Chapter 1
It stands tall and square there on its hill close to the road. Every time I go past it I look at that big front porch, its upstairs windows, its little car port, a sign at the end of the road, with the word "Ponderosa" written across the front, its mail box with the little yellow flag that would "pop up" after the mailman had come. I see all of that....and it calls out to me..."We love you, you know." "Yes I know and I love you. Love you for always."
It was the people who made this house a home. I don't know why, but all three of them took hold of my heart and wouldn't let go. I can picture them yet today as if they are still right there...as if I could run up those steps to the back door and it would fly open before I even had my hand raised to knock. It was their spirit, so gentle, so kind so caring for this new neighbor, this new bride, this new mother. Their gentle, kind spirit that followed me all through the years, until I stood and watched them go away, leaving me here with their memories whispering to me in the wind.
The day we parked our little white trailer, with its bright blue stripe, among the hedge row at Grandpas place, Roy and his gentle little wife were living in that two story house on the hill. They had the cutest little boy and girl. We really didn't see much of Jeannie those early years. She worked at secretary for the school, so she would leave every morning in her big brown Buick. She was a busy mother and wife. She was not a outside girl really, but could keep busy doing this and that. She loved their little boy and girl.
Her sister and husband lived in Salina and I always admired their relationship. They were so close and talked on the phone about everyday. It brought good memories to us remembering watching Floyd and Lucille's car head west back unto town after spending the day on the farm.
Roy and my husband became good friends, just like farmers do you know. We would borrow a old silage wagon from Roy, or maybe a wrench, or a tire jack and he would come roaring into Grandpas drive way in his 1961 red ford pickup, right up to the machine shed and come to a fast stop. He would use the corner of the shed to fix a hitch or wield a piece of iron on a pitch fork, or just chat for awhile.
I just know good old Roy knew every time I was in trouble and needed help. He had this "sixth sense" you might say. Like the time I was in the field with the spring tooth. I was using one of those drag jobs. I had come to the ditch and needed to make a short turn or end up in the ditch. Whoa...all of a sudden my back tire ran over the cable and wow...part of the spring tooth was up in my window!! I was out of the tractor, wondering what to do first, when I saw that red pickup coming down Cunningham Road. Roy pulls up in the field trail and asks his favorite question.
"Is anyone hurt?"
"No--just in a real predicament."
"That I see."
Roy loved helping others. Really he would rather help someone else than do his own work. The more he could help, the happier he was. More than once he would pull his old D19 Allis Chalmers and spring tooth into our field and helped us complete a task that seemed to much for us and our old used equipment. You put ours and his together and things got done. He would usually have a old bucket tied on the tractor somewhere and in it was a glass gallon jar full of milk!! His midday snack he called it.
North of the farm house stood a low one story milk barn. To the east of the milk barn a 60' silo reached into the air. We always thought it was pretty fancy because it had one of those tops on it. Many a hour was spent there in that barn and many trips were made from the field to that silo, pulling a loaded silage wagon behind a 1955 Case tractor.
We loved to go over when Roy was milking. He would let in the old cows and they would find their place and stick their old heads into the station and start eating. Roy would go from one cow to the other hooking and unhooking the silver milking machines to the utters. All you heard was the swish...swish of the milking machines and the cows chewing their hay.
One year Roy and Jeannie went to a church convention and we got to do the milking and feed their dozen or so buckets calves. You would hang little tin buckets on the fence with milk in them. Those little calves would come running up there like a bunch of hogs, butting each other this way and that.
I was expecting our daughter at the time so I just stood and watched mainly, but one time I had had enough of them butting one little calf all the time so I made a fist and wacked them on the head. Ouch--that hurt!!! Not the calf but my hand!!!
Our kids loved Roy and he loved them. He was always talking with them or playing with them. When our kids were small we would stand around the piano on a winters night and sing. We would take turns choosing a song. When our son would choose one he would boast "I dedicate this to Roy Reitz."
Yes we had 12 wonderful years with Roy and Jeannie. We watched as their children grew from riding bikes, to teens, going off to college, and becoming parents of their own. We enjoyed hot dog roast and potlucks.
In the springtime was when our Roy went away. His poor old heart just got tired. He had to sell his cows and spent lots of time laying on the front room floor. It was in May when the song birds were in full song he suffered a stroke that took a wonderful friend from our side. We were sad. Our children were sad.
It was then that I became close to Jeannie. She stayed alone in that old farm house. I remember going over there when she got home from work and we would talk. She told me many times that she never felt alone because God was right there. She taught me how to trust in God and to take one day at a time. I suppose you could say she became my mother away from home.
It was on a late spring morning we drove up the road to that old farm house. Cars and pickups lined the road. We walked to the milk shed to get our number. Roy's old tractors, plows, silage wagons, scoops, pitch forks, car and much more were lined up along the drive way and on north. The auctioneer stepped up in front of a tractor, or wagon, or held a old pitch fork high in the air and asked..."Who will give me $$ for this?" It only took a half day or less to sell away everything that use to be our dear friends. It took only a half day or less...but his memory will never be sold....he will live in our hearts for always.....
