(Given the current Bloomberg dust up, the following re-post seems timely.  With thanks and appreciation to my daddy/farmer.  In the picture are some of my daddy’s brothers. The near one on the right looks like daddy, but my daddy had passed when this was taken.  Good men.  Much of what has blessed my life.)

Known for being a part of the Dust Bowl history of the 1930’s—sometimes called the Dirty Thirty’s—my home in Southeastern Colorado in the 1940’s had changed considerably.  Roosevelt’s programs, the WPA and the CCC, had made improvements in land conservation.  Also farmers had learned new methods to care for their fields with the benefit of the modern equipment of those days.  So by my twelfth year, I was bothered little by dust bowls which were rather rare by that time.

Of course. that was good news.  Bad news – there was  still little rain.  No irrigation for us.  Little, if any, for neighbors.  Daddy planted crops, and looked to the sky in hopeful faith that the rain would come in time to save the seeds and give them the moisture to sprout into life.  And the rain would come.  Often gully washers.  Replanting.  Looking.  Praying.  All over again.

But I never remember a crop failure.  Did we have them?  I don’t know, daddy was no whiner.  Farmers didn’t whine.  We were “carried” by the bank until harvest time.  Bankers didn’t whine.  The grocer kept a separate statement for most of the farmers.  They would be paid twice a year.  Once when the crops were sold; once when the steers were sold.  But the grocers didn’t whine.  Men were as good as their word.  If disaster struck, all would go down together.  But disaster didn’t strike.  Instead prosperity came.

So I am left with memories.  Walking to school.  Picking prairie flowers.  Watching the crops grow.  Gathering hens’ eggs.  Reading library books.  Sunday and Wednesday church.  Two week revivals.  Entering spelling bees.  Churning butter.  Fried chicken.  Baby sister.  Extended family. Health.  Security.  Love.  Jesus.  Looking back, I wonder, “Was life really that good?”  I guess I’ll never know.

You see, Daddy was no whiner.

About oneta hayes

ABOUT ME Hello. To various folks I am Neat’nee, Mom, Grandma Neta, Gramma, Aunt Neta, Aunt Noni, Aunt Neno, and Aunt Neto (lots of varieties from little nieces and nephews). To some I’m more like “Didn’t you used to be my teacher?” or “Don’t I know you from someplace?” To you, perhaps, I am a Fellow Blogger. Not “fellow” like a male or a guy, but “fellow” like a companion or an adventurer. I would choose to be Grandma Blogger, and have you pull up a chair, my website before you, while I tell you of some days of yore. I have experienced life much differently than most of you. It was and is a good life. I hope to share nuggets of appreciation for those who have gone before me and those who come after me. By necessity you are among those who come after me and I will tell you of those who came before. Once upon a time in a little house on a prairie - oops, change that lest I commit plagiarism - and change that “house on the prairie” to “dugout on the prairie.” So my story begins...
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12 Responses to DADDY WAS NO WHINER

  1. says:

    I reckon your life was very good, because your daddy wasn’t a whiner.💕

  2. It was a good life and good time, despite the hardships because no one whined—sleeves were rolled up, sacrifices made and carrying on was the aim…
    Ode to the days of your father and that of others…

    • oneta hayes says:

      I just discovered a group of comments here I did not respond to. I do believe there was a higher percentage of good fathers at the time I was a child than in our present day. However, I know some wonderful young men who are great fathers today. Nothing can take their place. Like nothing can take the place of our Good Father.

  3. floridaborne says:

    People who lived through the depression didn’t talk about it, sort of like a collective silence. There was only one who whined about all her illnesses. Mom couldn’t stand her.

    Enter social media. We’re living in the days of whine and poses.

    • oneta hayes says:

      Also there is an abundance of “things” that take the place of a father’s time. The relationships have changed. In rural settings, children had chores that demanded attention from daddy. Sorry about being so late seeing your comment. Thanks.

  4. I really miss the days when people didn’t feel like the world “owed” them everything.

    • oneta hayes says:

      Too much stuff given to children to buy peace rather than taking the responsibility to demand obedience. I’m mighty late finding your comment here, but I thank you for leaving it.

  5. Faye says:

    My Daddy was certainly not a whiner. It was years after his death before any of us really knew of his frail beginning,(so delicate had to be carried on a pillow). dangerous wartime job or in fact very much of his life as a drover, rodeo rider, miner, He was my dad and because he cared for Mum my little brother and I thrived. We never went to church but he believed that respect was always due to Jesus for both Christmas and Easter. The legacy lives on . He was not a whiner. Thank you for your post.

    • oneta hayes says:

      Sorry to not have found this comment until tonight. But I thank you. We were blessed to have good dads. Then also have husbands who are good dads. I’m thankful.

  6. What a beautiful childhood you had with your marvelous Daddy. You are blessed.

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