I Will Not Leave You An Orphan
Preface
1: Earliest Memories
When we arrived there, or what home was like before that, I have no recollection. My older brothers Fred, John, and Peter along with my sister, Catherine (Katie), and I had been taken there at some point. We were 5 of 11 children of John and Gertrude Jarosinski. The 4 oldest children, Eugene, Joan, Rose and Paula, were evidently able to care for themselves at home. The 2 younger than me, Nick and Betsy, were toddler enough to be cared for at a children's home in Indianapolis. I was number 9 of 11.
Preface
This is the story of my life as my memories tell me. I have not researched particular events or scenarios. Such investigation might lend a different understanding, but this is from my vantage point of memories as being there when it happened. Perhaps someday I will do interviews with my family and those involved to get a more complete story. The aim of this narrative is to present a life cared for by the Lord throughout many unconventional years.
1: Earliest Memories
Slices of watermelon, bowls of cooked sour cherries, baths in a laundry sink, rows of beds in a large room, a pair of multicolored cloth shoes, Hershey bars from a visiting lady, possums along the edges of a tunnel-like hallway....these are my earliest memories.
I am about 5-6 years old, about 1951-52. I am living at St. Vincent's Orphanage in Vincennes, Indiana along with an older sister and 3 older brothers.
My mother developed a mental illness sometime around the time the 5th child was born. In and out of institutions and subject to electric shock treatments she was unable to care for us. My dad worked hard to support his family and at the time looked for a family member to care for us. At one point in my adult years my Aunt Emma, whom I lived with later on told me that my dad had asked her to come from northern Wisconsin to care for us, but that
she felt incapable, so declined. She also told me of a time she was visiting our house when I was a toddler and recalled that I had come into the living room with a full sized broom to sweep the floor.
How long I lived at the orphanage I don't know, though I think it was a matter of months and not years. There are a handful of episodes that I remember, and only vaguely.
I do know that my oldest sister, Joan, known to us as Sally, would come to visit us. She came with a friend we called Clothespin. She was a large lady, but must have had a good sense of humor. They would bring us Hershey bars and I suppose other things that weren't impressive to me.
In the summer large trucks full of watermelons would pull in and we could eat our fill and spit as many seeds as we wanted. I do remember being fond of cooked sour cherries which must have been a staple of our diet.
My sister, Kate, 4 years older than me was my personal caretaker. I can picture the dormatory where I slept in the front row with other young girls and she in a row somewhere behind me. I can still see me squished up in a laundry tub sink and she giving me a bath. I don't know if she remembers.
At some point there was an outbreak of a contagious disease. I think it was the hard measles. A number of us, including me, were confined to bed in a darkened infirmary for several days. That is all I remember, except that most of my years I have struggled with
heart and health issues.
(photo: Fred, Pete, John, Kate, Georgia)
(photo: Fred, Pete, John, Kate, Georgia)
The one traumatic event that I have never disclosed until now is my first and only spanking. This is what my memories tell me. A number of us young children were sitting on gym bleachers and were not suppose to talk. When the guardian came in she knew or someone squealed that kids were talking. I was named as one of them. Now, whether or not I was actually talking I don't know, but I firmly denied that I was. That was enough to warrant a spanking in front of all the kids. The last scene is me running through a tunnel-like hallway and seeing what I perceived as dead possums. To this day I do not like possums.
My siblings lived at St. Vincent's for a number of years. I, however, went on to live elsewhere.
2. My Foster Family (part 1)
THE BACK FORTY
Susie and I got along well and I'm sure there were plenty of girl things we did together. What I remember most, though, was spending hours in "the back forty" with younger brother, Jim. Shortly after getting off the bus from school we would climb a fence, run across a pasture, climb another fence to go exploring, swinging and climbing on hanging vines, cracking thin ice on streams in colder weather. I have a vivid memory of watching a red fox run by not far from us. I saw a fence where a piece of hay had been driven into a post by some past tornado.
The Riviera Club
PIANO LESSONS
One rule on school nights is that homework had to be finied before any playing. One day the weather and back forty must have been crying out to me to come. When asked if I had any homework to do I declared, No. So out to play I went. Next morning when perhaps my schoolbag was being checked and prepared mom noticed undone worksheets. Oh.....I.....guess..... I forgot I had any. I don't remember getting into trouble, but that was the last time I "forgot".
Baby Pig and a Bee
Touched by God?
