Wednesday, August 21, 2013

IT WAS VERY IMPORTANT TO KNOW HOW TO CUT UP A CHICKEN by CHERYL PIERSON


Our generation has lost so many important talents and skills. Technology makes it easier for us, but in some ways, it takes away our independence. Maybe that’s one reason we love to read (and write!) historical fiction. We can go back in time vicariously without having to live through all the hardships and trials of everyday life, experiencing only the top layer of what must have been difficult, by our standards, every moment.

Does anyone know how to cut up a chicken anymore? My mother did. I remember her getting out the wickedest looking knife I’d ever seen every Sunday and cutting up a chicken to fry. They had started to sell cut-up chickens in the store, but they were more expensive. Mom wouldn’t have dreamed of paying extra for that. By the time I began to cook for my family, I didn’t mind paying that extra money—I couldn’t bear to think of cutting a chicken up and then frying it.

This is my great grandmother with my mom (far left) and three of her siblings. Probably taken around 1928 or 1929.
It’s all relative. My mom, born in 1922, grew up in a time when the chickens had to be beheaded, then plucked, then cut up—so skipping those first two steps seemed like a luxury, I’m sure. I wouldn’t know how to begin to cut up a chicken. I never learned how.

Hog killing day was another festive occasion. Because my husband was raised on a farm, he and my mother had a lot of similar experiences to compare (this endeared him to her in later years.) Neighbors and family would gather early in the day. The hog would be butchered, and the rest of the day would be spent cutting and packing the meat. When my husband used to talk about the “wonderful sausage” his mother made, I was quite content to say, “Good for her. I’m glad you got to eat that when you were young.” (There’s no way I would ever make sausage.)

Very rough times. My mom, again, far left, with younger siblings. Probably taken around 1937-1938. Dustbowl/Depression Era Oklahoma.
Medical issues? I was the world’s most nervous mother when I had my daughter. But being the youngest in the family, I had a world of experience to draw on. I also had a telephone and I knew how to use it! I called my mom or one of my sisters about the smallest thing. I can’t imagine living in one of the historical scenarios that, as writers, we create with those issues.

The uncertainty of having a sick child and being unable to do anything to help cure him/her would have made me lose it. I know this happened so often and was just accepted as part of life, but to me, that would have been the very worst part of living in a historical time. I had a great aunt who lost all three of her children within one week to the flu. She lost her mind and had to be institutionalized off and on the rest of her life.

My mother was the eldest of eleven children. She often said with great pride that her mother had had eleven children and none of them had died in childhood. I didn’t realize, when I was younger, how important and odd that really was for those times. My father’s mother had five children, two of whom died as children, and two more who almost died, my father being one of them.

My mom's parents, courting. This would have been about 1919.
It was a case of my grandmother thinking he was with my granddad, and him thinking three-year-old Freddie was with her. By the time they realized he was missing, the worst had happened. He had wandered to the pond and fallen in. It was a cold early spring day. Granddad had planted the fields already, between the pond and the house. A little knit cap that belonged to little Freddie was the only evidence of where he’d gone. It was floating on top of the water. By some miracle, my granddad found him and pulled him up out of the water. He was not breathing. Granddad ran with him back to the house, jumping the rows of vegetables he’d planted. The doctor later told him that was probably what saved Dad’s life—a very crude form of CPR.

My dad and his younger brother, Kay--this was taken around 1938-1939. Dad would have been 17 or 18.
Could you have survived in the old west? What do you think would have been your greatest worry? What would you hate to give up the most from our modern way of life? I’m curious to know, what skills or talents to you think we have lost generationally over the last 100 years?

My great great grandmother on my dad's side, Sarah Manery Casey--this was her Anglo name, we don't know her true Indian name.
I’m not sure I would have lived very long, or very pleasantly. I know one thing—my family would never have eaten sausage that I’d made.

45 comments:

  1. Thought-provoking questions, Cheryl, about survival in the Old West. If you weren't industrious, survival was out of the question. The term jack-of-all-trades could easily be applied. Hunting, fishing, planting, seamstress, carpenter, farmer, and cowboy. And learning how to protect the household from wild animals as well as from wild humans had to rank high in importance. Informative post. Thanks.

