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4d,.» mt: i 14 7k Thresher/mi CHAFF IN MY HAIR... It's been over forty years since I labored :ll Lhe roarmg mouth of a threshing machine, rhythmically tossing sheaves of grain so they nestled head to toe with each other in an unending line pointing toward the chopping hlades. My memories are of hilly midwestern country where farms were small and equip- ment minimal, so a group effort was neces sary for threshing. A day‘s work at a neighbor's farm would huy a good days work in rettn‘n. It was a subtle point deciding when a son’s work was the equal of a grown man‘s. The man With growing boys was the most admired, because the day would come when he could send one or two of the boys and stay home to get some odd iobs done, while a man with no sons would have to drop everything and go. It was a subtle point deciding when a son‘s work was the equal ofa grown man's instead of two boys. The day Dad announced, “i think I’ll send Chuck today," was a milestone in my life. The amount of work produced that day was stupendous, for no one was going to say Chuck hadn’t done his share. And ah, that lunch! Every farmer’s wife was on her mettle to produce the best she could muster, Good times or not, the board at threshing had abundance unlimited and a ram-1y that taxed even the cavernous mm of a growing teenager. At the first clung from the old bell sitting on the post by the grape arbor, there was a mmeahlechangein tempo. Wagons inthe ,, field would hurriedly "top off” and come I basins on the back porch, Seniority existed here. The youngsters last. and woe he to him who seemed to take a fraction of a second too long ninning the community comb through his damp hair‘. The young ladies served their apprentice- ship here as did the follows in the field. While the matron of the house supervised, her daughters, and probably some of the neighbor's daughters, were circulating around the tables ' up under the trees, putting out the first of many dishes. If any young man was known to have romantic aspirations towards one of the girls, the next hour was going to he a hectic one. It took steely nerve and aplomh for a damsel to pour ice water, Without spilling a drop, into the glass of an admirer who had recently escorted her to a dance or social. However, as the meal progressed, piles of chicken, hcef, and pork became memories. Perhaps a lone potato remained of a large pile. Bread and butter pickles, preserved watermelon nod, and other condiments were decimated Only crumbs remained oi peach, cherry, and apple pies. There was much informal rivalry as to who could build the best-looking load. All too soon, “up and at ’cm” came sounding forth, generally from the owner of the threshing machine who was eager to get his job done. The pane back to the ham was at a distinctly diflerent heat, but we were soon in the swing of things. It was not all drudgery. There was much as to who could build the hast-looking load, who could toss the long- : est unbroken string of correctlyrplaced we 11ng the thresher, and what team Waunuould have the fastest loading or times. And "tight. [fit was a large crop, a , he made soon, whether to assumed In be sorted in a hurry; or should activity be postponed until morning, making necessary many changes of plans and the resultant deht of several more days of work to be paid back. When the last load had been run through, custom demanded a look at the counter on [he threshing machine which measured out the grain in bushels. Every farmer was busy making quickmental divir sions by the estimated acreage to see hOW wcll his croprraising ability was going to compare. This was important enough that I was once told by a man with a poor yield ., coming up to “give the counter a few extra, flips,” even if it meant a larger hill from the owner of the thresher. The chatting groups soon broke up as ' families piled onto their wagons and headed home to chores. The youngest son was usually allowed to drive the team home, since the horses were tired and quite docile by this time. If there happened to be a farm pond around, the older boys might r be found slipping away for a quick “skinny dip” to cut through the layers of sweat and dust. Few things have ever been as refresh- ing as a running dive into the cool springr fed farm pond. Once home, the day was not yet over. Horses had to be watered and turned out Chores were done in spite of aching , muscles that bade ill for the'morrow. But man’s job had been done andne day would again bring the work and sweat; . food and fun and the feeling of accomp _ ment that, to this day,lias rarrl been equalled. r ' Frtm Maw Hanna Ntms July '589 Ford New Holland News July l989