Little Heathens

Dear Alice,
I finished reading Little Heathens, Hard times and High Spirits on an Iowa Farm During the Great Depression about a week ago, and Mildred Kalish's memories fit so closely with my own (having grown up on a dairy farm in the 50's) that I still carry its words with me every day. Mildred was of my parents' generation. I couldn't pass this book up; my dad on occasion would call my siblings and I and our many cousins 'little heathens'.

Little pieces of my childhood have fallen away over the years, and when another piece goes, there is a heaviness of heart. It was a week ago that the aunts' hay barn burned. I knew exactly which barn and where (as there were several on my grandfather's farm). My father followed in my grandfather's footsteps and became a dairy farmer, though at some point when I asked him, he said he wanted to build bridges. Interestingly, there were probably several generations of dairy farmers, since records show that my G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G grandfather sold butter to his next door neighbor, Thomas Jefferson.

That is me in the 'baby tender' while my mother and father did the milking by hand in 1950, probably outside, since it was clearly summer, and too stiflingly hot in the barn.

Mildred Kalish's memories brought back many memories for me. Life on the farm holds many lessons for life...skills that our suburban children never have the opportunity to learn in this very different world.