In winter Papa would kill a big hog and I remember everybody had to pitch in and help. Mama had the sausage sacks made before-hand and we ground the pork and Papa would apply the seasoning. We had to stuff the sacks and tie them and the brothers would hang the sausage sacks high on a rack in the smokehouse and the smoking began, and the smoking continued on. There would be hams and big slabs of bacon and ribs. The smell of meat smoking would make you hungry. We also sold butter, eggs and milk and that was mostly my job. Every day I would take a quart of milk to an elderly lady down the road and she paid me a dime. When she needed butter and eggs I took them the next day.

In summer we would split peaches and sun-dry them on top of the smoke house. That sheet iron roof was extremely hot, but it was my job. Then there was Mama’s big garden and the canning got underway and continued until Mama had canned about two hundred jars. I remember counting 150 half-gallon jars of corn and tomatoes, and she even canned blackberries and peaches. We would fry sausage and put them in jars. She would pour hot grease on top, seal the jars and set them down bottom-side-up. They would come in handy, Mama would always say. God bless her.

The depression time was a serious learning period for all the young folks. We were kept so busy we didn’t have time to visit with friends. But our friends were also busy. We were blessed, though, because the Sabbath was always church day. But I recall Sunday ended no later than 6 p.m. in the summer. That meant get into your work clothes and do your daily chores. That was standard routine and there was never any question about it.

Mama found the time to make all our clothes, cook all our meals, piece and quilt our quilts, wash all our clothes on a scrub board and hang them on the line to dry. About every six weeks, she’d have the geese put into the barn and she would pick the down off the chest of the geese and make down pillows and soft feather beds.

In those days, we had no electricity in our home. We were used to it and never missed it. We made very dear memories that each of us will carry to the grave. We went to a country school and no one in our area was a stranger. We never thought about locking our house and we had neighbors who were our friends--and we were their friends. Over all, I can say the depression years were learning years, and we don’t forget.