Farm life memories continue to fill my head with love and good health.  Alive and well, barefoot for the most part, we endured endless drinks from the water hose, swims in local ditches, barn roof climbs, and mushin through freshly dropped cow patties. Momma provided three square meals a day, as we ate healthy and together as a family. I likened it to a triple whammy of “The Waltons”, a bit of “Little House on the Prairie”, and a spirited amount of “Ma and Pa Kettle”. Homemade with imagination and little sense for sanitation.

Momma’s eight chicklets seldom had injury or illness that resulted in a visit to the only physician in town, Dr. Clapper. Master of any and all ailments, she took great care of her young brood. Take a sit down, your daily vitamin, and enjoy her ever-so creative side of medical practicality and doctoring without a license.

Dr. Pimple Popper alive and well.  Blackheads seldom had longevity on our faces. Sunday nights, Momma would line us up for baths, hair washing, and pincurls. Out came the bobby pins as she not so gently twisted and curled our locks. But wait, she was not only coiffing her girls! Ear cleaning came with the Sunday night pamper! The bobby pin was her go-to assistant. Pressure and pop! The deed was done without warning.

While she had us in the chair, a quick glean of our faces and backs often received the “two thumb pinch”.  To divert possible infection, she finished with a dab of alcohol. OUCH! Dr. Mom assured our porcelain faces were recovered and prepped for another week of school.  

Queasy, upset tummy? More than not, Momma stood by her tried and true: a teaspoon of baking soda and a half glass of water. No commercial fixes of Alka-Seltzer or Pepto-Bismol lived in the medicine cabinet. Seldom did we enjoy the likes of ginger ale or Fresca chilled from a snowbank. Her prescribed notions worked, thus, the grocery bill did not suffer.  

If and when a tummy endured more than two days of upset, Momma produced the least popular of her remedies: the warm, soapy water enema! Psychologically, I think we all produced personal strength to wish ourselves well when the subject “enema” ever surfaced! Enough said!

Cuts, scrapes, and the like? I do not ever recall seeing a box of Band-Aids in the family nest. Again, I’m sure Momma felt she could adjust and compensate without increasing the grocery tab.  As a result, these three items provided her staple to skin wellness: Bag Balm, a medicated ointment to ease udder irritations on cows, sanitary napkins as a gauze substitute, and rag strips taken from worn clothing to be used as bandages.  I need not explain further. All three sufficed and we never required further treatment from the doctor. Once again, Medicine Momma, Rescue Ranger!

In addition, rusty nails or scrapes from barbed wire never produced the ever fearful “locked jaw” as the soothing smells of Bag Balm and tattered bandages did their healing. Slivers were either two-thumb pinched or removed by Momma’s large, unsanitized, sewing needles. A quick dig, a dab of Bag Balm, and we were back to playing in no time. No screams, no tears. Just simple courage and the faith Momma knew what she was doing.

Wellness continued with Vicks VapoRub. Winter often brought a number of colds and runny noses. Likely, many of these germs were brought home from school, as Momma kept her home spotless.  She often hung freshly washed bedding outside on the coldest, and windiest of days. Frozen in place, she would return them to the house to thaw. The moisture aided our Vicks filled noses. That, along with her homemade vaporizer of a pan of water over a furnace register, provided comfort and relief.

Yes, Vicks VapoRub was one of her few commercial go-to meds. No need for store bought cough syrup. I so remember a half-teaspoon of melted Vicks laced with sugar and followed with a hot tea and shot of Kessler’s whiskey! The cough quelled and I slept for hours. Momma once again had worked her medical genius and I did not die or miss a day of school.

The end-all, cure-all: Cod Liver Oil. Following a significant bleed as a result of a tonsillectomy, I was medically suggested a regimen of of Cod Liver Oil. Dr. Mom treated me twice a day and as luck would have it, she included all seven siblings. We lined up every morning for our daily dose.  It was the worst, regardless of its wintergreen flavor. Burping a minty fish was seldom abated by any other foods, as Momma tried to mask it. She did not need sick children, thus her preventative care paid off.

