"Before we moved into the city and were able to own more
cattle, we would hook the cows up to our milking machines," my dad tells
me as we converse on the phone, "when we moved into the city we had to
reduce the number of cattle we housed, so we started milking the six cows
we owned by hand." Traditionally, in Germany, my great-grandparents on my
dad's side would milk their cows by hand. They taught my grandpa Waechtler to
milk by hand and he taught my dad and his siblings, seven total, how to milk by
hand as well. I remember my dad telling us while we were growing up in Magna
how he used to shoot cow’s milk into the farm cat's mouths at 4:30 in the
morning when he would milk the cows on their Hyrum property.
Though we grew up in a small town near
West Valley City, Utah we didn't own cattle. Some would probably say that we
were privileged to grow up in a town where we didn't have to worry about
feedings at 4:00 in the morning, or having rough hands from milking cattle, or
living in a place where we had every convenience and opportunity given to us;
but I envy those who were one with the earth and earned everything they
had.
The conversation with my dad today, that
is folklore right there. Memories passed on through oral tradition have carried
on to me from my dad who got his them from his dad and so on. I hope to share
these memories with my children when they are old enough to understand what it
took for my ancestors to get to where they are today. And who knows, maybe someday
I will be able to learn to milk cows from my dad.
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