Back to My Roots

As my wife and I reached the mouth Sardine canyon in March 2014 we immediately felt "we're home." I've been coming up to this beautiful valley many holidays, Saturdays and Sundays, and sometimes a lazy summer afternoon to visit grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins living in Hyrum. Cache Valley is home to many memories and I will always see this valley through the nostalgic eyes of days past and gone. But I also see Cache Valley through the eyes of a small town boy that never wants to see the green fields plowed and developed like my hometown was.

My dad grew up in Cache Valley on a small farm in Hyrum with his Eastern German father, Swiss mother, four brothers, and three sisters. Oldest of eight children, he was the first American-born Waechtler from a rich, European heritage. In a recent email my dad, Josef, sent me a brief history of his farm life in Hyrum:

"I grew up working on our small farm when I lived in Cache Valley. There were a lot of Dairy farms. So my brothers also had opportunities to work for these other Dairy farmers. We had 6 cows which we milked and sold to the dairy farmers of Utah. It was a lot of work. In the Summer and Fall, we would have to haul hay for the Winter months. We would haul straw for the bedding. There was also the chore of cleaning their stalls. 
To save some money I remember us going down a dirt road below our home and my mother,father or grandpa would use a scythe to cut down the tall grass.We then would haul this with our truck to one of our pastures and spread it out to dry in the sun. When it was dry on one side we would go and turn this grass hay. When completely dry we would store it in one of our buildings until the animals needed it. We also raised sheep,hogs,chickens and a couple of horses. We raised our sheep for wool and would shear the sheep in the Spring and sell their wool. We had a large vegetable garden which we would eat what we could and can the rest for us to eat during the Winter months. Farming has changed allot over the years. I've seen large dairy farms go out of business due to the economy. These were people's livelihood back then. Now I see some of these fields being made into neighborhoods of homes. What a sad day. 
This is just a brief history of our life on the farm."

I remember stories my dad used to tell me and my siblings growing up about the early mornings he'd milk the cows and shoot some into the feral cats mouths, the times he would play with chicken heads, throw cow pies, and ride bikes in derby races. What a life he got to live, the one I wish I could have, the one I hope to give my children. A life of simplicity, hard work, and family.

Mom's story is a little different. She grew up in California surrounded by vineyards, orange groves, and palm trees. My grandma, Carole Dotson, grew up in Madera, California. Below is an excerpt of her first-hand account in relation to picking cotton in Madera:

"I remember in my childhood after daddy came home and I was a little bit older, I don't remember a lot of my youth, but I do remember going from place to place. We moved many times, I went to many schools around the Madera area. Like I said, my folks were proud people and they didn't really want handouts, so we picked cotton. I remember when I was quite young, maybe five or so, I can't remember the age, but I was to small to fill a sack to put the cotton in, so what we would do is we would pick little piles of cotton in the rows and our parents would come along behind us and pick them up and put them in their sack. When we got a little bit older we graduated to what they call the gunny sack and we got to pull those, we would pick the cotton ourselves out of the bowls and we would put them in our sack and would make enough money to buy us a bottle of soda pop. We didn't like our scratched up hands but we did enjoy having that bottle of soda pop. When we got a little bit older we were allowed to carry our sacks up the ladder into the cotton trailer where we dumped our sacks so they could take it to the cotton gins and we would accidentally fall in to the cotton and that was always a fun part of our day. And then as we got a little bit older we were allowed to hold the big canvas sacks that our mom and dad did. We didn't always get them as full and I think the most money I ever made in one day was $3.00. But Back in those days that seemed like a lot of money to us."

And here is her account of when they lived in Dixie land where her father managed a dairy:

"We never really had  many material things but what we had we earned. My dad was a proud man and he worked hard. Two most rememberable years of my life were spent in an area of Madera County called Dixie land where we went to school and my dad managed a dairy for somebody who lived in San Francisco. And I remember that so fondly because we were a happy family then. We had plenty to eat. We even bought our first TV while we lived there. I believe I was in the third grade at the time and our jobs were to bring the cattle in, the cows into the milking barns for dad and we got to out in the haystacks and look for eggs and bring those in for mom. I remember having a lot of company over and we just had a lot of fun. I wish all of my youth would have been spent in that way."

My mom's favorite animal is the cow. She told  me that when they went to visit their grandparent's farm she would stand on the wooden fence where the cattle were housed and sing to the cows. She loves those memories dearly and holds them close in her heart. 

Farm life is work, real work, one where we get our hands dirty and our souls cleansed. Whether we're born into farm life, or choose it for ourselves, I admire the lessons learned from those who have a close relationship with the land.