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  2. Must be chicken day on the western historical blogs. Caroline Clemmons posted a recipe for homemade chicken and dumplings on hers, complete with a tale about catching and killing a chicken first. :-D

    Cheryl, this is a fabulous post. I've done my best to forget all the work that goes into daily life on the land, particularly when it comes to food. Your post brought all that back (including some truly hideous olfactory memories). I may never eat again! :-D

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  3. Tom, I still can't wrap my head around all the things that had to be done just for daily survival in those days. My grandmother, as I said, had 11 kids. But HER mother had a "yours, mine and ours" family of 17 kids! I truly just can't imagine dealing with that many children--their hurts and ailments and problems--AND trying to keep meals cooked and food on the table. My grandmother was born in 1898. My great grandmother was born in 1884, I think--she was 13 or 14 when she had my grandmother. I can't imagine starting a family that young, but especially back then when everything had to be done from scratch.

    My mom told me a story about when her dad's parents came to IT and lived in a sod house. My gr grandfather had left on a week-long trip, and the 2nd morning he was gone, my gr grandmother got up to find some Indians outside her front door. They asked for supplies--sugar, flour, coffee. Of course she gave it to them, scared to death. The day after that she got up to a line of them wanting the same thing. Though she was afraid, she gave them half of all she had and told them that was all she could give and still be able to have food for her own family through the next months. I always laugh about that since my gr grandmother on Mom's mother's side was nearly full blood Choctaw. So my family was made up of settlers that came to IT and the other half was here to meet them.
    Cheryl
    Cheryl

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  4. Kathleen,
    We have so much convenience now, we forget all the work that went into just daily living in the past, for sure. You know, even in the 50's and 60's when I was a little girl, I remember going to my grandparents' house when it was time to harvest their garden. We would get out there and pick okra, corn, tomatoes, beans--you name it. And of course, us kids would have to shuck the corn and silk it, and snap the beans and string those. We'd always bring home a ton of okra, and I remember having to wash and cut that, and how I would get those little stickers in my hands. But we sure did love to eat it! Now I'll have to go to Caroline's and read about the chicken and dumplings. LOL
    Cheryl

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  5. Great reflections, Cheryl.
    There are a lot of lost arts. I think that's what made the Foxfire books so popular.
    My favorite outing as a young Boy Scout was where each pair of boys had to lash a cage for a live chicken, carry it with us then kill and eat it the next day. I carried on the tradition when my boys were young and I was a scout leader. I got some real pushback from other parents about the 'brutality'. I told them their boys could bring a bucket of KFC if they wanted, but I preferred my boys not to have to hire someone to do do their killin' for them. I still run into boys who are now adults that remember those campouts as some of best... Of course, there are a couple of parents who still wouldn't cross the street to put me out if I was on fire.

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  6. Fantastic, Cheryl--
    Oh, what wonderful vintage photos! I adore those.
    Jim is one of 12, all were born at home, all were healthy, not a thing wrong with any of them, and his mother never lost a baby. He was born in 1935, the next to last, and there were 30 years between to oldest and youngest. Really. So the first was born early in the 1900s.
    Chicken? I grew up in town, but my mother ordered a 100 baby chicks each spring and raised them in the back yard. Daddy portioned off an area in the back next to the alley. He built a chicken house, too. My little sister and I fed and watered them every day after school. Mother wouldn't let them get very old, just big enough to kill. If you want to know the gory details, just use your imagination. She and Daddy wrung every neck plucked, etc. cut them up, and bagged each one separately for the freezer.
    Of course, by the time they were big enough, about a dozen had died. But when that day came, my sister and it closed ourselves up in the bedroom, and covered our heads up until it was all over. Do you know what singed feathers smell like. Shudder!!!!

    We were at my grandparents for one hog-killing, when were younger, and we crawled under the bed. Ugh.

    Mother and Daddy both had that survival mode and grew and hoarded food. When Mother died at age 95, all alone, she had two big upright freezers full of meat and vegetables and fruits. Broke out hearts--most everything had been in there ten years. She forgot she had that in her later years.

    Oh, such memories. Thanks for the write-up.

