We lived "out home" during the hard times of the 30's and early 40's. In those days moving to the country wasn't trendy it was all about survival. We had a hand dug well, a two holer out back, a big garden and some chickens and pigs. The only utility bill was for electricity. Potbelly stoves were used for heat and mom cooked on a kerosene stove that used wicks and an upside down glass jug. The nearby woods provided squirrels, rabbits, wild berries and firewood. In the wintertime I kept two box traps on the rabbit trails in the woods and checked them every day before and after school.
When I caught a rabbit I would bring the trap home and dad would remove the rabbit. I like fried rabbit and would like to have some again soon. Dad kept a single shot 22 rifle under the front seats of the 31 Tudor and several times I recall coming home from town at night when a rabbit would stop in the road under the glare of the headlights. Dad would ease to a stop and pop the rabbit with the 22. I can still hear the puckata puck of that old Model A as dad took aim and dropped the rabbit.
The Model A was our "utility vehicle" back then and I shared that back seat with all kinds of critters. We hauled goats and pigs home with it and mom would often take live chickens to the grocer in town to trade for food. On the milk run, dad would take the back seat out of the car and take three 20 gallon barrels to the creamery for skim milk. On the way home we stopped at the bakery and filled the remainder of the car with stale bread. The bread was a penny a loaf and I think the skim milk was free.
When we got home the milk and bread was mixed in a big barrel to make slop for the hogs. The kids' job was to squeeze each loaf and the soft ones went in the house for the family. Sometimes we found a package of sweet rolls that could be warmed up to freshen them. I never developed a taste for fresh bread until I was older. Mom never did. When times got better mom never changed, she continued to live simply and frugally until we lost her at age 88.
I had a lot of jobs as a kid "out home" but I never considered them work. It was just a way of life. Working in the huge garden was my least favorite along with harvesting grapes. I had to crawl under the vines where it was sticky hot and full of spiders and bugs. Berry season was more fun and every year we picked gallons of blackberries to sell.
Butchering day was a favorite for all the kids because our job was to tend the fire under the scalding barrel and rendering kettle. Every neighborhood had an old hand that "butchered". Ours was Pa Stetzer. Ma and Pa Stetzer, their two older daughters and a few of my folks other friends would gather to help. The women cleaned casings and ground sausage. By the end of the day the sausage was stuffed, cooked and cold packed in wide mouth jars. The hams were sent to the smokehouse. The treat of the day was the hot "cracklings" we fished out of the rendering kettle.
My Model A always triggers memories of those years "out home". Dad's old Tudor was a big part of our life back then and I understand now why he kept it so many years after times got better.