Stephen and Sara Ballantine took a few hours out of their day recently to share the story of Stephen’s childhood with me. Stephen lived on a farm for several years in Orrick, Missouri, and spent many summers bucking bales with his cousin on his uncle’s farm in Lamoni, Iowa. His story is one of true self-sufficiency and often hard times. However, every word shared came from a place of fond memories filled with joy and love.
The Ballantyne farm had bees, chickens, geese, goats, cows, a pig, gardens and berries. Stephen’s mother canned anything that could be canned on their woodburning stove. She even canned and froze berries his father identified as safe to eat. She would make pies, cobblers and sometimes a sweet sauce with them for a summer ice cream treat. They all participated in garden work, picking ripe fruit daily to either eat or preserve. The kids snapped beans on the front porch. Their dad pulled potatoes with a pitchfork, setting the tiny ones aside for next year’s seed. When they planted the following spring he would cut the potatoes, leaving each piece with an eye to grow a new plant.
Stephen’s mother gathered dandelion greens to make salads and hung mint to dry for tea. She was a bit of an herbalist, knowing which plants to use for which ailment and grew many of her own herbs. He recalled drinking the mint tea with apple cider vinegar and baking soda medicinally. The family also collected black walnuts which are plentiful in this area every fall. Using a brick block or plyers to hold a walnut in place over a sheet, they would hit it with a hammer to break it apart then freeze the nuts inside.
They kept two cows, one for milk the other for meat. Their father didn’t allow them to name the animals knowing it would make it harder for them to eat them. They churned their own butter (adding a tablet to make it yellow) in a square glass butter churn keeping a few ladles of cream for ice cream. One of their few purchases was wheat which was processed in a hand grinder to make flour. Stephen’s father would butcher two to three chickens at a time for the freezer, except for when company arrived. His mother always kept five gallons of water hot on the woodstove. When visitors came, they processed a chicken for a good meal. No one ever went without at the Ballantyne’s. Because they had eggs, they ate eggs. Stephen smiled sharing this, “she made egg casseroles before there were egg casseroles.” Once a week dinner consisted of ten pounds of potatoes fried with onions. During a time the family lived in Independence, Missouri, Stephen would take his little red wagon to a neighbor’s farm once a week and load it up with fresh corn in trade for honey. They had two meals a week consisting of buttered corn, the rest of the corn was canned. On Sunday’s, they ate bread or popcorn with milk. Again, Stephen shared this in joyful recollection.
Hearing the details of their daily lives was a sobering reminder of everything we take for granted. The simple act of taking a bath or running a load of laundry being accomplished by turning a knob or pressing a button didn’t exist on the farm. Both the well and the outhouse were a quarter mile from the house. Baths were once a week with one tub of water outside of summertime pond baths. Each child took a bath in the water, then each parent. Their father used the water left in the tub to water plants in the mud room. Clothes were washed on a washboard and hung to dry, yes even in the winter. If it was raining, they were hung on the porch or in the mudroom. Stephen’s mother was an excellent seamstress and made their clothes. His father was ordained and was often called on to perform marriages. Whenever a couple came to the house to schedule their vows his mother would ask the bride if she had a wedding dress. If she didn’t, his mother would measure her and make her one as a gift. There were no purchased patterns, measurements and newspaper became a pattern for whatever needed to be made. At one point Stephen’s father’s suit began to go threadbare and while they would give what little they had to those in need, there was nothing for a new suit. They discovered a new suit on their front porch one day, perfectly sized. Another time after his father’s bible had begun to fall apart a new bible was found on the porch. They never did find out who had left the items.
Daily life also, as expected, included chores. Stephen collected kindling and gathered firewood in the winter. The rest of the year he was required to weed the garden when he got home from school and throughout the summer. His father once gave him a berry patch to care for. As long as he kept it tidy, he could sell the berries.
The only negative thing Stephen shared about his childhood… was the snakes. They kept a shotgun and a shovel at the door to be prepared for an unwanted encounter with a resident copperhead or rattlesnake. Because of this a thunder mug (or chamber pot) was used at night because going to the outhouse after dark was too dangerous.
It was an honor to interview Stephen and Sara. It is an honor to be their friend. It is said that hard times build character. I also think growing up the way Stephen did is part of why he is such an amazing human being. Childhood has become individualistic with expectations prioritized on personal accomplishments. Planting, growing, weeding, harvesting and preserving food was a team effort for the Ballantyne’s. While they didn’t perceive their lifestyle as one of survivalism, they were meeting their family’s needs by working together and all this in a setting of absolute love.
While watching my almost three-year-old grandson peek into the nest box the other day to count the eggs I realized this is the only life he’s known. He helps his mom feed the chickens, helps his dad bring in kindling, and knows how to find a peapod from the garden for an afternoon snack. Of the many takeaways I have from interviewing Stephen and Sara, there is none more profound than this. Our grandson knows love and has a firm sense of belonging. We need not look to the soccer field to build character. We would all do well to learn something from the Ballantyne’s.
Audrey L Elder
Fourteen Acre Wood
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