Two Red Hots

Forty years ago, there were no alarm clocks or cell phones to wake us up in the morning. When my father's rousting voice carried up the stairs, we rose reflexively. The five of us kids knew we were not being invited to wake up. No, we were to get up and get moving right then and there.  I don't remember exactly how my parents conditioned that behavior in us, but whatever they did, it worked.  

The loudest voice I ever heard my gentle father use was on cold winter mornings. Delivering each word with increasing emphasis and volume, he'd call up the stairs, 

"TWO RED HOTS!"  

That wake up call meant just one thing.  It was not just cold, but bitterly cold outside. But this we knew even before his announcement. Through the coldest nights we'd hear the bones of the old house snap and creak when the warmth inside caused the frigid 1910 frame  to contract.  

It wasn't only my Dad's voice that got us going in the morning. My mother made a lot of noise when she cooked breakfast. Out of the kitchen a cacophony of clanging would echo - pans, dishes, silverware, food containers - it all got banged.  I don't know if this was Mom's way of waking up, if she was angry or simply  oblivious to the amount of noise she made in the kitchen each morning. Raspy sawing sounds could be heard as she cut through the hard crust of homemade bread. I remember that bread knife. It was engraved "Crookston Grain" along it's shiny serrated blade. I wonder what went through her mind when she used that knife. Maybe she was angry, and with every stroke thought about how exhausted she was from the never ending farm chores and caring for five children day after day. If she was resentful, she didn't take it out on us. Perhaps it was the kitchen that got the brunt of it.

In those days, farm wives had little, if any help from their husbands who were equally taxed. There was no respite ever from the farm and livestock. Today's winter trips to warm  islands and Vegas were unheard of in the 1960's. Being a farm wife was a pretty thankless job.  Area businesses would give small tokens of thanks to farm wives each year at Christmas.  These were all domestic items, imprinted with the business logo from the grain elevator, gas company, the co-op, or farm supply store, just to name a few.  As a thank you, the lady of the house would be gifted a knife, platter, coffee mug, spatula, calendar etc... 

Can you imagine what a woman would say today if the co-op gave her an embroidered oven mitt after she and the hubs spent over a hundred grand on fertilizer?  I think today's woman would take that mitt and stick it somewhere and I'm telling you, it's not the oven. 

Let's get back to breakfast. By the time Dad yelled up the stairs, our noses had been thoroughly teased by enticing smells wafting out of the kitchen. Drawing us out of bed would be buttery fried eggs, sausage or bacon from our own stock, toasted homemade bread, and old-fashioned oatmeal with raisins. This wasn't any old pasty oatmeal. My mother took care to boil the cereal flakes to a perfect chewy texture. The raisins had been resurrected into soft plump fruit by soaking overnight. They added a delicious sweetness to the oatmeal. If you put brown sugar on top of the hot oats and patiently waited a few minutes, the sugar would melt into a toffee-like crunchy crust. So good. I don't ever remember any of us kids ever having a problem getting to the breakfast table on time. 

Tomorrow morning when my cell phone alarm rings, I'm going to hit the snooze, and go back in my mind to the two RED HOTS, the best breakfasts I ever had, and our old house that was full of love.

The Girl That Didn't Say "No"

Our family is fortunate to have possession of several letters, preserved through the decades, which were written by relatives long ago passed. The treasure I am sharing here brings me many fond memories of my paternal Great Grandfather, Horseman Pearl, "H.P." Briden. I remember him for his love of farming, cigars and the Minnesota Twins. H.P. was in his 80's at the time he composed this humorous letter to his sister-in-law Cora in 1963. It reads like a sweetened condensed story, written in fast-forward style through the timeline of his life, punctuated by reflections on the love of his life, Genie. The letter is captured here, just as H.P. composed it.

