CONSERVATION CONNECTION

Memories of hardships and joys on a farm preserved

Leczynski farmland dedication ceremony, September 12, 2006

by Wanda Leczynski Bozek

I could not let this day pass, without saying why we are truly here today, and that is to commemorate the long history of the farm and to honor the memory of two Polish immigrants, our parents, Jan and Jadwiga Leczynski -- or John and Elvina Leczynski -- their Americanized name, as was the custom at the time.

For it was they who actually bought the six acre farm back in 1919. It was my mother who persuaded my father to purchase the farm. At that time, they were married five years, had two children, and being new immigrants, they had no money, so they borrowed from my grandmother. And like any young bride with her first new home –(and we all know how exciting that can be) mother went to work to make the best of what she had. They scraped and went without many things.

After a few years the opportunity came along to buy an additional 24 acres of woodland. That meant more borrowing from banks, and friends, and more friends. Their plan was to chop the wood for warmth in the winter, and clear the land to plant hay for their cows. Slowly, they started to clear the land and by the time I came along they were still chopping and clearing (all with man power labor).

My mother was smart (or, was it my father?) they had six boys. A lot of the chores ended up being the boys’ responsibilities. They had to get up early, milk the cows, (that was in the days before milking machines), have their breakfast, get cleaned up, and ride their bikes or walk to school.

When the boys came home from school, their chores were waiting. They had to clean the barn, milk again, plow the fields, hay in the summer, collect ice in the winter, or make repairs on the old barn.

I can remember when they cut ice from the pond and stacked it in a shed, and put the surplus up against the barn and then covered it with sawdust where it would keep until summer. In the summertime, it was used to cool the water that kept the milk cold, until a dealer came to pick it up. That was before electricity.

In the wintertime, we’d all huddle in the kitchen around the one wood burning stove to keep us warm. We all did our homework in that one room, or planned the next day’s activities, under the oil burning lamp. Talk about a close knit family!

I can also remember my mother’s joy when, during President Roosevelt’s administration, electricity came to our farm. She always loved President Roosevelt for that. The farm today still has the power lines on it that brings electricity to so many farmers.

The girls, my sister and I, were not permitted in the barn. We never milked cows nor took care of the animals. Our job was taking care of the summer garden, weeding, canning, and picking up the eggs from the chicken coop. At haying time, we would stand on top of a wagon full of hay to catch the hay as it was thrown up with pitchforks from the boys below. I still have the scar on the leg where I came in contact with a pitchfork. But Mother took care that. It seems she always had a way of curing the most serious ills.

If you know your history well, you will remember, that President Hoover, on his campaign trail, shouted out one of his famous slogans: “I promise a chicken in every pot.”  Well, we always said mother beat him to it. We always knew what we were having for Sunday dinner. One of the boys would cut off the head of a chicken, mother would come out with a pot of boiling water and pour it over the chicken, to make the feathers come off easier. And “voila” there was our chicken in our pot!

But first, mother had to split the wood to light a fire in the stove. There was rarely an idle moment. I don’t know how she did it. Mother said many a time that the farm helped us survive during the depression era.

Let me tell you about one of the incidents that had the boys laughing in stitches for many years. One day, one of the pigs got out of his pen. We all gathered around to get the pig back in. We encircled the pig, feet spread wide apart to cover more ground. But this pig did not want to be caught! When the pig tried to bolt, he ran directly at my mother, right between her legs, lifting her onto his back. There she was riding the pig backwards. It wasn’t funny at the time, but years later the boys still howled over it, wishing they had had a camera.

And then we all grew up. Four boys served in WWII and one the Korean conflict. They all returned home safely. And our parents decided to go all out with more cows, more hay, and that meant building a new barn – which still stands there behind you. (Needs a little paint job, but there it is.)

The boys and dad cut down pine trees from a neighbor’s woods, dragged them home, took the trees to the sawmill and started to build the barn. After many years of struggling, they were finally able to get a new truck, a new tractor, a bailer and escalator. Now, they were really farming.

My father stayed home during that time and did most of the work with some help from a D.P. (displaced person), an immigrant they had taken in from war ravaged Poland. I guess they had about 40 cows by then and some heifers.

And when the children and grandchildren came to help with hay picking time, mother was her happiest. She’d gather all the grandchildren on her favorite swing (same old swing, same old spot), and she told them stories of how hard they used to have it. And that’s when the grandchildren realized her pride and joy in the farm.

So, when we all met to decide on the future of the farm, we all agreed, in memory of our mother and father, we had to save the farm. The farm is our heritage, it’s in our bones, so to speak.

I wanted to share these stories with you, so you would understand how very important the farm is to three generations of Leczynskis. I truly want to thank each and every one of you who helped us preserve our farm. It brings back the memories of hardships and joys that we all shared growing up on this farm. It means a lot to us to have the farm preserved.

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