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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781466942981 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Trafford Publishing |
| Publication date: | 07/17/2012 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 506 |
| File size: | 3 MB |
Read an Excerpt
Journey from Gauntlet to Paradise
By Roger Vincent
Trafford Publishing
Copyright © 2012 Roger VincentAll right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4669-4296-7
Chapter One
GRANDMA'S HILL FARM
GUESS WHAT? AFTER lengthy discussions, and with heartfelt encouragement from friends and family, "self" (as I like to refer to myself) came to the conclusion to write this book. And now you have decided to partake! Fasten your seat belt. This will be my one and only effort at book writing, and my being no literary genius will leave one disappointed if they expect to find proper grammar, spelling, and punctuation. Your author Roger, even though reaching the knowledgeable age of seventy-five years young, graduated fifty-six years ago in the little Town of Catskill, New York, about one hundred miles due north of New York City. Graduating fifty-six years ago may or may not qualify one as a literary genius! But then trying to survive in this crazy mixed-up world is an education in itself!
Whenever I tell my wife, Betty May, "Guess what ... I've got an idea," she just puts her hands on her hips, glares at me, and exclaims, "Oh no, here we go again!" And that's just exactly how my wife's acting right now! "You're such a blabbermouth, you just can't go telling folks all your business, they will never believe you anyway." Well, regardless, "self" has been a little bored lately, so I'm just going to go right ahead and tell you all this crazy mixed-up story and take you with me on a journey from gauntlet to paradise.
On the following pages, we'll shed some tears, have some laughs. There will be some trials and tribulations, some near disasters and a good deal of everyday life adventures. All adventures will be wrapped up in a way that hopefully everyone can enjoy and possibly wind up being a better person—maybe even learn a little bit from some of my very own mistakes. Oh, if only they would listen!
The author was born on a farm in Coxsackie, New York. Coxsackie is a little town about ten miles north of Catskill, where he now resides with his wife of fifty-three years, Betty May. I love this lady that God gave me more than any lady has ever been loved before and don't anyone even bother to argue with me 'bout it. My wife sometimes claims she is the thorn in my side, which the Bible says occurred when God took a rib from Adam to make Eve—thus the thorn in Adam's side! In the beginning, before Betty May was a thorn in my side, I was not this old gray-headed grandfather. I was a curly-haired little boy who could have won a beautiful child contest. Mom even cut my six-inch curls off and saved them in a red heart-shaped Valentine's box, and I show my curls to folks when they began teasing this old bald-headed grandfather 'bout his baldness. I'm not going to elaborate that much on my boyhood, but there are a few fond memories I'd like to share. My grandmother had a hill farm way off the wilderness near West Berne, New York, about forty miles northwest of Catskill. I loved my grandma and that old pioneer days' farm. Mom and I were on a visit there when I was about three, and I was wandering around by the chicken yard when I had to pee! I decided to pee through the chicken wire. Guess what? The Rhode Island red rooster thought he saw a worm! That rooster got a hold of my difference between a boy and a girl. It's a miracle I wasn't injured permanently. OW, OW, and OW again! Mom and my very own grandma just sat on the front porch laughing. Laugh?! My foot, it was not funny, not one bit funny!
Grandma had an old plow horse named Dick. One of my favorite spots in the whole world was on that old plow horse's back. Grandma would make a batch of pancakes every morning, and there was a sliding glass window in the kitchen with a shelf where Grandma would place the leftover pancakes for Dick to come and get. One morning, Grandma decided to play a game and tease poor old Dick. She would place the plate full of pancakes on the shelf, and old Dick was awaiting patiently, even gave a little whinny under his breath. Grandma pulled Dick's breakfast away. She teased the poor old horse three times this way, but the third time she pulled his pancakes away, he spun around and put both feet right through the kitchen window.
