If I am going to write about the good ole days I should give you a little background on how they started for this lad.

Before there were any hippie communes there was the Whiting commune. We grew up in Ray Township of Macomb County.  Granddad had a farm on 29 mile road, part of the farm is Wolcott Mill Metro Park today.  As his kids married he gave each a parcel of land so all the Whitings and the Reed family lived in a row.  Because all the Aunts and Uncles and cousins lived so close together our early social life centered around family.  I have to believe that is why yet today I have this strong unshakeable believe that family is everything.

Right behind the farm flowed the North Branch of the Clinton River. A dam on the river created a good size pond and also created the water flow to Wolcott’s mill water wheel which turned the grist mill.  The river and pond were an integral part of our lives.  We fished, swam and during the winter ice skated on the pond.  It was not unusual for the Whiting clan to be skating around the pond on a Sunday afternoon enjoying hot chocolate and hot dogs roasted over a campfire, maybe even a smore or two.  And you know what? Never once did I hear a phone ring with some irritating ring tone.  We lived dangerously back then, none of us owned knee pads, elbow pads or helmets.  I know we should have had butt pads because some of us ended up sitting unexpectedly.

Sunday dinner at the Grandparents was the norm until Grandma got sick. The day She went home to heaven devastated our family.  She was the Grandma that taught us, spoiled us and the rock we tried to hide behind when Ma or Dad were not real pleased with us.

For supper the family sat at the dining table and talked while we ate. TV trays in front of the tube was not even considered.  Today I see couples or familys in restaurants, phones out, fingers flying.  I think vocal conversations are becoming a thing of the past.

In my younger days I probably got spanked every day. Most days I deserved it, the others I’m sure were for evil deeds that I thought I had gotten away with.

Everyone in a couple of square miles was considered a neighbor. At Halloween you had better hit every house or someone’s feeling were hurt.  Nobodies land was littered with “No Trespassing or NO Hunting” signs.  Didn’t need them, we knew where we could hunt and where not to.  We respected others property.

We weren’t special in anyway, just normal. That’s just the way most people lived. My Dad would often help out someone with a small loan to get them over a hump.  All done on a handshake.  Sure we had crime back then just not a lot.  Respect for others and friends and neighbors helping each other was just the way we lived.

From early age us boys had chores around the house.  The garden had to weeded like ever day.  At that time Mom was a stay at home mom who canned or froze about everything we grew in the garden.  The was about a 1/2 acre of lawn to be mowed, not with a rider or self propeled, just a gas push mover.  Plus whatever projects Dad had assigned.  We were also free at that early age to play with neighbor friends, fish the river, ride our bikes, but all this freedom came after chores were done.,  Any violation of the above resulted in a stay at home day.

A of our work was not done at home.  When I was about 11 I along with other young people in the area went to work for a produce farmer picking green beans.  We got paid 75 cents a bushel.  Do you know how many green beans are in a bushel?  I can tell you, a whole lot.  I don’t remember the weight the bushel had to be when we turned it in for pay but it made me think that I would never pick beans for a living.

Shortly after that my neighborhood had some new comers. Richard lived next door to me, Gary about a hundred yards down the road and Bo who lived about a mile down the road.  Together we formed a team of hay harvesters.  We had 3 different farms for customers.  Even at that young age we would drive the tractor, bail and stack the hay in the field then bring it back to the barn and put it in the hay loft.  Hot, sweaty, exhausting work, but it put a few bucks in our pockets and taught us the value of hard work.  We did this all through our teens years.

Work was not all we did growing up.  In my next post I tell about having fun in our neighbor hood.