Now we swing back again to the time of moving to the Bloemers farm. Prior to moving, it was necessary to clean out the barn, particularly the stables. Whoever had lived there before had used the stable area for housing cattle, not individual stations, but as as enclosure where the cattle could roam about as they pleased. This resulted in the entire area being built up with a considerable depth of manure. This all had to be cleaned up. Brothers Bill, George, and maybe Marv, on occasion, and myself took on the unpleasant job. During breaks in this smelly, tedious schedule we scouted around and soon located an old car, almost hidden away in the back part of the barn. Following that discovery, the next day we returned with wrenches and proceeded to remove every nut and bolt and every part which would respond to our strength and tools. We operated on the motor and every other place that looked inviting. We even used the force of a hammer when a nut or bolt would not respond to normal measures. We had Òworked onÓ it for quite some time, and had reduced it to a worthless shell, when word got back to Dr. Bloemers that his priceless 1912 Buick Touring had been stripped. The day is still fresh in my memory when Dr. Bloemers appeared at the farm. What method of transportation was used is not known, but he took off as soon as he heard what had happened. The scene of him confronting Dad with the fact that the car was like new when he parked it there and that now it was worthless, made shivers go down my back. He shouted, stamped his feet, waved his arms and used language not normally heard around our house and shook his fist at my Dad on a number of occasions. We stayed far enough in the background not to be seen, but close enough to hear. He threatened to kick us off the place (by then we had moved). DadÕs replies were not as audible as those of Dr. B., but an argument he used is that we should have been informed that the car was there and that it was not to be tampered with. How it was all resolved is not known, but it is known that this was a hot issue for quite some time. But our family remained.

That car remained in the back of the barn for years and years. No one seemed interested in it any longer. So, one day we hitched the horses to it and pulled it out of the barn and parked it under a tree in the back yard, behind the barn. The sight of it still makes me sick. It must have been a beauty with steering wheel levers controlling speed and spark. It was an open two seater which today would be invaluable. It weathered the storms out there under the trees for years. The only attention it received was a curious cow checking it out occasionally or using it for an itching post. Its final destination is not known for sure. It was still there when my turn came to serve during the Second W.W. in 1942. It is generally thought that during the war, many drives were held for scrap materials, and that on one such drive, the car was donated. Dad moved off the farm during my tour of duty, but on my return it was determined that the car was gone. Who knows, maybe it could have been restored.

Our house on this place, as previously mentioned, was large. It had a large kitchen, large dining room, large living room and parlor, and one bedroom on the main floor. The upstairs was mostly unfinished, except for one room used by the girls. The rest of the upstairs, including a large attic, was not finished. It was open to the roof with the outside walls open to 2x4Õs. Beds were simply placed in various locations and served for a number of years just that way. Then there came a time of improvements. Another bedroom area was enclosed. It was nothing fancy, just painted plaster boards for walls and ceiling. It never got painted, but it served the purpose. This room housed two beds. The unpainted plaster board became a place for art work, drawings, and what not. The only thing between us ant the outside were poorly fitting sidings which in the winter time failed to hold back all the snow. We would awaken sometimes in the morning to find snow on the floor along side of our bed and even sometimes on our bed.

One thing that may not sound very inviting, but which we accepted as quite normal, was the clatter of mice racing up and down the walls of our upstairs. Most of the activity seemed to occur at night. But of course, that is when our attention would be drawn to their commotion as we lay in bed and everything about us was quiet. They must have been engaged in a game of tag or something the way they constantly moved about. Their presence was regarded as part of the environment, and as far as is known, nothing much was ever done to try to eliminate the nuisance. Sometimes if sleep was affected, we would pound the walls in an effort to scare them off. This had a limited effect. They would be quiet for a short period of time, but when they realized there was no follow up, they resumed their fun and games.

Our bedrooms were not heated. Central heating was unknown in the country. Our home had one cooking stove in the kitchen, and a Òpot-belliedÓ stove in the living room for heating. The kitchen stove was for heating and cooking. A reservoir on one end served as a source of hot water or a kettle on the stove served the same purpose. Coal was generally used, but we also used a lot of wood. We were permitted to cut up any trees in the woods which had fallen due to storms or old age. Each winter we took to the woods. The trees first had to be sawed up into manageable lengths, split, hauled behind the barn, and sawed up into stove lengths on the buzz saw. The pieces were carried to the house and thrown into the basement for ready use when needed. The memory of sawing logs with a two man saw, Dad on one end and myself on the other still makes me groan.