Then came the time when my mom and grandma went blackberry picking. As for me I had more blackberries all over my face than in the bucket, "self" was a-doing more eating than picking. We had filled our pails with berries when there came this god-awful snarling, growling and spitting just off in the bushes. Now my mom's older brother, Perry, was always up to no good, pulling pranks on everyone, so Grandma just logically assumed that her prankster son was up to his old tricks trying to scare us by making believe he was a mountain lion or bobcat. We all just ignored him and continued filling our berry pails. The spitting and snarling got worse, much worse! Grandma let out with a war whoop, "That's just about enough of your nonsense, Perry. We know you're in there, you get your butt outta there!" The snarling and growling increased, so Grandma started throwing stones into the bushes. Mom and I joined in chucking stones. Now the howling and spitting got real bad. "Will you just listen to that damn kid?"
We finished filling our pails and went home. There on the front porch sat Perry and Grandma's brother Uncle Emery. Grandma shook her finger under Perry's nose. "Thought you were smart trying to scare us like some wildcat, didn't ya." Uncle Emery just sat there dumbfounded and then exclaimed, "What the dickens ya talking 'bout! The kid's been right here with me all afternoon!" All I got to say is that wildcat must have thought he'd met up with some real brave berry pickers!
Grandma's hill farm was at the base of a long gradually sloping hill with fields and pasture lots. Just beyond the base of the sloping fields and in front of the farmhouse was a deep ravine with a stream and a waterfalls. In the winter when there was snow, my mom and her brothers—Perry, Ernie, and Dale—would take me, at that time being only four or five years old, out for some winter fun. They would all gather up their sleds, toboggans, and skis, and we would walk up that big old hill to go sledding and skiing. Mom was riding on a homemade toboggan Perry had made. Perry was doing the driving, and Mom was carrying me. We were about to take off on toad's wild ride. We were coming downhill, snow a flying and doing about warp two. Wow, we were really flying! We were coming up on Grandma's house real fast, and I do mean real fast! Mom said to Perry, "Don't ya think ya should begin to apply the brakes real soon, like ... now!?" "What brakes? Don't got none!" Mom just dove in a snowbank with me. Perry, well, he abandoned the toboggan, which went flying past the farmhouse and down into the ravine. Sometimes, events that occur in your childhood leave a lasting impression. I know one thing for sure, I had never been too keen on tobogganing. Wonder why! Back in the good old days, we would really get snowed in on Grandma's hill farm. Grandma would have to hitch up our horse, old Dick, to the buckboard wagon and go to East Berne and buy the winter's supply of groceries. Buying winter groceries had to be done along about the first of October before the heavy snows came in. Grandma's farm was quite self-sufficient. Many good old-fashioned foodstuffs were grown or raised right on the farm. Grandma had a vegetable garden, and we had a cellar full of canned fruits, vegetables, jellies, and berries, like the blackberries I was telling you 'bout. We had all that good old-fashioned canned stuff. Grandma even had her own beehives, so we had plenty of honey. The farm, of course, produced milk, cheese and butter, eggs, meat, chicken, beef, pork, and ham. We even had a smokehouse, so we had smoked ham, bacon, and pork. Although most of our light came from kerosene lamps, Grandma eventually had a windmill installed for electricity. We only had a hand pump or used a pail to get water from the wells. We didn't have any indoor plumbing either, just an old two-hole drafty outhouse and a Sears and Roebuck catalog. Why we even had our own ice house. We would all cut ice from the creek, store it in the ice house, and use it to keep food and drinks cold. There was no refrigerator, just an ice box.
Grandma had a hired hand, Roy, who lived right there on the farm. Grandma eventually married Roy, but that's another story that we won't be talking much about. Roy was Grandma's fourth husband. This ole gal was a real swinger, and I loved my grandma. Now let's get back to foodstuffs. Even though the farm produced a variety of produce, we still had to go to town before it snowed to stock up on salt and flour and other food items that the farm didn't produce, like sugar, although we did tap maple trees and make maple syrup, which we would use in our coffee or where it was best on our pancakes.
