The Red Flannel Rag

to use the typewriters. It was two dollars and fifty cents a month. Dad’s pay and Mom’s

milk money were not enough to cover that extra expense, so Mom walked to Aunt

Goldie’s house to was h and iron her clothes for $2.00 a week; thus, my typing fee was

paid and extra things were purchased.

After several years of selling milk, the local dairy changed hands and stopped

hauling small amounts of milk. Mom got very upset, but she didn’t give up her cows.

She passed the word to the neighbors that she was selling milk by the gallon. The news

spread, and folks started coming to the house to buy milk.

She bought a butter churn, started making butter and cottage cheese and offered

these items to her customers. She still had extra milk, so she bought newborn calves

from local dairy farmers and raised them to sell for veal. With this money, she was able

to buy a freezer and maintain the farm.

By this time, dad was making a little more money at the feed mill and three of us

kids had incomes of our own. I had my job as a secretary; my brother had a job at the

Bridgewater Furniture Plant, and my sister worked as an office manager. The financial

need for the cows was less important; and, in fact, Dad showed Mom on paper many

times that the cows were not giving enough milk to pay for their own feed. She argued

with him, “Okay, Norman, you stop at the store on your way home for work every day

and bring me two gallons of milk. I’ll soon show you how much money the cows save

you.”

After a time, it was obvious that she was sentimentally attached to her cows, and

it really didn’t matter to her if she was making any money or not. She expressed this

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