Column: Lazy summer days of youth in Northern Iowa inspiring
Published 12:00 am Sunday, August 28, 2005
I spent my grammer school years in rural Iowa and wish my kids could have had some of the kinds of experiences I did as a child.
The first memories I have surface in Iowa and the first home we lived in there. It was a grand dwelling at the edge of a small town named Dougherty.
The two-story structure was white with a glorious front porch, the likes of which today’s homeowners are trying to recreate.
The front boulevard was lined with several walnut trees. Perhaps because these memories are the first I can recall of my life with any clarity, I am fond of walnut trees.
We lived moments from our cousins in one direction and a few moments more from my grandparents in the other direction. We saw them all often.
Grandma and Granpda were farmers. Though I know such information is important to farmers, I don’t know how many acres they farmed, though I know it wasn’t much. I know this because Grandpa didn’t plant, plow or harvest his crops with a fancy tractor like his nearby neighbor did.
Grandpa also kept a few hogs. Grandma constantly warned us kids about the dangers of getting too close to the creatures &045; she recounted a variety of stories of unfortunate children she knew of who had fallen into the pig pen and were eaten. The very thought was enough to keep me from climbing the fence to watch them lest I fall to the the same fate.
While Grandpa worked the field, Grandma tended her garden. Of course, the grandkids were pressed to weedpulling and hoeing from time to time. I wish now I had paid more attention to what Grandma was trying to teach me about gardening.
My cousin must have been paying attention from the looks of his vegetable garden.
Each summer, my younger brother an I spent a couple weeks with our grandparents and I remember those weeks as relatively carefree. In addition to the hogs, Grandpa raised a few head of cattle and a half dozen horses grazed their way through the pasture. I spent many happy hours with the horses and exploring all the remote spots of the farm. I was always on the lookout for a good hide-away. One year, long after Grandma had quit raising chickens, my cousins and I decided the chicken coop offered the perfect conditions for a playhouse and we spent many hours shoveling chicken s— from that coop. We spent far more time on it than if grandma had asked us to clean it out &045;we were up to important business getting the building ready for our club meetings
therefore, it wasn’t &uot;work&uot; to us.
One warm sunny summer day during a visit at Grandma and Grandpa’s house, Grandpa announced
at breakfast the need to fix the fence in the horse pasture and asked for our help.
I couldn’t wait to get going
&045;I loved exploring the horse pasture &045; a slow-moving creek wound its way back and forth through its six acres and was perfect for pretending I was a pioneer camping along its shores or an explorer discovering new territory.
When grandma packed a picnic lunch, I knew we were going on an adventure, despite the work of repairing the fence.
That day we waded in the creek &045; even Grandma left her socks and shoes on the bank of the creek and joined us as we splashed in the warm shallow waters, marveling at the quick minnows darting around our feet.
Our picnic lunch &045; nothing more than peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with the fixings &045; was a feast.
We got the fence fixed and yet had the time of our lives.
My own children grew up in town. The first time I told them about lightning bugs, they thought I was out of my mind. Iowa seems to have an abundance of these wonderful bugs and I again enjoy them from my back deck in Albert Lea. The air must get too chilled for them to survive further north where I come from.
My kids’ memories will be good for them, but I believe they are less rich because
technology was a friend
and provided countless hours of entertainment but precious little else.
As much as I tried when they were younger to inspire them to use their imaginations, it never seemed to work out as I remember it did when I was a kid.
I wish they could have spent their childhoods exploring and creating their own adventures along the banks of a slow-moving creek which ran through the horse pasture. Or seeing the potential for a hide-away in a long unused chicken coop.
(Debbie Irmen, Tribune editor)