Roy, this old farm hand I was telling about, was some character, wore his long johns year round! Roy was always a walking around, humming to himself. Roy and Grandma would get to arguing, and Roy would head for the woods to cool off a bit. Roy would tell everyone, "If ya really get to needing me just raise the flag." Grandma would let him stay in the woods for a few days, then she would raise the flag. The only radio we had was called a crystal set. It had a wooden handle with a wire on it that you had to wiggle around on a crystal until you found a station. Roy would come in from doing his chores morning, noon, and night to listen to the news. This was a ritual that was by no means to be interrupted! One day I was raising cane as five-year-olds are entitled to do. Roy couldn't hear his news, so he hollered at me. My very own self paid absolutely no attention. Roy chased me down, and when he caught me, he put me over his knee and spanked my butt. Well, "self" bellowed like a moose. My mom and Roy got in an argument about the whole thing. "You can't spank my little boy like that!" Roy went to the woods again.
On another occasion, "self" was once again raising cane. This time my very own grandmother had just about enough of my shenanigans, so she came a running after me. I waded through the stream behind the barn, stood on the other side, and—big mistake—stuck my tongue out at Grandma! Grandma hiked up her dress, came across the stream madder, then a wet wolverine "self" got his little brat hind end whaled, but good! God, but them were the good ole days! Sure would solve a lot of problems if a lot more brats got their hind ends whaled a lot more often today. Nope, instead this good old common sense discipline is mistaken for abuse. As for those who do abuse children, throw them in a cage with King Kong, and let them experience what it's like to have some big dude beat you up. In the Bible, Proverbs 22:15 advises us the rod of discipline removes foolishness from the boy!
My mom was pregnant. When the time came for the new baby to arrive, Mom had to leave me and my baby sister, Carol, with Grandma on the farm. We were all waiting in eager expectation for the arrival of the new baby, then came the tears. The new baby died three days later! Mom had named our new baby sister Joan. History would repeat itself later in my story.
Grandma had originally bought her farm for $800—all hundred and sixty acres of woods, fields, streams with waterfalls, and all this remote wilderness. Paradise. As Grandma got up in years, she could no longer handle the everyday operation, so she was forced to sell her farm. Grandma sold her little piece of paradise for a paltry $1,500. Ya know what? Grandma's hill farm still sits there vacant for over fifty years. This farm could probably be bought if someone were to make a deal and pay the back taxes. You know what else? If this book sells, my very own "self" and wife are going to buy Grandma's old hill farm! Why, I can even remember the farmer who had to come around and pick us kids up for school in the winter with his sleigh and team of horses. Maybe someday we'll get to go back to that good old-fashioned way of life. Maybe someday paradise will return!
My grandma is no longer with us. She's taking a well-needed rest. The most important reason, that God sent his son to earth to die on a torture stake was that we would get to see our dead loved ones again. Don't know how many others will enjoy that privilege, but I certainly hope that I will. In fact I know in no uncertain terms that I will get to see my grandma again in the Resurrection! How did Grandma die? Well, that tough old self-sufficient Indian lady slipped on a throw rug, broke her hip, went to the hospital where they dropped her out of bed twice, and she died. As for that old hired hand, Roy, that she finally wound up marrying, well, Grandma had to kick him out, and he went and lived in a small camping trailer in her front yard. Roy turned out to be a dirty old man who would pay local teenage girls to dance around in the nude in front of him. Guess all this excitement proved to be too much for him. In fact, all this nudity killed him.
As for my real grandpa, well, he was another full-blooded Mohawk Indian character. One story I can remember about him that my mom told was how she was brushing my head full of curls out on the back sun porch. Mom had me standing on an ironing board. Grandpa who was going to go partridge hunting and was a loading his 10-gauge shotgun, well, the shotgun went off and took the windows out both sides of me on the sun porch. Although it is rather difficult to part, curly-hair grandpa most certainly made an attempt at doing just that! I have fond memories especially of the curly-hair part since now I'm just mostly bald! Oh, for the good old days! Like my grandma, grandpa is no longer with us. Grandpa was taking in hay with his hay wagon and team of horses. Grandpa was moving hay on top of the hay wagon when he told the horses to giddyap. They stepped on a bees' nest, jumped ahead, and Grandpa fell off the hay wagon and ran the pitchfork through his chest! Grandpa was only in his forties when he was laid to rest!
