The antique hand pump

The hand pump was a fixture on the large back porch of the big farmhouse built in 1869. It was the house where my mother was raised, and where I started going in 1965. My grandparents, John R. and Janice Day Watson, lived there for some 55 years. Before that my grandfather's parents, Garfield and Ellen Barker Watson, lived there.

The last time I was at the farm was yesterday, to pick up the hand pump that I won in the Watson Auction.

The Watsons are my kinfolk. My mother, Sandra Ellen, was a Watson before she married my father, Fred McDonald. Her brother, David, and his wife, Kathy, and their two children now own all of the Watson farm. My late aunt and uncle, David and Peggy Ruppel, and their children used to also live on the farm.

I paid $121 for the hand pump. Why? Because it means something to me. It's a part of my memories of the farm. I haven't been in the farmhouse since 2018, after my grandmother died, to collect a few things. After that the house was gutted and renovated. 

The back porch was removed. The hand pump was saved, I was informed when I asked about it.

Last week I saw it in the online Watson Auction. 

I never resided in the farmhouse but for 50 years - until the middle of 2015 when grandmother was sent to a nursing home -  I was a reoccurring visitor. 

After my mother died in 1968, my grandparents wanted me to live with them. But my father did what he thought was best for himself and me and he placed me with his parents, Fred and Ruth DeVol McDonald, in Caldwell while he lived and worked in Columbus. 

Dad made certain that I saw my mother's family. 

Dad remarried and started a new family but he made sure I had a relationship with my mother's family. And I did.

Over the years I came to love to go to the farm and I made memories there to last a lifetime. 

Some of the memories I have are in photographs taken by others and some I have taken myself. 

In July 2012 grandmother and I visited on the back porch and before I could snap a picture of her my rechargeable camera battery was exhausted. Earlier in the day I captured the empty rocking chair, hand pump, cat and the view. 

I had this photograph made into a canvas that hangs in my house. This image invokes a strong memory of the farm, porch, farmhouse, grandmother, cats and LOVE.

See grandmother, in her nightgown, feeding the cats a day after her 87th birthday in 2013. There's the hand pump.

The hand pump is on the porch, circa late 1940s, where grandmother and her sister-in-law Dorothy who married my grandfather's brother Harry, pose. They have picked strawberries and are in front of the porch of farmhouse where their in-law's Garfield and Ellen Watson reside. Grandmother and Grandfather later moved into the farmhouse.

I'm sure my love of cats started at the farm. They seem to be in a lot of photographs, especially when I was little. 

Today is National Cat Day!

As far as the hand pump, maybe it will be come a garden water feature at my home. Stay tuned.

Grandmother's House

I miss the smell of grandmother's house as I enter the back door.

I miss the toile wallpaper and gas fireplace that is lit three seasons of the year.

I miss the purple bedroom where I slept with my aunt until she got married and moved next door.

I miss the red bedroom and huge Gone With The Wind lamp that sits in front of the window.

I miss the ladybugs behind every curtain in the house.

I miss the grandfather clock's toll and Westminster chime.

I miss the winding staircase with heavy wood banister.

I miss the turquoise bathroom with Estee Lauder powder and lingering scent.

I miss the attic where I found my mother in 2012.

I miss ringing the dinner bell.

I miss the radio tuned to WILE, and the whistle of the tea kettle.

I miss the breakfasts of oatmeal, toast, tea and oranges.

I miss Muffet, Ryan, Tilly and Shane.

I miss the cats that gather for scraps and bread and milk in a tin plate on the porch.

I miss the huge trees that shade the parlor and kitchen windows.

I miss the porch swing and rocking chairs.

I miss her.

I miss my grandmother.

 

Grandma's flower pot now holds my petunias (or so I thought)

1970s

 

2017

The other day I posted these two photographs, intending to create a simple blog about this flower pot.

To make a long story short, I was studying the photographs after I posted this when it occurred to me that this is NOT the same pot.

 

All of these years I have believed the pot that holds the petunias was the same pot that sat on the flower bed ledge of my late grandparents' house at 1028 Belford Street in Caldwell, Ohio.

I'm sad about this.

 

But it doesn't mean the pot on the bottom is not also from my grandparents house. I just can't remember where it came from.

 

My pot is a beauty.  It's old but in great condition. I love the design and the colors.

