The Stitch

Good: Childypants has napped two days in a row.

Bad: Childypants is not making a trend of using the toilet. In fact, she feels "trends" are a hindrance to her unique and developing personality and she does not want to be a "Crowd Follower."

Instead of following the crowd, her new ritual is as such: poop in diaper, make an announcement, remove diaper, hand diaper to Mommy, (for which, Mommy is grateful, because a dirty diaper in the hands of a two-year old is a Very Dangerous Thing.)

Pictures:

If you see this, do not laugh. Because if you laugh, this becomes . . .

This.

Here, Mommy! Little Lellow Ball!

A little resemblance.

A little regression. (Adam's car seat and pacifier. Libby's pj's and tutu.)

A little fun with little brother.

Elizabeth went number two in the toilet yesterday. Ohhhh, please let this be a trend.

Colleen (our babysitter) is on vacation this week, so I'm spending all of my time with the kids until Brian gets home in the evenings, and then I'm cramming two hours of work in before E-Beth goes to bed in an attempt to stay on schedule with all of my orders. Mostly that means I'm sewing the last of the garb for the big photo shoot on Sunday. It's supposed to be thunderstorming all weekend, so we're scrambling to find rental lights and equipment in case we have to shoot indoors.

There are a lot of minutes in the day, and it's an hourly adventure in creative entertainment. I love it. We usually do great until nap time, which is wonderful. Naptime isn't until 2, so most of the day is tantrum-free.

Reminder: She is two. But even for being two, she's absolutely delightful until the dreaded nap hour, and then all hell breaks loose.

Elizabeth fights nap time velociraptor-style, complete with major tantrums, kicking and screaming. She never sleeps during naptime, yet her evening mood makes one think she still desperately needs a nap. Yesterday instead of a nap, I let her have "quiet time" where she was allowed to play in her room and the playroom. Let's just say that project "free-range Elizabeth" was unsuccessful.

But she went number two in the toilet. And that alone makes yesterday a HUGE success, because that means she likely will NOT still be wearing diapers to her Prom.

By Roderick M. Brown

Please bear with me on this. I found it difficult to write about my mom as one person as it seems she never was “Just one person” She was so deeply involved in all our lives that the years passed by and you never realized how much her presence meant.

Now that I am going on with the Siblings more of her character, gentle nature and sense of humor will come to the surface.

Jack was the eldest. Tall and skinny as a boy he grew to be a large framed man He was afflicted with asthma which bothered him very much in the hay barn dust and the dampness of drizzly, rainy days. He was not one to complain and I recall him working right along with Dick and DG when there was hay to be made, fields to be fitted and seeds to be planted or harvested. When I got to be a little bigger I was assigned to driving the horses.

Now there are horses and then there are horses from hell. Ours were from the hot place. Somewhere out west. Half broke, wild eyed, branded on the flank and loved to run like the wind. It did not matter one bit what was hooked up behind them. When the notion took them, a fluttering leaf entered their field of vision suddenly, or a loud sound startled them, they were off and running.

There was absolutely nothing to do but scream and hang on for dear life. The hay wagon had an A-shaped load retainer on the front and a square frame on the back which prevented the slippery hay from falling off. It helped too if the loaders with their pitchforks knew how to place a hay cock properly and build the load so it stayed together.

This particular time I recall I was driving Tom and Jerry (or so I thought) and we were doing quite well. Dugal was on the back of the wagon with a pitchfork arranging the hay as it was thrown on by Jack and Dick. The hay had been raked into straight rows and then separated into fork-full piles called haycocks. The idea being that a fork would get most of the hay with one jab and not loose too many scatterings. The driver kept the wagon between the rows so that one man on each side of the wagon didn’t have to carry the hay very far. Jab the hay with the pitchfork and with one smooth sweeping motion, lift and toss so the hay fell close to where it was intended to be. The wagon load man made sure the hay was evenly distributed and not in danger of falling back off.

All of a sudden one of the horses let out a giant snort with flaring nostrils, eyes rolling, head thrashing back and forth his feet doing a little dance of sorts. Dugal was gone. Even before the wagon started moving he was off that damn wagon and on solid ground.

I was paralyzed with fear…literally. By the time I realized what was going on it had gone from 0 MPH to tail and manes flying, hooves flailing to dead run straight ahead. This was actually a good thing because if they kept going straight it was only ¾ of a mile to a hedge row that was thick enough to stop them.

The reins had long been dropped as I grasped for something to hang onto. The A-frame gave me support as long as the wagon stayed upright. The load of hay was of course scattered the full distance when they crashed into the small trees and thick brush. By the time the wagon lodged itself in the branches and stopped the horses realized they were done. The fun was over.