My fish therapy lasted at least a few years. To this day, I honestly think this God-awful remedy provided me with great health, joints, teeth, and curly hair! I am ever thankful for Cod Liver Oil and Momma’s well-intentioned doctoring.

And there you have it, another chapter in the wellness of my farm-driven life. Good health with little concern for sanitation. Pathetic? Nah, just farm living using Momma’s sense for the good of all. Thanks to God and Dr. Mom!

Lessons Learned

Never question Momma’s medical motives.  I do not recall one Mom-driven remedy that did not suffice. Yes, Vicks VapoRub and Bag Balm continue to be popular over-the-counter remedies today! Doc Momma was ahead of her time!

Old fashioned notions pay off. With the high level of unsanitary play on the farm, I honestly feel our immune systems were strengthened and not hindered. Rock on, country living and Momma’s innovative medicine!

And as always, thanks for reading!

Eight siblings, ages 13 and younger. Mid-July, 1964 about 9 a.m. We had exhausted our plan of activities to keep entertained for the day.  “Momma, there’s nothin’ to do. Can you take us for a ride to the gravel pit so we can swim?” Can we make some ice cream? Can we, Momma, can we?” The chorus of sib whining must have gnawed at Momma’s patience. As usual, she had another genius moment.

“I’ve talked with your dad, and we’ve hatched a plan. Today we are taking a new adventure”, cheered Momma. “Get your shoes on and some clothes that will keep you cool. I’ve got some iced water to go and we’ll be home by lunch. We’re all in this together, right?” she called out.

“Right!” as we joined in unison. Giggles surrounded our excitement. Hmmm, what kind of adventure? I could only think of one particular family fun: riding on the tailgate of the pickup to town and finding returnables along the way. Once we had cashed them in,  it was time to get our favorite ice cream cone. BINGO! That was it!

“Follow me,” Momma exclaimed. Single file, eight kiddos marched to her confident footsteps. We made our way to the end of the drive, crossed the dusty, gravel road and entered the path that led to Daddy’s crop of wheat. Dotted amongst the field of green were small yellow blotches.  

Ever in creative control, Momma began, “Everyone see the yellow flowers in this wheat field? It’s called mustard and it’s a bad weed. Daddy and I will pay you a penny for each weed you pull. We have to keep it in a pile so that we can take it home to burn. We will finish before it gets too hot. Working together, we’ll be done in no time.” Not wanting to disappoint, we spread out into the field and began the pulling.

About an hour had passed and Momma called for a water break. We all had our weeds counted and piled for the burning. Brother Frankie was nowhere to be found. Suzi Q and I began the search. “He must have a big pile of weeds and needs help carrying them,” chirped Suz.

“I think I hear him whistling. Yup, he’s right over here,” I whispered. “Let’s scare him, ok”?

Suz and I crept up on Frankie.  He was sitting with no weed pile. He had taken several mustard plants and was fiercely rubbing them on his hands.

“Ahh, Frankie, what do you think you’re doing?” I asked. “Where’s your pile of mustard? Are you making green hands so that we think you were working?  Momma’s not going to like this!”

Frankie quickly dropped the greens and rose. “Ahh, ahh, well I made a big pile over there I think. Now I can’t find it. Can you help me?” He tried wiping the green hands clean, but to no avail.

Needless to say, Momma was not pleased with Frankie’s foolishness. After the break she informed him that he must stay within her eye’s view and work like everyone else. With no choice, Frankie began an earnest effort of pulling the mustard.

The sun began to warm as sweat and piles of dead weeds accumulated. Momma had removed her blouse and the boys stripped their shirts. Momma announced that soon it would be time to head home for lunch. Assured  there would be money in our pockets., we continued to hustle.

In the distance, we heard the daily warning blares of the train. Every morning it made its way to town to pick up grain and petroleum. “Momma, the train’s comin’, don’t you need to put your blouse on?” Claudia inquired.

“Nah, that engineer won’t see me.  The wheat’s just high enough,” she clucked.

