Remembering "the Grove"

For whatever reason I have been taking little trips down memory lane in recent years. Maybe it's old age, maybe it's reflecting in comparason to current events. Mostly going to one place in time and one particular group of people. At the time I didn't realize the influence that group of people were having on me. Indeed to my peers of that era this group of people was to be despised or worse. We're travelling back to the 1977-79 time frame. Maybe it was my own families economic reality back then. We had just returned from NE Oklahoma. Tails between our legs and pretty much broke. I was in my mid teens and was repeating my freshman year of highschool. Times were tight and if I wanted anything of my own, it was up to me to get a job and get it for myself. Also because times were hard I was expected to pay my parents a portion of my pay towards household expenses. The solution to my problem was the Rochester "Times Union" newspaper.

My dad rented us an apartment north of Rochester on a bay of Lake Ontario. A fairly upscale suburb was developing thanks to the location. My paper route was mostly made up of what we would later come to call McMansions. However right in the middle of it all was a place known as "The Grove". The Grove was a little nieghborhood or community created during the great depression. A landowner about to lose his land leased a bunch of cottage building lots to other people whose economic reality wasn't a whole lot better than his. 40+ years after those leases were created The Grove had evolved into a group of about 12 little houses. It appeared as though the depression never ended  for most of the people living there. I learned quickly appearances don't always tell everything. I also learned poverty can be just a point of view. Frugality and living within your means can appear as poverty to some. I can remeber many cups of hot chocolate waiting for me on cold winters day. I remember being invited in to warm up next to woodstoves. I remember glasses of lemonade in summer, the real deal too, not fron a frozen can or worse a packet of powder. I remember Mr Johnson teaching me how to tune up a car on his 58 Biscayne. I remember being amazed that such a small 6 cylinder engine could even propel such a huge car down the road. I remember bags of tomatoes and other fresh vegetables being sent home with me. I remember Mr Johnsons old johnboat and the motor that bore the same name as his family. I'm sure that motor was almost as old as he was. I remember making extra money splittng firewood for people too old to do it for themselves. Often refusing payment, knowing I would leave with a full belly and/or a mess of fresh filleted fish.  Speaking of payment. I can't recall ever having to chase a resident of "The Grove" for payment for thier newspapers. Sure I remember being asked to collect once a month or biweekly. I always remember that envelope being on time, and more often than not there was a generous tip there too.  I can't say I have any of those memories from the more well heeled customers on my route. Just the opposite.

I have to wonder what the current generation could learn from a place like "The Grove".  Maybe they would decide to pool thier resourses and create a "Grove" of thier own to occupy rather than trying to occupy Wall Street. But alas, it's too late. The occupants of "The Grove" got even older, or moved away and "The Grove" lost it's battle with the McMansion movement.

And that my friends in my oppinion is where we really went wrong.

Important lessons from breakfast

The meal we most often take for granted. Also the one we are most likely to skip. But, even the humble breakfast has lessons in it. Last fall my little information network brought me word of a local potato field being harvested. The good news was the farmer was more than happy to let people into his field to glean what his machinery missed. Now modern machinery misses alot, especially at the ends of the rows. Big machines don't turn around that easily and rows are straight. That means the last 40-50 foot of row is usually left in the field. In my mind the healthiest way to spend a day is in the great outdoors. I gathered up my two stepdaughters and headed out with every bag, box and basket we had. The first round lasted about an hour and we went home to unload. After this the older of the two girls anounced she was tired, but, the youngest begged to go back. Who am I to look a 11 yr old frugal gift horse in the mouth. Of course we went back. Twice! Now a Chevy Aveo doesn't hold alot. And surely there are better vehicles more suited to truck duty. But, my wifes little econobox has never paused at a load. The day netted about 400lbs of potatoes into our cellar and about an equal amount either given to friends, donated, or culled. The next day, I taught the girls to make potato pancakes from scratch.

The following weekend we visited our friends at Harper Hill Farm. The girls got the full tour and even got to go into the henhouse to gather eggs. We came home with several dozen huge eggs. That sunday before church the girls got a lesson in omelette making. They were some of the best omelettes I've ever eaten. As you can see in the photo, we also made home fries from our gleaned potatoes. Not shown is the cider pressed from apples found in abandoned orchards and purchased as culls from local farmers.

My children will never confuse a supermarket as the origin of thier food. They will know where it comes from. And having expended the sweat to aquire it, I doubt they will ever take it for granted. They even giggle at the idea that other kids think food just comes from the store.