With heads hanging down (as if in shame) greedily gulping air they waited for someone to extricate them from their predicament, I looked behind me and saw Dugal lying on the ground. Dick was walking towards the barn and Jack was headed towards the wagon where the horses and I were. I found out later Dugal was not hurt but rolling on the ground laughing. Dick had gone to get the light team, Babe and Elmer. These were nice gentle horses.

Jack proceeded to unhitch the horses from the wagon then lead each one through the brushy entanglement to clear their harnesses. By this time Dick had arrived with Babe and Elmer, Dick riding Babe the Morgan Mare and Dugal astride Elmer a mixed breed gelding.

“Nice Ride?” inquired Dugal. Of course no answer was needed. One look at my snot nosed, teary-eyed face with quivering lips said it all (I was kind of a blubber brat, Cry baby).

There was no hay left on the wagon so Dick quickly hooked Babe and Elmer to the back of the wagon with a chain and proceeded to tug and wrestle the wagon out of the hedge row. This done it was then time to re-harness Tom and Jerry to the wagon once again.

Jack and Dick each took control of one of the horses and talked in a soothing manner to them as they guided them into position. Once in place the hook up was quickly accomplished. Jack, who was somewhat of a wise guy looked at me and asked if I wanted to drive them back to the barn. I declined saying I would just as soon walk.

I headed for the house. I was hot, thirsty and totally fed up with farming. I had recently learned to read and that was what I wanted to do….get a book and forget about the world.

Mom was in the kitchen. I suspect she had observed the whole event from start to finish.

“Well,” she said, “that was quite a ride you had, Are you OK?” I mumbled a”Yeah” and washed my face in the cold water when I looked at her again there was that half smile and a wink.”They won’t get away from you again…..” They didn’t.

In the meantime Dick had used Babe and Elmer and the horse drawn hay rake to get the load of hay back into a position that it could be loaded onto a wagon. The traditional haymaking procedure was put aside in order to get it done ASAP.

The light team made quick work of making a single pile of hay. There was considerable loss but that couldn’t be helped. With Tom and Jerry harnessed to the wagon Dick drove them to the hay pile. The part of a load was quickly in place while the horses patiently chewed their bits and waited, resting one foot at a time .A short ½ mile walk to the barn saw no problems develop. Once the hay wagon was backed in onto the main floor it was time to do chores

Ethan bit his lip while eating lunch and told me it hurts real bad, "just like a rocket ship running into you".

SAGEDISTRICTFARM: thefamily

By Roderick M. Brown

Mom was the blue eyed, blonde beauty from Daysville that won the heart of the rugged, black haired foreigner from across the ocean. How they met and how the romance developed I really don’t know. It is obvious that nature did follow the usual course of events. There were many tears in this relationship, stillborn babies, and a son, Donald, struck and killed in front of their home on Rome Street. The hard work trying to make a success of the farm operation and the dissolution of the marriage.

Dick, Dugal, Myself, Sally, Alexander and baby sister, Thelma along with mom, certainly filled this small, three room house to overflowing. We managed… Jack had opted to stay on the farm and care for the animals until they were disposed of. Shortly after the animals were gone, he and his new bride Fran, moved to Tucson, Arizona in an effort to stabilize his asthma. Other than a couple of short visits and a quick trip for DGs funeral they spent the rest of their lives in Tucson.

For a few months right after they were married DG and mom lived the city life. They did not own an auto so it made sense to live near where you worked I get the impression mom worked as an assembler in a typewriter factory and perhaps as a sewing machine operator. On May 5, 1919, Arthur was stillborn. Moving to Rome Street, Pulaski in 1920 they proceeded to build a one car garage. A set of twins, Dorothy Maude and David George were stillborn in July of 1920. The one room garage was hardly the lap of luxury but it did provide shelter while the home was being built. Donald Gordon was born September 20,1921 and until his death on May 29,1925 was the pride and joy of his parents I have been told that he was a very happy young lad, given to singing hymns and marching around the dining room table. He was struck and killed as he stepped out from between two parked autos, directly in front of the house. This may have been a contributing factor for the move to the farm.

Jack and Dick were also born in the garage. I am not sure weather Dugal or I was the first to be born in the house. Sally and Alec came along in July ’32 and December. ’33.

During this period of time DG worked diligently providing for his expanding family. He would catch a train at the Pulaski depot, ride to the Syracuse RR Yards, change clothes and head out on the “Hojack Run”. Sometimes this was a layover so he would be gone from home for two or three days He would also catch some sleep at his mother’s apartment if he had a short turnaround.

I do not remember if we had electricity in the house or not. I do believe we had running water and an Ice Box. On the day the iceman came you would put the”Ice Card”
In the front window with the desired size of ice in the readable position. This saved the deliveryman quite a few steps…..A quick glance to see a 10, 15 or 20 on top, a couple jabs with an ice pick and the proper sized piece would be gripped with the tongs and transported to the kitchen. The iceman wore a heavy leather coverlet over his shoulder to prevent chills.