In an instant, the train was upon us.  Being their usual silly selves, Frankie, Mikie, Suz and lil Sylvia began waving and screaming to grab the engineer’s attention.  The train’s whistle continued to blast as four men leaned out the massive locomotive with two others at the caboose. Smiles, wolf calls and waves entertained all.

Momma was quick to think. Rather than crouch down, or ignore the attention, she did the unthinkable. She rose from the wheat and threw the wide-eyed men her biggest smile! She waved with confidence! Momma in her bra and sunburn, greeting these strangers! And she was proud!

Once again, with her quick wit and wisdom, Momma was not to be embarrassed. She joined in the fun and made this adventure one to remember.  How she could make an unlikely farm task into one of pleasure was one of her strongest assets. God bless our Momma!

All in all, us sibs thought we had disposed of at least a few thousand mustard plants. We were ready for the money Daddy had promised. At the dinner table that night, we all gathered to hear his plan for payment.

“Thank you all for helping make the wheat field clean. You know how to work hard to make good of this farm. I haven’t counted all the weeds pulled but know that you all deserve a dollar each and a trip to the County Fair!” Daddy was beaming!

A dollar does not seem like much, however, it was like a hundred bucks to each of us. The next afternoon, we piled in the car for the fair.  After checking all the farm exhibits and getting a ride on the carousel, we received our dollar to spend. I so remember the red candied apples, carmel corn, cotton candy, and games played. Prizes were cheap trinkets but we had won the jackpot. Farm and family at its best!

Lessons Learned

There’s one in every family.  Yes, we all have a Frankie. He was genius at hatching crazy, imaginary ideas for avoiding work. He was the inventive one and often silly. Sometimes these traits worked to his advantage, many times not. Frankie will always have my heart!

Farm and family are love.  Our family was not financially rich by any means, however, love and respect for each other was undeniably our wealth!    Thanks for reading!

Life as I live it today is a most blessed and joyful one. Every day is a new sunrise of activity and experience. I work at making it that way. The alternative is much too depressing and often leads to chapter endings I am not ready to write. With another Mother’s Day celebrated,  I take great love and pride in all that I have accomplished as a Momma Llama.

First and foremost, are my Divas of Delight, daughters Ruthie and Eva. Precious blood, precious in my ever-expanding heart, these two have unending love. Seven years separates them, however, they are as close as sisters can be. Serving as each other’s sounding boards, mentors, and advisors, my llama babes thrive.

Llama One, Miss Ruthie, was born a gentle spirit. Two weeks overdue, a great nap-taker, and a true champion for the underdog, Ruthie’s laid back, compassionate self has successfully led her to many mountaintop experiences. I’d be amiss, however, if I did not speak of a few early developmental days of facing the climb.

Circa, 1982, age four or so.  A quick supper of pork chops, cheesy potatoes, green beans and banana pudding.  “So Mom, have you ever noticed how a pork chop looks like South America? I saw that shape on a map in the encyclopedia.” A bit amazed, I took pride in her imagination until she added, “And what do you think about Caspar Weinberger as President Reagan’s Secretary of Defense? Think he’s a good protector for our country?”

Whaaaat? A four year old discussing current politics? What have I helped to create? As love and blessings would have it, Miss Ruthie continued her love of knowledge and growth. She graduated and graduated and graduated even more.  

Today, her mind continues climbing those mountains to solve world issues and those of local interest. Ruthie is a WonderMom,  Doctor of Nursing, and a most avid champion of underserved children of greater Philadelphia. This Momma Llama could not be any prouder of her firstborn. Above all, I have a great friend and advocate for improved health care for all. My future wheelchair will be well equipped so to speak!

Llama Two, Miss Eva, arrived with her most lively of spirits. Born two weeks early and with an hour of labor and delivery, I knew nap-taking, gentle days were likely to be history. Eva did not disappoint!

Sweet Llama E. walked at eight months, spoke incessantly, and did not pretend to be independent. She was ahead of her time in so many ways. As much as Ruthie wanted to love and cuddle her, Eva worked harder and harder to be Miss I-Can-Do-It-Myself. The lovefest continued, however, and my llamas kept feeding on the love of each other.

