Bootlegged Chores

Moonshine making was still a very profitable business in the 50’s, especially in The South. Mr. Washtub (affectionately named by his customers because he made his stills out of #2 washtubs) has long been gone to the distillery in the sky, but his memory and maybe even some of his fire water….lives on.

Now children of farmers, like myself, help on the farm.  Naturally or unnaturally as it may be, children of moonshiners often helped with the family business of making shine. Most of the chores were limited to buying sugar or maybe hauling in the wood used to keep the cooker burning.

Mr. Washtub was either a very smart business man or a very bad parent, but who am I to judge? One of Mr. Washtub’s sons, Bud, was delegated to be the delivery boy. At the young age of seven, Bud often ventured out to do his chores in the wee morning hours. “Boy you get that money before you hand them the package,” was Mr. Washtub’s primary rule when it came to Bud’s primary chore.

As far as I know, no deep psychological issues were developed due to Bud’s childhood chores. Actually, his experiences developed him into a unique, loving and fully southern character.  He is definitely worthy of the common southern title, “one of the best men I know.”

I’ll close with a quick tale that is too short to stand alone.

Mr. Washtub and a cousin of his were on the way home from a dance in the Springhill Community. There had been a big rain while they were at the dance and the bridge at Mt. Ida had washed out. The bridge itself had dropped down about five feet. Mr. Washtub always carried around a Beretta gun in his back pocket. When he jumped down to the bridge, his gun went off. Luckily, Mr. Washtub escaped with only a hole in his britches. 

Chore Charts and Chopping Cotton

Chores. Ahh, the word most dreaded by my children.  Whenever I hand out the chore list, without fail someone always simultaneously develops a stomach ache, or headache, or some similar illness. I am not sure if they have developed an allergy to the paper that the list is printed on or what? Although I do have a sneaking suspicion that these are only excuses. 

Putting up the dishes, wiping the table off, folding laundry, etc. These chores are a bit easier than my duties as a child. Not that I didn’t sometimes enjoy my chores, but feeding pigs every morning and helping to put out feed for 70,000 chickens takes a bit more effort than folding underwear.

 

Now, an introduction to my upcoming story.

Children’s chores, say seventy years ago or so, varied greatly from modern children’s chores. Seventy years ago children from farm families picked tobacco, pulled corn and/or chopped cotton.  Many children here in The South (Yes The and South are supposed to be capitalized! LOL) were still wringing out laundry and hanging it outside to dry. Other children…..well some of them had some very, let’s say unique chores as you will see in tomorrow’s story!! Stay tuned!

Plowing Through the Past

There are only about a thousand stories I could tell from this one picture, but I’ll try to stay focused. As we all know, years ago (as my Daddy would say), most folks farmed for a living. There wasn’t a lot of monetizing within farming one-hundred years or so ago. The main intent of many of these farmers was to put the fruits of their labors directly on their family’s table. I’m sure this middle buster on my mail box helped fill many plates. I have always wished that I lived back in those days of working to live and not living to work; that is until someone reminded me there was no indoor plumbing.

Middle busters were used with what is called a Georgia stock plow. The Middle buster was one of a few different “sweeps” that could be used with the plow.  The middle buster, with the help of a guided mule and plow, created the rows and the furrow in which the seeds were planted. Another sweep was used to cover the seeds up after they were, of course, planted by hand.

The stock to this middle-buster would have been made of wood and is probably long rotted away. I had the pleasure of stumbling upon this piece of history a few years ago while treasure hunting in the woods around my house. I am sure the person who used it long ago never thought it would be put on display and be considered such a treasure to someone.

The majority of the antiquated “decorations” inside and outside my home are not just adornments. They are all prized pieces with stories begging to be told. Until the next treasure speaks to me……….

Sights and Sounds From My Front Porch....ahhhhhhh

Boots....Feeding America and My Heart

Boots. Not cowboy boots. Just boots .Growing up, I did not know there were there boot styles outside of the cowboy kind.

When the UPS man delivered the big box from Sheplers, I knew it had Daddy’s boots inside. Okay sometimes it was a hat. No, not a cowboy hat, a hat. Same story, different tune.

Boots, boots…back to the boots.

Without opening the box, I could describe the boots to the T. Always the same brand, always the same style. Like his choice of boots, my Daddy is consistent. He gets up with the chickens every morning, literally.  There are no weekends for him. Farming doesn’t permit sleeping in. He works steadily, and loves consistently.

 Each morning after working the chickens, (chicken farmer slang for picking up the dead ones, adjusting curtains, foggers, feeders and checking and re-checking everything) he feeds his barn cats. What’s a farm without barn cats right?

My girls love feeding the cats with Poppa and they look forward to this time with him. They depend on him for hugs and compassion when in trouble with their Momma.  They look forward to “helping” him and they know their help will be greatly appreciated. They bank on their Poppa to randomly give them a dollar to put in their pockets. (No pun intended).  His boots are always put to good use. They are used to help feed America.  God has used my Dad to develop good character in his children and grandchildren. Although Daddy does not realize it; God uses him as a living historian and many of the stories he has shared will be used on this blog. 

Work is slow, but the bills are coming in hot. Prior to this week, I was up to my ears with work. Thankfully my eyes are an abnormal distance above my ears and I could still see a bit ahead into the future. I knew some downtime was coming and  this blog deal has been in the back of my mind jumping up and down screaming “take time to work on me, please!!” for quite awhile now. 

Today was my first “slow” day and the first thing I thought of this morning was writing a blog entry. Nothing really came to me so I decided to put a few items up for auction on Ebay to help take up the financial slack. Kamryn has outgrown her favorite pair of boots and they are now up for bids. I took the first snapshot for the auction, previewed it in the viewfinder and boom……first blog entry catalyzed! Taking a trip into town to pick up some farm supplies and then…..blogging about boots!!!