The recollections which follow represent those which have come to mind personally. It is possible that other members of the family may recall more vividly a number of details associated with early life, but no attempt has been made to substantiate or to elaborate on events which may at times appear as isolated incidence with no apparent association with our family as a whole. While contemplating those things which are noteworthy and represent a significant place in my life, it is strange how certain happenings are recalled as though they occurred yesterday whereas other periods of life are vague and indistinct. Possibly they would be of no consequence anyway. Personal feelings and emotional accounts of specifics are sure to color the account as we move along.

The earliest recollection of personal existence, of being someone, of self, began on a farm later to be known as the Ten Brink farm on the corner of 104th and Stanton. We knew it as such only because in our growing years Simon Ten Brink and family lived there. This was the farm that Dad purchased, reportedly in the dead of winter, moving there from Zeeland. For those involved, this must have seemed like moving to the middle of nowhere. Considering the conveniences of city living and being close to friends, relatives, church, and shopping, a move to the country must have been shocking. In my early life nothing is recalled to indicate that this was an emotional experience or that it became a matter of regret or that it resulted in discussions of having exercised poor judgment. With the arrival of Spring, in the year of the move, the true condition of the property became evident. The land was very poor and making a living for an ever growing family was practically impossible. Dad eventually lost the farm through foreclosure. The John Handlogten family lived there for a period to time, followed by the Ten Brinks. Before leaving the Handlogtens, mention should be made of Helen Handlogten. In my estimation she was beautiful and even though she was considerably older, she still represented the type of person normally regarded as possessing the qualities necessary to accomplish something in life. Whatever happened to her is unknown to me.

Only a few things stand out in my memory of life on that farm. One thing vividly recalled is an incident which took place at the Ottawa School. This may have been my first day. Anyway, in the course of being introduced to other children, Al Meengs picked me up in a friendly sort of way. This was not to my liking. The harder I tried to get away, the tighter he held me, until finally my last resort was biting. This was administered to one of his fingers and it must have hurt, because he dropped me immediately and complained about his sore finger. We have seen each other innumerable times since then, but to this day, whenever we meet, the thought crosses my mind as to whether he still remembers that incident.

Also remembered is a particular meal with all the family together at the table. George had had problems which were diagnosed as St. Vitus Dance. It was a strange thing then and still sounds strange to me today. To some extent he seemed to have lost control of his legs and arms. Suddenly his legs would kick or his arms would jerk without any conscious effort. Whoever arrived at that diagnosis is not known and whether anyone else ever had it before or after is not known, but at this particular meal, the matter of George having to go to Ann Arbor for treatment was discussed. In those days, Ann Arbor seemed like the end of the world. He could have gone to London and it might not have seemed any more distant. Mom was to take him there. It is assumed that she did. Memory of what happened is clouded. What remains clear is the feeling of remorse, of sorrow, which struck everyone. Recalled is my own reaction of leaving the table, going outside and crying and crying. Ours was a large family, but if one suffered, we all suffered. This aspect stands out in my mind as characteristic on many occasions. Many a tear was shed over members of the family during sickness, when getting married, or leaving home. We depended on each other. Age variance made no difference. We were one and when part of that unit was missing, there was real concern. Undoubtedly, there will be more references to poverty as we move along, but we were poor. The beauty of the condition is that we didnÕt realize it. Everyone was poor and had trouble making ends meet. Everyone was in the same boat. Getting back to George and his going to Ann Arbor, trying now to imagine the frustrations this must have created makes me wonder how the family held together. Imagine George and Mom leaving home, leaving family, with very little money, no cars, going to a strange place, not knowing exactly where or what they would find. Today we think very little of going to strange places and traveling great distances, because the farthest of points have become so close to us through modern transportation and methods of communication. Not so then. It must be that our loving Heavenly Father was watching closely and that He has a host of angels caring for us all the time.

