Saturday, January 11, 2020
Milk.
Lots of people drinking soy milk or nut milk. It isn't really milk, not sure why manufacturers are allowed to call it that. It is also not particularly healthy either, since it is often loaded with sugar.
Anyways, I still buy a gallon of milk (usually 2 percent, sometimes skim) at Safeway about once a week. Currently at about $2.19 a gallon. Not surprising that so many dairies are going bankrupt.
When I was a child we were poor and mother bought that nasty dry milk in a box and mixed it up. Horrible taste. Grandpa and Grandma lived next door and they had real milk and sometimes we would get a glass. Grandma was a firm believer in Carnation Instant Breakfast, packed with vitamins, and had a glass every morning. Sometimes we would get to have a glass, I liked the chocolate malt packet the best. Grandma had those long bendy straws and after drinking our Carnation Instant Breakfast, we would carefully wash the straw out so it could be used again. Grandma also bought Space Sticks and Tang, because that is what astronauts used and so they must be good for you. The Space Sticks kind of had a plastic taste, and the sugar in Tang would settle at the bottom so you had to remix it occasionally. Tang came in orange, but also in grape and grapefruit. I probably did not have real orange juice until I went to university.
Eventually the family finances improved enough so that mother could buy real milk and she would do halves, half dry and half real. Still tasted nasty. Every morning I would pour it into my cereal. This is back when cereal boxes had plastic toys and I can still remember sticking my little hand down into the box to fish them out. I still have some of the Winnie the Pooh spoon sitters that came out of the cereal box.
Back in 1973 my father came home from truck driving and discovered a 4-SALE sign in the 10 acre field down the hill from our house. This was the piece of land that his father (actually step-father) had promised to him. Father went down to his mother's house, across North Long Lake Road and down a couple of houses, and asked her why she was putting it up for sale. She said something like, "Promises don't mean anything." She was a real nasty bitch, paranoid, vengeful, mean. Back in 1940 when she was divorcing her first husband, my father's father, the friend of the court report noted that she was starving my father, that he was malnourished. In 1973 Uncle Tom was busy divorcing his wife and my parents were asked under oath if our aunt was a good mother and they said yes. Grandma never forgave them for that and even though she lived three houses down North Long Lake Road from nice Grandma, I never saw her again. She died in 1989 and I felt nothing for the lousy bitch.
Anyways, my father could not stand to see the land that he was promised developed for housing and he was tired of being a long-haul trucker so the parents decided to become dairy farmers. They purchased an 80-acre farm for $46,000 near Buckley and we moved there in January 1974. Father continued to drive truck so mother, Bub, and I became dairy farmers.
Cows and equipment were gradually purchased. My father often bought cows because he felt sorry for the owners. My favorite cow was Dorothy, who had horns, a chain with a pendant with 4 on it, and a very droopy udder. She eventually would have two calves, Patsy and Little Dorothy. Here I am showing Little Dorothy at the fair. She was the only cow in her category and kicked the judge, so I ended up with a B ribbon.
Homer and Little Dorothy, circa 1976.
Gradually things improved, we were actually making some money, despite my father's often stupid business decisions. But then the Buckley oil boom happened and oil wells appeared all over the place. However, my parents had not bought the mineral rights with the farm, so no chance for them to participate in the purchasing frenzy the neighbors were undergoing, buying new tractors, equipment, RVs.
So father had a mid-life crisis and moved us north to the outskirts of Sault Ste. Marie. Another stupid mistake, it was too cold and the cows didn't produce the same amount of milk. Reagan cut the milk subsidies and the amount my parents got paid for their bulk tank full of milk drastically declined. The land was red clay and impossible to grow corn or other grains. It was a nightmare of my father screaming at mother, Bub, and I. We could never do anything right. One time he threw a hammer at me and Bub. Another time a tractor was stuck in the red clay and he wanted me to pull it out and I couldn't. He screamed and screamed at me. I grew to hate him. You only remember the bad things when that is all there is to remember, right?
He wanted me to be a dairy farmer too, part of the control thing passed down from his mother. I wanted to be an archaeologist. I won. He lost. Towards the end of his life he admitted that I had made the right decision.
They still manufacture Tang and Carnation Breakfast Essentials, but I am not tempted to purchase either. The doctor wants me to drink skim milk with my bowl of cereal. It is so bland. But I guess I had better because I am plump and I have clothes that I cannot fit into. Bub is now an Amish man and sometimes helps out his neighbors, who have dairy cattle. People are interested in raw milk and small dairy farm milk, free from the growth hormones that some of the big dairies use. I have no desire to ever milk a cow again, but last summer I did enjoy petting the calves.
