Uncle Reuben

Infrequently we would be invited as a family to Uncle Reuben’s for dinner. I don’t remember much about these visits except for two things. First, Aunt Agnes usually made rye bread instead of the modified whole wheat that my mother and Peterson grandmother made. I don’t remember disliking rye bread (as a child does with something that is new and unfamiliar foodwise) but it wasn’t something that caught my fancy either. Come to think of it, Anton Holmer’s wife Dora also made rye bread. Both Agnes and Dora were Telleens — perhaps it was part of their family background.

Secondly, Uncle Reuben’s house, though wired for electricity when it was built, didn’t have electrical service (this didn’t come until REA times in the Roosevelt era). However, the fixtures and switches hadn’t been installed so there were all over the walls and ceiling unsightly holes with the protruding ends of wires.

I recall as a young boy being out on Uncle Reuben’s farm during oat threshing time. One of my cousins, probably Clifford, was playing at threshing in a “toy” farm he had, using an old mechanism from the hay carrier in the barn as the threshing machine.

During the time we lived in Gowrie, the calf which our cow had periodically was as I recall usually given to Uncle Reuben or one of my cousins. I didn’t have much contact with my Strand cousins — Leonard (the oldest), Floyd or Clifford (the youngest). They were all older than I and all went to country school and though they went to high school in Gowrie, both Leonard and Floyd were out of high school by the time I was a freshman.

My uncle Reuben was blind (or at least blind except for being able to distinguish light and dark) in one eye. The accident leading to this blindness occurred in the blacksmith shop in Gowrie. A flying fragment (an iron chip?) struck his eye.

Another memory I have of the Strand farm was being on site when the big county tile was being put in. This large tile crossed the south end of my grandfather’s farm.

I also have memories of our family visiting the Anton Holmer family on a Sunday for dinner and a visit. Anton and my father had been friends as young men. Anton was the antithesis of my uncle Reuben. He was an immigrant and had made his way in life entirely on his own.