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'h. A-j.
Kathryn
Hamrick
Page 2, Foothills View, Nov. 4,1982
about it wasn’t going to
make it go away, the
maternity clothes came
out of the closet.
They were scan
dalous. It was too late to
save the baby shoes,
they’d been bronzed.
The diapers had become |
jelly bags and the
diaper pail a garden
bucket. Dr. Spock had
lost his covers and the
chapters on rashes. We
were out of unusual
Hamerick names.
Four years and three
boys earlier, we had
gone through that sad
ritual of putting the crib
away for the grand
children. I don’t know
when I cried the most -
when we put it away for
the last time or when we
got it out for the fourth
time. (Next time I’m
burning it.)
I didn’t think I could
bear to have a fourth
boy. The farmer, who
made it through the
delivery again,
promised he’d cover up
my mouth when baby
boy was announced. I
didn’t want recorded in
the baby book that
mother’s first words
were: “Expletive
deleted.”
For me, the road
paved with good in
tentions ends in the
maternity ward. The
last time I wound up
there, on a snowy
February evening, what
helped me make it
through the night was
knowing that I was
trendy.
I almost gloated;
older women are having
babies and I was in on
the craze.
It is not an
exaggeration to say that
having a baby is a
hassle. Seriously, it does
not rank high on my list
called “favorite things
to do.’’ I’ve got
maternity burnout.
We needed a new roof,
not a new baby. But
friends were kind and
protected me from
Planned Parenthood.
The farmer said we’d
manage, that it wasn’t
any worse than a dry
year. I hid from my
mother. I laid out of
Deacons meetings.
When it became ob-
v.ous that not thinking
But in the middle of
the night we got Miles
instead. Next morning
the doctors remarked
that they knew I was
sure relieved that the
baby came at 2:00 A.M.
rather than in-
conveniencing the cows
by coming at milking
time. The doctors got
the expletives. The NEWSSTaND MAN:I am in charge of
farrner, who promised organizing a party for a group club. All the plan-
not to call our friends yesterday. The boy
until morning, did just responsible for getting the food told me he doesn’t
that at 4.30 A.M. have time to collect money and shop. The girl who
That was eight supposed to decorate the room told me she has
months ago. The fourth ygjp party.
Cleveland
Voices
The Humble
Farmer
By Robert Skoglund
boy has a special place
in the family even
though we didn’t think
we had enough room for
him. We feel so wealthy
because of him that the
expense of his existence
make him a bargain.
And Miles himself has
had so much fun that the
tread is completely
worn off his new
stroller.
Folks ask if vve’ll try
again. Unfortunately,
we don’t have to try. I
appreciate my
blessings, welcome a
challenge, and enjoy the
unexpected, but I hope
I’ve retired my splat
tered maternity jersey
for good.
A cold November I “At my age there’s no
drizzle had been coming | excuse for going out on a
down all day. Folks who day like today,” he said
had something to do to his wife Gladys as he
outside conducted their walked over to the
business quickly and window and looked out
else can help me with the details — I
already asked. I feel like cancelling the party.
Should I? B.L.
rushed back in to be by
the fire.
Ask The News Man
DEAR B.L.You are learning a lesson fast.
An extra armload of
wood had been lugged
into most homes. It was
one of those days when
These kinds of situations will constantly arise you sipped your coffee
during your lifetime. The decision to cancel the by the stove and ignored
party or try to make it a happy success might the kids as they fought
become a learning step which
develop you into a fine leader.
If only one person says, “Thank you, B.L.,” I am
sure you will feel good about yourself and the hard
work you accomplished. This decision will help
determine, for yourself, whether you are a leader
or a follower. — Newsstand Man
Questions for “The Newsstand Man” may be
sent to The Foothills View, P.O. Box 982, Boiiing
Springs, N.C. 28017.
could help to in front of the TV set.
The weather was so
bad that Gramp Wiley,
who was even more
pious than most of his
nearest neighbors, had
decided to stay home
from church that
morning.
The telephone rang.
Gladys had been told
many times that “A
man of my age can’t
leap out of the chair
when that thing rings,”
so she answered it.
Putting her hand over
the mouthpiece, she
whispered to Gramp,
“It’s your old neighbor,
Marjorie Simmons, who
married the Du Pont.
She’s here from New
York visiting her
granddaughter and
wants us to come down
tonight for a quiet
supper.
She says she’ll send
her car and chauffeur
up to get us if we’ll
Fodder Field Revisited By James Henson
at the thermometer.
Gramp dropped into
his soft swivel chair and
said, “A man would
have to be a fool to go
out today if he didn’t
have to.” Then he
swung his chair around
so he could look out
through the window and
watch the cars creep by
in the rain.