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  7. I do know how to cut up a chicken. I've also made sausage. Mom made sure I learned these things when I was old enough to hold a knife. I have not snapped a chicken's neck and plucked it, but I've seen it done. My grandmother made the best fried chicken and she truly started from scratch. This was a fun post Cheryl. Loved the photos.

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  8. I'm old enough to remember picking vegetables from my grandparents garden. I also watched while my grandfather beheaded chickens. I know what it running around like a chicken with it's head cut off means. Yes I know what singed feathers and chicken innards smell like. I'll never forget. My cousins did the hog thing but I never was there. I have helped my grandfather skin and gut squirrels and rabbits and dress a deer. These memories are some that I have and will remember the rest of my life. I do know how to cut up a chicken but it has been a long time. I only like white meat so I don't buy anything else.
    Connie
    imabrassy1@yahoo.com

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  9. Believe it or not, I do know how to cut up a chicken. My family also made sausage, etc. Now, I don't do much of that type of work just to fix a meal, but could probably do so if I had to.
    My father, born at home in 1930, was 2lbs. 9 oz and was three months premature. The story of his first few days has always fascinated me. (By 13 he was 6'2" and 175)
    This post brought back so pleasant and not so pleasant memories. Thanks. Doris

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  10. Hi Cheryl, what a great post! And your courting pic
    reminded me of my own grandparents. I have the cutest pic of my grandfather driving a buggy led by his beloved horse Babe off to court Gram on my website. Boy. What a terribly-written sentence that was, sheesh.

    I'm getting more meatless in my old age, but even still, butchering an animal is something I doubt I could do. And I always gotta think how awful it would have been to have a period back then. Yuck. I love reading pioneer stories because I admire the women so much, and seriously doubt I could have been one then.

    Awesome post, Cheryl. Xoxox

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  11. Marc, you know you can't please everyone--it sounds like you did a great job with those boys, and living where you do, it's something I would think parents would appreciate--that you were teaching their sons survival skills. That's pretty funny about the KFC. LOL
    Cheryl

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  12. OH CELIA!!! I would have been hiding right along with you!!! That had to be traumatic. You know my husband will not eat chicken to this day. Can't even stand to smell it if I cook it. Thanks for sharing your memories. He told me about the hog they had that became a pet, and when they butchered the hog, no one would eat the meat. Thanks so much for coming by and leaving a comment--I always enjoy your stories so much.
    Cheryl

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  13. Livia, thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed it. My grandmother and mom did it all from scratch too. I think Mom was tired by the time I came along (she was 35)and just couldn't rein my in long enough to get me in the kitchen. LOL

    BTW, Congratulations again to you and James on your 37th wedding anniversary. That's quite a milestone!
    Cheryl

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  14. WOW, Connie, you have seen and done it all! I'm squeamish. I don't know if I could eat it if I had to kill it and dress it out myself. Thanks for commenting!
    (I'm like you, I like the white meat, and I'm the only one in my family who eats it anymore, so I get what I want.)
    Cheryl

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  15. Great post, Cheryl. It is just so hard to imagine what it would be like. But of course, had we been born back then it would have been a simple matter of having to learn those skills. Choice wouldn't have a lot to do with it. We learn the skills that we need in the life that we are born into.

    I learned to write with a slate. You had to learn the rudiments before you progressed to a pencil. Many moons later, when I began writing my newspaper column I wrote it in longhand and then delivered it by hand to the newspaper office. Then I got a portable type-writer, then a word processor and then a computer.

    We used trigonometry at school, used logarithm tables for all our calculations, then slide rules. Along came calculators and everything changed. Now I suspect that those skills are no longer taught, it is straight to the calculator and the computer.

    I know nothing about hunting, but I can skin and cut up rabbits. A medical training has had some uses.

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  16. WOW, DORIS! It's a wonder your father survived, being that early back "in the day" like that. That's a great story, that he caught up and exceeded in size/weight for his age!

    Oh, yes, the work that went into meals back then. Mom used to talk about how they would go to "grandma's house" (the one in 1st picture with the kids) and have Sunday dinner. Now you're talking about scads of kids of all ages and there were other family members that came and brought their kids--good Lord, I bet my great grandmother just hated Sundays! Makes me tired to think of it.
    Cheryl

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  17. Tanya, you sound like me. I don't think I could kill an animal. I would definitely be a vegetarian. LOL Also, yes, those "monthlies" would be just awful, as well as childbearing.