Mom, in the memory of this 4 / 5 year old boy, was a presence that gave security and balance to the world. She provided warmth, nourishment for the body and soul. A sense of humor that carried the proximity of the good earth. Always there to settle a sibling rivalry or if need be, a few firm whacks on the skinny behind of an offender. For some reason I seem to recall Dugal getting more than his share of whacks. He had a tendency to explore and wander including later during the War when he was in the Merchant Marine. The Far East was frequently his destination. Kowloon, Hong Kong and Shanghai were stops along the sea lanes he knew.

The calm acceptance of the difficulty of life’s trials and tribulations always came through I recall seeing my mother cry only on rare occasion. DG’s funeral, her mom’s funeral, the death of Alec’s dog,” Spud”.

Spud was a unique dog. A German shepherd, who served his country during the time of war. Alec had decided during the strong feelings of patriotism in World War Two that his dog was going to war, even if he (Alec) couldn’t. Spud was inducted, trained as a “WAR DOG” Served with honor and returned home (after detraining) Some where, perhaps in the archives of The Pulaski Democrat there exists an article with a picture. As far as I know Spud was the only dog from the Pulaski area that served in the Armed Forces during war time.

As we all do, Spud grew older. His eyes and ears lost a lot of resiliency and he started becoming lame and slow. It eventually happened that a neighbor from up the road was driving home when old spud walked into the road, directly in front of the moving car.. He was not killed instantly though it would have been better if he had been. Alec was at work at a neighboring farm and wouldn’t be home for several hours. The driver of the car and I carried Spud out behind the house and tried to make him comfortable. It was to no avail. He had been fatally crushed and was obviously suffering.

The only humane thing to be done was done. I buried Spud beneath a small shrub to spare Alec the sight of his old friend who had been so grievously injured... I believe we all shed a tear or two that night.

Several years earlier, on the farm there was another incident involving a dog. Garden planting day was an activity that involved everyone who was capable of helping in any manner. Potatoes were the name of the game The soil had been previously “fitted up”, the rows clearly marked and the planters were hard at work Jack would make a hole with his hoe; Dugal would place a potato , with an “eye up”. Dick would cover the potato with soil and I would proudly step on each hill to ensure the soil was in firm contact with the seed.. The big draw back to this plan was the dog thought it was a game and promptly dug the potatoes back up. After observing this a time or two and shouting with no results, I picked up a stick and made a threatening motion towards the dog. I cannot fault the dog. It was my own action that produced the results of being knocked to the ground and bitten on my face. Mom cleansed the wounds and applied iodine. The dog was tied up at the barn to await DG’s return that evening.. The garden eventually was finished and to this day I feel a terrible guilt about that dog. It was a very nice, reddish colored chow with a tail that curled over its back I have heard many times since then that Chow dogs are temperamental and cannot be trusted but I know I caused the death of that dog. There was no hesitancy or regret in DG’s voice as he issued the order to Dick ,”Shoot the dog, he cannot be trusted around the children”. And so it was done.

At the time of the breakup the little bungalow was owned by DG and sitting empty. It was signed over to mom along with the papers declaring a legal separation to exist. I recall a gas stove, a small oak ice box, a small table and four chairs, two beds and an overstuffed chair. The next few years brought some easement. Dick graduated from school when he was sixteen and got a job breaking up cast iron at Olmstead’s Iron Works in Pulaski His first do it yourself project was a bathroom The second project was the addition of two bedrooms. An existing closet was determined to be long and wide enough to contain a cot. With a fabric drape it was an adequate sleeping nook..

With the war going on, Dick enlisted in the Marine corps and later Dugal went with the maritime service as a merchant seaman After the war ended they came back home. Mom had kept things together and there was much more to come in our lives. I don’t recall hearing mom complain in all those years. She seemed to accept whatever came her way. A shy smile and a wink was her way of handling a problem

Adam was terribly gassy today, so as he cried, I placed him on his playmat and told him, "I'll be right back, buddy. I'm getting you some medicine."

With that, Elizabeth threw herself to the floor, began writhing and cried, "I need medicine, Mommy."

and dramatically added, "I dyyyyyyyyyyyyyyying!"

I stifled a giggle and asked, just to make sure I heard her correctly: What did you say?"

"Oh, Mommy. I DYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYING. NEED MEDICINE!"

With such a performance, how can I not pass the drama queen crown down to her?

As I was changing Elizabeth's diaper this morning, she glanced down and said, "Look, Mommy! It's poopy!"

"Yes, Elizabeth. That is definitely poopy!" I replied.

She looked at me and told me, very sternly, "Don't eat it!"

