Saturday, January 26, 2019

Day 101, "Every picture has a story"
It was the spring of 2003 and Gail and I were excitedly expecting our very first grandchild later in summer.  As I was eating breakfast I casually asked Gail if I should offer to make a crib for Mary and John.  I had NO idea what I was saying but actually I had a a selfish motive for saying that.  I promise my intent was to make a crib and that would be not only fun for me but a nice gift BUT I also knew if they said yes that would be a real reason to get a new table saw!  I was 56 at the time and was already thinking about spending a lot more time in my wood shop when I retired.  I figured I would be able to retire in 6 more years so now was not too early to begin to upgrade my shop. I ended up retiring in 4 years.  Gail said that would be a great idea so I offered it to Mary and John.  It was a go. Little did I know but that was the beginning of 3 cribs.  One for Amy/Aaron in 2007 and another for Cynthia/ Mike in 2008.  I think I improved with each one and each one was a little different.  The crib is actually supposed to be built so that it could be turned into a bed later.  The only one that I did that with was Amy/Aaron and Ruby is now sleeping in that bed.  Back to my first.  I have never bragged about my wood working skills as there is nothing to brag about.  I would consider myself a novice in all ways but I did learn something.  IF one is serious you can do most things.  With the first crib I studied and went slowly.  In the end it turned out to be fairly nice and I think very functional.  To this day I consider this crib one of the most fun projects I have done.  Maybe because it was the first major piece of furniture I made and it was the most challenging for sure.  If one counts Mary/John, Amy/Aaron and Cynthia/Mike I would say the effort, work and dollars that went into the projects were well worth it.

Terry and I have kind of a full day today but also were rather busy yesterday too.  Terry had 2 appointments and then I did play tennis in the afternoon.  Today there is that book lecture in the morning and then a play in the afternoon.  The book and the play, I am trying my best to get this North Dakota guy a bit of culture and maybe, just maybe, it is working.

AND
The year was 1957.  Fritz, the mail man, had delivered 100 little chicks around the first of March.  Mom was expecting them and was so excited when Fritz did not stop at the mailbox but turned into the driveway as he came from the north.  Mom beamed with excitment as Fritz got out of the car and handed a large open box to Dave and I.  Mom had already instructed Dave and I how to set up a room in the old granary for the chicks.  We made a little pen with boards and then hung a metal dome over it which had a light bulb in the top of the dome.  The bulb would keep the chicks warm and then there was a feeder for them.  As Fritz drove away, he did give us a 5 cent candy bar to share, Dave and I carried the box of chicks to the granary.  There we put them in our little pen which was already warm.  Mom had gone to turn on the bulb as soon as Fritz drove into the yard.  
For the next few months it was feed and care for the chicks. Mom said we would be able to butcher the spring chickens by the end of May as by that time they would be about 5 pounds.  
It seemed that March, April and May came and went in a breeze.  Finally as we approached Memorial Day Mom said it was time to butcher and have spring chicken.  Now I did not like chickens as they pooped all over the yard BUT I did not look forward to butchering them either.  I remembered last year and knew what we were in for.  The night before butchering we had to catch all the chickens and put them in chicken crates.  Dave and I each had a long stiff wire with a hook on the end.  After the chickens had roosted we went in the chicken house and one by one would catch a leg, drag it out and put the chicken in the crate.  Oh that was not a fun job.  First of all the ammonia smell in the chicken house was BAD.  Then to drag them out by one leg, catch both legs and then stuff them into the crate was not a job for the faint of heart.  
The next morning Mom was up early and boiling water.  The water would go in a big barrel.  One by one we would take the chickens out of the crate, let them struggle for a short time and then chop their head off.  After they flopped around (like a chicken with it's head cut off came about in this way) for a while Mom would dunk them in the boiling water for a time.  Then it was time to pick the feathers off and clean them for freezing.  If one has never smelled the oder of hot chicken feathers you are lucky.  It was a day that I did not look forward to for sure BUT Mom's fried spring chicken in the winter was always a treat and at those times the work to get them to table seemed to not matter.

About the time I finished writing my FP went the way of history so I am finished for the day.

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