    Yes, I admire those women and men so much from that time period, but I doubt I'd have lasted very long.
    Hugs!
    Cheryl

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  18. Hi Keith,
    That is just fascinating! We had slates that we played with, but never used them in school. Math? I am the world's worst when it comes to math--but my father was a whiz, as is my husband and my son, who got his degree in math. I know the words logarithm and algorithm but do not know any more than that! LOL I still write everything in longhand (my stories) and then type it into the computer. I think better with a pen in my hand rather than sitting before a blank screen. Oddly, blogs and such are a different matter--I never run out of things to say! And of course, you are right about learning the skills you'd have to have to survive. We would do what we had to, wouldn't we?
    Cheryl

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  19. Well, good for Marc. It's important for kids not to live in la la land about where food comes from. I think it's great that KFC was one of the alternatives offered. Unfortunately, it's not half as healthy as a home raised chicken. There are a few of us still out here that raise chickens and grow our own food. Our ancestors, however, didn't have the internet to run to for distractions and Pandora to listen to. Thanks for your post, Cheryl.

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  20. Nancy, we have a farmers market we go to a LOT and there are people there who have chickens and eggs for sale that they've raised, and beef, too. Anymore, with all the hormones they give animals, etc., I would much rather buy from someone who has not used all that stuff. Natural is much better, for sure! My hat's off to you for growing your own food. I would starve--I do not have a green thumb at all. Thanks so much for coming by today!
    Cheryl

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  21. I have killed and plucked a chicken and know how to cut it up for the frying pan. What I won't do is put my hand inside and pull out the guts. I like to can and love to make jam, but the thought of having to put up every blessed thing you would need to feed your family for the winter seems like way too much work!

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  22. My Aunt Ruth had a farm. She raised chickens for eggs. She also had a sow and every year she bought a calf to slaughter for meat in the fall. My Uncle George was not a farmer, however, and they had no children. I remember the weekend the chickens went.

    My father had the job of chopping off the heads. Our apricot poodle got splattered with blood, chasing them the headless birds around the yard.

    Uncle George scalded, plucked and hung the chickens. Dad helped out with the last ones. Meanwhile, inside the house, Aunt Ruth, Mum and Nana pulled the chickens, and prepared them for freezing. It was smelly, icky job which I, as a child, found fascinating.

    I'll bet at least one bottle of rye was consumed that day. Maybe one inside and one out in the barn.

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  23. By the way, I do know how to cut up a chicken. I'd do it more often but these days it's cheaper to buy pieces.

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  24. Hi Carolyn!

    I can't even imagine it. My husband's mother did that for 7 kids. They also killed their own chickens and slaughtered hogs, etc. I don't think I could do all that. But as Keith says, you adapt to fit the times.

    BTW, I mailed your book yesterday! Sorry it took so long, but it's on its way to you. Congratulations again for winning!

    Cheryl

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  25. Alison, you crack me up! I would be like Celia, hiding in my room, and you found it fascinating. LOL There are quite a few people who do know how to cut up a chicken, or can at least remember it being done. That's pretty darn awesome. You're right--I bet there was more than one bottle of rye consumed that day. UGH.
    Cheryl

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  26. I loved all these pictures, Cheryl.
    I learned so many things from my parents and grandparents about sewing, raising a garden and canning. Even the dreaded chicken murders and dressing were part of my introduction into survival skills. The summer I was 8 and my sister was 9 we helped my grandmother kill 2 chilckens for Sunday dinner. It seemed like a science project until dinner was served and I couldn't eat any of that chicken. In fact, I didn't eat chicken at all for years after that.
    Forget the sausage making. I could not not kill a pig. My dad told me they were smart and it felt wrong to kill something that could truly think. Thank goodness I never took part in any of that.
    I could milk a cow and that would be about it as far as animals used for food goes.
    I can fish like a maniac, too. So, I think I could get plenty of protein. So, if I lived near a river or a lake in the old west, I think I could make it. I gots me some skills. maybe I could trade medical knowledge meat products.
    I loved reading this blog and the comments everyone added.

