R. R. 2, Brandon, Wisconsin 53919
One thing at a time! One day at a time! How else can a mother or
a grandmother live? In fact, I think it holds true for most of us.
And isn’t it good to know that God will provide the strength we
need just when we need it? A while ago I wrote some words which I
would like to use here.
Whatever in the world, which I, as a wife and mother have
experienced, would I ask to be liberated from? The mystery and
ecstasy of love? The feeling of security in being provided for? The
sweet, sharp pain of birth, and thus uniting with creation? God
forbid! A love child, fresh and perfect in my arms, and then
release from pain to savour accomplishment? These are the supreme
rewards of womanhood. What other possibilities, taken in their
farthest scope, can, eventually fulfill a true woman?
Women’s Lib, with all its dramatic fanfare, has failed to
take into account the fact that most of us are mothers at heart.
Ours should be the tender conscience that maintains the moral
structure of any society. We are the home builders, the family glue
that holds the home together. Lots of soapsuds (and dishpan hands)
go into the cleansing of the houses which encompass our small
units. Even so it is with the birds.
As I am snugly lying here in bed beginning this column, I have
had two visitors who seem most interested in the upper edge of my
open window. First came a sparrow who promptly ate a dead fly I had
squashed as I closed the window one day, and secondly a barn
swallow, who, I assume, has house building on her twittering mind.
They are busy this time of year, (early May) building nests and
rearing their young.
And you may wonder why I am so far ahead of schedule in writing.
It is really very simple. The family plans to come home in early
July and July 1st, is the column deadline. Oh my: My barn swallow
is back! I had better close my window or he will start building
between the window and screen. We have a good house for the martins
but he had better hunt a different eave.
A day or two after I began writing the first part of this column
I received the surprise of my life. Our daughter, Mary, who lives
in the southeastern part of the state, called one evening. Her
voice was both worried and apologetic. ‘Mother.’ she asked
pleadingly, ‘do you think you could take care of our baby for a
week or two? I have to have my goitre removed.’ Grandma felt a
minor shock of inadequacy as she answered firmly, ‘Oh
certainly, Mary. But what about Chris?’
‘Well, we plan to farm Christine out around here.’
After the conversation was relayed to my Mr. B. this Grandpa and
Grandma conferred for a while. We just wouldn’t hear of those
two little girls being separated, and Chris shuttled about. So it
was we got 3 month old Gwenn and 3 year old Chris to care for. This
column, needless to say, was laid aside.
What a change in routine! Bottles, diapers, baby food, toys all
over the floor! Well we made it! And after a week of needed
recovery I am beginning to function again. I was amazed to find the
routine restored so quickly. The problem was to find time to get
meals on the table for us between the bottles, the burping, and the
busyness. Amidst my state of extreme weariness was a glorious sense
of accomplishment which kept me doing what I knew I must.
Yesterday was quite another matter. I cared for a lady some
years older than I. The Christian Home of Waupun sponsored a bus
trip to the historic spot at Greenbush. My lady was Marie Richter
and what a sweetheart she was. She had the most attractive scarf
tied nattily around her head, even though her one hand clutched a
cane for support.
Wade House was a stage coach stop between Sheboygan and Fond du
Lac years ago. It is beautifully restored. The Carriage House was a
highlight for me. It had such elegant old-time carnages, hearses,
sleighs, cutters, top buggies, and even doll and baby carriages on
display.
If you plan to travel through Wisconsin the place is worth
seeing for those of us who cherish old things. We were hampered
some by walkers, wheelchairs, canes, etc. and didn’t see
everything we might have seen on our own. However, we did have a
ride on a canopied wagon drawn by two Belgian horses. (I am taking
one elderly gentlemen’s opinion on their breed.)
The day after our journey was pleasant and peaceful until 9:30
P.M. when a cyclone touched down 1/8 mile back of our house. Within
a mile of us, south and northwest, there are four barns down flat,
a roof off of another, a house whose roof is gone, and a little
farther north a barn, house, trailer and shed, completely
demolished. The beautiful woods back of our house and the woods on
the old homestead are shambles of broken trees. Three buildings,
(including two old barns) on our old home place are completely
wrecked. The trench silo was covered with fallen trees. There was
no sleep here until 3:00 A.M. This morning will add to the shock of
the devastation, I expect.
A young couple and their little boy live in a newly established
mobile home right beside these ravaged barns. The trailer was set
over the basement of the former house. While they were in there for
refuge, the mobile home was moved six inches off its base. Needless
to say, they were petrified. The little fellow screamed horribly in
fright. The young woman is to become a mother again in July. The
little family spent several nights with our son and wife. The two
girls are sisters.
So I guess it is one day at a time, one thing at a time. We are
so thankful to God that no one lost their life, and no one was
hurt. We are all in a state of unbelieving shock.
Next day my good friend, Mayme Hopp, helped me and we fed
thirteen for dinner, then back to the clean up. There are sixteen
barns gone in a seven mile radius, and several wrecked houses which
cannot be repaired.