The Sperry family was Catholic as was my blood family. While I was living with them Mr. Sperry made a little wooden shrine to the blessed mother for Mrs. Sperry. It was placed on the back side of our large yard. We would sometimes have devotions there. Mom and Dad would see that we went to Sunday church, said grace at mealtime and had evening prayer before going to bed. Usually that was nice and a comforting habit. There was one time, though, somewhere in the reciting of prayers I burst out crying. I don't remember my feelings or thoughts, just that I burst out crying. Mr. Sperry spoke gently and comforting to me. I think it was the first time I felt an overwhelming sense of God's love.
My Kitty
At some point I was given a kitty. Now I realize it was a "barn cat", but at the time I was thrilled I had a kitty to love. My first Communion picture has "See my kitty" printed on the back.
Transitions
While living with the Sperrys I was always aware that I had another family in Indianapolis. I was informed of occasional events. I was not longing for them, being secure and content with this loving family. Then after about 3 years I was informed about weekend visits with my family in the city. Mr. Sperry would drive me in and take me in to spend the days with my family. I don't remember much except that I was greatly relieved when it was Sunday afternoon and I was on my way back "home". I would sit in the back seat of the station wagon and simply be content knowing that come evening I would be back sharing a room with my sister Susie and lie in my own bed next to the window, listening to the crickets and frogs as I drifted off to sleep.
On one particular occasion somewhere in the spring of my 3rd grade I was told that I would move back with my real family.
I was 9 years old. Now the weekend visits were to the Sperrys. How I waited out the week until I was in the backseat of that station wagon, looking out the window, anticipating a shared room with Susie and listening to the crickets and frogs. Gradually the weekend visits grew further and further apart.
The Sperry family weaves in and out of my life to this day as future stories with show. For now I was plunged into an unfamiliar life.
________________________________________
4. Unfamiliar Life....
I was not prepared for the next several insecure months of my life. In Indianapolis I was thrust into an older urban neighborhood rather than the quiet privacy of a dairy farm. While living with the Sperry family all my needs were cared for and I was well supervised. Now at home I was on my own. There were probably 5 siblings, 2 were younger than me living in the red brick older house. Mom was home from one of her several stays in the hospital for "shock" treatments for mental illness. She was unable to care for us, though she would try. I have disconnected memories of that time. I'm sure I must have adapted as best a 9 year old girl can, with focus on the activities of the day and occasional weekend visits back to the Sperrys and rural peace.
My dad was a kind, gentle and loving man. He worked a full time job at the Linkbelt factory that made parts for large construction equipment. He also had 2 part time jobs as a custodian of Holy Name church/school and, I think, did some work at the local Kroger store. He didn't drink, smoke, carouse, even though he had an incapacitated wife. His only vices were playing sweepstakes when such involvements were illegal and enjoying weekend poker games. He would be home only a few hours of the day. We called him "Pop" rather than dad. His favorite joke when we wanted to do something and we'd jump around shouting, "Can we, Pop? Can we, Pop?" He'd plug his ears and declare, "Sure! Go ahead and pop!"
The Refrigerator...
At the Sperry home all our needs were provided. As small children we did not have the freedom of raiding the refrigerator. Our snacks and meals were set out for us at particular times. Now at home most of the time I had to get my own food. I would look in the refrigerator and then ask my dad if I could have such and such food. I don't know how long this went on until one time he kindly, but emphatically replied, "This is your home, you can have any food that you want." To this day I have a hard time helping myself to someone else's food unless I ask if it is OK. (Photo: Mom and Pop in later years)
The "Rats Nests"
When I left the Sperrys my hair was in pigtails with a part through the top of my head. Mrs. Sperry would see that my hair was cared for, which means she must have routinely undone the pigtails and combed out my hair. Now at home I would simply run a comb through the smooth part of my hair before walking to school in the morning. I don't know how many weeks this went on until at some time my older sister, Sally, came to visit or I went to her home for the weekend. I only remember her taking out my pigtails and using scissors to cut out tangled globs of hair, "rats nests" as she called them. She may have cut my hair short so that it would be easier for me to care for by myself. I do remember feeling secure and loved during that brief time of adult attention.
School...
I was enrolled in St. Catherine's grade school,at least a mile walk away from home. I know it was 3rd grade but I don't know how many weeks or months I attended there. I didn't make any close friends, though kids would play with me at recess. I don't recall anything remarkable about being there, other than I didn't care for kickball that all the other girls were excited about. It was school. I do recall an occasion watching Pop drag my 1 year younger brother, Nick, kicking and hollering down the sidewalk, all the way to school. Guess he didn't want to go.