 

The pot on the top had a tray too, it appears.

Those are oranges. My grandmother's sister lived in Florida and I think they brought home the orange tree.

I don't remember eating any of the fruit.

 

I just remember the pot.

 

V-E Day fell on GI Fred McDonald's 34th birthday

By Matthew O. McDonald

　

On Labor Day of 1943 Fred McDonald's draft number had finally come up. Born May 8, 1911, at the age of 32 Fred left Caldwell, a small farming community in southeastern Ohio. He had left behind his 23-year-old wife of three years who had just recently became pregnant.

His first stop in route to basic training was Fort Hayes in Columbus, Ohio then Camp Atterbury in Indiana and finally Camp VanHuston, Mississippi for boot camp. Camp VanHuston was very swampy and the men sent here were trained for battle in the swampy South Pacific. Here in basic, McDonald was trained in the 63rd Infantry as a machine gunner and cannoner (ammunition handler). However, McDonald liked to talk to the cook of the division about cooking so when the cook's age caused him to retire, McDonald ended up with the old man's job. His job consisted of cooking lunch, dinner, and breakfast the following day and then getting a full day off. The 63rd was considered the full division with 1,500 members and its own artillery.

Fred McDonald during World War II

Before the 63rd was sent overseas it was Christmas so the soldiers had Christmas dinner and then were sent to Camp Shanks in New York. While stationed here many men weer allowed to go to Times Square to see the ball drop on New Year's Eve. Shortly after on January 5th the soldiers were briefed and loaded into ships. Although these troops were trained for the South Pacific, they were sent to the war in Europe. After landing in southern France the men traveled up the middle of France to Alsace and Lorraine. They finally engaged in battle while crossing the Rhine into Germany. The 63rd was in connection with the 5th Army, a support group which was in the same outfit as General Patton.

From January to April of 1945 they were in the lines (on duty, in battle) just outside of Munich, Germany. On May 7, 1945 they were relieved at their Munich position, however, the next day the war in Europe had ended. Ironically, V-E fell on Fred McDonald's birthday.

They remained outside of Munich until things became organized. They were keeping patrol duty with the military police. Around September of November of 1945, the 63rd Infantry was split up into carrier divisions destined for home. However, the troops who had not accumulated enough points were transferred into other outfits. Fred McDonald did not have enough points and was transferred to the 84th stationed near Castle Germany. On December 6th, 1945 Fred was drove into Austria and from there he was connected with the 83rd Division. Here he had camped with an outfit called the mechanized cavalry (motorized guns and tanks) which was on patrol duty in Austria close to the Italian border.

This outfit left from here and traveled on the Autobahn for two and a half days to another place in Austria. While on the Autobahn they noticed the Germans had dug up the median and replaced it with green cement. These were used as runways for the Luftwaffe. Planes high above unknowing of the runways assumed it was only a median. The Luftwaffe parked their planes in dense pine forests on the runway/median.

Christmas 1945 rolled around and by that time the cooks and mess sergeant had saved up enough milk and sugar to send it to Stires Austria for ice cream to be made. The troops, stationed in an overtaken hotel, had invited 100 orphans and some sisters from a local nunnery for Christmas dinner. The biggest soldier there dressed up as Santa Claus for the orphans. The orphans then received dinner and ice cream.

The last meal Fred McDonald cooked during the war was spaghetti with meat sauce. The meat sauce was made from wild deer that some soldiers had hunted earlier. A man who worked in the message center was getting seconds and he informed Fred that he was going home around New Year's. Before the man got out of the kitchen a sergeant came in and said, "Mac, you're headed for home," and told him what he needed to turn in. Fred replied, "But I don't have enough points." The sergeant replied, "Well the Red Cross has sent for you." Then Fred started slinging in his returns. Apparently Fred's wife had given birth and the doctor told her dad to get the Red Cross to bring Fred home.

