A Time When the Doors were Unlocked
Remembering a simpler time, a time when neighbor knew neighbor and people helped each other.I grew up in the 50's on a small dairy farm in southeastern Indiana.
Financially, times were hard , my dad and mom had purchased an extremely impoverished farm when I was three years old. We ,along with my brother , who came along later, spent the next several years restoring it to a more productive state. More
I grew up in the 50's on a small dairy farm in southeastern Indiana.
Financially, times were hard , my dad and mom had purchased an extremely impoverished farm when I was three years old. We ,along with my brother , who came along later, spent the next several years restoring it to a more productive state. The farm was so over grown with weeds that after living there for a while, dad had time to mow the weeds around the barn and lo and behold! He found a hog house no one knew was there.
The soil was totally depleted, the first year's twelve acre corn crop yielded a whooping two hundred bushels of corn. Hard to live on that. Fortunately, about that same time, turkey raising came into fashion,the following year dad purchased and raised 1000 turkeys. The resulting turkey by-product increased the corn yield from 200 bushels to 1200 bushels on that very same field.
This was a time when neighbors were neighbors, we used each others farm equipment and tools like they were our own, if dad couldn't find a tool or wrench, it was probably over at the neighbors. As a result, while picking up one our own tools he would return one of theirs.
Our doors were never locked, no one would break in and steal anything. In fact if one happened to be away it was desired(it almost became a state law) that the neighbors had to stop by and check the house to make sure everything was OK.
Every one had a gun, we had several neatly stacked in the corner of the kitchen, an ample supply of ammunition, and fireworks) could be found in the cabinet drawer.
I started hunting with a 22 rifle when I was about 9, a rifle given to me for Christmas by my parents. Did I or any kid I know pick up or use a fire arm without permission of their parents, are you kidding? We would have gotten skun alive. Back in those days parental authority and respect meant something, and the only rights a child had were the rights his parents gave him. So, what's wrong with that?
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