Back to our home and heating. The living room was not used much in the winter time. Usually, on Saturday evening the living room stove was lit in preparation for our weekly baths. That was an ordeal in itself. A large tub was placed along the side of the stove. Such tubs were commonly used in the process of washing clothes and one not generally seen today. Water was heated on the kitchen stove, placed in the tub and each one, quite reluctantly, took his or her turn. How often, if ever, the water was changed cannot be recalled, but the procedure is quite vivid. Generally, the room was not too well heated, and the transition from long underwear plus other layers of clothing to standing nude in a tub with possible six or eight inches of water was quite shocking. The side of the body facing the stove roasted, while the other side nearly froze. Needless to say, the whole operation was performed in record time. And oh how nice and warm that newly washed woolen underwear felt right after a cold bath. How fortunate we were when physical health determined that taking a bath was regarded as a risk to recuperation.

In the summertime we used the entire downstairs. The front room, or parlor, was also used as a bedroom. Exactly when we transferred from the upstairs to the parlor is not known, but sleeping upstairs and downstairs is well remembered. It seems to me that we occupied the bed downstairs with three of us: John, Jay, and myself. It was a metal bed and in the summer, when the mattress became compressed, we slept below the side metal strips. With three in bed, the persons occupying the outside positions were generally awakened during the night from being pushed against the rail. A word about compressed mattresses. They were called Òstraw ticks.Ó They were large bags which, in the fall, were filled with fresh straw. In the process of filling them, as much straw as absolutely possible was stuffed into these bags making them almost round. When placed on the bed and used for the first time, it was necessary to climb up in order to get into bed. There was also the danger of rolling off and no doubt this happened on occasion. After continual use, the straw became compacted and slowly on the hill became a valley.

Home furnishings were very minimal. In our living room was a well worn couch, a type not seen today. It had a flat surface for the body and a sloping, elevated section on one end for the head. We had one upholstered chair, a couple wooden rockers and possibly a couple wooden straight back chairs. We had no wall-to-wall carpet in those days. Generally the floors were bare wood, but there came a time when we had a rug in the living room. A very important piece of furniture was the phonograph. The cabinet housed the turntable on top and record storage on the bottom. In order to operate the machine it had to be wound up by cranking a lever on the side. It was then good for a couple records, no such thing as long playing records. This was BillÕs favorite pastime. The problem was, our record selection was very limited, so consequently we heard the same records over and over again. Quite often he would lay on the floor and fall asleep. The sound of that phonograph can still be heard as it slowly wound down, going slower and slower until finally it would stop in the middle of a record.Television, of course, was unheard of. We didnÕt have a radio until somewhere in my teens, possibly. One experiment recalled is a crystal set which Marve tried to make operational. It seems to me the most we ever got out of it was some static. Then came a radio with dual dials. Each dial had to be synchronized in order to bring in a station. This was operated by one A battery and two B batteries. Reception was mediocre at best and there was always the problem of batteries giving out. The most effective radio we had was in the car. It wasnÕt built in as we know them today, but a separate unit installed under the dash. This was our favorite spot for listening to Harry Heilmann broadcasting the Detroit Tiger baseball games. There were problems here too. Sometimes the radio was used in excess of the capacity of the battery and no power was available to start the car. We often heard Dad remark, ÒYou youngers have been at it again.Ó Of course John and Jay were the chief offenders. When pickles needed picking or carrots needed hoeing, they could usually be found listening to the car radio and smoking cigarette butts.

The garage in which the family car and GeorgeÕs were housed was a make shift affair which served the purpose, but was never quite completed. Being a rental property, it was understandable that Dad didnÕt care to put too much into it. It was attached to the north side of the barn and near the west end with a roof slightly sloped for water run off. It had a dirt floor and was just long enough to get the cars inside with doors on GeorgeÕs stall only. The other stall was against the barn and always created a challenge in going in and coming out. A little snow or ice made it very easy to find yourself tight up against the barn. It seems that the ground sloped in that direction too, but we didnÕt seem to bother doing anything about it.

