Old-time knowledge

Seems like this summer has kind of flown by, but at the same time kind of inched along. We have been busy, so one day kind of slides into the next and we lose track of which day it is. A week ago or so it was Memorial Day, which makes the week seem like it has another Sunday.

I visited with one of my sisters Memorial Day, and she said it was cool up where she lives in Nebraska which is nothing new. I remember one time mowing hay in July on an old H International and wearing coveralls and still being cold. I get to talking about the old days, and our boys begin to joke about how it was uphill to school going and coming home. I still like to think back to when I was little. If we had a good childhood, recalling growing up floods us with good thoughts and memories.

Mick and I were talking the other day about geraniums. He had been splitting his or starting new ones or something, and he commented how Grandma had geraniums in her windows in the old sod house. The walls were something like 2 feet thick so there were some awesome window sills. Grandma always had them filled with flowers and such. Always was neat. The old sod house was neat. Even in the summer heat, it was cool and then in the winter it was warm.

With the virus and all there has reportedly been a resurgence of baking bread. Kind of getting back to the basics if you will. One of the groups I'm a part of on Facebook had pictures of bread they are trying. At first it was just plain loaves of bread and then came the hoagie buns. Marge has made us some hamburger buns which were darn good. Back 50 or 60 or 70 years, baking bread was no big deal. It was a normal weekly necessity. Seems like every time we went up to Grandma Piihl's she was baking bread. There is nothing that taste's as good as a slice of newly baked bread, especially the heel, with some home-churned butter on it. Those of us who are old enough will remember.

Mom and Grandma had butter churns. It was kind of like a gallon jar with a paddle in it. You would put the sweet cream in the churn and start cranking. With persistence and time it would start to thicken up and little chunks of butter would form. Once you got the butter in chunks, Grandma or Mom would press these into one big chunk or a number of sticks of butter in a butter mold. What was left was buttermilk. Dad and Grandpa would drink it, but I couldn't get it down. I could eat the pancakes and such made from buttermilk. Now we buy the buttermilk in containers from the store. Times have sure changed.

When the virus came rushing in upon us, many weren't prepared. We might have had enough toilet paper to last a week or so, and that was it. So there was a rush to stock up, so we sure didn't run out. Same with milk and eggs and flour and other things which make no sense at all. I use these little alcohol swabs on my finger before I prick myself to check my blood sugar. It's now difficult to find these alcohol swabs. Go figure.

Many of the people I grew up around were born in the early years in the 1900s which makes me feel old! It was common back then to go to town a couple times a year, especially with a horse and buggy. You stocked up. The necessities like flour and sugar and coffee or tea and salt and pepper you bought in bulk. And even growing up Mom and Dad stocked up. It was nothing for it to be a month before going to Ogallala or a town of 5,000 to shop. There were some local grocery stores in Arthur, but their stock was limited. No worry about running out of the necessities back then because everyone had a stocked-up pantry and a freezer or two full of meat.

Much of the pioneer wisdom and knowledge has been lost down through the years. With the passing of the old timers, it's gone. Most never wrote down the how-tos and what-nots and what-ifs. Many had a limited education. A guy I worked for several years, had a third grade education. Dad had an eighth grade education. The old ways have always been fascinating to me. Years ago I came across a set of books called "The Foxfire Book." Not sure how many there are, but I know there are nine books in the series for sure.

A teacher I believe up in New York had her students go out into the Appalachian Mountains and interview the old timers who lived there about life in general. Just common day events we would find amazing, but for them it was just life. This might be a good time to bring books like this back into the limelight and relearn the knowledge lost down through the years. Maybe even start practicing some of their time honored ways.

There are stories in the Foxfire series on hog dressing and curing meat, of log cabin building, of making an ox yoke, of simple blacksmithing, of beekeeping, and the list goes on. There are stories of making wooden shingles or making lye soap. I made my first lye soap with the directions in the Foxfire books.

I was born in the early 1950s, so cars and tractors and packaged foods were here when I came along. There are a few still alive who can remember the Model T, but darn few. Some still remember having an old root cellar full of potatoes with long white roots running everywhere. A few.

Find an old timer. Spend time with them. Be willing to sit and listen. Don't talk but listen. Then write it down.