Vernon Historical Society

Winter in Vernon Center by Jean Kanter Klothe

Jean Kanter Klothe was born in Vernon and lived in the area before moving to New York City in 1932. Her charming memoir describes the changing seasons in Vernon Center when it was a farming community in the early 20th century.

As I have indicated previously, life on a farm is finely defined by the season. The most difficult one was winter.

Once the snow fell and covered the ground, it remained until spring thaw. Each succeeding snowfall just added to the depth. Two and three feet drifts were common. The horse and sleigh replaced the buggy.

We were isolated from the rest of the world except for the telephone which was installed early on. It was not a private line- several families used the same line. Each one had a different number of rings. Ours was 2. Of course, it was not unusual to hear a click and know that someone was listening in. There was no dialing. We would pick up the phone and the sweetest voice would come on with “number please”. The operator knew everyone and everyone’s problems and good fortunes.

Most of all, the milking had to be attended to, twice a day. We did have a hired man named George who had a room in the cellar, but it was my brothers’ job to get the milking done before going to school.

We had an icehouse attached to the rear of the barn. During the winter months, ice was cut from a pond and stored and stacked with sawdust. It was my secret hiding place in the summer when I wanted to be alone.

Our clothes were scrubbed on a rubbing board with good ole Feels Naphtha soap, then hung on a line from the kitchen window. Many times the clothes were frozen stiff, but smelled so sweet.

We trudged off to school with artics over high button shoes for which we had, what else, a button hook...

I don’t remember ever having the school close because of the weather. Teacher came by trolley. If she couldn’t make it, a child took over the supervision-one that the teacher had arranged for in advance. We had a pot belly stove and the first boy to arrive had to start the fire.

Since plumbing had not yet come to Vernon, outhouses were used. During the winter we had to put on our outer clothes, and if it was dark, take a lantern to find the way.

Many days when we came in “frozen”, Mama would open the over door and seat us in front. Many times our feet, boots and all, went right into the oven.

President Eisenhower once said, after visiting the home of his birth, “I never knew we were poor.” This was not so in our home. As children, we were not taken into confidence, but we all knew that until the crop was sold and we could borrow money for next year’s crop, things were tense for my mother and father.

Our cellar was stocked with vegetables, and of course we had all kinds of fruit that had been canned. Mama baked bread once a week. One day mice got into the flour barrel. My father went off the Rockville and brought back store bought bread. We didn’t like it.

We were isolated but for the mailman and the doctor. Dr. Rockwell came with his wagon or sleigh. He could have passed for a Santa, without a beard. A wonderful jovial person with all different colored pills. Pink was for this, red for that and so on. One thing stands out in my mind. As soon as the doctor arrived, my mother knew to bring him a tumbler of water for the thermometer. I don’t ever remember seeing alcohol or hearing a request for it. The thermometer was wiggled in the glass, shaken a few times- “next?”

Our worst winter, health wise, was the year 1918 when influenza raged. I was the only one who was terribly sick and no doctor was available. Mama and father, and I too, prayed.

But winter had its beautiful moments. At school, we had a large Christmas tree. For at least two winters, I remember, the tree came from our woods. Teacher had us making chains from construction paper, stringing acorns and popcorn. Real candles from Germany were attached to the tree and lit. Each child brought a gift to be hung on the tree, and of course a present for the teacher. One year I got a special thank you from the teacher for a calendar-wonderful teacher. A grab bag decided what each child’s present was.

Although we had no contacts outside the school, we knew life was around. When we’d find feathers on the ground in the henhouse, we knew an animal had gone off with a chicken or two. Occasionally, a red fox was seen, or we’d smell a skunk.

Life was difficult, but very memorable.

(Published in the 'NEWS from the Vernon Historical Society', January 2006)