Circa, 1993, third grade or so. Late spring, recess ending. “Hello, Mrs. So-and-so? I’m calling about Eva. She’s fine, but I will need you to bring her some dry, clean pants. She seems to have found the only puddle on the playground and frankly, we’re not sure what color her pants were because she’s covered with mud. And, because she is so small, we have no clothes here that fit her.” Luckily I was ending my work day and would quickly scoot to rescue Eva from further embarrassment.

As I entered the office, Sweet Eva beamed as she was dressed in a pair of sweats that reached her armpits. Embarrassment was the furthest from her thoughts. “Look Mom, how big these pants are. I think they’d fit Dad! And, and look at my pants here. Remember, they used to be white!” as she continued to giggle. The office staff, principal and myself couldn’t help but share in the fiasco of foolishness.

Eva grew into a life of high energy, and liveliness.She often would return from school adding, “Mom, today I was ELECTRIC! I had an awesome day!”

She was bright, inquisitive, and a go-getter. Always at the center of action, Eva played multiple sports, ran, acted and sang, and sang, and sang. Her musical talents and voice of compassion carried her successfully into college and beyond.

Today, my dear llama E. is happily married and effortlessly serves her God. She loves her work with campus ministry at the University of Utah. Music and singing continue to be a part of her life, however, it is just for Momma Llama. Recently, I joined her in Karaoke in the sunny south. She brilliantly belted out “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” while I provided back up. Another fiasco of foolishness that I’ll never forget.  

Although these girls have an age difference of seven years, their bond is like that of best friends. Living hundreds of miles apart seems irrelevant as a quick phone call or text renews their love connection.

Over and over, my life has been filled with creative laughter and love from these precious ladies. We giggle. We cry. We debate. We love. Always honest, always respectful. I cannot be anything but blessed.

Lessons Learned

Parenting does not come with a set of directions.  Do the best you can and keep love, patience, and an open mind as the main ingredients.

A Mother’s love lasts long after she lets go.  I need not say more.

Thanks for reading!

Being raised with two mischievous brothers provided much joy and excitement. Thirty plus years of teaching disabled students (primarily boys) also gave me plenty of experience.  Thus, it came as no surprise when brother Mike and wife Susan asked that we care for their two young sons while they traveled for a two week European adventure. Our two daughters, Ruthie and Eva shared in the excitement as they envisioned two cousins needing female influence and play.

Summer 1998. Nephews Joey and Johnny had arrived. Joey, nine and brother Johnny age six, would be so entertained, that home and family would not be missed.  My experiences with boys was all too familiar. The teacher in me began to plan a full two weeks of activities and meals. Eva made plans to include her vast collection of Beanie Babies, Pez, and books.

Bidding farewell to Mom and Pops, the boys were anxious to head to the local grocery to purchase a few of their favorites. Eva and I made our initial stop at the breakfast aisle. Boring, non sugary cereal was our usual fare. Not today.

“Aunt Francie, Mom and Dad usually let us have one box of our favorite every two weeks,” informed a matter-of-fact Joey.  “Like this one with chocolate and peanut butter. It’s healthy too.”

“Toss it in the cart Joey. And Johnny, what’s your pick?” I joyfully asked.

“Ah, my favorite is this blue one with ghost berries Aunt Francie”, added Johnny. He quickly retrieved the box and we were on our way. Eva giggled as she chose the honey flavored oats.

The following morning the feast of sweets commenced. As both boys gulped into their third bowl of delight, a surge of nausea appeared. “Aunt Francie, we don’t feel so great. Do you think the milk was sour?”  Their faces of chocolate and blue appeared bleak.

“Ah, no, I don’t think so. Why don’t you two take to the couch and I’ll get a movie going. In a few hours we’ll take a short trip to the library. It’s a paradise for kids! The girls love it there,”  I chirped.

