I don’t remember about coming here. It was a small farm on a dirt road in Lyndeborough New Hampshire. There was a house and a barn. The gravel driveway separated the house from the barn and continued on through a gate to the fields out back.
This is when I found out I really had three brothers and not one, and I was the youngest. I was the youngest till I was 54 years old, then my life turned inside out. But that is not to be discussed at this time.
This being my first adventure into the world outside of the orphanage, a young four year old, some lessons were hard learned. The experiences were amazing and many. I have found that not only the experiences of my youth, but many of the experiences throughout my life, are not atypical with others.
I can allude to them at this age but not necessarily in any chronological order. I remember going to the Barn with my brothers.A barn was new to me. The barn was a normal barn with a cellar, an open floor arrangement with lofts on both sides for hay, with stalls on the sides under the lofts. You could see clear to the roof. In the middle starting from the left loft was a three section set of stairs, with no railings, leading to a Coppola at the top of the roof that you could Look out over the farm. This was the one and only time I was aloud to climb up there. On the way down I fell of the loft, or was pushed by my oldest brother Arthur, who was nine at the time. I landed on my back, the breath was knocked out of me. Not being able to breath I ran into the house and was administered to by my new and first “Mother”. [what ever a mother was]. A quick pat on the back and I was breathing again, and not aloud in the barn any more. I think I wailed more about the restriction than the injury.
We probably lived here only a year or so and I don’t remember a lot about this period only being four, but some things do stick out. Such as learning about tapping trees for sap. We went out in early spring to put taps in the Maple trees. We had to climb over high snow banks on the side of the road to reach the trees. For a while every morning we would go and collect the sap and add it to a large vat. When enough was collected it was poured into a 55 gallon drum cut lengthwise and balanced over a fire pit. We boiled the sap it seemed for days, till the moisture was boiled out enough to leave us with maple syrup. To keep the fire going we were sent out to gather sticks and such. We were very successful. But when spring came and the cows were put to that pasture, they were getting out. We had taken all the railing for the fence.
We had never had sleds at the orphanage, what a novel the sleds were. Their was a gravel drive at a downward angle going by the barn with a gate with barbed wire to keep the cows in. There seemed to be enough space under to fit with the sled. One of my brothers pushed me on the sled, as I came to the gate I tried to stop because I was scared. I lifted my head a little and the barbed wire caught me on the cheek and peeled a part of my face back. My mother being a nurse put it back and used butterfly shaped band aids [hand made this was 1951] to close the wound. I still bear the scar.
On the other side of the house was a small hill then foliage. One of the bushes there was a big thorn bush with needles about 2 inches long. One of my brothers, I believe it was Norman. Hit the bush and came out with a thorn all the way though his lip.
The funny thing about me was no matter where I was, I always new my way. You will find that my youth was filled with many different places, but I could always find my way. Although I was only four years old, many years later when I could drive, I knew how to get there. Way out in the boondocks of New Hampshire wilderness.
I don’t remember much more of the year or so at this location.