Back to the home. Our dining room was a large room. It had to be to have room for a table which could seat our entire family. DadÕs drop front desk was in one corner, MomÕs sewing machine along one wall, and other than the table and chairs, that was it. As the family became smaller the kitchen came to be used for meals during the week. But on Sundays, when the rest of the family came home, we were in the dining room. We always had plenty to eat. We knew there was a depression because we heard so much talk about it, but we never really felt it. In the fall, we would usually kill a pig and maybe a cow and all the meat went into cans. This was our winter supply and how delicious it was! We may have tired of it, but the thought of that canned meat even now makes my Òmouth water.Ó A thing to remember is the fact that we had no refrigeration. Our basement was our refrigerator. We had no problem with such items as canned meat, fruits, and vegetables because these were all processed before going into the can and as long as the can was sealed properly, there was no spoilage. And what a delicacy were all the bones which were left after the meat was cut off! When a pig was killed, the pork - the rind - was fried and then the hot fat and pork rinds were poured into a crock. In cold weather this became solid in the crock and always stood on the first landing leading down to the basement. Each day as supplies were needed, we went to the crock and picked away until we had a sufficient for a meal. This pork and fat were then reheated in a frying pan and served just that way. The fat was used for dipping our bread into and with the addition of a little syrup became a tasty morsel. Those pork slices were also good and especially those porous rinds. We used to let those accumulate on our plate during the meal, and then afterwards munch on the rinds only. Boy, that was good and sounds very inviting right now, except that health experts have now determined such food is not good for us.

Previous mention has been made of the cook stove in the kitchen, but a few things associated with it should be mentioned. In the winter the cook stove provided the heat for the kitchen and in spite of cooking, there was no discomfort from excess heat, but in the summer, when no additional heat was needed , the stove had to fire up pretty much as usual. This, of course, created unpleasant working conditions in the kitchen. Mom always baked her own bread and this required considerable heat. Oh, how the smell of freshly baked bread still stimulates the appetite! Just the smell of it was enough to make you want to dig in right away. Of course, it was best when fresh, but the freshness did not last long. The extra loves were placed in the cupboard unwrapped, and soon became stale. It was always more difficult eating the last loaf than the first. Years later when Dad stopped at the A & P and bought store bread, we really thought we had it made. But the newness soon wore off, and our longing for home-made bread was revived.

Almost everything we ate was home grown. We grew potatoes which were stored in a separate room in the basement. The entire winter supply was kept down there. The carrots we grew and kept for family use were stored in a hole dug in the back yard. The hole was generally deep enough to keep the carrots below the frost line. They were covered with a layer of straw and then topped off with dirt. In order to get at them in the middle of the winter, it was necessary to first clear away the snow and then pick away at the frozen top soil, brush aside the straw , and then reach in and remove whatever quantity of carrots was desired. Once the pit was opened, if not properly resealed after every use, the carrots often froze. The experience of reaching into the pit and grabbing into a pack of juicy, mushy carrots is well remembered. It seems to me that potatoes were also sometimes stored in this same manner. 

Our kitchen was quite large. It was narrow, but extended the entire width or depth of our house from north to south on the west side. The cook stove stood along the inside wall just to the left of the door leading to the dining room. A daily supply of wood was piled along side of the stove as well as a coal container which required constant attention. Coat hooks lined the walls on one end. The washing machine was also known to occupy this area in the winter. This was a Maytag with a gasoline motor which always smoked quite badly. A flexible metal hose attached to the exhaust, extended through a hole cut in the back door and out across the back porch. This took care of some of the smoke, but there was always plenty remaining in the room. Surprising that no one ever was overcome by those fumes. Except for a short counter and sink area, cupboards lined the entire exterior wall on the west side. Our kitchen table occupied the space on the end opposite the clothes and washing machine.

The sink was small with a drain which extended through the outside wall to the outside and maybe extended six inches or so beyond the outside sidings. From there the discharge from the sink found its own level as it flowed out across the ground. There were no septic tanks. Our water supply was a hand pump located outside near the front of the house. A huge crock stood along side of the sink. Each day, and usually more than once a day, water was pumped, carried into the house and poured into the crock. This provided water for cooking, drinking, dishes, and facial needs. This was one of the jobs around the house which was assigned to us by turns. Seeing the water level in the crock go down to close to nothing on a cold winter day was always a sickening feeling for the one responsible on that particular day. To make matters worse, sometimes the pump would lose its prime or worse yet, it would freeze up. This would require thawing it out before any water could be drawn.

We had no electricity. The source of light was kerosene lamps and lanterns. At maximum efficiency, they werenÕt much. The chimneys always became clouded with the smoke from the kerosene and the wicks had a tendency to burn out. So the