Protection....
I don't remember my first train ride, 500 miles between Indianapolis and Fifield, Wisconsin. It must have been exciting. The Soo Line railroad serviced northern Wisconsin for many years. (stock photo) My grandpa Micheal Jarusinski (standing far right in photo) worked on this railroad. Unfortunately I never met him as he died 2 years before I traveled to Wisconsin.
My Aunt Emma and Uncle Jack must have met us in the village of Fifield and driven us to Uncle Mike's farm about 5 miles out on a back road.
The few months of summer at Uncle Mikie's was a Huckleberry Finn life for me. I reveled like a young exuberant colt set loose, oblivious to danger or hardship. I was free to run barefoot through the fields, explore the surrounding forests, splash in chilly, rocky Sailor Creek about a 2 mile walk down the dirt road.
There we picked wild berries as we flicked away mosquitoes and listened for the sound of bears in the thickets. We would try to envision Russian Pete since his cabin was closed up most of the time. What were the mysterious secrets he kept?
(photo: Russian Pete?, Pop's youngest brother Uncle Joe, Pop, younger brother Nick, Georgia)
THE TRACTOR...
WHEN MOM SAVED MY LIFE...
Plumbing was an outhouse tucked between an old garage and large barn. (see picture) The facility was situated across the yard and driveway from the house. Many pieces of junk were scattered on the ground. On one occasion I did what I needed to do there and cleaned with torn out pages from an old catalog (We would glance through the catalog while sitting there).
That is the last I remember of this incident....no doctor visit, no tetanus shot, no pain relievers. I evidently healed and continued my urchin escapades.
(photo: Mom-Gertrude, Aunt Emma, youngest sibling, Betsy, probably 1955)
TRAIN WHISTLE, BUNNIES AND A MOUND IN THE HILL...
We were free to run around the farm. There was a large hay field between the house and the back woods. On the backside of the field was what resembled a primitive Hobbit house...a large mound with a wooden door and grass over the top it all. I don't remember if we tried to open the door and venture in. To me it was a source of great mystery. Today I know it was a root cellar where hardy vegetables like cabbage, potatoes and carrots plus apples were kept, mostly for the winter, at a consistent cool temperature. But even now I wonder why it was so far from the house, and how did they ever get to it in the winter when snow could be several feet deep. (stock photo of a root cellar)
We would have to cross the railroad tracks beyond the mound before entering the back woods. We spent many hours there, as great explorers, hunters or pirates.
Uncle Mikie's house was a mysterious dwelling. I recall three sagging wooden steps as we entered a creaking door into a small dark area with sloping floor. Another door opened into a square kitchen with a ceramic sink, some kind of oven and an old wooden table full of dishes, dish towels, baked goods. There was a door into a square living room with no windows and an ornate wood burning heater. Along the inner wall was a set of stairs resembling a ladder leading to a door sized opening in the ceiling/ upper floor to 3 square bedrooms. We were allowed to sleep in 2 of the rooms but were forbidden to venture into "the back bedroom".
Of course our curiosity led us into the back bedroom where we discovered a bed draped in a quilt and a satin pillow sheltering what had been large funeral spray with satin ribbons. Throughout the summer we would occasionally wander in there and wonder about the secret it held as my young mind recalled whispers that Uncle Mikie's wife had died.
(photo: my sister Paula sitting on the steps, older brother John, an aunt)
There was a sloping front porch that housed an old pump organ. I would sometimes play it, though I didn't have any knowledge of the stops or pedals. It has long since been lost to history.
The summer was a maze of examining old books laying around the living room. An intriguing one was like a 12 inches cube. It was an old health/healing book. I would study the pressure points of the feet and hands, wondered about the "time lines" that predicted one's length of life and marveled at all the exotic tonics and procedures it explained. (I would be interested to know my reactions if I were to examine it today, as it conjures up scenes of Medieval libraries.)
As time went on Aunt Emma would tell me stories of gypsy caravans that stopped at the farm when she was growing up and how her mom hid the girls till they were gone. She would load them up with chickens and baking supplies. I have come to believe that Grandma Mary Roman was half Romanian Gypsy.
Uncle Mikie
Uncle Mikie became the owner of the Jarusinki family farm. He and 7 siblings grew up there. I think there was a baby boy who died. Even now I don't know his complete story but that his wife, Louise, had passed on recently before that summer. I have
heard stories of a young son they had who died after a fall down basement steps and that his wife was never recovered.