Guess we better go back and begin at the beginning since that's a very good place to start. The very first event that occurred in this curly-haired child's life included dear old Dad. Now first off, right off the bat I'm not going to beat around the bush at all when it comes right down to describing my old man. Dear old Dad was, and this is putting it mildly, a first class, number one gold-plated north-end- of-a-southbound rotten louse, period! When I was due to be born, George, which was my old man's name, sent my mom to a clinic to have an abortion! No sir, by George, no way was dear old Dad about to be saddled with any brats! But abortions seventy years ago were more like a butchering than an operation. So Mom was more afraid of the operation than she was of George! Mom didn't go through with the abortion. So my very own "self" started out in life with there pretty darn near not being any life at all!
Events have a way of coming full circle, so now I'm looking forward with eager expectation to living forever in paradise right here on earth. Now don't you all get to wonder what the dickens is Roger rambling on about. Now, just hold your horses. I'll explain all about paradise a little later in our book. Back to the beginning. Mom came home still pregnant, so George beat her up real bad. Ya know, I knew my old man was a rat, but I didn't know how big a rat he really was till just a couple of years ago when I first became aware of the abortion situation. All you folks who have a real nice dad, well, you just treasure your relationship and the good times you all have shared together, ain't no fun having a louse for a dad.
My mom had a sister, a louse who was married to another louse Leonard. They had nine kids, and they all lived on a farm. When Grandma moved off her hill farm, she still had ten cows. Grandma put her ten cows in her son-in-law Leonard's barn. Big mistake! Leonard put a lock on the barn door. That low-down cattle rustler stole Grandma's cows! Possession is nine tenths of the law.
My old man was a louse, but he proved to be one tough character. It was a known fact that Leonard was one tough lumberjack barroom brawler. Leonard had a reputation for barroom fights and beating up almost every man in two counties. Sometimes I exaggerate just a mite, but at least everyone gets the general idea.
Anyhow, this is how the battle royal began. My old man came for one of his infrequent visits. We had an upstairs apartment in Leonard's old farmhouse. There was this huge room with a couch and some living room chairs on one end of the room, a kitchen table and chairs in the middle of the room, an old wood-burning cook stove and a double bed that Ernie and Dale and me shared on the far end of the room. On this particular evening, we had just finished a late supper, food was still on the table, and us kids were in bed. Grandma had started to clean off the supper table. My mom and George were sitting on the couch. They were discussing Leonard's stealing Grandma's herd of cows.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Journey from Gauntlet to Paradise by Roger Vincent Copyright © 2012 by Roger Vincent. Excerpted by permission of Trafford Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
Foreword....................viiAcknowledgments....................ix
Chapter 1 Grandma's Hill Farm....................1
Chapter 2 Growing Pains And Joy....................16
Chapter 3 Jehovah Sends Betty May....................39
Chapter 4 Dumb Elmer's Farm....................76
Chapter 5 A-Frame Wilderness Life....................90
Chapter 6 If We Could Just Journey Back Then....................117
Chapter 7 The Rags-To-Riches Story Begins....................152
Chapter 8 This Time You Gave Me A Mountain....................174
Chapter 9 Grandpa's Pioneer Way Of Life....................196
Chapter 10 A Little Exploring A Little Truth....................224
Chapter 11 Been There, Done That....................254
Chapter 12 We Don't Live A Normal LiFe!....................286
Chapter 13 The Down To Earth Saga Begins....................316
Chapter 14 Are We There Yet?....................350
Chapter 15 The Gauntlet At The End Of Our Journey....................382
Chapter 16 Remember The Past—Hope For The Future....................416
Chapter 17 Memories Are Made Of This!....................453
Chapter 18 The Future Journey To Reasonableness....................469
Concerning The Author....................493