SAGE DISTRICT FARM The Family

By Roderick Brown

The Laird: David Gladstone Brown, Lord of the manor. Actually an honest, hard working man with the same dream that drove countless thousands of Americans as they struggled out of “The Great Depression”. He was fortunate that he had the security of a full time job as a fireman on the New York Central Rail Road. It seems as I look back through the tunnel of time that he was hardly ever around, and when he was around he was trying to catch up on missed sleep. Firing on the railroad was not an easy task. Endlessly shoveling coal into the fire box, breaking the “clinkers” with the long, steel poker, adjusting the draughts so that the plume of smoke was always white (that was the sign of a good fireman). Watching the water level and raking ashes were part of the job too...

He came over from Scotland when he was about fourteen, having been born in Glasgow with numerous siblings (6 brothers and 2 sisters)Not much is known about his early years in America other than the family lived in New Jersey for a short time, eventually ending up around Syracuse and Pulaski. His father was known as an eccentric character with a taste for strong spirits and a bit of a mean streak.
One of the grandfather stories I have heard involves a motorcycle and sidecar trip to Canada with one of his drinking buddies. On the return trip from the North, loaded down with bottles of illicit booze they were unfortunate enough to lose the road and end up in the ditch.
The next day, impeccably dressed as usual, relating the story in front of the drug store he was heard to exclaim, ”And the funny parrt aboot it, we nair broke a bottle”.

As I said he always dressed the dandy. His explanation, that he was,”A gentleman in the old country and would damn well be one here”

There are two possible sources of his income. One was that he owned several tenement houses in Glasgow and was a slumlord. The other was that he was a remittance man. A remittance man, a Black Sheep, paid by the rest of the family to stay away and out of sight... I really don’t know if either story is true.
He supposedly came to America twice. During prohibition he remarked that, “Any country that made it illegal to take a drink was not worth living in”. And thus he returned to Scotland until after the repeal of prohibition.

As far as my dad was concerned, I never saw or heard of him taking a drink of any kind of alcohol. On the hottest day of summer a glass of cool water or switzel would slake his thirst and the haying season or other work would continue unabated. (Switzel was a home made concoction of water, vinegar, sugar and ground ginger. It did quench the thirst but sure didn’t taste like Pepsi).

At one time DG spent some time in the Western US. I remember seeing in a closet a Black bear skin coat and gloves (Hair on). Kinda scary. There was also a 44/40 octagonal barrel rifle. This must have occurred before 1918 as that is when he and mom were married.

According to Sister Sally, DG had a reputation as a ladies man. This may well have been but being a young boy I never noticed any such activity except for one bit of obvious flirtation with our lady school teacher at a school picnic. I’m sure nothing materialized from this and it was promptly forgotten

DG did indeed have a very frugal manner. Once in a while we would make the trip to Pulaski on a summer Saturday evening to do the grocery trading. There wasn’t much trading involved as we didn’t have a surplus of eggs, butter or other trade goods but we would buy a few staples such as flour, coffee, salt and of all things MARGARINE..
The canny Scotsman figured that it was more profitable to ship the milk (instead of making butter) and buy uncolored margarine for pennies per lb...The margarine was white and came with a little color packet of yellow orange powder. When it was properly mixed in the butter bowl it did LOOK LIKE BUTTER (Tasted like grease)
As we progressed down Main Street (DG, Dugal and I) we would stop in the various stores, exchange howdys and my dad would always inquire if there were any bargains on sale. Some times a small bag of stale candy (I remember candy orange slices so hard you couldn’t bite them). Shriveled oranges, over ripe bananas and stale mixed nuts left from Christmas were all fair game. Now days kids have to go to the mall with a hundred dollars in their pocket in order to enjoy themselves. Times change…..

Another big treat was a trip to Syracuse This involved DG, Dugal, Sally and I riding in the old model A Ford. The purpose of the trip was to visit Grandma Brown, Aunt Sarah and Aunt Jeanette on Comstock Avenue. Grandma had a parrot that would draw blood if he could get you. He sometimes did a little swearing too. .Grandma had a Scots Brogue to the point I had trouble understanding her. Part of these trips was a stop at “Hanks” on N Salina Street. This was the king of close out shops, the junk, and overstock capital of Syracuse. You could hardly walk through the place. It spilled out onto the sidewalk and the merchandise was left out all night (I don’t think there was anything worth stealing in the whole place. Nonetheless, DG HAD TO STOP AND CHECK FOR BARGAINS. The only thing I remember getting from there was a soft cap with a snap brim that the kids wore in the 20s/30s (I hated it). I would rather have had the quarter it cost.