Sometime in the course of the years we acquired a car. It was a Ford touring car with removable side curtains. Oh, to have one of those now! It wasn't bad in the summertime, but it wasn't ideal in the winter. The earlier models didn't have the luxury of a heater. Later on a manifold type heater became available. It was a simple device, a metal housing attached to the manifold (exhaust system) running along the block from a point close to the fan to a hole in the floor of the car. The heat from the motor warmed the air forced through the housing by the fan and in turn brought some heat into the car. It was better than nothing, but there were so many holes where the curtains did not fit properly, or were just incapable of closing out the air so that competition often overcame any real benefits from the heater. Anyone riding in the back seat had no benefits at all. Blankets were always carried along to huddle up in. Many such experiences come to mind. Taking a trip to Zeeland did not occur frequently, but what an occasion it was when we did go. We always knew well in advance, like next week Saturday. When that day finally arrived, we couldn't wait to go. We always stayed close to home to make sure we were not forgotten. We usually got to go downtown just to see the sights. There was no thought of candy - maybe there was thought, but certainly no hope. We generally visited Uncle Hank and Aunt Katie Karsten. There were many other relatives living in Zeeland also, but we very infrequently visited them. The Karstens were our favorites. We always felt welcome there. Aunt Katie (Mom's sister) was such a kind, loving individual. We didn't think then in terms of being a Christian, but she most assuredly was a Christian. Possibly most of our family at one time or another spent days at a time with the Karstens. Not much is remembered about their daughter Marg in those days. Maybe she was already married. Hop Karsten is faintly remembered , but besides Marv Lamer, the two we got to know best were Bill and Betty. Betty was such a sweet girl. I never could figure out why she never got married. Bill was the distinguished business man. He was always quite quiet, but when he spoke, he spoke with authority. He was one we always looked up to. Marv Lamer was my age, He came to live with the Karstens real early in life following the death of his mother, Aunt Nellie. He continued to live with them until he went into service and was killed during the Second W.W.. He will enter the picture again later on. A thing remembered about the Karsten home was the huge grandfather clock which Uncle Hank had made. It was a beauty with its deep tones ringing out the quarter, half, three quarters and hourly times. The use of their bathroom was also a new experience. They had a flush toilet with a chair pull which released water from an overhead container. Besides, this was located inside in a heated room. That was quite a luxury compared with our outside 'Jon'. Eventually the time would come to leave for home. We kids, as many as possible, crawled in the back seat, covered ourselves with blankets and somewhere along the way fell asleep if we were lucky. It wasn't just a fifteen minute drive either. In the first place, the car couldn't go fast and even if it could, it wouldn't have mattered. The roads were dirt roads with bumps, ruts, mud or whatever, depending on the time of year. So spending the time in sleep was hoped for to hasten the journey and alleviate the misery. One last comment on early life on the Ten Brink farm. It still seems strange to me that a major occurrence, such as the burning down of the barn never left an impression upon me. It reportedly happened, but the memory of it is gone.

This era marks the beginning of our stay on what was known as the Bloemers farm. This farm was located only about three quarters of a mile south on 104th Avenue from where we formerly lived. As kids we thought we really had it made. The fact that Dad lost the previous place never reflected in our feelings, nor did it distract from our eagerness to move. This farm was owned by Dr. Bloemers, a veterinarian, who lived in Minneapolis, Minnesota. His brother lived not far from our previous farm, attended Ottawa Church and no doubt had something to do with putting Dad in touch with Dr. Bloemers and eventually resulted in our renting of the farm. This was quite a farm, more acreage, much larger house, big barn, several other buildings, and a wooded area which bordered a creek. That creek will be considered more fully later. Memory is clearer on events which took place on this farm.