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  27. Sarah, I love old pictures, too! Boy, you can just see from these how tough times were, too. Oh, I don't think I could ever eat anything I killed. Like I said, my husband still won't eat chicken and neither will my veterinarian because he had a similar childhood. You do have some skills, girl! LOL Fishing is good!!!! Thanks so much for stopping by--you're always so supportive!
    Cheryl

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  28. Killing chickens. We bought a box of 100 biddies every spring. They were sent with some extra in case of mortality so we usually got 103 or 104. Half were roosters. After about six weeks, the roosters become fryers. Please send me a nickel for every fryer I liberated from its head and skinned.

    When I moved to Japan, we bought an apartment on the ground floor of a condo. The veranda was about four feet off the ground. Great space for a chicken coop, I thought. Suggested it to wife. "What would we do with them?" she said. "Eat them," said I. "Ooooooooh." We didn't raise any chickens. And don't get me started on butchering hogs and steers.

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  29. Oh, Charlie. I'm surprised you could even stand the thought of eating them after all that. I don't think I could eat anything I had raised from a baby. Even it was a rooster. And butchering hogs and steers? I would have just spent my time being sick. But maybe I would have been able to if my family needed food.
    Cheryl

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  30. Cheryl, I don't think I'd survive very long either if I was somehow transported back to pioneer days. If I or any of us were born to that life, though, I'm sure we'd do just fine -- if Indians, animals, cholera or a host of other frontier threats didn't kill us. We're very spoiled these days.

    My dad's mother had thirteen -- or fifteen according to some family stories. She was lucky not to die in childbirth as so many women did in her time. At least three of her children died very young.

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  31. Yeah, I think you're right, Lyn--if we had been born to that life we probably would be fine. We ARE very spoiled, and conveniences have made us that way--but I wouldn't know how to give them up now! LOL Yes so many people lost children back then--I think it would have been terribly hard to have kept them all safe and sound and well from all the illness and no antibiotics. Thanks so much for stopping by!
    Cheryl

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  32. Cheryl, after what you said to Charlie, I'm not even gonna tell you about Poor Old Arnold.

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  33. Oh, Jacquie, I don't know if my heart could handle it. Do I dare ask about Poor Old Arnold? LOL
    C

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  34. Cheryl, I enjoyed this post because it reminded me of my childhood. I'm not a Westerner but a Southerner; I grew up in Nashville but my grandparents' farm was only about 50 miles away. TVA electrified their home only a few years before my birth; even though they had running water there was no bathroom. I hated that outhouse. My grandparents made a lot of sausage at hog-killing time. Once I walked into their smokehouse and saw a shelf with pigs' heads lined up (boiling them was considered a fine meal). Mostly I remember fried chicken that didn't require a trip to the store. I never saw my grandmother kill a fryer; she thought it was nasty and didn't want to expose me, I suppose. Now they're both gone and all I can think about is all that was lost. Thanks for the trip down my own memory lane.

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  35. My grandmother was born in 1910 at under 3lbs, the youngest of 8. She was told they wrapped her in a blanket and set her on the door of the open oven to keep warm.

    My great-grandmother (b. 1869) birthed 10 children, but the first two died early. Her oldest adult child died in her 20s due to illness and lost an infant to illness while traveling in 1914. My great-grandmother averaged a birth every 2 years between 1895 and 1910.

    My grandmother grew up on a farm, so she had a HILARIOUS story about her and her sister being sent out to kill and prepare a chicken. Suffice to say the chicken had a traumatic experience before death. This sister was kid #7, just 2 years older, so they were close, and she was incredibly mischievous toward my grandmother. Every story Grandma had of getting in trouble as a kid was my great-aunt's fault, lol - including almost severing her thumb!

    My grandparents married in '33 or '34. My grandfather (b. 1913) had been raised in NYC and had his first job at age 9. He dropped out of h.s. to take care of the family as the oldest of 4 kids, with a single mother. It was years later when he got his diploma and went to school to be a tool and dye maker. He was 40 years old. Worked for all the aircraft manufacturers in Southern California back then, including contributing to the Spruce Goose, and retired in his '70s.

