Senior News: September 2002
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Sand Hills, Nebraska
We can hear the music, the sounds of wagon wheels
by Marion Kofford, as told by Opal Anthony
Come on, folks. We're going to the Sand Hills of Nebraska. These hills are sandy but they have bunches of buffalo grass and bunch grass growing on them. Blue sandhill cranes are part of the scene.
It is the early 20th century, and spring has come to the Sand Hills. Spring. The aroma of wild flowers is everywhere. Sweet peas, single-petaled roses bloom in the fields. Wild grasses wave in a gentle breeze. Walk carefully, for in the warm sunlight the rattlesnakes slither out of the prairie.
Besides the prairie dogs and rattlesnakes, there are ground squirrels, turtles and blue racers (harmless snakes). Bobwhites and pheasants make their calls in the grasses. Meadowlarks add their voices to bird songs.
We've come to a farm now and grazing in the lush pastures are milk cows, some with bobtails frozen off from last winter's blizzards. Horses are in another pasture, two bay mares that will pull a buggy with a fringe on top. Pigs and sheep add to this animal kingdom.
Why are we at this farmhouse? Well, to go to a dance, of course. Now it is late in the afternoon, and buggies and wagons are already arriving. The milking is done, the animals fed, and it's time for fun!
Everybody comes to the dance, from newborns to grandparents. The fiddler has arrived and the harmonica player. Next the piano player comes in the door.
But the food is arriving, too-cakes of all kinds, potato salad, pickles, sandwiches. Let's go into the kitchen to see what's happening there. Heat from a large range keeps away the nip of the spring air. Is there a wood-box there? Nope. There's not a tree in sight. But outside the kitchen door is a small hill of cow chips, and these are used for heat and cooking. The chips are well-dried and don't give off a bad odor. A pump is beside the sink, a modern invention. Mother doesn't have to go outside to pump water any longer.
The food is lined up, ready to be eaten later, because dancing does get a person's appetite up something terrible.
Now we can hear music. The carpet has been rolled up, the furniture pushed back. The Waltz Promenade begins it all. Four couples line up.
First couple down the center, The lady goes right, the gent to the left. It's honor your partner, and don't be afraid To swing on the corner to the Waltz Promenade!
Then follow waltzes, hoedowns, shoe fly pie and two-steps. Musicians play Little Sweetheart of the Mountains, Red River Valley and Blue Danube, and dancers dip and slide.
Those little ones knee-high to a grasshopper do what they think is dancing. Young ones flirt, and courtship goes on as they pick partners. Do they stop at midnight? Not on your life. Time out for some of the delicious foods, but now they are back dancing again. The children go to sleep on a bed provided for them, but the adults don't stop.
Finally the night has worn through and the dancers are at last ready to give up. They go home to milk and tend to chores on the farm. There will come another hoedown, another place where farmers and their families can have a wonderful time enjoying the simple things of life, creating memories that will last forever.
This story was told by Opal Anthony to Marion Kofford, who thought such wonderful memoirs should be handed down to other generations. Opal Anthony is a volunteer greeter at the Arcata Senior Lunch site. Marion Kofford is a member of the Silver Quills Writers and a student in the HSU Over-60 Program.
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