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Living By The Seat Of My Pants

by Marjorie Newton

in Childhood, Family, Farm Life ·

My Dad

Georgie Porgie, Puddin’ and Pie

Kissed the girls and made them cry!

When the girls came out to play,

Georgie Porgie ran away!

“GRRRRRRRR!  YEOW!  YEOW!  I’M GOING TO GET CHA!”

Out through the barn door a husky monster in denim jeans and shirt bursts, chasing the two taunting, hysterically screaming little girls running for safety to the nearby corncrib.  They climb quickly to the top of the crib filled with newly harvested corn squealing while the monster below pounds on the crib still yelling loud monster noises and threats!  “YEOW!  I’M GONNA GET CHA!

Georgie Portgie was my dad.  Together with a friend or cousin, I taunted and teased my dad with this song while he worked in the barn seemingly ignoring us.  But suddenly he would stop,  drop his pitch fork and dash after us making funny angry monster noises.  We gleefully ran screaming, making believe we were afraid of him.  Sometimes when he did catch us he rubbed his heavy beard up against our cheeks.  It hurt a little but the game was so much fun, we hardly noticed.

My dad was from a family of eight children, and even though he was a twin, he was born last so was the youngest of the family.  Looking back it’s hard to believe that Burt Baldwin and Bertha Susan, his parents, could have had so many children.  Burt, also known as “B. B.” tended to be a bit grumpy, and Bertha tended to be rather prim.  What occurred behind their bedroom door was no doubt a combination of Victorian duty and old fashioned male lust.  Whatever did occur produced eight children who were expected to do their share on the farm.

Dad had two older brothers, Lloyd and Joe, and five sisters, Eleanor, Marion, Mable, Irene and twin Gladys.  Grandpa was not easy to get along with so the older boys left the family farm soon after they graduated from high school, leaving my dad to deal with Grandpa.  For some reason, Dad didn’t leave.  Either he felt responsible to stay and help Grandpa on the farm, or he stayed because Grandpa commanded him to, and knowing my dad, he would have obeyed.

My dad seemed to be the most fun of the brothers and was teased a lot by the whole family about his large appetite.  At family gatherings they would always yell, “Better get to the table before Uncle George does!  Or the food will be gone!”  I have to admit this seemed kind of mean to me as Dad did a lot of hard physical work on the farm which produced his big appetite.  Sometimes I wondered if this teasing hurt his feelings but if it did, he never showed it.

For several years after Mom and Dad were married, the four of us lived upstairs in the family farmhouse and Grandma and Grandpa lived downstairs.  It was not a great situation as it was too crowded.  We had a makeshift kitchen with no running water, no sink, a small stove and a small refrigerator.  Grandpa in his stubborn, bullheaded way, insisted we live there even though my mother owned a house where we could have lived and where she and her brother had lived in with her mother before her mother died.  It was only about five minutes away from the farm, but Grandpa wanted Dad on the farm 24 hours. After a few years, Grandpa built a home for Grandma and him at the end of one of our fields. Almost immediately  Dad and Mom put in a new kitchen in the farmhouse and best of all, plumbing!

Dad was really a kid at heart in spite of all the hard work he did as a farmer.  He could play just as hard as he worked though, and there was always a constant flow of boys of all ages hanging around the farm.  They loved the farm and they followed Dad around while he did his chores, helping him now and then.  I often heard Dad say to them, “Okay men, time to  do whatever chore needed to be done next and away they went delighted to help Dad and just be on the farm.  They called him George and my brother even got to calling him George.

After chores were done each evening a game of kick-the-can, baseball, basketball or football was played either upstairs in the barn or on one of our big yards depending on the weather.  The boys loved playing basketball in the barn so much that sometimes Mom would get a phone call from the school principal checking on missing boys to see if they were playing basketball up in the barn without Mom knowing it.  Sometimes they were.

When a bunch of us played football in the front yard, when I was still pretty little, I would always be the only one on Dad’s side.  When he got the ball, he would tuck it under my arm, then tuck me under his arm, and with his other strong arm, block everyone as we dashed down the field.  “Touchdown” he would yell and hold me up over his head victoriously.

My father was a very handsome man.  He could have given many Hollywood actors competition.  He was a cross between Stewart Granger, Farley Granger and Burt Lancaster, but better looking than any of them, and had a great physique due to the rigorous demanding farm work of many years.  His black, curly hair circled a ruddy face that contained soft, large brown eyes protected by bushy, black eyebrows.  A chiseled nose and a full dark red mouth completed his features.  His voice was deep, husky and naturally loud which made it impossible for him to whisper, much to Mom’s embarrassment at times when he would make some silly comment about someone.  His voice was perfect for calling the cows down from the woods or the horses in from the fields.

His disposition was usually upbeat and kinda silly.   Teasing was the way he showed his affection, and he teased a lot, both Mom and me.  Mom didn’t like the many mice that existed on the farm so Dad called her “Mousey” and often when he did, she would chase him out of the back door, yelling, “Stop it, George!”  A salesman once happened upon one of these affectionate exchanges.  “We never saw him again!”  Dad always laughed telling this story over and over again.

He teased Mom in public too.  The four of us did the weekly grocery shopping at the A&P in Waukesha, a nearby city.  Mom always walked ahead with Dad pushing the cart behind  her.  My brother Dave and I brought up the rear.  Gradually, Dad started to act up.  Sometimes he would drag a leg while pushing the cart as though he was handicapped.  Dave and I loudly giggling alerted Mom to the situation.  She scolded, “Stop it, George! People are looking!”  He didn’t care and to our delight, people were looking.  Or sometimes in front of a candy counter, he begged her for some candy as though he was a little  kid.  “Please, Mommy, please!”  Again, my brother and I would laugh and again Mom scolded Dad.   “George!  Stop!  People are looking!”

