This page by Trudy (Rummel) Myers Since this is my initiation to the Internet, it excites me tremendously
to be writing about my reminiscences of one of my favorite experiences
in life—growing up in Belsano.
Many years ago, it would have embarrassed me terribly to admit that I
was the little girl who grew up on the "pig farm" just outside of
Belsano (422 West). Today, as I recall the love, warmth, affection, joy
and life experiences I had on that "pig farm," I dare anyone to insult
me by suggesting that it was anything less than what it was—home. OK,
so I admit, a little smelly now and then; but there were smellier things
that I can recall if need be. And we were of the few who always had
fresh pork products on the table all year long.
We moved to "The Farm" in the summer of '53 (1900 not 1800). I was to
begin school that Fall at the "little school"—the same one Jon Reid
Kennedy recalls, with the big playground and two floors with two grades
each. First and second on the first floor for the little kids, third
and fourth on the second floor for the big kids. I wondered if Jon
remembered our first experiences with segregation? Girls had their own
staircase going up/down; boys had theirs—and believe me, never the
twain were permitted to meet. You got scutched if you were caught on the
wrong set of steps. It was so much fun sneaking when you thought the
teacher (or janitor, Mr. Rager) wasn't looking! You really had to run
fast; hearts pounding. And, the playground was also segregated by an
invisible line; probably at mid-center of the school building. If
memory serves me right, there were a few rare occasions when we were
permitted a free day, and everyone could play where ever they wanted.
Going outside the tall wooden fence which surrounded the schoolyard was
absolutely taboo.
Getting back to The Farm, though, my fondest memories are of the freedom
I was permitted by my grandparents. They were of the "old school," not
like today's modern grandparents. It wasn't that they didn't worry
about me, or loved me less for it, but that they allowed me to be me. I
learned by doing. I was permitted to experience everything. Climbing
trees was my favorite sport. Grandma held her breath quite a few times
when she'd see me swinging by my knees from the tallest maple I could
find. We didn't own horses, but "piggy-back" riding was not an option in
lieu of horseback riding. There were things that were understood as
unacceptable behavior.
Was I a tomboy? Probably. But it sure was fun. And besides—being
raised as an only child, I had to devise my own fun. No techie games
and toys like today's youth.
My nearest neighbors, about two/tenths of a mile down the old, old
Belsano Pike (my name for it), were the Skebecks. Patty and Judy were
my age, and we spent many an hour together building huts out of
goldenrod stems, catching crayfish in the "crick," making tee pees out
of sunflower stocks and burlap sacks, and swimming at Whitemill.
Oh,those were the days.
Like Jon Kennedy, this "reminiscence" seems to be getting a little long.
Perhaps I'll finish "the rest of the story" another day.
—Trudy (Rummel) Myersnnnn © Jon Kennedy 1997
More Belsano memories—
from the 'pig farm'
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