From Austria he went on train to Munich, Germany. While at an overtaken airport, he and about a dozen others tried to get an emergency furlow (needed at home). The men were granted the emergency furlow. While on the plane at Munich they were informed that a cold front was moving in and that they would not be able to leave. They were sent to Leharve, France on a slow moving train. From Leharve they rode on cattle trucks in the cold, to the coast. From the coast they loaded on victory boats and Fred McDonald rode upon the Frederick Victory. It took 15 days to reach Staten Island, New York. Here they were rushed through their complementary steak dinner and given their clean change of clothes. They were sent on a train from New Brunswick, New Jersey to Indiana. While in Indiana some of the troops pitched in for a bus back to Atterbury. While they were there they were debriefed and received medals. Many of the men, sick of waiting, walked to the Red Cross to get help in getting back home. While there Fred bumped into a man from his hometown who worked at the Red Cross. This man helped Fred "to get the hell home." Fred arrived in Cambridge, Ohio (20 miles north of Caldwell) and saw his six-month-old son "Bud," Fred McDonald II, for the first time.

　

My brother Matthew wrote this story about our grandfather Fred McDonald for a freshman history class (interview piece) at the University of Cincinnati in 1997-98. Grandpa died on Feb. 21, 2000. This is a special tribute to his memory. He was the best grandpa ever! V-E Day is celebrated in America and Britain. May 8, 1945 was the day Hitler killed himself and Nazi Germany declared an end to the war. People called the Victory in Europe Day for it was a celebration for their victory.

　

Laundry day

I'm in love with Fridays in Amish country because that's the day of the week the laundry is hung outside to dry.
I'm attracted to the many colors of dresses, shirts and overalls, towels and wash cloths, sheets and quilts, and even socks on the lines that are strung across large yards under huge trees, from porches and even from barns.
A string of color set against a white farmhouse or a red barn is a pretty picture that I call art.
I've taken hundreds of Amish laundry photographs in Ohio and Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.
Here are my latest photographs taken on June 26, 2015 in and around Mt. Hope, Kidron, Walnut Creek and Sugarcreek, and many points in between.
Click on photographs to view full size.

Happy Valentine's Day from glass collector heaven

 

In early December one of two Goodwill stores in Cambridge prepared to close and every item in the store was priced at 10 cents. I bought home nine glass swans that I found in the store in an old box. Each swan was wrapped in a yellowed page from the March 3, 2002, Columbus Dispatch.

Cambridge is well known among glass collectors as it is home to the former Cambridge Glass Company that produced glassware here from 1902 to 1958.

Current glass manufacturers in Cambridge include Boyd's Crystal Art Glass, and Mosser Glass.

Earlier this year I visited Mosser Glass where they confirmed they made my swan salt cellars, from 1973 to 2004. Mosser Glass was established in 1971.

The swans are small, measuring about 3 1/2 inches from end of tail feather to tip of beak.

My cost was 90 cents for the lot! There are no markings. They're selling on eBay for about $10 a piece but I think I'll hang onto mine.

 

In 2014 Mosser opened a brand-new, 2,100 square foot showroom and retail store. It was my first visit ever to the store. Wow! I love that place.

I bought a six inch cake plate - black raspberry color - and a bell jar.

The cake stand and bell jar on display was filled with very small pink glittery ornaments. I came home and filled mine with these boxes of conversation hearts candy for Valentine's Day. My boys ate them all, weeks ago.

I also bought a small jade bunny on a basket as next week I am putting my snowmen away and decorating for Easter.

I have as many decorations for Easter as I do for Christmas, and the bunny is my latest addition to my collection.

I see a set of mixing bowls from Mosser coming my way. Now I just need to decide on a color.

 

 

 

The end is near

The notice arrived yesterday.

"The end is near," it reads.

It is the end of my paid subscription to the newspaper where I was employed for a quarter of a century.

I'm relieved.

This is something I've been waiting on since May when I was fired.

Apparently I had my subscription paid through the end of this month and I continue to receive home delivery of the newspaper.

Those who know I got fired cannot believe I even still read the newspaper. They are like "I would have stopped my subscription as soon as I got my pink slip!"

But I paid for it so I'm going continue to take it.

It's not like they are going to give me a refund.

So first I look at the obituaries.

Then I look at the classifieds, and I always look at the auctions on Thursdays. Some day I'd like to go to an auction.

I sometimes read a whole front page story like the one about the man who fell from the Guernsey County Courthouse. Mr. Casto.

Written by the woman who was hired to take my place. Uggghhhh! But the story is magnificent.

I don't have any animosity toward her.

Just her bosses who didn't even say good-bye or thank me for the good things I did for the paper.

So now I'm trying to forgive them for that.

It will be good that soon I will no longer be reminded daily of this place.