In the 1950s, most multi-generational farms had one or more employees, as well as the family helping on the farm. Even though in our town there were a couple feedmills, sawmills, garages and even a train station,often there were more people seeking work than there were jobs.
Because our farm was close to town, often, someone walked in off the road looking for a meal or maybe a couple days work. Farmers are compassionate souls and offered dinner and usually a job until the unfortunate one could leave less destitute than he came. Some of these people became great employees and loyal friends and remained with us on the farm for several years.
Joe was born into a large family and had other siblings chosen by the church to be educated who then devoted their lives to the church. Joe was one of the older ones who stayed home to help the family. He had been married and had a child for each month of the year but his wife moved in with another who had more money and less work after their family had grown up a bit. Farmers couldn’t compete with mills and factories for wages but for food and family life, it was and is yet hard to beat.
In the 1950s there was electricity on our farm for lights, refrigeration, milking, and even a TV but there were no barn cleaners, silo un-loaders or central air. We still used horses for some of the heavy work and Joe loved horses and all animals. He was the first person that a cat or a dog would befriend. Joe could never afford cigarettes, but smoked a pipe.
Our local agronomist grew a little tobacco to find out if tobacco farming could be a new crop for Pontiac County. Fifteen years later there were more than a dozen tobacco farmers in Pontiac.
Each fall, my dad would take Joe to the tobacco farm and he would come back with half a feed bag full of cured tobacco leaves. Joe kept the bag of tobacco hanging from a beam in the horse stable and chopped up a leaf with his jack knife as needed. As I can remember, when he smoked it in the pipe, it crackled a lot and didn’t have the sweet aroma of Amphora. Grandma wouldn’t let Joe smoke that “horse stable cured” tobacco in the house!
Birthdays were always celebrated in our house and when Joe was first presented with his decorated cake, complete with candles, his eyes lit up like stars on a clear night. Joe never missed “Hockey night” on the old black and white TV.
He liked to watch “Juliette” after the hockey but always sat behind the archway and just peeked around. He thought that if he could see Juliette, she could also see back through that TV box and he didn’t think that he was well enough dressed for her to see him. Little did we know then that some day we would have a Smart TV that someone could spy back on us!
Every month, my dad drove Joe about 15 miles home for the weekend. I’m sure that he gave all of his wages to his children. One weekend Joe was very sad when my dad drove him home and I never met him again. One of his neighbours was sick and Joe stayed close by to help out.
May everyone have a Joe in their life that touches you like Joe did mine.
Chris Judd is a farmer in Clarendon on land that has been in his family for generations. gladcrest@gmail.com
