Yearly rituals: Rhythms of rural life. Twenty-fifth of twenty-six posts in the April 2017 Blogging From A to Z Challenge on the theme “Whispering Chimneys: My Altamont childhood” — where my genealogy journey began. Wish me luck — crossing the finish line tomorrow!
My birthday parties were hit or miss in the winter weather — sometimes a good turnout, other times folks begging off due to a snowstorm or icy roads. But when there was a January thaw, my birthday came off pretty well — with a nice big cake and a group of my little friends to help me celebrate.
Soon enough a real spring thaw awakened new life on our farm — and that included polliwogs in the cold creek that led to our pond. The pond had huge bullfrogs in summer. Hard to imagine that the little eely tadpoles I liked to catch in an old jar could grow into a hopping, croaking cacophony as warmer weather approached!
Easter was up next. We spread newspaper on the kitchen table and dyed eggs for the Easter Bunny to hide. Next day, we hunted for them all over the house and played pick-pick to see whose egg would not break. A basket filled with chocolate and spiced (never fruit-flavored!) jelly beans was a special treat — as was Mom’s braided Easter Bread with colored eggs baked into it. Capping off the afternoon, we ventured out to visit the local Easter Egg Tree.
After that came summer vacation. Dad worked at GE, which closed for two weeks — usually in July. So off we drove to parts unknown.
Sometimes we visited Dad’s family up north of Utica, N.Y. Other times, we headed off to local amusement parks. And once we went to Great Sacandaga Lake near Mom’s Gloversville, N.Y., home town — which was humongous and scary to navigate in a little motorboat!
Dad’s annual raise was always cause for celebration — because it was the one time each year that he took our entire family out to eat in a restaurant! Once we went to a German restaurant on State Street in Schenectady, N.Y., where I was awed by the waiters and the tablecloths — and pretty much everything.
August brought cicadas, with their whirring din — and that’s also when blooming swaths of brown eyed Susans filled our back field. To this day when I hear cicadas or see those flowers, I am reminded of the farm in late summer.
Right after that school started. I loved my classroom activities — especially Show and Tell. At least until Dad found out I showed and told how he got a traffic ticket when he “rolled under a yellow light just as it turned red.” Dad was on the School Board, so he was not happy about this publicity!
The start of school also meant that October and Halloween were not far off. Rural children really didn’t go trick-or-treating from house to house because of the great distances. So instead I went to the annual Halloween Parade in Altamont, which featured a costume contest as well as apples, candy and sugared donuts. And one October there was a special surprise — my second brother Jeff was born!
In November came the laborious task of preparing turkey stuffing for the family’s Thanksgiving meal. My grandmother set out bread for a few days to “get stale.” Once it was dry enough, I helped crumble it into a bowl. Milk was added, followed by sausage, grated apple and herbs and spices — then it was stuffed into the turkey. There was always an extra pan of stuffing — and I would have been happy just eating that!
By then snow was falling and there was one more celebration before Christmas — my brother Marks’ birthday in December. He shared my problem of sparsely attended birthday parties due to weather cancellations. But no matter, we made our own party even if few kids showed up!
After that came New Year’s Eve and the cycle began all over again! Thus I ticked away seven years at Whispering Chimneys — until the time came for us to leave my grandparents behind on the farm and move to a house all our own in the suburbs. More on that in the next post.
Up next. Zooming off to Endwell. Please stop back!
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