Papa was a man of medium stature, a merry twinkle in his eyes, dark wavy hair definitely parted in the center and cut by daughter Bernice because no way could he afford to go to the barber in town. Later, Mama took over as barber. Papa was a firm believer in combing and brushing his chair clean--no water! He was a handsome man even to the age of 78 when he died. He paid little attention to styles--vanity was for fools.
He had a staunch spirit, that Kurico and barnyard could not daunt. When it was cold, there was Papa with a twine tied around his waist and ankles to keep his overalls and jacket snug against the northern breezes. He wore huge overshoes that whoofed when he walked even though he had two pairs of heavy (not necessarily pairs) socks for warmth. Often extra pairs went over the shoes!
When guests would drop in, he would just let the horses stand and he would visit until they would leave. If peddlers would come, he seemed to be able to size them up and keep working. They would have to go to the field to talk to him or settle their wares with Mama.
The good black soil produced many stones which were a problem we solved by loading them on the "stone boat" and hauling them to the stone-pile which was later used for foundations and our farm gate entrance. Many a toenails went off while working barefoot on the stone boat--especially when hauling slough water for Mama's flowers.
Papa was a well digger, auctioneer, carpenter, cementationer, shoe cobbler, animal trainer, painter, welder, mechanic, butcher, shearer of sheep's wool, besides being a farmer. He owned a gas engined threshing machine and used that old "Gubben" each time the shocks of grain had been stacked and it was time to thresh.
Few were the times too those new bib overalls touched the lye soap water. Can't go to town with a washed-out overall! The colors were not fast nor were they impervious to shrinking. High-gloss were the britches before he surendered them to the lye soap treatment. Those britches also furnished an abrasive surface when needed We listened for the loud report we knew we would hear when Papa struck the long sulphur matches on his pant's leg as he lit the kerosene lantern.
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