On the back cover of my first book, I write, "Biff believes he has a nose for trouble. Even kids at school call him 'Biff bait.' Like he was the bait that caught trouble and then reeled it in on a fishing line. Can he be just a regular kid and have fun? The answer is life-changing for Biff and his family." It seemed Stan had a nose for trouble, too. Several of the scenes in my book are true accounts of his escapades. :)
I have many good memories of growing up in our family. We never had a lot of money, and Mom worked very hard. She had to carry water to heat on the stove for our baths, and for the wringer washing machine before Dad fixed it so we'd have piped-in water. But she always made the best of any situation. For example, we couldn't afford new linoleum for the kitchen floor, so Mom painted it with a gray porch paint and daubed it with accents of left-over brightly-colored red, yellow, and blue paint, using a bit of scrunched-up rag. And Dad was quite the innovator himself, making a kitchen table and finding various chairs at auctions. One precious memory I have of Dad's love and care for us kids, is that he made a wide table set at a low height for us so we could color, cut, and paste to our hearts' content. He provided little chairs for us, too. Mom read many Bible stories to us, and she was the one who taught me how to read. It seemed I had a hard time learning it in school, but she explained sounds and syllables to me so it made sense.
Mom and Dad worked very hard to provide for us. I have especially good memories of living on my grandfather's farm, working with my mom in our large garden and helping her with canning and freezing food each summer. Every year we'd can tomatoes, green beans, vegetable soup, pears, peaches, applesauce and pickles. We froze strawberries and corn fresh from the garden. I can also still see the wash line filled with clean laundry for our family of seven. Fresh sheets and towels hung in long rows, and Dad's and my brother's pants on pants stretchers to save ironing. Mom taught me to iron when I was eleven years old, and we had lots of it to do! I also helped with the milking of our thirty cows morning and evening, year 'round. We all pitched in and helped each other with the work.
We had our hard times, too. My dad had a total of three heart surgeries during his lifetime, and each time, we children didn't know if we'd ever see our daddy alive again on this earth. After his first surgery, dear Mom had a nervous breakdown, but she recovered gradually as Dad would take us up to a special place he had fixed on the farm. It was a 10 x 10 cabin in the woods at the edge of a large field we called "the clearing". He built a fireplace in the woods near it, and we'd have hot dog roasts and Mom would rest in a chair and just look up at the lovely trees overhead. Daddy was very good to Mom, and she was a blessing to him, always encouraging him, believing the best in every situation.
I remember when I was in High School, one of my teachers asked the class to write about the person they most wanted to be like, and why. I wrote that I wanted to be like my mom, because she worked hard, was a good role model, kept the house in order, was a good bookkeeper, and kept a diary every day. And she knew her faith in Jesus was the most important thing in life. My teacher seemed very impressed, and looked as though she would cry. She told the class how very nice my report was. Other kids wrote about movie stars and pop singers. We didn't have TV, and we had one radio -- in the kitchen. So I didn't know about all their heroes. But I had mine -- in my mother!
On the farm, Dad had Bible reading and prayer in the evenings after supper as we gathered in the living room. We knelt by our chairs and took turns praying. What a wonderful legacy and memory. Mom read us Bible stories continually, and provided good books for us to read. I was raised on books like Uncle Tom's Cabin, and Marion Anderson. I enjoyed the Nurse Barton series and Christian fiction. Daddy built a big bookshelf and painted it tan; it sat in the living room in our farmhouse. He bought me a small, beautiful church pump organ at an auction one day, and I learned to play it by ear. He and Mom bought me my Aunt Fannie's accordion for my sixteenth birthday, and I played that by ear too. Those were precious times.
Daddy went to Heaven in April of 2003, but I am blessed to still have my mom (and all four brothers) in my life. I really miss my dad.
Copyright © 2011 Elaine Beachy
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