Homeland Farm

Homeland Farm

Friday, May 17, 2013

Hee Haw Homeland Farm style

     I can remember my childhood Saturday nights like they were last week. I can almost smell the sweet scent of pea beans baking in my grandmother's kitchen, and see the pan of hot yeast rolls, tops rubbed with butter, cooling on the shelf.
There would be horseradish and sliced cukes in vinegar on the table along side the yellow dairy butter and extra spoons. My grandmother never wanted to be without an extra spoon. She put extra spoons on the table for every meal.
      My grandfather sat with his back to the wall, and I sat next to him on a red, wooden stool. My grandmother sat next to me, and my uncle was across the table from my grandfather.
We would all eat and eat, and inevitably my Uncle Billy would comment about something..like the rolls weren't quite as good as they usually were, or the beans could have used a mite more salt. They were always perfect, and I always argued that they were just right.
        We would always end our meal with some homemade dessert, often a bowl of Nanny's chocolate pudding , sprinkled with sugar and covered in jersey cream. Ummmm..those were the days!
        Then I would help Nanny clean up the kitchen, and wash dishes while my Uncle would go out to the barn to check his cows, and my grandfather would go into the living room to watch the news. Fat Cass, and Heidi before her, would hang around under foot, waiting to be fed a large bowl of dog food, and maybe have a lick on a pudding dish. They say dogs shouldn't eat chocolate, but those two dogs both ate it and lived to ripe old ages.
         After supper, it was time for television, and Saturday night meant one thing...Hee Haw. My uncle and grandfather would recline in their chairs, Nanny would sit in her chair, and I would flop on the couch and we all would watch Buck, Roy and the whole Hee Haw gang. They would sing those old western songs and act out goofy sketches, and we would laugh and sing along.
          One of my favorites was the "Gloom, Despair and Agony" sketch, where they lay around and sing a song of misery. In light of the trouble I have been having with my doctor and ankle, I have written my own version of that song. Here, is "Gloom Despair and Agony" a la Homeland Farm.


           Gloom, despair and agony on me (whoa...)
           Deep dark depression, excessive misery (whoaaa)
           If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all
           Gloom, despair and agony on me.....

            My ankle has been sore for a long, long time
            My doctor said I can fix that, lets pick a date..
            I said just when are you fixing to do that??
            My doctor said 'lets see just how long you can wait..'
            Gloom, despair and agony on me (whoa..)
            Deep dark depression excessive misery, (whoaaaa...)
            If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all
            Gloom, despair and agony on me...

             I said 'Now doc, I can't go on much longer'
             he said 'well dear, that's just too darn bad
             I have a golf game that I need to get to..'
             I said " Holy crap, now I'm getting mad!"
             Gloom, despair and agony on me (whoa...)
             Deep dark depression excessive misery, (whoaaa..)
             If it weren't for bad luck. I'd have no luck at all
             Gloom, despair and agony on me

             So here we are now, a whole 6 months later
             I've had every test, x-ray and cat scan
             He promised we'd do this but still hasn't done it
              I'm still a limping and can't hardly stand!
Resting with my doggie pals

     So, that is the end of my Hee Haw story..I'm still awaiting word on how, when, and where they plan to operate. I am not holding my breath that it will be before the end of the month however. I just hope it is all better before the 4th of July...I have my big "4 on the Fourth" road race to win...


Monday, May 13, 2013

Spring Fever

Spring at the Farm
     Spring has sprung, and a young mans thoughts turn to love. I took my youngest and a friend down to watch the girls play softball, and as they walked across the field, I had a flash back. Ahhhh...thirteen. Can it really be so long ago that I was age thirteen?
      I remember when I was in junior high like it was yesterday. The drama of which girl liked which boy, who was going to sit with who on the bus to the high school, and are you going to go to "The Dance"?
      The word dance is used very lightly here. I believe it should have actually been called "The Stand Around." Yes, at Bridgton Junior High, we girls would line up on one side of the room, while the boys lined up on the other. Once in awhile, there would be an occasional couple dancing, but for the most part, it was a stare down across the cafeteria. I remember walking nonchalantly down past the boys, and a fella named Andy jumped into my arms. That was about the only contact I had with a boy at the dance, besides brushing past them in the doorway on the way to the bathroom, giggling friends in hot pursuit. We drank lots of sodas, and smiled awkwardly at potential dance partners. Then, we went home and thought..next time that kid I liked will ask me to dance.
          High school was not much better. In Mr. Hughes' class, we had to write anonymous notes about each classmate, describing them in a few words. Most said I was a nice person, but the one that stands out the most is the one that said I should update my wardrobe. HA! Apparently, they did not appreciate the softness offered by chamois shirts in a rainbow of colors. I swear, I wore one every day. Hey, what can I say..I was a farmgal. I very easily COULD have worn a flannel granny nightgown, so technically they were lucky.
          I did manage to dress up on occasion, most notably during the prom. Long, flowing Jessica McClintock dresses were all the rage during the late 70's and early 80's. My junior year, I got all dolled up in a pale yellow gown for the prom, which was ironic because I believe the Volkswagon beetle I squeezed into to go to the prom was also yellow. The pale yellow dress looked great, until I climbed into the coffin like backseat, and got grease all over the hem from the tools lying on the floor.
         Of course, my senior year was great too. Did I mention my parents hired me a prom date? Well, they didn't really hire me one. He was a family friend that got wind of the fact that I was dateless and felt bad, so he volunteered to go. We stopped and got a little "something" for the trip up to the hotel where the prom was to be held. Ahh yes, senior prom, also known as the prom where I set my corsage on fire. It was loads of fun. I think. According to Sally and others at my table, I was talking aviation..which is odd as I know nothing about planes. Ahhh yes, high school dances.
         I didn't fare any better once I got out of school either. I used to slap on my heels and hit the bars and clubs with my sister. Oh man, we cut the rug. One infamous night, I was paid a huge compliment after dancing at a club. One dashing young man with few teeth and less hair moseyed up to me in the parking lot as we were getting ready to leave, leaned in close and uttered..."You got mighty fine eyes through them there glasses." You had me at "mighty fine." Well..not really.
          So, now that my youngest is beginning the inevitable climb into adulthood, I can't help but reminisce, and shake my head. Forty years have passed since junior high. Holy smoke...So, now I will go get out of my chamois shirt, and into my granny night gown, and then watch a little television with Cliffy...and listen as Liam talks about asking his potential  young date to the next dance. Might even bring a tear to my "mighty fine eyes.."