Mention has been made of our outside 'Jon'. This may not be the place to go into detail on our outdoor facilities, but it might be forgotten later. These 'outhouses' were usually located a short distance from the house, built for the purpose of relieving ourselves. It had a door and some even had a peep hole in the door. That wasn't really necessary because there were generally enough cracks in the building or around the door to determine at a glance whether the place was occupied or not. Some also had an opening on one side about 6' by 10'. More often than not, this was just an opening with no glass in it. It wasnÕt really needed for ventilation, because there was plenty of air circulation without it. And, it was too high up on the wall to be able to look out when seated, so it wasn't needed to watch for anyone else approaching. Maybe it was mostly for appearance. Inside, against the opposite wall from the door was a bench sort of arrangement with two holes cut out of the board which served as the seat. Usually one hole was smaller than the other to accommodate children as well as adults. There may have been the fear that small children could fall through if only large holes were provided. In simple terms, when the urge to go could no longer be suppressed, you made your way to the outside 'Jon', sat down and relieved yourself. The structure was movable and had to be because it was placed over a hole dug maybe six feet deep. This location served until the hole became full. The hole was then covered up and another hole dug with the outhouse moved to the new location. We never knew about toilet tissue in those days. The standard supply was a Sears of Montgomery Ward catalog. What a blessing it was to finally have the old catalog used up and to be able to start on a new one. You see, the catalog had soft sheets as well as shiny, slippery, course sheets. In fact, it always seemed that the bulk of the sheets were of the latter type. Naturally, the soft sheets were used first and then came the hazards associated with using the slippery pages. While dwelling on this subject, it should be noted that the covered up holes required refilling occasionally to prevent the possibility of someone walking across such areas and sinking in, boards were placed across the hole until such time as it was determined safe. Another thing should be mentioned. Very little effort went into trying to make the unit weatherproof. The wind freely whistled in through the sides, the door and particularly through the seats and holes we sat on. On warm days there was no great problem, but on cold wintry days, 'going' was experience all by itself. You can be sure no one went unnecessarily and no one lingered very long. During snow storms, just getting in was problem and sometimes by the time you had the seat cleared of snow you either couldn't wait any longer, or you lost the urge. It is surprising that our health wasn't more directly affected by this inconvenience than it was. Who know, maybe there were definite ailments traceable to a reluctance to 'go'. In this situation, as well as the state of poverty previously mentioned, we never considered ourselves deprived of anything, because of an out side 'Jon'. Sure, the warm room and flush toilet of Aunt Katie was nice, but on the farm we were back in our own element again with no feeling of jealousy. All the farmers, all our farmer friends, all the kids at school, used the same method for relieving themselves.

The 'outhouse' served another useful purpose. Most of us began to experiment with smoking quite early in life. This, of course, could not be done in the open because Dad and Mom did not approve of our smoking, at least not at an early age. The present day stigma attached to smoking did not exist in those days. Almost everyone, sooner or later, either took to smoking or chewing. Anyway, the 'Jon' was used for that purpose. Many a time we barely escaped detection, at least we thought we had, only to have the next occupant report a strong odor of smoke. This would lead to an inquiry as to who had used the 'outhouse' as a smoke house.

While on the subject of smoking, the corn field was also a favorite place for engaging in forbidden pleasures. Armed with newspaper, we took off for the cornfield and in late summer when the corn silk turned brown and dried up, we rolled it up in the newspaper. Now, to the inexperienced, this may sound relatively simple. Not so. In the first place, newspaper id not stick together very well. Even after thoroughly wetting the paper with saliva, it still tended to come loose and fall apart. Another hazard was the fact that newspaper quite readily burst into flames as well as the dry corn silk. This required a considerable amount of clever manipulation to satisfy the desire to smoke, but at the same time avoid scorching the face or hair. One incident well remembered was a time that Marv Lamer came to visit. We went to the woods to look for porous roots. Marv had convinced me those were the best for smoking. We found a number of perfect specimens. His instructions were to put one end in your mouth, light the other end while taking a deep draw. This was done, but to my deep regret. The porous root was a perfect conductor of the flames from the match. Oh, did that hurt! My mouth was sore for quite some time after. He just stood there and laughed and laughed. Another source of 'tobacco' was the dried seeds of ragweeds rolled up in newspaper. Even though these adventures often left us 'sick as a dog', we didn't give up. Another favorite hideaway smoking spot was under the bridge of the creek along the edge of our farm. More on the creek later.

Along with time, came advancement in the smoking technique. What a great discovery when cigarette papers with adhesive came on the market. By then we had also graduated to bags of Bull Durham tobacco. One occasion well remembered was a night Jer and Ray Morren came over with a cigarette rolling machine and packages of Bugler tobacco. The tobacco was placed in one end, the paper in the other and then by pulling a lever the gadget rolled the tobacco into the paper and there we had a manufactured cigarette. Sometimes they were rolled so tight it was almost impossible to draw through them, but by experience this soon was corrected. With advancing years came the day brother Bill would share his cigarettes with me. He always loaded up with Marvels, Wings, or Sensations every time the peddle wagon came on Tuesdays and Saturday.s He sure was good hearted, but his moods often changed. One day you could be his best friend, and he would give you anything, but the next he might be at odds and then we stood the risk of him telling Mom or Dad everything he knew - including the fact of smoking. John and Jay did not enjoy his good graces in the distribution of cigarettes as early as I did. They were the 'butt snatchers'. They went around looking for cigarette butts that had been discarded and really thought they had something when they found one only half smoked. Their usual rounds were the ash trays of cars particularly.