Aunt Norie’s Sewing Room
There were two or three remarks (chuckles) about my word “supper” in a recent column. I remembered my thoughts on that same word as I typed that column, that word that day.
My thoughts, my memories go quickly back to those days. As I, and I know so many of you, grew up with that word, supper was a real part of our days. A real treat at our house could be even a bowl of Mom’s yummy hot cornbread right out of the oven, with milk, or that hot cornbread sliced with real butter and honey on top.
Those were long, hard-working days (for all dads) on those early Kansas farms: up before sunrise doing regular chores, milking the cows, feeding the critters, back to eat a hearty breakfast, before heading for the fields to plant and tend the crops with their horses in all of their harnesses, hooked to the plows, cultivators, etc. No tractors in those days.
Then back in at noon to rest and water the horses, and eat that hearty meal (dinner) again before heading back for a long, hard afternoon of the same grind, until dusk, back in to do the evening chores, in need of another good meal, a little lighter perhaps, that one called supper.
Farmers always helped each other at harvest time. Going in groups to each others’ farms, threshing crews (no combines), no grain shelled right out there in the field, with combines as today. No, a huge machine came to each farm. The wheat, etc., was hauled in bundles, straw blown out of the machine onto a huge pile while the grain was shot into a truck bed.
The wives came also to help the wife cook a huge dinner for the men. People were real people in those days, caring, helping. No, lunch was not the word for that meal at noon. That was dinner.
Oh yes, lunches were a very important issue in those same days, however, that was for us kids. We all packed a good hearty lunch in those, now collectable, Roy Rogers, Gene Autry (and likewise) tin lunch boxes, which we, of course, toted to school each day.
— Aunt Norie, P.O. Box 265, Tonganoxie, 66086; email@example.com.