When we were kids, the folks would take us for a drive. It could be any length of time. Depending on which direction would could be reasonably certain of where we were going. Headed west towards Ontario meant mom wanted to buy five pounds of margarine for a dollar and 5 pounds of sugar for a dollar.
If we took the turn to Weiser we had no idea until we headed north to Cambridge. We were going to Indian Valley to visit Homer Bott!!! Mom did not prepare food because she know they would feed us.
On the approach to Homer's farm there was a dirt road that rose and fell over several rolling hills. Dad loved to speed up to the top of the hills and float over with negative gravity. We were thrilled and usually shouted, "Daddy, do it again!!"
We would go into the big old farmhouse. There were three bedrooms upstairs, a full basement, downstairs was a bedroom, a bathroom, living room, kitchen. The front porch ran the full length of the house and the had a piano. I loved to plink on it until Mom got irritated.
They had a strawberry patch and when there were berries us kids would pick them and Bernice would make strawberry shortcake.
The family consisted of Homer, Bernice, Carol, Buzz and Gary. Gary was about 9 or 10. When he was younger he drank poison that had been stored in a soda bottle. As a result he was effected mentally for the rest of his life. In all other aspects he was just fine.
Homer owned a gelding named, Oscar. Oscar was pretty smart. Homer had trained him to jump up in the back of the truck. Whenever Homer went irrigating, he put Oscar in the truck and away they went.
I was horse crazy then. I had read every Glenn Balch book ever written. He was an Idaho writer who wrote about kids and horses. My hero!
One time we were visiting and Oscar was saddled and I begged to ride him. So I was on Oscar in the pasture north of the house. I lifted the rains. I had no idea what would happen next. Oscar was trained to take off like a scalded cat with the rains were lifted. So.....there we were headed straight for the fence. I did not have brains enough to haul back on the rains and holler "Whoa!". My only option as we headed for the fence was to commit my soul to God and fall off at speed Oscar skidded to a halt without a rider. I lay on the ground trying to look around to find my glasses. Which were rather severely bent. sigh....
Richard and Phil would both go help with the haying. Dad went of course and a pretty good time and lots of hard work was had by all.
Dad and Homer had been acquainted a kids. I am pretty sure they go up to high jinks. Dad told me once that he had participated in a Chickeree. I certain that Homer was involved.
A chickeree happens when a bunch of young folk who have been out to dances, drove all over the place, maybe sneaked a drink or two, discovered they were hungry.
Invariably, someones farm was nominated for the chickens. I don't think the Berglund farm ever hosted such a shindig because they only had cows.
So the designated hen house was raided of about 5 or 6 chickens. Speedily despatched, defeathered, and butchered and fried up. I would love to have been a mouse in the corner watching all this nonsense going on. Pretty sure there were some fairly upset farm wives the next day.
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