    He had rheumatic fever as a small child, and they normally made children be invalids, but that wasn't him. He played baseball, swam, danced, and doctors said he had a healthy life because of it.

    When my uncle (b. 1936) was little, he was traumatized by the Easter duck dinner being an animal he knew. He was in such tears, everyone but my great-grandmother felt bad for eating the bird. To my uncle, he lost a friend! To GG, it was just food.

    My grandmother had wonderful stories about all the history and technology she'd seen come up. She'd point out every antique they'd had, and the cars and machinery. My grandparents' first cars were a Model A and Model T.

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  36. Cheryl, what a lovely trip down Memory Lane! I love looking at old family photographs - sadly, both my parents are gone now, so there's nobody left who can identify some of the ones in our old albums. Both of them came from large families (Dad had 11 siblings, one died as a baby; Mom had 9) so there are a lot of old photos!

    Thanks for another great column!

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  37. Louis, my great grandparents moved to Indian Territory from Tennessee--Brush Creek. My older sister and my mom got to go back there several years ago and meet my mom's 2nd cousin--their grandmothers were sisters, so I think they were 2nd cousins, right? Anyhow, I remember those outhouses, too--my great aunt and uncle never had an indoor bathroom, and I remember going to visit them with my mom and having to go to the outhouse--EWWWWW. Pretty scary for a little kid. LOL I'm so glad you enjoyed the post. And that story about the hogs heads made me laugh. I can only imagine what you must have thought when you saw that. Thanks for commenting!
    Cheryl

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  38. Carla, what a wonderful, wonderful comment you left. I'm so glad you stopped by and shared this. The story about your uncle and the duck brought back memories of what my husband used to talk about with their pig, "Farm King"--he was a pet by the time he was butchered and it was pretty traumatic for the kids. No one wanted to heat him. I've heard it said you should never name an animal you plan to eat, and I believe that's true. Thanks so much for your thoughtful response and for sharing this with us!
    Cheryl

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  39. JES, I have some pictures that can't be identified now, either. Although I do have an aunt that has spent a lot of time on genealogy and she might recognize some of them.
    Cheryl

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  40. I know how to cut up a chicken, but I am soooo done with cooking now, it's shameful. I used to sew clothes, I used to do a whole-house cleaning. I am either lazy or a busy writer. Hmm. ;-)

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  41. Meg, I do cook, but not anything like I used to! Now with just the two of us here, it's so much easier to order Schwan's or just go eat out. I do make spaghetti sauce from scratch though.
    Cheryl

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  42. I too know how to cut up a chicken. We lived on a farm, or as Dad called it, a stump ranch. We named a few of the chickens, the hens we'd keep. The same with the heifer calves, either kept or sold, the bull calves all called Butcher Knife. :-) In those days gone by, the kids helped with the work in the house and outside as well. My mother lost one child out of eight, an infant boy. I could help butcher chickens and pigs etc., but to lose a child is unthinkable. There can be no greater sorrow.

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  43. Eunice, it sounds like you had quite the "raisin'"! You can do a lot of things, just like my mom could do--just because it was a matter of survival. You must have always felt very self-sufficient! Yes, you're right. I cannot imagine losing a child, and back in those days, it happened so often. There is no greater sorrow, you're right about that. Yet, so many women did and they just had to go on for the other kids' survival needs. Thanks for coming by and commenting!
    Cheryl

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  44. I can cut up a chicken, Cheryl. Like others, I would rather pay the extra for one already cut up. But I had to learn when my mom went to work after my dad lost his eyesight. I'm thankful the chicken was from the grocery store, and not one I had to kill. Ugh! We'd have starved. My mom talked about butchering hogs. She used to tell her stepfather she had "the headache" (code for her period) so she could stay in the house and cook instead of participating in the butchering.

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  45. Caroline, that must have been really rough on your family, for your mom to have to go to work and your dad to lose his eyesight. Very smart of your mom about figuring out a way to stay in the house rather than have to go out and take part in the butchering when she was young! And how you must have had to grow up quickly when your mom went to work! I think my mom was just worn out by the time I came along and thought since it was basically the two of us, as my sisters were 10 and 12 years older than I was, and my dad was on call 24/7, she'd rather not mess with having to teach me to cook. LOL
    Cheryl

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