It stands tall and square there on its hill close to the road. Every time I go past it I look at that big front porch, its upstairs windows, its little car port, a sign at the end of the road, with the word "Ponderosa" written across the front, its mail box with the little yellow flag that would "pop up" after the mailman had come. I see all of that....and it calls out to me..."We love you, you know." "Yes I know and I love you. Love you for always."
It was the people who made this house a home. I don't know why, but all three of them took hold of my heart and wouldn't let go. I can picture them yet today as if they are still right there...as if I could run up those steps to the back door and it would fly open before I even had my hand raised to knock. It was their spirit, so gentle, so kind so caring for this new neighbor, this new bride, this new mother. Their gentle, kind spirit that followed me all through the years, until I stood and watched them go away, leaving me here with their memories whispering to me in the wind.
The day we parked our little white trailer, with its bright blue stripe, among the hedge row at Grandpas place, Roy and his gentle little wife were living in that two story house on the hill. They had the cutest little boy and girl. We really didn't see much of Jeannie those early years. She worked at secretary for the school, so she would leave every morning in her big brown Buick. She was a busy mother and wife. She was not a outside girl really, but could keep busy doing this and that. She loved their little boy and girl.
Her sister and husband lived in Salina and I always admired their relationship. They were so close and talked on the phone about everyday. It brought good memories to us remembering watching Floyd and Lucille's car head west back unto town after spending the day on the farm.
Roy and my husband became good friends, just like farmers do you know. We would borrow a old silage wagon from Roy, or maybe a wrench, or a tire jack and he would come roaring into Grandpas drive way in his 1961 red ford pickup, right up to the machine shed and come to a fast stop. He would use the corner of the shed to fix a hitch or wield a piece of iron on a pitch fork, or just chat for awhile.
I just know good old Roy knew every time I was in trouble and needed help. He had this "sixth sense" you might say. Like the time I was in the field with the spring tooth. I was using one of those drag jobs. I had come to the ditch and needed to make a short turn or end up in the ditch. Whoa...all of a sudden my back tire ran over the cable and wow...part of the spring tooth was up in my window!! I was out of the tractor, wondering what to do first, when I saw that red pickup coming down Cunningham Road. Roy pulls up in the field trail and asks his favorite question.
"Is anyone hurt?"
"No--just in a real predicament."
"That I see."
Roy loved helping others. Really he would rather help someone else than do his own work. The more he could help, the happier he was. More than once he would pull his old D19 Allis Chalmers and spring tooth into our field and helped us complete a task that seemed to much for us and our old used equipment. You put ours and his together and things got done. He would usually have a old bucket tied on the tractor somewhere and in it was a glass gallon jar full of milk!! His midday snack he called it.
North of the farm house stood a low one story milk barn. To the east of the milk barn a 60' silo reached into the air. We always thought it was pretty fancy because it had one of those tops on it. Many a hour was spent there in that barn and many trips were made from the field to that silo, pulling a loaded silage wagon behind a 1955 Case tractor.
We loved to go over when Roy was milking. He would let in the old cows and they would find their place and stick their old heads into the station and start eating. Roy would go from one cow to the other hooking and unhooking the silver milking machines to the utters. All you heard was the swish...swish of the milking machines and the cows chewing their hay.
One year Roy and Jeannie went to a church convention and we got to do the milking and feed their dozen or so buckets calves. You would hang little tin buckets on the fence with milk in them. Those little calves would come running up there like a bunch of hogs, butting each other this way and that.
I was expecting our daughter at the time so I just stood and watched mainly, but one time I had had enough of them butting one little calf all the time so I made a fist and wacked them on the head. Ouch--that hurt!!! Not the calf but my hand!!!
Our kids loved Roy and he loved them. He was always talking with them or playing with them. When our kids were small we would stand around the piano on a winters night and sing. We would take turns choosing a song. When our son would choose one he would boast "I dedicate this to Roy Reitz."
Yes we had 12 wonderful years with Roy and Jeannie. We watched as their children grew from riding bikes, to teens, going off to college, and becoming parents of their own. We enjoyed hot dog roast and potlucks.
In the springtime was when our Roy went away. His poor old heart just got tired. He had to sell his cows and spent lots of time laying on the front room floor. It was in May when the song birds were in full song he suffered a stroke that took a wonderful friend from our side. We were sad. Our children were sad.
It was then that I became close to Jeannie. She stayed alone in that old farm house. I remember going over there when she got home from work and we would talk. She told me many times that she never felt alone because God was right there. She taught me how to trust in God and to take one day at a time. I suppose you could say she became my mother away from home.
It was on a late spring morning we drove up the road to that old farm house. Cars and pickups lined the road. We walked to the milk shed to get our number. Roy's old tractors, plows, silage wagons, scoops, pitch forks, car and much more were lined up along the drive way and on north. The auctioneer stepped up in front of a tractor, or wagon, or held a old pitch fork high in the air and asked..."Who will give me $$ for this?" It only took a half day or less to sell away everything that use to be our dear friends. It took only a half day or less...but his memory will never be sold....he will live in our hearts for always.....
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