The bout of nausea was temporary. “Home Alone” provided a short respite for all three kiddos. “Ready for the library?” I cheerfully asked.

“Mom, we’re ready to go. Joey and Johnny, come on.” added Eva. Eyeing the boys, I did not sense the same excitement.

The library was poppin with kids. “Pick out any five books you want, boys. You will be staying for a while and I want you to find fun stories you’d like.  Unless you want to read from “The Babysitter’s Club” or “Beezus and Ramona!” I chuckled and nudged them.

Rather reluctantly, both boys selected a few books. Lots of pictures, little content. “So Aunt Francie, you don’t expect us to read these do you?  You know, we’re out of school right now and on vacation.” Joey grimaced as we made our way home.

The girls rolled their eyes and giggled. Voracious readers they were. Ruthie added, “You know boys, reading never goes out of style. Your imagination is as open as the things you read. Maybe we can take turns reading aloud to each other. It will be a little like playing school.”  Both boys nodded with minimal interest.

The first week flew by as we busied the boys with playgrounds, picnics, and endless food. No mention of missing home ever surfaced. We were enjoying the male influence as they were mannerly, however, not fully fascinated by “girly business”.

Into the second week, Joey and Johnny joined Uncle Dave for a few rounds of golf. Hunting lost balls in the swamp and woods kept them eagerly occupied.  A decapitated skull of an unfortunate rodent also made its way back to our home. According to Uncle Dave, the highlight came when each got to navigate the golf cart about the course.

“Aunt Francie, we found a skull of some wild thing, maybe a small dinosaur!” Johnny raced with excitement. “And me an’ Joey, we found hundreds of golf balls! Uncle Dave says we can sell them! Can we set a table outside and get some lemonade too? Like right now?”

Gathering the girls for lunch, we sat to hatch our entrepreneurial plan.  Ruthie would make the signage and lemonade. Eva located paper cups, a small table, and three chairs. Joey and Johnny washed golf balls and readied them for sale. Visions and rant of profits consumed one and all. Then came the wait.

By late afternoon, 12 iced lemonades had been sold. Sales totaled $4.85.  The kiddos realized “donations” were more profitable than a set price of twenty-five cents. Golf balls gleamed in the late sun. Three had been sold at $.50 a piece. Enthusiasm had run its course.

As 5 p.m. rolled around, it was obvious the business spirit had waned. Just as the boys were folding up shop, a UPS truck pulled into the drive. “So boys, what do we have here?” quipped the driver. “How ‘bout I take a couple of lemonades and some golf balls. Got any good ones?”

Joey and Johnny took action. “Ah, ya, they’re all good ones. We got about 37 here. How many do you want? They’re one for fifty cents or two for a dollar.”

“Boys, I think I’d like the whole box. How about I give you a twenty dollar bill for them and another lemonade?” Winking and a broad smile assured the sales team this fella was the real deal.

“Deal!” yelled Johnny. High fives and smiling teeth sealed the final sale.

Uncle Dave donated to the coffers and the kiddos happily split about $40.00 in sales. Closing shop and making a pizza to celebrate wrapped up a most lucrative day.

Our two weeks saw little lag time. Boy adventures along with girly activities kept all on their toes. Lions Training Camp ended the adventure for the boys. Autographs garnered and obstacle courses challenged. It appeared all lives had been changed for the good.

All in all, hair dryers and make up continued to occupy the bathroom. Two books had been read. Joey and Johnny had reluctantly shared a tea party with the Beanies. One added behavior enhanced the scene, as well.  The toilet seat took a newly found position: UP!

Lessons Learned

Kids are kids, no matter the age, no matter the sex.  Not certain the mix of cousins would gel, but our time together was seldom boring. Nervous excitement, too much sugar, loads of food, and literal, naive conversations made for a memorable education for all.

Laughter is really, the best medicine!  These lovebugs kept us hoppin. Lots of lighthearted days filled with dirty golf balls, feet, and hands, hungry tummies, and a skull to boot! Thank Heaven for these boys. Bless my girls. And bless our patience and humor!

Thanks for reading!