Ken, during the war my Dad decided to raise some chickens to help with grocery bills and closed one side of his garage and made a chicken coop and yard outside of it. He also raised Rhode Island Reds.
One evening I walked into our kitchen and my Dad had a chicken on the table holding it and I asked him what in the heck he was doing to that chicken. Seems he had cut the grass and threw the clippings into the chicken yard and his chickens ate them and it stopped up their craws. Said they would die if it wasn't removed. He was taking a razor blade and cutting their craws open and removing the grass therein and sewing up with a needle and thread. He did this to about eight chickens and every darn one of them lived. Hard to believe unless you saw him in action...lol They ate all the eggs laid as my Mom loved to bake and used many of them for that purpose. They did give my Aunt next door some as she always baked and shared whatever she made with us.
About a year later, he decided he was tired of cleaning up after them and one by one we ate them all. He tore everything down and was able to use the second garage again. And we all got to use the glider to sit in as no one wanted to sit
out there when the chickens were three feet away from you.
I never ate eggs even though my Mom tried over and over again to get me too. Still don't eat anything but the yellow part of a deviled egg. If they are used for other purposes in cooking, that doesn't bother me. I was told I have very sensitive taste buds and many things I did not eat as a child. I am a meat, potato, salad person, along with a few vegetables. I have never made my children eat anything that was not eye pleasing to them, and they eat everything. I always cooked them, but some of them I did not eat.
Also during the war when gasoline was rationed, he bought a bicycle and built a box on the back fender to carry his work clothes and lunch and that was his transportation until the war ended. His reasoning was to save gas for the family to enjoy going to see friends and family and driving vacations rather than for getting him to work. My Dad's car was as clean as a whistle and he wiped the engine as well as his wheels, brushed all the mats every evening when he got home. Engine looked like it had just rolled off the assembly line. He was hounded by everyone when he went to get a new car, but he would never sell them to anyone, always traded them. Told them to follow him down and buy it from the company cause he felt responsible for it if they had any problems. He did let my husband and I buy one of his cars to give to my MIL after his Dad died. She did not want to drive his Dad's truck and she drove it for fifteen years with nary a problem before she had to quit driving. I know my Dad had a faint heart when I started driving his beloved cars. Never had a wreck, but I did teach my best friend how to drive in one of them. Oh, Oh, Oh, he had reason to have a faint heart! I did tell him about that in later years and he did intently smile at me. I was his baby girl so I got away with a lot more than my sister did. She reminds me so often when we talk about our childhood. Memories, memories are just plain funny around here.
Got to run, we are taking our youngest daughter to dinner for her birthday today. Oddly enough we are going to a steak restaurant as it was her choice. And, we missed a tax deduction that year as she wasn't born until 4:03 a.m. New Years Day. She was due January 5th and decided to arrive a little early. Her Mom was glad to have that bundle of joy finally in her arms. |