(photo: a very sun tanned Mike and my younger brother Nick, Aunt Betty and husband Levi, at the farm 1955)
Uncle Mike must have been living as best he knew how and was kind when he agreed to let our brood invade his domain. He milked 6 cows by hand, grew and harvested hay for them, had some chickens and rabbits He is remembered for his inch thick hamburgers stuffed with large onion chunks and homemade lemon meringue pies. In the evenings he would sit in the living room, playing his concertina and sometimes listening to the radio. There was no TV. He had a teasing mind and was always full of puns. One of his favorite when we would pass a yard was, "Look at that, you haul in a little dirt and you have a lot."
He weaved in and out of my life for several years. His last months he lived with Louie and me as he endured diabetes.
(photo: Uncle Mike in later years. Probably at Aunt Emma's funeral...otherwise he never wore a suit. Uncle Mike and Aunt Emma at Newman Lake near Park Falls)
Aunt Emma was my dad's sister. She lived with her husband, Jack, in Park Falls about 8 miles north of the farm.
I must have spent a fair amount of time with her that summer, as pictures show. She must taken me to get a wardrobe of suitable girl clothes and invited me to spend time with her at their home. There I took a bath and brushed my teeth, as there was no plumbing at the farm except the kitchen sink.
Summer came to an end and it was time to leave Uncle Mikie's farm. But I did not travel back to Indianapolis with mom and the other kids.
(photos: 9 year old Georgia and with Aunt Emma)
2. My Foster Family (part 1)
Scared, I hang onto the arm of a caring lady. I'm not sure of the brown, furry 4 legged creature that is running around and barking, tail wagging. A smiling man and lady, a little girl and 2 smaller boys are calling to him to settle down. It seems to be summer or early autumn. I am probably 6 years old.
Still clinging to the caring lady, we are invited to come in. I don't remember if that was a short visit or if that is the day I was brought to them to stay. I do clearly remember the peanut butter and jelly sandwich and green grapes that were for lunch. (To this day my foster sister also remembers how much I enjoyed the grapes.)
This is the Sperry family. From my understanding now, they
were wanting a foster sister for their oldest daughter, Susan, who was a month older than me. Why I was chosen I don't know. I do know my 3 and half years there were secure, comforting and formative.
were wanting a foster sister for their oldest daughter, Susan, who was a month older than me. Why I was chosen I don't know. I do know my 3 and half years there were secure, comforting and formative.
I don't recall the early days of settling in. I must have been asked while I was at the orphanage if I wanted to go live with a family; maybe I wasn't. I must have felt secure, loved and wanted since I don't remember any stress.
THE BACK FORTY
(photo: Bert, David, Susie, Jim, Georgia)
Susie and I got along well and I'm sure there were plenty of girl things we did together. What I remember most, though, was spending hours in "the back forty" with younger brother, Jim. Shortly after getting off the bus from school we would climb a fence, run across a pasture, climb another fence to go exploring, swinging and climbing on hanging vines, cracking thin ice on streams in colder weather. I have a vivid memory of watching a red fox run by not far from us. I saw a fence where a piece of hay had been driven into a post by some past tornado.
The only time I remember my "mom" getting angry at me was an incident when a school friend called and since I was already in trouble for going beyond "hearing distance" I was suppose to tell her I could not talk with her. I must not have gotten off the phone fast enough and maybe did some talking back cause I was severely reprimanded. I did not know then that she was probably highly scared when she called for Jim and me to return home. We were out of hearing range, the one rule that could not be broken. With being caught up in our serious adventure we were oblivious to time and location.We were late getting back.
(photo: Daddy Jim on far left, Mom Marge standing in middle, Georgia and Susie in First Communion dresses, Poppi sitting far right.)
The Riviera Club
Our family belonged to a swimming pool called the Riviera Club. I was introduced to swim lessons along with the children old enough. Of course, there was the little kids pool fenced off from The Big Pool. When I began lessons I would longingly look at the big kids in the big pool and dream of the day I would be allowed in there. I took to the water like an eager young fish. In time that came to be. Most of my summer days would be spent dreaming of going to the Riviera. What a magnificent day when we were all packed in the station wagon and on our way swimming!
I do remember a particular day when, we must have planned to go swimming, but as we drove by the Club we could see it was closed and there were black clouds covering the sky, bolts of lightning piercing the ground. I just could not understand nor accept that that was reason enough not go swimming!
Another disappointing day was passing by a drive-in and not stopping for ice cream. Such traumatic events to remember.
