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of the sick, and they paid if they could-and would. A good part of my pay was the feeling that I was really helping these people, and that I was an important part of what was taking place in this tiny corner of America. I never questioned a person's ability to pay when he need-ed help. I carried a flour sack with me, and when I left the little home in the back of the grocery store it was often with groceries in the bag. I collected wood, vegetables, fruit, eggs, chickens, hay, cows, and handwork of all kinds. I carried home embroidered pillow cases, crocheting, handmade rugs, and quilt tops. I remember one little cotton quilt I gave my daughter for her trouseau. An old lady who owed me $317 needed constant medical attention and had no money with which to pay. She just did not feel good about the situation, so she gave me a little quilt. Soon after, she died, but I told my daughter it was easily the most expensive quilt anywhere around. It did look pretty on a baby's bed. I used the tools and potions available at the turn of the century, and I used the more sophisticated machines and medicines that developed by the middle of the century, but through all the years I found that caring, talking, and listening were probably my most powerful cures. Source: Written as author's father reminisced. SOUNDS OF THE FARM Marjorie Madsen Riley Salt Lake City, Utah Non-Professional Division Honorable Mention #2 Historical Essay Listening to the sounds of the farm filtering through the still air of an autumn day was a never to be forgotten experience Many sounds were to be heard before the sounds of the big thresh-ing machine became audible at harvest time, - muted sounds which came as heads of grain, ripened to a golden yellow, swayed with the breeze, and noisy sounds, which came from farm machinery in operation. -11- |
