Grocers in town were a bit more generous when we paid our bill; then they slipped in a bag of candy for us kids. Those little striped bags contained peppermint, lemon drops, or if really special, some of those choice raspberry candies. We measured our popularity by the number of gaudy calendars we received from the merchants. Most of them were frosted and we had one in every room; the homeliest ones hung in the out-house. We couldn't bear to throw them away even when out-of-date.

Peddlers of Walkins and Raleigh's made their rounds and Mama bought her spices and vanilla and salves then. When she hesitated to buy, they assured her," We'll take hens!" And hens they got!

Tramps roamed the countryside and invariably stopped and asked for a meal. If they offered to work for their mealS, I don't remember. Perhaps, Mama knew she had trusted hands a'plenty amidst her own flesh and blood. Feed them she did. We little ones were aghast when one tramp gulped down a whole tasty glass of apple jelly. That glass would have served eleven of us for two meals. Papa taught us how to spread it thin! To get the last bit of food, he could also scrape a cook pan cleaner than you could wash it!

With the exception of horses, pigs and cows, the animals roamed at will. The sheep were the lawn mowers and they did a good job. We had no long grass around our place. Tall grass invited flies and mosquitoes. How helpful it was to us milkers, the mixture ( perhap DDT ) that papa put in the can with the sprayer and applied as a quick whisk of "bug-begone" to the cow's legs, so that they would stand still during milking. The cows welcomed it too.

A true menace on the farm was the male sheep, or ram, called "Buck" who liked the rear approach. He'd watch till you had your posterior handy while gathering wood or carrying pails of milk, then he would charge and "ram" without mercy. If you could keep your eye on him, he'd leave you alone. Off and on we'd get a fiery rooster that felt his job was to protect the nests against all comers. He'd jump on our backs in a bundle of fury. Mama would shortly make good soup out of him.

Going berry picking at Cranberry Lake, fishing in Lake Poinsett, or Lake Norden, spring cleaning with no vacum cleaner, cooling off and cleaning the pot-bellied stove, and moving it to the "corn-closet" upstairs, hatching a batch of fluffy chicks in an old, unpredictable incubator were experiences that bring to mind pages of memories. Enough to mention them.

I do remember the more fortunate people who could order their chicks from the catalog and come spring, our rural mailman had a chirping concert his whole delivery. Some aroma too, when certain chicks couldn't take the long trip. Neither can any of us forget the bottle-fed lambs, and especially our orphaned pig. He was such a nuisance as he would follow us around like a dog.

King our horse would be hitched to our one -furrow sulky plow; it was guided by hand by Papa or Mama or whichever offspring was handy; it looked like we were pushing the horse. Papa would confer with the Farmer's almanac, but didn't plant by its predictions.

Who would forget butchering time, with the umpteen crocks of rendered lard? Lard was also used as a preservative of salted fried pork, then stored in the basement. Ground beef had to be perserved by canning or by being salted down.

We could mention the trees which we were privileged to saw down at the Neighbor Kirby's place and hauled home to expect further treatment; the call to awaken in the early dawns, to dress in the cold, help milk, eat our oatmeal or pancakes, help pack lunches for school and set off on the two and a half mile trek.

The schoolmarm thawed out the frost-bite when we arrived, and Mama used the same procedure when we arrived home with more frost-bite. It was the accepted treatment, using snow, and it worked. All nine of us attended a one-room schoolhouse with grades one through eight taught with many distractions for concentrations.

Oh, we remember the May flowers on the school section, the band that Papa trained and had them rehearse in our house; the flinch and carom games; Papa turning off the motor to save gas when coasting down the little hills, our old phonograph, the organ (oh, how we loved to hear Mama play it and sing), the typical expressions of any Norskie, or Norwegian, such as "uff da!", "ah nay-men," "ja," "ya-da," "ver-saa god," also calling the youngest girl "Tuta" and the youngest boy "Tupin".

Links to other sites on this Website

MAMA AND PAPA'S STORIES
WHAT FOREBEARS KNEW
THE STADEM'S GENEALOGY
TALES FOR A LITTLE TUPIN
OUR LINKING PAGE

Most of all we remember the spiritual life and atmosphere of our home. The concern for and dedicated efforts to live a Christian life. This we remember in our home. The family devotions each evening and on Sundays if we couldn't make it to church in town because of road conditions. This didn't happen very often because if the roads were too wet, we'd go by horses and wheels. If too much snow for the car, it was by horses and sleigh. All week we worked to prepare our clothes, shoes, lessons, and the conveyance so that we should be found in our local congregation, five miles from home.

There we received Sunday School training in which Papa was the superintendent for many years, Mama and Papa both taught classes and sang in the choir; Confirmation instruction, Vacation Bible School (six weeks straight), then of course with VBS we often had the teacher stay at our house. This afforded us a ride. Otherwise we could use a horse and buggy or walk if Papa needed the horses in the field. Attending the church services we did! Never did we ask "why?" even if at times we wondered.

The trip to Bible Camp at Lake Geneva when Papa fixed up the truck made over into a bus by which twenty people (family, friends, relatives) got to attend, gave spiritual assurance to several after the week. After grade school we were privileged to attend Augustana Academy, a trip which we took mostly by train over a hundred miles from home.

Always tears were shed as we left home. Before Papa started the car, as we sat ready to leave, and the younger ones with Mama standing by, the finale was to sing "Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow!"--an unforgettable doxology hymn. It left a deep impression and a long-remembered tradition. Not only did the nine of us receive Christian education, but somehow Papa and Mama put aside monies so that even the grandchildren could take advantage of the oportunity of attending a Christian high school.

A Christian respect for the nation was instilled in us, and Papa especially stressed Christian leadership and gave tribute to Abraham Lincoln. We thank God for parents who loved the Lord Jesus, read the Word of God to us, practiced its teaching, being faithful, and taught us to do the same. We thank God for all Papa did for us.

We thank God for Mama."The godly shall flourish like palm trees. Those that are planted in the house of the Lord are under His personal care".

They shall still bring forth fruit in old age and be vital and green."(The Psalms) Mama and Papa, your children, grandchildren, and great- grand children and even those who follow, all need God the Valiant, the Champion of the energetic, Who can save from the mediocrity of a wasted life, the emptiness of sin and the horror of misdirection.

There He stands! The available Savior Who is the understanding Friend and the competent Counselor. Your children and children's children, Papa and Mama, will become middle-aged, then old. The living will become the dying. The strong will become weak. The dreamers will become realists. The process will never go in reverse, for the old will not become young again.

Therefore, the Gospel of Jesus Christ offers not only a frame for beauty, but offers beauty for the hour when life has been rubbed naked of its luster. The Grace of God is the sufficiency that makes the joyless hour throb wth glory, that puts the glow of heaven on the fading page of earth and makes even your children, grand-kids, and great-grand- children jealous of the intimacies you have shared with the Infinite when the values of love and life have become distilled out of the fragrance of God.

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"LINKS TO CHAT, PRAYER CHAINS, and MORE"

THE TRIBUTE TO PEARL

Stadem and Holbeck Family Backgrounds, By Papa and Mama

Papas Letter of Events of 1947

Plain View Farm Home Page

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