Days of Summer Are Fading

Across the Fence #355

As the days become shorter and cooler, I can feel the beginning of fall in the air. Summer is heading south for the winter and leaving us behind.

Colorful wildflowers are disappearing and the wind rushing through the cornfields near our house sounds like waves rolling onto a beach. Summer is winding down and students have headed back to school. That can be an exciting or very apprehensive time in the life of every student, regardless of their age.

It’s also a tough time for parents as their child begins the first day of kindergarten, first grade, high school, or college. I know that emptiness and sadness you’re feeling. Been there, done that. On the other hand, maybe some of you are whooping it up and dancing in the streets. Summer vacation’s over and the kids are back in school! It makes me wonder how my parents felt when we headed off to school each fall.

Back to school for us farm kids was a mixed blessing. It was also tobacco harvesting time. We never got out of helping with tobacco when we were young. There was always lots of tobacco to pile as soon as we got home from school. I think Dad timed the cutting of the tobacco so it would be wilted and ready to pile when we arrived. In a way, we hated to miss the excitement of the harvest. Dad always put an ad in the paper, advertising for experienced tobacco harvest help. He got more than enough people who were willing to work for a dollar an hour, plus meals. That was the going wage at that time for a long day of physical labor.

When we were very young, we got the job of suckering and piling. I hated both jobs, but we didn’t have a choice. Those unglamorous jobs were reserved for us kids, as if any job in tobacco could be called glamorous. Things got better when we graduated to helping cut tobacco down and spear it onto laths. Those seemed like more grown-up jobs. When we got to help haul and hang tobacco in the shed, we knew we’d been promoted to the major leagues. That was “manly” work.

I think the best part of harvesting was when Ma brought coffee out to the field mid-morning and mid-afternoon. Then everyone stopped what they were doing and gathered around the tobacco rack for not just coffee, but sandwiches, cookies, and assorted other goodies. We ate more for coffee than I eat at a regular meal now. We all drank water out of a large mason jar. Many of the men chewed tobacco and I can still see that tobacco juice swirling around in the water. It didn’t look the most appetizing, but we never considered not drinking it.

When we had our noon meal in the house, everyone washed up outside. We had a pail of water and wash basins on an old table behind the shanty. Most people didn’t worry about getting all the dirt off, just enough to look presentable at the kitchen table. Anyone who’s worked in tobacco knows how hard it is to get caked-on tobacco juice and dirt off. We used Lava soap. It seemed to be the only thing that would take most of it off, other than dousing your hands with gasoline, but then you had that gas smell that lingered forever.

Stained hands and smelling like I’d taken a bath in gasoline, or had just come from cleaning the barn, were part of our life. The barn smell was a natural smell to us and I never gave it a second thought until I got to high school. Going from a one-room school to high school was a big transition for me.

At Smith School we were like one big family with around 20 kids in all eight grades. We were all farm kids and everyone helped with chores at home. Most of us didn’t have indoor plumbing and I suspect most of the kids were like us, and only had a bath in a portable tub once a week. Many of you grew up on farms and you know how the many barn smells seem to permeate your clothes and hair. It was no big deal. I never even thought that I smelled like a barn. That was life as we knew it. Maybe we subconsciously carried that barn smell like a badge of honor. It let people know that we knew how to work. We certainly didn’t smell like fancy, store-bought cologne. I don’t think we ever used cologne or deodorant when we were young. I’m not saying we didn’t need some; we just didn’t use any.

But then I headed off to high school in Westby. We still used an outhouse, and didn’t have indoor plumbing, although Ma had a hand pump at the kitchen sink to draw water from. I became much more self-conscious of how I smelled when sitting in class with “city girls.” By the time I started my sophomore year we had a bathroom and indoor plumbing. It didn’t seem to enhance my status with the girls, so maybe it wasn’t just smelling like I’d been born in a barn that was hindering my social standing!

Life is full of changes, obstacles, insecurities, and possibilities. Summer transitioning to fall is one of them. Don’t fight it. Enjoy it!

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