Dad did have a temper though.  He seldom spanked us, however.  That was Mom’s job.  But if he did, we felt the benefit of his large, heavy hand for hours.  To avoid this experience, I occasionally used my feminine charms by slipping into his lap, looking up at him with the big brown eyes I inherited from him, telling him how handsome he was.  He always smiled the silly grin he had, reached into his pocket and pulled out whatever coin he might have usually accompanied with a bit of hay or straw, and gave it to me.

I have to admit I could be sassy to him at times which always made me feel bad afterwards.  Dad and I had lots of good moments though like when I rode with him on the tractor as he plowed, or mowed hay, or any job that required him to use the tractor.  Sitting on the narrow tractor fender, I thought it was as much fun as a carnival ride.  He gave me rides on the huge work horses we still had and also on the little pony that belonged to Dave and me.

Dad took us for rides on summer nights, which was a real treat!  I sat behind Mom and Dave sat behind him, and our first stop was the drugstore to get ice cream cones that cost a nickel in those days.  Dad knew where all the sudden dips were in the various country roads and he would surprise and delight us by driving over them quickly making our tummies tickle.  “Another one, Daddy!  Another one!”  I begged over and over again.  We loved those drives out in the country.

On the surface, Dad’s needs seemed simple.  He loved to play cards, like poker, canasta or sheep’s head, a German card game played by most people in the greater Milwaukee area.  He liked to watch sports on television with my brother and drink a beer or two.  He was definitely a “meat and potato” man.  He put catsup or vinegar or both on his breakfast eggs and toast.  He wore his only suit when he went to church, Easter and Christmas.  He hated what he called “high flutten things” like the ballet, opera or the theatre.  I often wondered if he thought he wasn’t good enough for the “finer” things.

He did love most popular music and especially Dixieland or jazz.  It was okay if I took tap dancing but not ballet.  It was okay that I learned to twirl the baton or become a cheerleader.  He didn’t mind that I sang in the church choir, and I don’t think he minded that I sang constantly around the house, but I didn’t ask him.  Once I mentioned I thought I would like to be a singer when I grew up.  He casually replied, “I doubt that.”  I know he didn’t mean to hurt my feelings.  I think he felt we were just simple Pewaukee people who shouldn’t try to be anything  but just simple Pewaukee people.

Dad adored his granddaughters and even played monster with them as he had when I was a kid.  They loved to taunt him until he finally chased them all around the house, inside or out, making loud his usual funny monster noises.  They loved it.  He often swung them extremely high on the long rope swing he made for them making them squeal happily, “Higher, Grandpa!”  They loved his large garden and would sneak out and steal strawberries or other goodies.

Dad died when he was eighty.  I remember standing with my mother looking at his handsome profile as he lay in his casket.  I was so grateful he and I had become close through the years.  As I stood there I remembered the last conversation we had on the telephone before his last stroke.  I remember saying, “Bye, Daddy, I love you.”  Usually he would reply, “Well, we kinda love you too.”  But this time he said, “I love you too, Honey.”  I think of that often.

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Comments

  1. Loved this! Beautiful memories of such a special man and one sparked a memory I had of my own with your sweet dad. I forget if we were grocery shopping or maybe at a mall or something but we were all on an outing in Evanston and he started dragging his leg!! I think I got scared thinking he was hurt but I didn’t say anything. I looked over at Ricky for a reaction. Of course Ricky laughed and I think the two had a little “wink” and realized it was a little gag! I had forgotten that memory but it was sweet to remember and also how kind and silly your dad could be. He and your mom were the sweetest and I know Ricky especially appreciated their kindnesses. To this day Ricky and I often speak lovingly of them and your brother and Gail too. Grateful for their acceptance of “two rotten kids” as they sometimes teased us. 💕

    • He was the most handsome man I knew back then. The best time was when he brought the sleigh to town during a big snow that closed school. what fun that was. He always teased me unmercifully. Thanks for the memory. Beautiful Marj.
      Barb Lang

    • He was the most handsome man I knew back then. The best time was when he brought the sleigh to town during a big snow that closed school. what fun that was. He always teased me unmercifully. Thanks for the memory. Beautiful Marj.
      Barb Lang

  3. I was awfully little, but I do remember his kind face.
    What a wonderful childhood it must have been growing up on the farm ♥️
    Thanks for sharing the memories.

  4. Just today I was telling Trixie of my favorite memory of your dad. Every time he came to our house he would give me a big bear hug and he would “rub his heavy beard up against my cheek. It did hurt a little but I loved it! ❤️

  5. Just today I was telling Trixie of my favorite memory of your dad. Every time he came to our house he would give me a big bear hug and he would “rub his heavy beard up against my cheek. It did hurt a little but I loved it! ❤️

  6. This made me cry for so many reasons. I love and miss him so much. He was the best grandpa ever and always made me feel so loved and special. He was so handsome. When I would lay on the floor in front of him in his “chair” , I would be on my stomach facing away from him and at the tv. I would plop my feet in his and ask him to please tickle them. It was always the same response, he would take his fingernail on his pointer finger and drag it down the middle of my foot. I would say,”Grandpa! That isn’t tickling!!” Them he would do it again. When grandma and grandpa would babysit me or have me for a sleepover we would watch Lawrence Welk. Grandma, Grandpa and I would waltz around the living room together to the music. What fun that was. I have so many good memories. My love for him oozes out of my heart.

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