Anyways, I still buy a gallon of milk (usually 2 percent, sometimes skim) at Safeway about once a week. Currently at about $2.19 a gallon. Not surprising that so many dairies are going bankrupt.
When I was a child we were poor and mother bought that nasty dry milk in a box and mixed it up. Horrible taste. Grandpa and Grandma lived next door and they had real milk and sometimes we would get a glass. Grandma was a firm believer in Carnation Instant Breakfast, packed with vitamins, and had a glass every morning. Sometimes we would get to have a glass, I liked the chocolate malt packet the best. Grandma had those long bendy straws and after drinking our Carnation Instant Breakfast, we would carefully wash the straw out so it could be used again. Grandma also bought Space Sticks and Tang, because that is what astronauts used and so they must be good for you. The Space Sticks kind of had a plastic taste, and the sugar in Tang would settle at the bottom so you had to remix it occasionally. Tang came in orange, but also in grape and grapefruit. I probably did not have real orange juice until I went to university.
Eventually the family finances improved enough so that mother could buy real milk and she would do halves, half dry and half real. Still tasted nasty. Every morning I would pour it into my cereal. This is back when cereal boxes had plastic toys and I can still remember sticking my little hand down into the box to fish them out. I still have some of the Winnie the Pooh spoon sitters that came out of the cereal box.
Back in 1973 my father came home from truck driving and discovered a 4-SALE sign in the 10 acre field down the hill from our house. This was the piece of land that his father (actually step-father) had promised to him. Father went down to his mother's house, across North Long Lake Road and down a couple of houses, and asked her why she was putting it up for sale. She said something like, "Promises don't mean anything." She was a real nasty bitch, paranoid, vengeful, mean. Back in 1940 when she was divorcing her first husband, my father's father, the friend of the court report noted that she was starving my father, that he was malnourished. In 1973 Uncle Tom was busy divorcing his wife and my parents were asked under oath if our aunt was a good mother and they said yes. Grandma never forgave them for that and even though she lived three houses down North Long Lake Road from nice Grandma, I never saw her again. She died in 1989 and I felt nothing for the lousy bitch.
Anyways, my father could not stand to see the land that he was promised developed for housing and he was tired of being a long-haul trucker so the parents decided to become dairy farmers. They purchased an 80-acre farm for $46,000 near Buckley and we moved there in January 1974. Father continued to drive truck so mother, Bub, and I became dairy farmers.
Cows and equipment were gradually purchased. My father often bought cows because he felt sorry for the owners. My favorite cow was Dorothy, who had horns, a chain with a pendant with 4 on it, and a very droopy udder. She eventually would have two calves, Patsy and Little Dorothy. Here I am showing Little Dorothy at the fair. She was the only cow in her category and kicked the judge, so I ended up with a B ribbon.
Gradually things improved, we were actually making some money, despite my father's often stupid business decisions. But then the Buckley oil boom happened and oil wells appeared all over the place. However, my parents had not bought the mineral rights with the farm, so no chance for them to participate in the purchasing frenzy the neighbors were undergoing, buying new tractors, equipment, RVs.
So father had a mid-life crisis and moved us north to the outskirts of Sault Ste. Marie. Another stupid mistake, it was too cold and the cows didn't produce the same amount of milk. Reagan cut the milk subsidies and the amount my parents got paid for their bulk tank full of milk drastically declined. The land was red clay and impossible to grow corn or other grains. It was a nightmare of my father screaming at mother, Bub, and I. We could never do anything right. One time he threw a hammer at me and Bub. Another time a tractor was stuck in the red clay and he wanted me to pull it out and I couldn't. He screamed and screamed at me. I grew to hate him. You only remember the bad things when that is all there is to remember, right?
He wanted me to be a dairy farmer too, part of the control thing passed down from his mother. I wanted to be an archaeologist. I won. He lost. Towards the end of his life he admitted that I had made the right decision.
They still manufacture Tang and Carnation Breakfast Essentials, but I am not tempted to purchase either. The doctor wants me to drink skim milk with my bowl of cereal. It is so bland. But I guess I had better because I am plump and I have clothes that I cannot fit into. Bub is now an Amish man and sometimes helps out his neighbors, who have dairy cattle. People are interested in raw milk and small dairy farm milk, free from the growth hormones that some of the big dairies use. I have no desire to ever milk a cow again, but last summer I did enjoy petting the calves.
