The Autobiography of Aunt Millie Part Eight: Last Chapter

With so much work, they often had a "hired man," at twenty dollars a month. It had to be someone that could handle that team of mules.

The team of horses were called Doll and Major, but became too old to work, so the team of mules was bought from the Otto Ott sale. During 1920, 1921 and 1922, lumber was cut, as they planned to build a barn. When Richard was born a brisk thunderstorm was raging (March 22, 1922) but he arrived safely.... [But the Old Timer contracted] a fever, [and] Dr. Ross reported she was in God's hands for recovery. She survived. At this writing (1980) at 86, still has the pleasure of the palate, but short of breath.

It seems most things happened to Gifford. He was left in charge of his year-old brother while his parents and brothers milked the cows. They waited by the wood stove, on the oven door of that home comfort. Gifford placed his little brother's hand in the stove. What a savage! Most children are! When he was twelve, he and his cousin Chick [Lester] Bonardel took a walk to Ship Rock carrying a .22 [rifle]. Shortly they came back and [Gifford] tearfully confessed, "Pop, we killed a deer!" He expected to be punished, but instead he was praised, the deer was bled and brought to the farm house, so they were happy to have meat on the table! It was strawberry time when venison was at its best!

That no. 4 son, Richard, had one of those many narrow escapes. Gifford, about fourteen, drove the old Dodge truck for a short ride with his cousin Emma Fieg by his side. Richard, in [a] small boy show-off fit, stood in front with feet spread far apart on each front wheel spring. He lost his balance, fell in front of the moving truck, which of course was minus brakes. Gifford was horrified, but was able to stop. Richard was doubled up under the truck, but Gifford was able to drag him out from back of the front wheel in a fetal position. He seemed O.K. with just a bruise or two. Not till long after did they tell their mother!

Another of Gifford's vivid memories: he was told to get some feed for chickens from a bag in the storeroom. As he reached in the bag, a mouse ran up his sleeve [and] ran around his torso several timees under his shirt. At the last step of the Indian war dance it ran down his pants leg. His only peeve was the way his older brothers laughed at him.

One spring day, the Old Timer and her sister Bertha were working in the garden. Her three boys, and the sister's two boys, seven and three, were playing in the attic. The sisters, hard at work, heard a blast from a gun, and turned pale with fright. The boys, also pale, came downstairs and told the tale.

The grandfather (father of Arthur Case) had been in the Civil War and his muzzle-loading gun had been put in the attic for safe keeping. N[umber] one son took the gun, pointed at a window and said, "Watch me shoot!" Expecting to hear a harmless click, he was horrified to hear a loud bang. The relief the two sisters felt when they saw the boys safe was immeasurable.

Near the farm lived a man who was obsessed with hatred for the Roman Catholic church. So when no. 4 son, as so many tried it, went to the outdoor privy with a cigarette and threw it down, the tinder-dry building caught fire, but was quickly seen from the kitchen window and extinguished. So a family saying originated: "The Pope set the toilet on fire."

The boys kept growing, trees were felled to make siding for a new barn and it was completed by 1925. It had stanchions for 10 cows, but work was still hard, and for a while they sold milk by the bottle in the village. After a very dry year, they had a well drilled at the barn's edge, water was reached [at] 117 feet, and they even had drinking cups installed for the cows. They boarded a horse for forty dollars a month, a very substantial help for their finances.

The oldest son bought a car [and] they had a gas tank installed, which calls to mind another Gifford episode. One evening, as his parents were out, Gifford took the pitcher pump (installed instead of an old oaken bucket with a windlass), placed [it] on the gas tank, and pumped out fifteen gallons of gas. So when his parents came home and had a drink of water, they wondered why it tasted like gasoline.

So ends the autobiography of Emilie Roseina Fieg Case.

Sharon Case Hirsch, Millie's first great-grandchild, remembers, "She was so influential to me. I remember visiting with her at the farm. She inspired my progressive political leanings, love of reading and love for nature. She always made me feel very, very special as her first great-grandchild."

 From left to right: (front) Stanley, Millie, Gifford;
(back) Thomas (Tim or Tommy), Arthur (Mike), Richard