Looking Back
Lynn Griffith recalls summers on the farm with her grandparents.
Back in 1899, my grandpa Bert Thompson was born on his parents’ farm. Later, he bought that land, and that’s where he and Grandma Hazel raised their nine children. Grandpa and Grandma didn’t have jobs off the farm but they still clothed and fed their family. Oh, the memories! I never saw Grandpa in anything but overalls. He called me Suzie Q, which was not even close to my name. On Saturdays, we took his old red truck to town, and it was an allday affair. He only drove 30 miles per hour. If we saw a turtle on the road, he would stop and move it out of the way. The highlight of our trip was lunch at the Dairy Queen, where my aunt worked. Spring brought a yellow carpet of chicks to the biddy house. There was a big barn where we kids had many adventures and more than 200 acres on which to roam. A small spring bubbling out of the hillside held golden fish, even in winter. Of course, we played in a nearby creek—every child’s dream. There was a well out back for water, and oh, the outhouse! You had to watch for bees and snakes in there. We dreaded it! Grandma cooked on a wood stove, and it seemed like she was always cooking. She baked bread, pies, cakes or cookies. We drank cow’s milk and ate home-churned butter. Vegetables were from the big garden, and my grandparents butchered their own meat. They even had a smokehouse. There were pigs to slop, cows to milk and eggs to gather. Every summer I got to stay there for a week along with my twin cousins. The fun we had! All three of us slept in one big old iron bed. It was so dark and quiet, but that was never a problem. We were too worn out to be afraid of the dark. How I would love to be that little girl again. Grandpa and Grandma are both gone, but I will hold their memories in my heart forever.