A few minutes later
his grandson rushed in
and said in an excited
voice, “Gramp, Bob just
got back from his trip to come. Says there’s no
the big woods. He got a one there but Lawrence
345-pound, 15-point buck Welk, Dolly Parton,
and there’s a Charles Kuralt and
photographer there Senator Muskie.”
from a big sports “You know how
magazine. scared I am I’ll catch a
Bob wants you to have cold,” Gramp replied,
your picture taken with “You can go if you want
the deer and him to, but I don’t dare ge
because yV)p ,taught him out. There’s nothing
Editor’s note: Just as littie puppies grow up to be
walking appetites, so corn that is planted in spring
grows up to fodder that must be pulled in fall.
Dr. James Henson, an education professor at
Gardner-Webb Coliege, recalls in his guest column
below some of his adventures and misadventures
with fodder-pulling last year.
Sometime ago my wife developed the notion that
our domesticated rabbits might like corn fodder.
To test her theory, she proceeded to gather a few
already dried corn leaves and poke them into our
rabbit cages, where they were avidly consumed.
This led to the suggestion that we should pull and
preserve some of the fodder in our one-terrace
corn patch, bringing us to the scratchy title of this
piece.
The trial run, just to see if I still remembered
how to tie a “hand” of fodder, was made in our
two-row popcorn patch.
Parenthetically, it will be necessary from time
to time to interrupt the graceful flow of this article
to define certain “technical” terms for the
education of the younger generation who have
never laboed among the rustling leaves of
Maydeae Gramineae.
A “hand” of fodder, therefore, consists of all the
corn leaves plus one that a fellow can hold in both
hands and keep pulling.
When this “plus one” blade has been gathered,
the fodder puller grips all blades tightly near the
stalk with his left hand while selecting a few of the
sturdier blades with his right.
He then wraps these sturdier ones around the
entire bunch and brings the end to rest in a crevace
by dividing the blades at the stalk end.
When he’s so secured the corn blades, he has on
his hands a “hand” of fodder. To rid himself of this
precious commodity so that he can keep pulling, he
breaks off a corn stalk at the first joint above the
ear and stashes the hand in a spearing manner on
the stalk.
The trip to the barn was as near as a country boy
could come to floating on a cloud. High atop a
wagon load of fodder, one was well-cushioned from
all the humps and bumps which the ravages of
time and erosion had inflicted on the world below.
Indeed, it seemed that the fodder somehow
converted those bumps and potholes into pleasant
buoyancy, without which the ride would have been
far less enjoyable.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to address more of
life’s problem bumps as from a wagon load of
fodder?
At the barn, the bundles were thrown into the loft
how to shoot.'Everyone
in the country will see
it.” ;J.
The great hunter’s
more dangerous than
getting a chill on a cold,
darkj drizzly night.”
A half-hour later he
There it is left to cure for two or three days In the and dribbled out to the livestock for feed over the
sunshine. following months.’
When the bundles of fodder have been throughly A typical feeding for a working mule of average
cured, they must be “toted” out of the field; size was two bundles of fodder and ten ears of corn,
conventional hauling methods such as trucks are In conclusion, the pulling of fodder has con-
impractical because of knocking down too much siderable educational value for the young. There’s
corn. probably nothing more likely to encourage further
“Totin’ out fodder” involves grasping three or education to be sure that fodder-pulling is not
four blades from each bundle and slinging the regularly included in one’s life’s activities,
entire collection of bundles over one’s shoulder I myself can report that despite my higher
onto his back, braving the saw briars, bull nettles, education the sights, sounds, smells, and feels of
copperhead snakes and pitched darkness while the fodder field are the same as they were 40 years
carrying the prized cargo to the end of the field. ago. I cannot say for sure about the tastes because
The next major step typically was hauling the I saved all the fodder for this article,
fodder to the barn, usually in big-wheeled wagon
propelled by two fodder-powered, gas-producing While not being scratched in a corn field. Dr.
(not guzzling) units known collectively as mules. Henson has been a member of the college faculty
The fodder was carefully stacked on the wagon since 1968, and makes his home in Forest City with
with the thicker stalk ends facing outward. This wife, Dorothy, and two children, Kathy and
led to load stability and had the added advantage Peter.
of keeping the load level.
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Funeral Home
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instructor swung his had just begun to attack
chair back and forth as a plate of warmed over
if he were trying to baked beans when the
make up his mind. phone rang again.
Then he said, “There Gladys answered it,
ain’t nothing going to nodded and said, “It’s
get me out on a cold day Jim Skoglund. He says
like this. Look at that the trout have started to
rain. Thank Bob for bite in the cove back of
thinking of me when you his house and that Burt
go down, and tell him it Ervin and Merrill Wall
ain’t fit for a man of my are out there pulling
age to be out.” them in two and three at
The young manatime.”
scurried off to see his Pushing his plate
neighbor’s deer, and aside, Gramp jumped
Gramp continued to lightly to his feet and
watch the cars go by as hollered, “Dig out my
he savored the stiffness boots and coat. I’ll be
in each of his tired old back in about four
joints. ^ hours.”
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