk as the directions stated.  Only I was not patient as I waited for the temperature to reach that optimum 180* needed to kill off the bad bacteria.  So I did what most of us do when we are not patient, I turned up the heat to high.  As any cook knows turning the heat up on the milk will scald it.  Now I have an entire crock-pot full of a gallon of scalded yogurt.  Oh sure I can put honey with it and try and sweeten it, but the taste of scalded and burnt milk is inevitably there as a bawdy aftertaste.

   

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Every day I am in the kitchen working on home made something or another.  Every day I find a lesson in country patience.  I just call it country patience, but really any one of us can learn these lessons no matter where we are.  
In the case of my potato harvest my fork was bigger than my bounty.  Lesson learned.  My God is bigger than anything I can grow, do, say, or be.  I needed to have patience with my potato crop, and I find a lesson in remembering that He is in control of what happens.  If I decide to become impatient and try to fix it myself, or make it go the way I want rather than the way He has planned for me, it will not provide a yield that is pleasing to me.  
"James 5:7-8 
Be patient, then, brothers, until the Lord's coming. See how the farmer waits for the land to yield its valuable crop and how patient he is for the autumn and spring rains. You too, be patient and stand firm, because the Lord's coming is near. (NIV)

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In the case of my (appearing to taste delicious) yogurt there is yet another lesson.  Actually a two fold one for me.  First of all is the actual boiling point.  180* is the point just before the boiling point.  I was almost there with that milk.  My decision to turn the heat to high at 160* to MAKE it heat up faster is kind of like making life choices isn't it?  I have made some very poor life choices in my time.  Some folks wondered what I was up to at each turn!  So did I.  You see my lesson has been that if I had only trusted God during those times of decision rather than my own human desires I would have been better off.  But NOPE.  I chose to turn up the heat on my life choices when there were so many blessings in store for me had I turned to what He wanted for my life.  Now years later I sit back and watch my poor life choices play out daily in the lives of my children, family, and friends. My second lesson in making yogurt from scratch is this: the choices we make in life cannot be declared as personal.  Choices we make affect those all around us.  It is not "my life I shall do as I please".  So many times it tarnishes so much more.  Just like the taste of the scorched milk tarnished my organic home made yogurt.  From its appearance it looks tasty, but once consumed the eater  frowns in disgust.  

Proverbs 19:21  Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand"

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Slowly Autumn has faded.  We are left with the browns and grays just waiting, holding its breath for the first snowfall.  This too has become a lesson in country patience.  As each season passes and I grow older I see there is always room for forgiveness.  There is always room for change.  There is always room for the "Spring" of redemption.  Today when you walk through your day see what lessons unfold themselves to you.  They are many and often if one just opens their eyes to them.  Nothing happens by chance.  
Take time to learn some lessons today.

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    Dawn Marie also known as Rebecca
    Flanagan

    Life long  learning enthusiast...these are my letters of life.   

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