SPRING THAW

LIEBERG, SCHAAF

Posted By: Nancee(McMurtrey)Seifert (email)
Date: 1/5/2002 at 14:40:16

From: Calling the Midwest Home

by Carolyn Lieberg

'SPRING THAW'

Our farm was one short mile from the small,
southwest Iowa town of
Massena, down a dirt road that included one
of those big hills straight
out of a Grant Wood painting.

My parents were devout Catholics, and we went
into Massena to church
every Sunday morning regardless of the
condition of the road. Many a
spring morning, I remember that monster hill
being frozen solid as we
tooled into town in our Sunday best, but
before the final blessing it
would thaw enough that Dad's old Model A
couldn't make it up the hill.

The car would struggle about a quarter of the
way on the first try.
With Mom and the latest baby in the front and
the rest of us packed into
the back, Dad would back the car down for
another run at it. Dad would
push the gas pedal to the floor, and we'd fly
at the hill. We probably
topped out at about thirty miles an hour.
Most of the time, several
runs would get us about halfway up, and that
was it.

Shoes were expensive and it was out of the
question for us to risk
ruining them in the mud, so we'd slip them
off, roll pant legs or hoist
skirts, and walk home. Sometimes Mom and we
girls would not only remove
our shoes and stockings, but our clean,
starched dresses to protect them
from mud splatters, and we would walk to the
house in our slips.

I can still see Dad leading the way up the
hill with his shoes slung
over his shoulders, his pant legs rolled
knee-high, and the baby in his
arms. Later, he'd hitch up the team and pull
the car home.

written by:
Norma Henkenius Schaaf

Massena, Iowa

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