I do not recall my father being a particularly devout or religious man. I do recall before moving to the farm, walking back from the Presbyterian church on the Sunday that I was baptized. Religious holidays were pretty much work days on the farm. The cows had to be milked no matter what. Other animals had to be cared for and the wood boxes always needed filling

DG had an ongoing war with the power company and the rural electrification agency. The survey crew would lay out the power pole positions and drive a small wooden stake to mark the pole site. The problem developed when Jack or Dick would be mowing hay with the team, Tom and Jerry. They would step right smartly along and before they could be turned or stopped the cutter bar would hit the marker stake and break off a blade or two. This of course curtailed the haying operation until repairs could be affected. To my taskmaster father this was an affront to his personal property and so every opportunity to pull up and throw away the stakes was a pleasure to him. Eventually the poles were set and the wire strung. WE did not subscribe to electrification.

At a later date we did acquire a second vehicle. It was an overused and abused Studebaker pick up that had a tendency to die beside the road. Jack and Dick were by this time going to Sandy Creek Central School .and thusly were acquiring new friends and activities. From somewhere unknown Dick had obtained a used radio from a car. It worked. The routine quickly developed. On those nights that DG was on the road the chores were quickly done with, The battery removed from the Studebaker was connected to the radio in the front parlor. The cluster of rug-rats quickly gathered and sat enthralled
As the speaker gave forth with the ,”Tales of the Inner Sanctum, Amos and Andy, The Shadow, The glorious tones of music and other electronic marvels including, “The lone Ranger”..

There was, as usual, a down side. After a couple of hours of steady drain on the battery the volume would start to fade and we knew that in a short time the entertainment session would come to a screeching halt. DEAD BATTERY ! Might as well go to bed. Jack and Dick realized that in the morning it would be required that they harness at least one of the lighter horses, hook it up to the truck with the dead battery reinstalled and pull the truck around the barnyard until the combination of speed, inertia and the timely popping of the clutch caused the engine to turn over and fire. This accomplished they went about the regular chores of milking and caring for the animals while the running engine recharged the battery. Gasoline was 20 cents a gallon and I often wondered if DG noticed how much gas we used when he wasn’t around…..

By this time, Dugal and I had grown to the size required to help more with the chores in the barn and house. While Jack, Dick and mom did the milking, Dug and I would throw down hay from the mow for the horses and cows. Each milking cow also got a scoop of grain. Each horse received a portion of oats that we grew on the farm. The chickens got a scattering of corn and oats and the eggs were gathered. The pig pen was off to one side of the barnyard by a garage type building where the corn meal was kept. A pail of water also had to be carried with the kitchen slops from the house.. Most days the slops bucket was pretty skimpy as we didn’t waste much..

DG was not without faults. He had a violent temper that he had difficulty controlling. He also had a very vivid imagination and a smoldering jealousy (real or imagined). This lead to an inevitable confrontation that resulted in physical violence inflicted on my mom. It occurred early in the morning while Jack, Dick and Dugal were in the barn doing chores. I don’t know the subject matter but DG lost control and used his fists on my mom’s face and body. The results were very noticeable and it was a very short time before he left for work. There is no doubt in my mind but what he did not want to be there when Jack and Dick came in from the barn.

It was a school day so Dugal, Sally,Alec and I went up the hill as usual. Around noon Dick, driving the Studebaker truck, loaded with clothing and a few pieces of furniture, pulled up to the school and picked up the Brown Kids. And so we moved again. This time it was to a very small, 3 room bungalow (No bathroom). It did have electricity and an ice box. It was located just up the street from the house where most of us kids had been born, that my dad had built...

Yesterday morning Brian scooted out the door, Elizabeth in tow, and came back with a pound of bacon and a lovely bouquet of flowers for me. He made bacon and home made French toast from freshly-baked Challah bread for me, and then asked, "So, what do you want to do today?"

And of course, I answered that question the way any normal Mom with two babies and absolutely no spare time would answer it:

"I want to clean the bathroom."

And so my dear husband took care of our wiggly children all day while I got down on hands and knees and did some much-needed bathroom scouring. Heaven. Pure, uninterrupted, Comet-fresh Heaven. And now my bathroom sparkles like fairy dust.

I should be more surprised that every day I'm constantly being outsmarted by a two-year old.

50 Ways To Save the Environment, from justgive.org

We’ve all noticed the temperatures getting a warmer, SUVs getting bigger and hurricanes and earthquakes ravaging the Earth, but is it global warming or a natural occurrence? Al Gore’s new documentary, “An Inconvenient Truth” shows his efforts to halt global warming's deadly progress in its tracks by exposing the myths and misconceptions that surround it. He believes global warming is not a political issue, but an individual moral issue facing every member of our community. JustGive has created 50 ways to help protect our environment in your everyday life.

