12.Did you have family chores? What were they?

We did lots of chores growing up- depending on where we lived. We fed the chickens up at Rice and worked in the garden.  I remember helping to plant potatoes in a field in the hot sun. And following the tractor trail off into the woods, just planting potatoes as I went along. That made my mom crazy. I was 7 years old and very literal!

Donna and I did the dishes together and often would have silent fights so that we didn't' get in trouble. Choking each other with the dish towel etc.  Silent but deadly.

When we moved to the river, the grounds around the cabin were overgrown with weeds and there was very little lawn. We helped clean up the place and plant grass.  and then helped take care of it afterwards.

Because we moved so often- we were always cleaning up one place before we left and cleaning up the new place before we moved in.

Mostly we did housework and cleaning and cooking. Mama made sure we knew how to take care of a house and make a full meal before we could date. She was raising us to be good housewives.

Mama had high standards for cleanliness. We might be poor- but we were clean. The floors were mopped everyday- the bathroom cleaned  every day. We wiped down the kitchen counters,  cupboards and appliances as part of doing the dishes every day. Everything was swept, dusted, beds made etc. Every day.

In my later years- I haven't kept up to my mama's high standards, but still appreciate it when she comes for a visit. It motivates me to get the house in order.  Not that she really cares one way or the other these days- but my inner child still cleans up for mama!

Fun in the Kettle River

My sister Donna and I loved to  ride the current from up the Kettle River  down to our beach.

When we were in junior  high, we  lived in a  little log cabin on 17 acres that stretched between HWY 395 and the Kettle River just north of the Barstow store.  

We'd head out back bare-footed.  You went behind the cabin and past mama's little garden, with cantaloupes  and  round little watermelons ripping on the vine.

Then down an old road, sandy and full of weeds, toward the north end of  our property on the Kettle River. 

The road  narrowed into a trail. Same sand, same weeds, same bare feet.

We'd cut though a deer bed . Ducking low and crouching  to get under the pine branches and down into  the bed.

We'd cool off for awhile, taking in a deer's eye view of the world- through the branches out to the river. 

 Then we'd run the rest of the way, bounding from rock to rock, down to the  river bank. It was outlined with big wide rocks and boulders, baking in the sun. We jumped from hot rock to hot rock as fast as we could, to where the river makes a wide curving sweep.

We'd  wade into the  ice cold, shallow water of the river, rushing  against our ankles and at about mid-calf we'd drop down into the river and let the current carry us to the middle of river. 

Donna and I would  float, practice our synchronized swimming. Wave at the tourists from Canada driving down the hiway.

The current  pulled us along,  past high sandy river banks and the curve of the highway and pine trees to a rock wall where the water edded in a deep pool on the other side of the river from our beach.

If you ended up on the wrong side of the river you'd have to swim through a pretty strong fast current to get home.

More than likely, we'd end up just downriver, toward the neighbor's vacation cabin. The beach was a narrow shallow rocky strip of shoreline. We would tiptoe barefooted home.