52
Ancestors in 52 Weeks: Week 36
Prompt: Labor
#52ancestors
Life on the Farm
Labor Day became a federal holiday in 1894. It was created to honor the American
labor movement and the works and contributions of laborers. It seems only right
to talk about the laborers in our family this weekend. Most of the
members of my family were farmers, so while there doesn't seem to be much to
write about, they fed their families, often sold their produce to others,
moving when they needed to move.
My Grandpa McCarley was one of those men. He worked hard and moved from being a tenant farmer to owning his own land and farming for himself. Before and after owning his own land, he worked on the railroad and in the oil field, made pies in a restaurant, and other jobs. Eventually, he bought some land between Marlow and Lawton, Oklahoma very near Central High School. A small community built up around the school and many years later incorporated as a town named Central High. When Grandpa bought the land there was a small tank that rarely went dry for the few horses and cows. The tank was the center of many of the adventures and happenings on the farm.
Grandpa had a gift that he may have inherited from his Father which manifested in several ways. One way was that Grandpa was a water witcher. He often helped neighbors and others in the area to find water on their land, but no matter how many times he walked his own land he wasn't able to find water. The water for the tank must have come from very deep underground. There was a well on the far north east corner of the land, far from the house, but there were never lines laid to bring water to the house. Grandpa dug several wells around the house but they were dry. His gift that helped so many others was not able to find the water they needed near the house.
All of the children worked on the farm. They helped with hauling water, branding, hoeing, picking cotton, feeding the chickens, and cows and all the other chores that had to be done to keep a farm afloat. Everyone developed a strong work ethic, whether they worked outside or inside the home making sure that there were good meals, clean clothes, and a comfortable place to sleep.
When we moved out into the country, the one thing my mother refused to have on our one acre "farm" was chickens. One of my mother's jobs growing up was feeding the chickens and gathering eggs. She hated the chickens, having been chased many times. Another favorite job was milking the cows. The evening milking came at just the wrong time when she was dating. She couldn't milk the cows before she got ready for a date because that was too early and if she waited until after milking the cows, then her date would get there before she was ready. I'm sure it was a pretty picture to watch her pick her way across the barnyard to milk the cows in her old boots and party dress tucked up out of the muck. Then hurrying back to finish getting ready.
When she was younger, most Saturdays the family would load up and go into town. They would go to the store if they needed flour or other types of supplies and visit family that lived in town. They didn't get treats very often, because Grandpa said there wasn't money for foolishness. One Saturday, the billboards at the theatre got his attention and he decided a special treat was in order for everyone. During that time, the movies were shorter and would end in a cliff hanger. The cowboy hero would be hanging off a literal cliff or maybe was headed into an ambush. It was always very exciting. The next Saturday, the movie would take up where the last one finished. For many Saturdays after that, they would go to the movies every Saturday. It was a welcome break from the farm labor.
Gladys and Thomas Osa McCarley
One of my favorite pictures of my Grandparents.
This was fun to read. But my dad, being the only boy in the house, had some different stories to tell! He loved it, obviously, since he bought the property some years ago. But I'm haunted every time I look at his permanently bent fingers from the frostbite he endured as a pre schooler trying to herd the cows to safety during a blizzard, because that was his job. I love my daddy's hands. We later generations have so much to be thankful for because of who our parents were and what they accomplished.
ReplyDeleteThere are definitely more stories to tell. It is hard for us to understand having a preschooler work the same job as a grown person. I would love to hear more of your Dad's experiences. I'm sure that in many ways he had different experiences.
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