Short Stories

                                            EARLY MEMORIES

The house and farm land my father named "Jake's Acre's".  It was about three miles from the little Village of Groton, New York.  Nice two-storied home, a barn, and a fenced in pasture with a little creek running at the south end of the pasture.

The yard was fronted by a line of maple trees and a dirt road went south if a person turned left off from Pleasant Valley Road.  Going west a steep hill were Pleasant Valley road continued and a small farm was on the top of that hill, and Mr. Kirk lived there by himself, with a couple of cows, some chickens and one pig in a pig pen.

Sunday's was the time when both my father and mother would cook us a big dinner.  Usually a roast was placed on top of the stove, and they also peeled potatoes, made a green salad, and took the drippings from the roast to make a nice gravy.

They loved each other.  They laughed together and smiled at each other, hardly paying any attention to their four children.

It was not long after that, my mother began to act as though she heard voices.  Finally she was sent to Willard State Hospital.  Some times she would come home for a couple of weeks, but my father began drinking a lot because he was so worried about her and their children.

I can remember him coming home and laying on the couch and weeping.  Our mother would call a friend, Howard Holland, who knew Dad, he would come down and settle Dad down.  But as time went by, my mother would return to the State Hospital more and more.  But now there was my brother Mike, and my little sister Mary Louise.

Dad had to split us up.  Joanne was close to a teacher, named Mrs. Jenks, so she went to Tenn. to live with her.  Grace, me, Victor, and Mike went to live with Dad's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Erve Romaine.  Mary Louise would go to Auburn and live with the Murphy family.

Grace was the first to be married and she and her husband, Louis LePage lived upstairs over his mother's home on the corner of Peruville Road, and the road that led into Groton, New York.

Dad continued to drink a lot; so worried about his wife, and would come home late at night and leave early the next morning to work down at the Smith-Corona Typewriter Factory in Groton.  Some times we would walk down and in the summer, after swimming in the Groton swimming pool and then walk over to the factory, climb a hill and wave to get our father's attention.  He worked on the fourth floor, near the window, and when he saw us, he would drop down some change so we could buy some time to drink and to eat.  People would ask when they came out the front gate at quitting time, "Who are those children?"  "Oh, they're Vic Romaine's children..."  But when he did come out, we would swarm around him, and  olwalk quickly over behind a garage where he kept his car.

We found out that Dad had a girl-friend.  Her name was Harriet Keller and he told us they were going to be married.  After they wedding, Joanne came home and Victor and Mike moved to Moravia and lived at the nice home on 53 Central Street.  I stayed with my grand parents, on that old farm a few miles outside of Groton, New York.
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I was up early each morning, go to the barn and help milk the five cows.  They before breakfast, clean out the gutters behind the cows, and also shovel the horse manure behind the two work horses.  Breakfast, change clothes and walk down to a one-room school house where Alma Todd was our teacher.

There came a day when my father asked his mother if it would be fine with them if I moved down to Moravia and lived with his new wife and my other siblings.  One day Dad drove into the old farm's driveway and waiting for me to come out, carrying what few clothes I had, and just as I was starting to close the door of the car, my grand father leaned over his wife's shoulder and said, "After all I've done for you, is that what I get for it?"

I did move into the nice home on 53 Central Street.  Not having to awaken early each day of the week and go to the barn and milk my one cow, clean the gutters out...go to school and come back and do the same thing in the evening was a sudden change of culture for me.  I went out for sports.  I delighted in being short and very fast on my feet; all three sports.

Dad came home one evening and told me that his mother had asked him if I would come and help her husband put up the hay in that old barn that summer.  I took it.  This was my opportunity to make things right with my grand father.
So that summer, though it was awkward at first, we did enjoy working together once again.

When I went to the barn early in the morning, he would already be milking cows.  I looked and saw my old milk stole he had made for me.  But no pail.  I walked back into the old farm house, opened the cellar door, and hanging up on a nail it was there.  I took it off that nail and walked back into the barn, pulled up the old milk stole and began to milk the cow I had milked for many years.

When I had finished milking, I hung my milk pail on the same scale we had used for many years.  This would should how much milk was in the pail.  I jotted down on a small pad of paper the weight, poured the milk through a little piece of linen into the milk can.  I left the cap of that can open and waited until Granddad had finished his milking and just poured milk into the milk can.  He didn't weigh his, now it all belonged to him.

When the haying season was over Dad picked me up after work, and waving goodbye to both of my grand parents, Dad drove us back home to 53 Central Street, Moravia, New York.

P.S.  During lunch time, granddad always took a nap.  I would walk down through the fields to a tree near a hedge row, and just sit there thinking about the years we had plowed. seeded and harvested those fields.  I also was waiting for a letter from a friend how had gone off to college, finally one day there was a letter in the mail box addressed to me.  I read it and reread it often.  Now I wished I had saved that letter.  It was worth waiting for.