Howard Hirschel relates his experiences in Wilson Creek
Wilson Creek history
The Rev. David H. Crawford compiled and published a history of families in and surrounding Wilson Creek titled, "Family Memories of Wilson Creek Area." The book was printed in 1978, which was the 75th anniversary of the town. David's son, John Crawford, has given permission for those memories to be a part of this column.
Today we continue the story of Howard Robert Hirschel, by Howard Hirschel:
The folks came back from California, and Margaret and I moved to our own place, which was a basement under an old rural 20 by 30 school house. We had a bath with a path and carried our water from the well in a bucket.
In due time we constructed a reservoir above the basement to supply running water. We then built our house.
Margaret and I spent some of the most enjoyable times of our life in that basement. We had nothing to worry about, as we had nothing to lose. There is an advantage to start at the bottom; the only way is up.
Our crops got better and prices improved. I continued to eat the dust of the fields. I was able to hire good help. We prospered to the point where it appeared that it was time to expand. There had been days on the tractor, when it was necessary to dump the pint jar on the air cleaner, as often as every couple of hours. I had vowed to myself, that if I would be able to do so, I would find a place where we could have electricity, better roads and a home where the dust wasn't so thick.
In May 1944 I found that place near the little town of Rockford, Wash.
I planned to move to Rockford and to have a hired man run the Big Bend Ranch. World War II came along. I had sufficient units to keep Marvin Johnsen out of war. However, he decided that he would go. He lost his life so my plans had to be changed.
I was able to hire Oscar McCoy, but he left to rent dad's place leaving me with a vacant set of buildings, I rented the land to Oscar for a time. I sold part of the buildings, including the house that we had built. I even considered buying myself a plane and operating the farm myself. However I realized that my legs weren't long enough to stand in both places at the same time.
Chore Track Gardin Tracktor - News
Touch-A-Tractor: 10 am April 14-15. Kane County Farm Bureau, 2N710 Randall Road, St. Charles. See the big farm equipment up close and talk to farmers about their jobs, as well as ride pedal tractors, shell corn, see farm animals, explore a kiddy-pool
She had one of the first elevated water tanks that furnished water for domestic use as well as livestock and her garden. The well was shallow. A windmill furnished the power for the pump. Maria Hirschel, like many another, preferred her native language
My grandmother wove rugs and sold garden produce that she hauled into Round Lake, two miles away.” So how did their son George meet a girl living in far-off Moline? “There was a family living here by the name of Lilligren who had relatives in Moline,”
One Garden: No More Tea
I can't remember the first cup of tea I ever had, but it certainly was in the 60's when I was a child of single digits. I vividly remember sitting in front of the open fire in the country style kitchen. There was the big old red chair with springs in uncomfortable places. I was small enough to settle into the burrows between the large springs. Another chair placed in front of the fireplace was borrowed from the chrome dinning setting, definitely 40's model, as I'm sure my parents could never afford anything new. All too few occasions, my Mum and I sat up close to the fire, talking as she raised her legs placing her feet upon the brickwork above the fire. I guess one could say it was a true bum warming way to have a cup of tea, me and her. It was a precious moment to share with my mum. only real feeling when I felt close to my Mum, before she slowly crept away in her tortured mind when I was ten. I don't remember being tucked into bed or having stories read to me. Tender moments don't often come to mind. She was busy most of the time tending to the her daily chores, so I got out of her way. I would wander outside to play with my brothers, older than me, as I was the youngest of the clan of five. They were bullies, my brother next to me didn't like me much. Everyday he would whisper in my other brother's ear with a mischievous grin and devious glint in his eye. The action they both would take always had the same agenda of hurting me in some way. Many times I was physically hurt by them, but the harm was more emotional, so cries from me were absent, I Sometimes I eagerly would elect to rise early with the sun and travel with my father in the old blue Holden Ute into the paddocks along bumpy narrow tracks. The vapours of mist would rise as the sun melted the frost. Sometimes the rabbit traps would be empty and others charged with a limp body. I had to cover my eyes when Dad grabbed potato bags from the back of the ute to assist a lamb or calf being born.