By KEN SMITH
PITTSFORD—My Aunt Marion turned 100 years old on Christmas Day this year. She grew up on the same farm on Furnace Road in Pittsford that I did, only 30 years earlier. The farm was more active at that point and, in its prime, milked 30 Jersey cows and supported several families.
When speaking about the farm in a recent interview, she reported, “I never had a desire to have any other kind of life. I loved all the animals. We had chickens and goats and turkeys as well as the milking cows. I did like to work on the farm. My Dad taught me how to rake hay and I begged him to teach me how to milk a cow, but he kept saying I was too young. Finally, when I was about 10 years old, he taught me how to milk a cow. My Dad sat me on the stool and I think the cow knew that I wasn’t a regular milker and would hold back milk. I couldn’t ‘strip’ a cow because my hands weren’t strong enough. (‘stripping’ a cow is getting the last of the milk) so my dad or brother would have to come behind me and do that. Then when I got a little older and my dad depended on me to help milk, I regretted the fact that I had ever learned.”
She tells of her adventures of going to get the cows in the pasture at milking time and sneaking off to her favorite swimming hole called theDeep Hole, a popular swimming spot on Furnace Brook. They did not feed the cows grain in the summer, so they had no reason to come back to the barn. Her Dad would wonder why it took her so long to get the cows and she would have to make up some story about it.She also talks about a yearly fall event involving the small farm version of a “cattle drive.” Her dad and brother had purchased a 100-acre plot of land in Chittenden that we referred to as the Wildcat. Every fall, the grass on the farm was wearing thin and the whole neighborhood would get together and drive the young cattle to the Wildcat farm in Chittenden. It was an event that everyone looked forward to on ayearly basis.
“At one point, they took in a boy who needed a home, and his name wasDuff and he helped out on the farm and my brother competed with him to see who could get the most work done. A man named Charlie also came at times to work on the farm for a few days in exchange for meals.One winter, they had a black bear on the farm. There was a restaurant in Middlebury that had a mini zoo and my dad took in their bear for the winter. There was a cave-like room in the barn where the bear would sleep. Dad would bring the bear into the house and the whole family played with it. Sometimes my mom would bring the bear in during the day and he would lay in the kitchen. We all thought it was a great thing. Dad was famous for his hard cider which he made every year. He would go to the village and bring back a friend and they would drink cider and tell stories. My mom would get mad at them because they would steal her canning jars.”
A tragic event occurred one summer during an annual family picnic at the Deep Hole.
“We had a lot of cousins, and they were playing on the rocks at the swimming hole and my 6-year-old brother Charles slipped into the river without being noticed and drowned. The river made a lot of noise and nobody noticed or heard him but all of a sudden he was missing. Mom and Dad knew they had to carry on and didn’t have time to mourn since the cows had to be milked and the family fed. I was only four and a half years old at the time but my brother Charles and I were very close. We had the funeral service at the farm in the parlor.
“For two weeks in the summer, Verner Thompson and his wife would come to the farm from the city. He worked for an oil company. Verner and his wife became the best of friends with my mom and dad. Verner was a very good photographer and took many beautiful pictures of the farm and farm life. Not many of the kids I went to school with attended college and a lot of them were farm kids. I had a few boyfriends who were farmers but I told them not to get too attached because I wasn’t about to marry a farmer. The farm boys would come to school right after milking and the girls would be holding their nose. I told them it didn’t bother mea bit because that’s what I live with. We had a swimming hole in the pasture on the little brook which formed a natural pond. Us girls liked to swim naked there and the boys would ‘come over the hill’ to watch and we would all hide. We would do the same thing with the boys, sneak up on them to watch them skinny dipping. It wasn’t all work on the farm.”
Aunt Marion moved to New York City, became a nurse, and joined the service. She created a wonderful family with her husband, George, and three kids. She has had a very adventurous life and continues to enjoy life and live in the moment. She is truly an amazing woman!