In your home

1. Recycle everything: newspapers, bottles and cans, aluminum foil, etc.
2. Don't use electrical appliances when you can easily do by hand, such as opening cans.
3. Use cold water in the washer whenever possible.
4. Re-use brown paper bags to line your trash can instead of plastic bags. Re-use bread bags and produce bags.
5. Store food in re-usable containers.
6. Save wire hangers and return them to the dry cleaners.
7. Donate used items to a charitable organization or thrift shop.
8. Don't leave water running needlessly.
9. Turn your heat down, and wear a sweater.
10. Turn off the lights, TV, or other electrical appliances when you are out of a room.
11. Flush the toilet less often.
12. Turn down the heat and turn off the water heater before you leave for vacation.
13. Recycle your Christmas Tree. Learn how

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In the yard

14. Start a compost pile.
15. Put up birdfeeders, birdhouses, and birdbaths.
16. Pull weeds instead of using herbicides.
17. Use only organic fertilizers.
18. Compost your leaves and yard debris, or take them to a yard debris recycler.
19. Take extra plastic and rubber pots back to the nursery.
20. Plant short, dense shrubs close to your home's foundation to help insulate your home against cold.
21. Use mulch to conserve water in your garden.

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In the car

22. Keep your car tuned up and your oil changed.
23. Carpool, if possible.
24. Use public transit whenever possible.
25. On weekends, ride your bike or walk instead.
26. Buy a car that is more fuel-efficient and produces lower emissions.
27. Recycle your engine oil.
28. Keep your tires properly inflated.
29. Keep your wheels properly aligned.
30. Save trash and dispose of it at a rest stop.

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In the office

31. Recycle office and computer paper, cardboard, etc.
32. Use scrap paper for informal notes to yourself and others.
33. Print or copy on both sides of the paper.
34. Use smaller paper for smaller memos.
35. Re-use manila envelopes and file folders.
36. Use dishes, glassware and coffee cups instead of disposible dishes and cups.

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At the store

37. Avoid buying food or products packaged in plastic or styrofoam containers since they cannot be recycled.
38. Think twice about buying "disposable" products. (They end up in landfills.)
39. Buy paper products instead of plastic if you must buy "disposables."
40. Buy energy-efficient appliancess.
41. Don't buy products, such as styrofoam, that are hazardous to the environment or manufactured at the expense of important habitats such as rainforests.
42. Buy locally grown food and locally made products when possible.
43. Don't buy products made from endangered animals.

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In your life

44. Join a conservation organization. Browse the JustGive Guide to find an environmental organization you would like to support.
45. Volunteer your time to conservation projects.
46. Give money to conservation projects.
47. Switch to a vegetarian diet. (Raising animals for food consumes vast quantities of natural resources, including water, land, and oil; destroys habitats; and generates a tremendous amount of water and air pollution.)
48. Encourage your family, friends, and neighbors to save resources too.
49. Learn about conservation issues in your community or state. Write your legislators and let them know where you stand on the issues.
50. Teach children to respect nature and the environment. Take them on hikes or camping. Help them plant a tree or build a birdhouse.

We did the naptime shuffle again today, and I finally resorted to putting E-Beth in the pack-n-play in her room so she CAN'T GET UP to go "Dora-The" Exploring. She is now caged in the pack-n-play for the rest of naptime. I do not feel bad about this.

She is, at this moment, up there screaming at the top of her lungs, "I WANT SOCKS, MOMMY! GET SOCKS, MOMMY! NEEEEEEEEEEED SOCKS, MOMMY!"

It's freaking 88 degrees upstairs and the kid wants socks.

All day long I have been looking forward to lunch. I planned it all morning - the last two slices or fresh rye bread, spread nicely with tuna and a row of dill pickle slices. When I heard E-Beth scrambling around in the play room instead of in HER BED, where she had promised me she would stay, I placed my sandwich on the table and ran upstairs to catch her in the act. After seeing that she had pulled every item of clothing from her dresser and stuffed it all into her bed, I realized that the whole big-girl bed + Elizabeth = disaster. So, I hiked back downstairs to get the pack-n-play.

Just as I turned the corner I saw that damn dog run away with my beloved sandwich in his mouth.

Bastard.

So I end this tale, as E-Beth is upstairs repeating, "Ow! I sorry. Ow! I sorry. Ow! I sorry. Ow! I sorry. Ow! I sorry. Ow! I sorry. Ow! I sorry. Ow! I sorry. Ow! I sorry. Ow! I sorry."

I'm afraid to look.