July 31, 1963

Dear Cora, 

Maybe you would like a little of my early history, and what happened in the gay nineties. I start a way back when I was only 6 or 7 years old. At that time there was a family living across the way by the name of Aldrich. Some years later, Geo, my oldest brother bought this farm and Aldrich’s moved to Cedar Falls, Iowa, bought a room and kept roomers, then a few years later, think I was about 18. A few years later the folks decided to send me to the SNS, so I went and stayed at the Aldrich’s. They had one room downstairs for me about 8 X 10 feet, that way I remember it, and upstairs there was 7 or 8 girls. There was one girl by the name of, yes, you guessed it, her name was Miss Genie Dilly from Grundy Center. The girl I liked and the girl that didn’t say “no,” the girl from Grundy Center, yes, she was my girl from then on. I still don’t know why they sent me there to school, I didn’t want to teach school. I wanted to farm, but I stayed, didn’t like school, didn’t learn anything, I think I was the poorest scholar in school, but I sure liked the girl from Grundy Center.

I haven’t got time now to tell you all we talked about. The next year I think I worked on the farm for my cousin, Bert B, and I can’t remember what Genie did do, but I do remember getting a letter from her once in a while. I wish now I’ll keep some of those letters, it’s a long story, lets skip a couple of years. Later Genie taught school as you well remember, she didn’t get big wages, but think she enjoyed it wasn’t $30 per month for the first year, I only got $13 to $18 per month.

H.P. & Genie's Wedding Day, March 21,1901, Grundy Center, Iowa

I remember working for Fred Garton, my cousin, he used a walking cultivator, cultivating corn. Well guess it didn’t hurt me any. I can still walk. I got tired of working out, someday I wanted a farm of my own, have a few cattle in the pasture, maybe a horse and buggy. I like livestock, so I finally had nerve enough to ask Genie that most important question. I wondered what will the answer be. Think you know the story from here on.

We were on the home farm a few years, didn’t like it too good then, think it was 1907 or 1908 bought 100 by Waterloo, that wasn’t no good either, we surely can find something better, so we went to Waterloo for a few years, that was worse than ever. We’ve got to get out of here, so we looked at land near Crookston in the Red River Valley in 1912.

We got low on money, bought a few cattle, went to the Big Banker. Could I borrow a little money. I think so.  I had 4 or 5 old horses, so I had to mortgage my stock. Well that part was ok. I expected that and it’s 10% interest. I thought that was it. Oh, but your wife will have to sign too and again she didn’t say “no.” We paid him back before he died. 1915 we made it the first three years. Well, let’s skip 40 years. I think you know the story the rest of the way.

1955. Well Cora, those little kids have grown up, as you well know, and what is the use of me writing any more, you know the rest. Roger and the girls living right here sure being nice for me, they are all so good to me. I’ve got two awful good daughters. Yes, I look back to the day we wed, and I think March 31, 1901 was the happiest days of my life, and think I’ve got lots to be thankful for. Yes, we got into arguments, but think it was all my fault, but I still loved her.

Ruth just called. I talk to her and Una most every day. A way back many years ago, the girl by the name of Genie Dilly, had a different name. In the fifties, she went by the name of Grandma, all those grandchildren, she loved them and they loved her, everyone that knew her did too. I can remember when Kay was a baby, Ruth used to leave her with Grandma while she went to town, always helping somebody. A few years later, then it was Dell, then Lana Joy and little Tookie. She liked those children and so did I. Your good sister was with me for nearly 60 years, was always so good and done so much for me. I sure miss her.

Think I’ve wrote enough, might be too much. A ball game this afternoon, Boston and the Twins, I like the ball games.

So I’ll mail this silly letter now and I’m out of cigars too. Well Cora, this is just part of the story about the girl I loved, that lived in Grundy Center and she didn’t say “no.”

Pearl Briden

Just one more thing, will you do me a favor? Please don’t let anyone see or read this silly letter. Why don’t  you throw it in the waste basket? Goodbye for now. 

I'm not sure what Great Grandpa would say to me today since I have posted a letter he expected to be thrown away. Remembering the goodness he and Great Grandma Genie brought to our lives, I think he'd forgive me for sharing their sweet story.