The family is one of
natureís masterpieces
Posted 5/30/02

Editorís note: Fannie Smith, who was born and grew up at Pease, will be contributing a bi-weekly column. Smith has written two books: "The Record Never Forgets: History of Court Reporting and Shorthand," and "Opportunity 1850: Netherlanders Go to America," a historical novel. Sheís now writing a third book, "40 Years and 40 Days-A Court Reporter," on her experiences as a court reporter. In her columns, she will tell about her experiences and also about her ancestors.

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I need to tell you, my readers, I came from an 80 acre dairy farm family near Milaca, Minnesota with parents who had hope and ideals for their children. My parents were supportive of their children; and left us know when they disapproved. They had faith in their God and in the future. Going through the 1930s depression brought us closer together as a family. My parentsí children - normal kids - were sensitive to their feelings - most of the time. It was rare if my dad wasnít whistling or singing. We wondered what was wrong when he wasnít. At the same time, we reviewed what we had done that could be displeasing to him. My mom spent her life in service to her family, so busy every day doing her best to make each of us, her little people, the best young integral parts of the whole around us, and the honorable adults we could be.

My mother spanked us when we were little. We didnít need spankings as we grew older. There was mutual awareness between us. This gave us confidence and a will to be an honor to them. We kids were sent to a private Christian day school and our parents sacrificed willingly to pay the tuition. In 1935, I was in an 8th grade class of ten, under a strict teacher-principal. My parents supported the discipline of the teacher. My classmates learned their lessons well, and we were rewarded by getting the highest class average in our county that year.

My teen years

Because there were no school buses for the public schools, and the one-way walk was over five miles, high school was out of the question. Some of the local Christian school parents made a proposal to start a high school, intending to add one grade each year. The depression was still with us. The parents of the 8th grade students were willing to make the necessary sacrifice, but when all the parents of the school met, the idea was voted down. It would cost too much.

As a 4-H club member, I was fortunate to learn cooking, baking and sewing skills. Every year at the county fair, I was competing. Each year, I worked harder to earn a prize. At home, I made good bread, pies and cakes. The family enjoyed these, though my mother was excellent in her baking, including cookies. My mother left me take over the kitchen on Saturday and I produced whatever my mother thought the family would eat. This gave her a break from that weekly baking chore. The kitchen was a total mess when I finished.

After I left home my mother said, "I was tired of cleaning the kitchen and was ready to tell you to clean up yourself." However, each week, I procrastinated and mother didnít like the mess so she or my older sister cleaned the kitchen. At the county fair I got first prize for the best loaf of bread. I also got first prize for sewing the best nightgown, for the best darn on a sock, and the best patch on an overall. Sewing didnít make such a mess and I sewed my own clothes during those years.

For me, the 4-H club gave me the beginning of an orderly house and home cooked meals. As an adult, it became my habit. From early on, I didnít care to clean and wash dishes. Then, I developed skin allergies from dish soap, and other products. That was almost a godsend because my husband with the help of a dishwasher took care of that. We had a cleaning lady for many years and still call on this help when necessary.

And so, when I didnít belong to the 4-H Club any longer and would have been in high school, I helped neighbors and relatives when they had new babies, or needed help on their farms: milking, feeding young livestock as well as gardening, canning and the general work-needs of the family. The going rate was $4 a week.

In the fall for some years, with a group of girls, I worked on Odegard farms, northeast of Princeton, harvesting potatoes and onions; two buckets per sack. We were assigned sections on the rows, following a two row digger as it traveled the field from end to end. For this seasonal work of 10-hour days, six days a week, we received about $12 a week, working on a per sack basis. That was good money.