One of my earliest recollections in life was of me riding on top of Daddy's combine.  We were farmers, and Daddy had just purchased a new combine and had to drive it home.  We went awfully slow, but we finally made it home.  I think it was almost 30 miles from where he bought it.  I say "new combine".  The combine was only "new" to Daddy.  He never had the money to buy new farm machinery.  I guess many farmers think they have to have all new stuff these days.  We made a "living" on the farm, but Daddy never expected to get rich, as some farmers attempted to do in later years.  He never borrowed any more money than what he could expect to pay back in 5 years or less.

Another early recollection is when Daddy put up a rope swing for me down in the lower barnyard.  I must have been about 4 years old at the time.  He took the time to "hang" the swing so I could keep myself occupied and not bother him when he was trying to work.  He was working in the lower barn, a potentially dangerous place for me to be.  The hay loft "floor" was only wire fence and a few boards, with a lot of hay piled on top.  You can see why he didn't want me hanging around there!  Well, the new swing soon lost its fascination for me, and I struck out for the lower barn to be around Daddy.  I climbed up to the hay loft.  When he found me there, he gave me a sound spanking and took me on up to the house for a much-needed nap, according to him!  As you can see, I was very much a "Daddy's Girl"!  I ADORED him!!

Daddy used to play the "fiddle" for country dances every Saturday night.  Neighbors used to come from miles around every week to mingle, dance, and have a good time.  Daddy was quite musical, despite the fact that he could not read a note of music.  Everything was played "by ear".  There didn't seem to be a musical instrument in the world that he couldn't play, once he got "the hang" of it.  His musical talents included playing the fiddle, banjo, guitar, piano, organ, mandolin, zither, accordion . . . the list goes on.

One particular fond memory was my tenth birthday.  I desperately wanted a basketball and a basketball hoop.  By now, I was quite the tom-boy.  I loved tree-climbing and all the rough and tumble games that boys love, although basketball can hardly be considered a boys' game these days!  On the morning of my tenth birthday (birthdays were really special around our house back then), I got up to a pancake-and-sausage breakfast.  Afterward, Daddy handed me a big square package.  I still remember that grin and the absolute delight in his eyes!  Daddy's eyes were an incredible sapphire blue.  How they twinkled and sparkled!  His cheeks were always the rosiest red from working outside all day.  He was a small man in stature.  He was only 5'4" tall and weighed only 130 lbs.  Because of his small stature, rosy cheeks and twinkling blue eyes, he looked very much like an elf or leprechaun at times!  His impish grin that morning only added to the image.  When I opened my package, I found my basketball!  I was so excited!  I only wished I had a proper basketball hoop to complete the picture!  Shortly afterwards, Daddy took me out to the near-by shed by the house and proudly showed me the newly erected hoop up on the side of the building.  Now my joy was complete!  I remember that morning with awesome clarity!  My darling Daddy died in 1982.  But those early, fond memories of him continue to sustain me even now during my sad moments of reminiscing.

Well...it sounds like I am seriously neglecting Mom!  While I won't deny that I was a "Daddy's Girl", as I mentioned earlier, I still loved my mother too.  In later years, I can really appreciate the love and real self-sacrifices she put herself through - all for me!  I really wish she were here again (she is now deceased) so I could once again tell her how much I love and appreciate her!

I mentioned Daddy playing the "fiddle" at country dances while I was growing up.  What Mom did do to occupy herself in the meantime?  She danced!  She loved to dance and said many times, given the opportunity, she could have danced the night away.  So, while Daddy was "fiddling", she danced with everyone else at the dance - not only good friends and neighbormen, but also their wives.  Folks did that back then.

Mom was the busiest person I have ever known - to this very day!  Along with Daddy, she arose at 5:00 a.m. every morning, ready to attend to her share of the chores - feeding the chickens and pigs and helping to milk about 20 cows.  During the day, Mom was virtually a whirlwind of activity.  She went about the farm all day long singing hymns - her favorite pastime.  Every day had a set pattern - a real schedule.  Cleaning, ironing, sewing, gardening, mowing the lawn - the list never ended!  Almost everything we ate was either home-raised or home-grown, from beef, pork or chicken to fresh or canned garden vegetables.  Mom even churned our own butter.  The only items we needed to purchase at the store were necessities such as flour, sugar, condiments and toiletries.

I grew up in the 50's when times were still sweet.  The lifestyle was much more laid-back than today's hectic pace.  Everyone treasured their friends and neighbors and would do anything for them.  I was very lucky.  I grew up in a quaint little town called Kent, Iowa - about 50 to 100 people.  You know places like that - a "spot in the road" - both then and now.  I really treasure my childhood memories.  They wove a rich tapestry of heritage, friendship and love.  These were the times when you didn't worry if your children were out trick-or-treating, from door-to-door, and wondered if they were being given anything dangerous like poison or razor blades!

My childhood years revolved around our little country school, about 1 mile from our farm.  I attended classes there through the eighth grade.  Sometimes there was only one child in a whole class!  Despite the good memories, my teen years were somewhat lonely at times.  Our farm was about 7 miles from the nearest "real town" and my high school.  Thus, I didn't get to go to any of the after-school, extra-curricular activities, or to any movies or shows.  I saw my first movie when I was 14 years old.  The movie was "Old Yeller", and my folks went with me.

The rest of my childhood followed with the usual occurrences: bicycles, skinned knees, and countless hours of curling up with a good book on a blanket in the yard.  I was an "only child" back then.  I very much longed for brothers and sisters, but figured that fate had decided otherwise . . . I was adopted.  Little did I know that 40 years would pass before my dream of siblings would come true!