Monday, April 27, 2009

My parents good old days

Today’s topic
My parents met in So. Haven, Mi. Mom unintentionally took her best friend’s boy friend and married him six months disowned by her grandmother who’d raised her. Their first home was built with lumber Dad had traded for with hand cut fire wood. Seasonal farm labors they were paid in produce. Nobody had money.
Gambling on a big move, Dad bought two Maxwell automobiles sitting in the Black River’s bottoms behind the fruit exchange. He swapped parts to make one run, cut the back half body off, added a deck, and loaded what tires on wheels he could save for spares. The half made Maxwell truck loaded with what possessions they had they headed for Detroit. There unloading/abandoning the Maxwell one tire still holding air they were welcomed into a Marine Corp Buddy’s home.
Born 1936 Detroit during the depression when the economy was looking up. Their purse filled slowly Mom worked at the 5 & 10, Dad a day worker at one of the auto plants whenever he’d guess right the position they needed filled that day. Their heat was coal carried up four flights from the basement. Hot water came out of a manually lit on and off gas hot water heater.
Dad aspiring to be an automobile repairman found he was allergic to motor oils and grease. He eventually found a job in a camping trailer factory. In the cabinet shop he found his alternative calling. Visiting book stores he built himself a whole library upon the subject. The one book I found most interesting was upon the steel square it’s illustrating there’s scarcely a mathematical problem that can’t not be solved on a steel square (provided the user had the complete set). Into the late 1940’s Dad was a recognized master carpenter teaching apprentice Union carpenters on the job.
As for me, back when, when I started walking and talking (every man passing called, “Daddy”) coincidently my red faced Mom harnessed me on a leash to the front stoop’s iron railings. At age three my parents fed up with the city life started move North to 12 mile road, lumber ordered, delivered that same day, was stolen that same night. Only enough money for a very small room’s lumber Dad slept on that pile every night until he had built us a cozy little tar-paper shack. So small it was Mom and Dad had to get up from their trundle bed, slid it together so’s one of them could tend me n my crib. By age 5 yr starting school I learned the bigotry’s bad side for having the wrong Sir Name. Those lessens learned by the time I entered high school I was already swearing no such bigoted notions would ever enter my head or cross over my lips. Dad and I got on some serious odds over that subject. Enough of this this day, I’ve calves waiting to see me either again or for the first time. You all have a good day, specially Sir Ron!
The morning warm and sunny I hope the weather terminators are wrong about this afternoon’s rains. My drive had just gotten dry enough I can turn around in it. Back in the house for breakfast, informed I must grind, I had counted 8 calves, one of them brand new overnight. Finally confirmed one anxious cow indeed didn’t have the calf she had insisted was her’s when in fact it truely belonged to another. Anyway, all the mama’s and the baby’s are all matched up for now.
Look closely at photograph. Two calves left center are running about celebrating their births in a world new and strange to them. Their tails high the upper ends flying like pennants; this is where the term “High Tailing” come from.
The JD semi split the front crank pulley and timing gears cover removed the timing gears for crank and cam shaft were timing marked right ON as I had insisted. Backing the tractor up the real culprit was the guy who had insisted he’d set the oil pump timing himself way back when. It weren’t, it were the engineer, Bro’. He’s going to take more heat than he got today for sure. I’ll not let this fowl up go away lightly. No sir reeee.
So as it were to turn out I had a delightful afternoon (with Tom’s help) draining oil and removing the oil pan. That easy part done one of us had to get down and get under. In a democratic society meeting within the farm shop I was dually elected to go under as my one vote remained one vote shy to even make it a tie with the other two. (grumble-grumble) While I had tried to catch the oil drops I laid way done and under I lost. Taking some clever manipulating I opened the bent over lock washers and with a number of wrenches and drives I removed the oil pump bolts. While I held the oil pump Bro’ used my lead headed hammer to gently strike the oil pump’s case. When it had come loose, myself prepared it settled safely within my hands, at that moment I had also bathed me in an overt amount of crankcase oil. My hide well covered in softening elements. Either that or I had just become a most unusual hairy likeness to Oil Can Harry whom I haven’t seen from such a long time ago.
The oil pump reset, retimed from two gears off I enjoyed re-bolting the oil pump back into the JD’s block. This was also where we stopped working on JD while we were ahead.
Here we also started Bro’s chores. Those finished, it was my time to hit the road and do whatever it was needing doing at home. I went out counted the calves, thinking I had just seen nine out there I never found the rascal. So I accepted the eight count and called it a day.
Finally in I showered as I needed it, started my laundry as my clothing needed it as much as I did. The wrist brace I bathed it in pure dish washing detergent before letting it show the rest of my laundry how to come clean. I swear, I asked no questions. As far as individual water boarding I skipped it giving the whole bunch an equal opportunity to come clean with one of the best agitator’s in anyone’s employ. Plus a couple additional spin dry’s to leave’em dizzy coming out of there presumed brightening space ship ride.
It being late, having lived another full day, I’ve simply got to lay it out, before exhaustion takes me over. Good night Mrs. Calabash wherever you’re spirit resides. BGKC.

1 comment:

Paula said...

I love to hear those old stories about how people like your parents survived back then.