SAGE DISTRICT FARM: THE HOUSE

The House, located on North Road out of Pulaski, sits on the side of a long sloping hill. It used to be great sport to take our sleds to school .at the top of the hill so that at the end of the school day it would be a mad race to see who could go the fastest and farthest down the road. If conditions were good (Packed snow and ice) one could coast almost to the rte. 3 / Sandy Creek “Y”. Of course, that meant a ½ to ¾ mile walk back upgrade to get home which was a ¼ mile downhill from the school. Go figure….It was fun, I was an active youngster. We didn’t worry much about traffic in fact if we heard a car coming down the road we would all run out to watch it go by and wave to the people. Also, if anyone heard an air plane all activity would cease until that faint speck would be spotted and observed as long as possible

The house was built probably around 1825/1840. Just a basic Northern Farmhouse.

The front door, which no one used, opened to an open hallway with stairs to the second floor. The stairs to the cellar were located directly under the first set of stairs. At the entrance there were two doors, one on each side of the hall. To the right was what we considered “Moms” side and to the left was “DGs” side of the house. That is the only way I recall any of us kids referring to our father. David Gladstone…..DG. (But not to his face). By the same reasoning my mother’s father was GN for George Norris Hilton…..

To answer Heather’s question regarding the reason for moving to the farm. I must admit I never really thought about it very much. I would suspect that considering the economic times during the Great Depression, a large family and other considerations it made sense to do as most others did and engage in subsistence farming. This meant growing as much of your own food as possible and with a few cows make enough off the milk check to buy clothes and pay the taxes. My dad worked full time as a fireman on a train engine (NEW YORK CENTRAL) until he accumulated enough seniority in the “Brotherhood” to become an engineer. I recall twice he snuck me aboard the engine for an overnight run to Massena, Oswego and back to Syracuse yards. This run was I believe called the “Hojack”. Can you imagine , a 6/8 year old boy riding in a train engine all those miles , un-friggin real .(Actually there wasn’t a damn thing to do except stare out at the dark night going by and stay the hell out of the way. Once in a while I would be allowed to turn my cap around and lean out the window like the fireman or engineer. I think I even pulled the whistle cord a time or two. Now remember, this was a STEAM ENGINE, not a stinking diesel-electric. This had a real train whistle not a bull horn.

Back to the house. The cellar was spectacularly unsuspectactular, other than the spider webs, ear-wigs and centipedes. Laid up stone walls, sandy dirt floor, wooden frames holding plank shelves for home canned goods, bins for potatoes, onions, squash and other dry keeper vegetables including cabbage and apples. Some of the cabbage was destined for the kraut crock This storage area was vital to our existence. If it wasn’t filled chock full in the summer and fall you could get pretty hungry in February and March when the wood chucks started coming out.(By then the winter hog was long gone and the chicken flock couldn’t stand too much more thinning out.)Jars and jars of tomatoes, green and yellow beans, beets swiss chard, sweet corn, carrots, pickles, relishes, tomato sauce and my favorite home made chili sauce. NOT SALSA , rich tomatoey, cinnamon, clove, onion, pepper flavored “Tail end of the garden CHILI SAUCE”

The “Winter Hog” was butchered in November when it was determined (hopefully) that the cold weather was ready to stay. After being well chilled overnight it was split and carried to the cold pantry. This was a windowless room on the north side of the house behind the kitchen and was the wall of the woodshed. Along the cold interior wall was a broad shelf which was the full length of the room. The hog halves would be laid out on the shelf and broken down into large portions. The choicer portions were used first to safe guard against loss by an onset of warm weather. This was living “high on the hog”. As the winter progressed the pickins got slimmer and some nights there was not much of an entrée other than boiled potatoes and milk gravy with bits of pork trimmings. Canned corn or tomatoes and warm Johnny cake ensured we didn’t starve to death. After supper, for a snack there was usually popped corn or on occasion Mom would make a small plate of simple fudge. 2cups sugar, 1 cup of milk. Boil to soft ball stage. Stir in a Teaspoon of butter and pour on a buttered plate. Vanilla or cocoa could be added during cooking as a special treat.

During the summer with no refrigeration available, meat was limited to what was at hand.. DG had to use the truck to get to work so we were left with no transportation to the store 6 miles away in Pulaski. We ate a lot of woodchuck. Actually it was pretty good. They are a very clean animal; They eat nothing but grasses and sustained countless generations of Native Americans. As young boys we delighted in going fishing or frog hunting. In the fall it was time to seek mushrooms and puff balls. Wild berries and nuts supplemented our food requirements. If Brother Dick had ammunition for his gun (22 cal.) and a careful aim we would enjoy pigeon pie or a pheasant for a change. Mom really liked it when we came home with a nice stringer of fish. It didn’t matter what kind, bullheads, suckers, sunfish, bass or pike, that woman loved fish.. Cleaned, dusted with a little salt and pepper, coated with flour and fried in hog fat and a slab of Johnny cake on the side…..It sure beat anything from McDonalds.

