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.
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.
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.
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.
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:
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!
- 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!
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?
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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