Such a good discussion of some threshing problems has come in that I am going to share it with you today even though threshing is over with most of us by now.
Now ordinarily, I have no objections to threshers. We give no breakfasts or suppers and usually know what will be expected of us. I like the old-fashioned idea of feeding the men a substantial, well-planned meal, having a lot more women folks fussing around over them than you really need, and making a regular gala day of it. Threshing is hot, dirty work at best, and the men deserve whatever fun they can get out of it. I like to see the table handsomely set out and decorated with flowers, even though the men claim not to notice such things. But if women overwork and strain to outdo others in the elaborateness of the the meal, they lose the holiday spirit entirely. I would rather use oilcloth and cups without saucers and keep the cooks jolly and cheerful and hospitable.
But I feel unusually sympathetic with the points this writer brings out, for I had some of the same problems that she refers to. In the first place, we had less than half a day's threshing, so that I knew it was problematical whether or not I would have dinner to cook. When machine trouble delayed the crew a few minutes, or when a shower stopped the work, the schedule was changed enough from day to day that I really was not sure until Monday morning that I would have them Tuesday noon -- provided nothing happened. That meant I must get the washing over bright and early for with little children I find I can't postpone the washing to a "convenient" time. The regular time is about the only time there is a chance to do it.
In the meantime, I received a letter from the editor of our paper that he had received my application and would be down to interview me. You can imagine just how opportune a time it was for such a momentous occasion -- an interview at which I wanted specially to appear calm, capable, poised, and untroubled, to be sandwiched between a heavy family wash and the preparations for the annual threshing dinner!
Anyway, I finished the washing, fed the family, bathed and dressed the three children and myself, loaded us into the family flivver, and drove 10 miles to town to meet the train. On the way out I stopped and bought the threshing meat, for I did not see when there would be another chance. Of course, I planned to can it in the pressure cooker if anything happened to prevent the threshers from coming, but I really didn't need canned beef, as I had an ample supply left from last winer's home-killed stuff. But I got it: and by the time I reached home with the family, the meat, the cream can, and the editor, the sky was banking up in the west and nasty little flickers of lightning were darting out to tantalize an discourage me.
You would have enjoyed the scene of that interview. It was far from being the formal, concise and perfect thing it should have been. The children, having missed their naps, were none too tractable. They brought forth innumerable trophies of various sorts to display to this stranger who wanted to talk to their mother but was too fascinating to be let alone. I am obliged to say they even had a few sharp words among themselves as to who was going to show him something first. Only a patience developed by actual experience with boys of his own could have kept that editor with me long enough to ask the necessary questions.
However, he stood it till train time, and after he had left the weather looked so dubious that I did not risk doing any baking or preparing anything at all for threshing dinner except a great lot of applesauce, which I figured I could can if I didn't need it fresh. By that time I hoped it would storm and storm hard. I felt strongly on the matter. I was about fed up with uncertainty, both in the threshing business and editorial matters. But morning dawned serene and fair, as perfect a day as any one could wish. I had threshers, all right, after a strenuous morning, but with no more graciousness, I am afraid, than the law allowed. Of course it was no one's fault. But wouldn't it have been lovely for me if I could have known, definitely and without question, that I would have them or not have them, or that they would be taken care of efficiently and fairly by some such means as our contributor suggests?
Memory Gem
For every evil under the sun,
There is a remedy or there is noe.
If there be one, try and find it;
If there be none, never mind it.--Selected by Mrs. E.B. Vilonia, Ark.