Each side of the house was the same. From the front hallway you entered into a front parlor which on DG’s side contained a nice old table and leather “Morris”type chair. On the table was the standard kerosene lamp. I recall a book shelf that had an illustrated copy of “Dante’s Inferno” on one wall. The other significant item in the room was the round “Oak” parlor stove. I swear this thing would hold ¼ of a cord of good hard wood and hold a fire for 2 days.

My Dad as you will discover was a dour, old country, stern disciplinarian, presbertyrian Scotsman who believed you were put on earth, NOT to enjoy yourself BUT to Work hard and be thrifty. This strong belief he tried to instill in our young minds…..kids will be kids…..I think I acquired a great deal of his frugality and retained it through the years. (Some people say I’m just cheap). Passing through the parlor you entered DG’s bedroom. Plain unadorned room with a bed, dresser and straight chair. The bed, as all the beds had a feather tick mattress because of the lack of heat at night. In addition to the door from the parlor there was a door back to the hallway and the door leading to the kitchen.

On mom’s side of the house was where the living occurred. From the front hall doorway you were met with a completely different environment that existed across the hall. Piles and bags of fabric, balls of rag strips for crocheting rugs, yarn for knitting, cats and kittens. Soft comfortable chairs (old but useable), plant stands with a multitude of different plants (wandering Jew, Christmas cactus, flowering maples, geraniums to name a few).A traditional table and chairs with a kerosene lamp provided work space for projects such as sewing, drawing, coloring and occasional school work.. In mom’s bed room of course there was a bed and dresser also a crib and a trundle bed. More plants certainly kept the room well oxygenated.
I have a very vivid memory of sleeping one night in the trundle bed and having a nightmare. Believe me I was scared! Maybe 5 years old and I was in the midst of a herd of stampeding elephants. My bed was bouncing all over the floor. I woke up screaming to find we were having an earthquake. Once mom got me calmed down I went back to sleep BUT I NEVER FORGOT IT.

From this room were two more doors. One went back to the hallway thence to the kitchen the other entered into what we called the summer kitchen.. It was not really a kitchen, no stove or appliances. More of a utility room where we kept the laundry tubs and later a gasoline powered washing machine (progress). This room exited onto the back porch and the primrose path to the outhouse. The regular kitchen back door also exited to the porch. The woodshed and cold pantry were the full width of the house with the end of the woodshed open to the outdoors.

I don’t recall much about the upstairs rooms as I didn’t spend much time up there except to sleep. Dugal and I shared a room under the eaves over the summer kitchen. There was one window that was a mite drafty. I recall waking in the morning and seeing little snow drifts across the window sill and on the floor.,. Once I was sure I had all my clothes spotted I would leap out of bed, grab my clothes and out the door, down the stairs, down the hall into the kitchen and behind the stove where it was warm…..Sure got a guy moving in the morning.
Brothers Jack and Dick also slept up stairs. They had to get up pretty early because they had to do the milking every night and morning. Mom would work right along with them whilst Dugal, Sally, Alex and myself slept in (Thelma came along later)

We kept a herd of about 30 cows, maybe 20 of them regular milkers . It was not what you would call a prime dairy but it did pay the taxes. We also had four horses. Babe and Elmer made up a light team and Tom and Jerry were a team of half broke, wild eyed western work horses that would rather run away than do anything else. I do not recall what the brand markings were but one of them had a bar and diamond on it..
To be continued……………

Brian and I have been reading two very inspirational blogs lately. No Impact Man and Living Plastic Free are really showing us what people can do to save the Earth when they put their minds to it.

We've bought organic cotton shopping bags, which I frequently forget to bring with me to the store, and when I do, I actually go bagless, which is a lot better than going braless. I don't use all those individual plastic produce bags anymore and I'm shopping for items which have as little packaging as possible. One of these days, when I'm brave enough to deal with store clerks who will scold me for doing it, I will actually start taking off all that excess packaging at the store and will leave it for them to complain about. Maybe if enough people do it, store owners will complain to the manufacturing companies and they will get the message that less packaging is far more desirable. Or maybe it'll all backfire on me when every grocery store in NY dumps their excess packaging in my front yard.

We're in the midst of renovating our home, as many people know, and we're replacing some of our furniture that has been handed down and down and down and is now falling apart beyond repair. Before No Impact Man entered our lives, we were planning to buy new furniture. Not anymore. We're going to go recycled. We'll visit the local "antique" shops up and down our road (there are dozens), and while not everything is "antique," it's ALL recycled, and that's where we will be doing our furniture shoppping from now on.

But the big one - toys. We just did the first haul-out donation of toys a few weeks ago, and I was shocked at how much PLASTIC we have purchased for our kids. We want to change this. We're going to try to focus on biodegradable toys or second-hand toys. Think about it - kids actually play with toys for a very short time before they lose complete interest and replace them with a new favor