(photo: Christmas card:
David, baby Ann, Susie, Georgia, Bert, Jim 1952,1953?)
(photo: Christmas card:
David, baby Ann, Susie, Georgia, Bert, Jim 1952,1953?)
PIANO LESSONS
At some time Susie and I started piano lessons. The lady lived on "our block"....a block being probably a square mile or more of rural Indiana. Mom would drive us there. We would have our lesson and then be treated to a piece of watermelon shaped jelly candy from the teacher.
I don't remember how long Susie kept with the lessons. At some point she stopped, but to me it was an exciting and fulfilling adventure.
Some moment in my adult years I realized that was the start of my life long self-expression and comfort as piano lessons, composing and performing weaved in and out of my life. I wonder, as well, if I hadn't been introduced to music at the piano at that time, if I ever would have started learning such a skill. My Birthday party....me in the way back; Susie with dark hair in the front.
3. My Foster Family (part 2)
I Still Remember the Lie
Fairies
How I loved stories and pictures of fairies. I knew they existed. Why wouldn't they? I had a favorite tree in our large yard I would climb and sit in its big lower limb. I would watch the gravel road on the other side of the fence. There was a water drain running under it. I knew that if I watched long enough I would certainly see fairies. But, with the impatience of youth, I never sat long enough to see them. I'm sure they are there, it's just a matter of sitting long enough.
Baby Pig and a Bee
I don't know if it was when I was living at the Sperrys or on an occasion when I came back for a visit. Mr. Sperry invited me out to one of the barns to see a baby pig that was separated from its mother. It was being fed with a baby bottle. Dad asked if I wanted to feed it. Sure. I was attentively feeding the pink little thing when a sudden burning pierced me. I don't remember where on my body. I was screaming and running into the house. I was stung by whatever flying creatures were in the barn. Mom put some kind of pack on it. I did not react allergically, to which I am now thankful.
Digging to China
One of my favorite places in our large yard was the sand box. So much living could happen there. So many times I started
digging my way to China. I knew that if one could dig deep enough straight through the earth, one would land in China since it was directly opposite from us. Once again, youthful impatience foiled every attempt to arrive there.
Touched by God?
The Sperry family was Catholic as was my blood family. While I was living with them Mr. Sperry made a little wooden shrine to the blessed mother for Mrs. Sperry. It was placed on the back side of our large yard. We would sometimes have devotions there. Mom and Dad would see that we went to Sunday church, said grace at mealtime and had evening prayer before going to bed. Usually that was nice and a comforting habit. There was one time, though, somewhere in the reciting of prayers I burst out crying. I don't remember my feelings or thoughts, just that I burst out crying. Mr. Sperry spoke gently and comforting to me. I think it was the first time I felt an overwhelming sense of God's love.
My Kitty
At some point I was given a kitty. Now I realize it was a "barn cat", but at the time I was thrilled I had a kitty to love. My first Communion picture has "See my kitty" printed on the back.Transitions
I was 9 years old. Now the weekend visits were to the Sperrys. How I waited out the week until I was in the backseat of that station wagon, looking out the window, anticipating a shared room with Susie and listening to the crickets and frogs. Gradually the weekend visits grew further and further apart.The Sperry family weaves in and out of my life to this day as future stories with show. For now I was plunged into an unfamiliar life.
________________________________________
4. Unfamiliar Life....
I was not prepared for the next several insecure months of my life. In Indianapolis I was thrust into an older urban neighborhood rather than the quiet privacy of a dairy farm. While living with the Sperry family all my needs were cared for and I was well supervised. Now at home I was on my own. There were probably 5 siblings, 2 were younger than me living in the red brick older house. Mom was home from one of her several stays in the hospital for "shock" treatments for mental illness. She was unable to care for us, though she would try. I have disconnected memories of that time. I'm sure I must have adapted as best a 9 year old girl can, with focus on the activities of the day and occasional weekend visits back to the Sperrys and rural peace.
"Pop"....
My dad was a kind, gentle and loving man. He worked a full time job at the Linkbelt factory that made parts for large construction equipment. He also had 2 part time jobs as a custodian of Holy Name church/school and, I think, did some work at the local Kroger store. He didn't drink, smoke, carouse, even though he had an incapacitated wife. His only vices were playing sweepstakes when such involvements were illegal and enjoying weekend poker games. He would be home only a few hours of the day. We called him "Pop" rather than dad. His favorite joke when we wanted to do something and we'd jump around shouting, "Can we, Pop? Can we, Pop?" He'd plug his ears and declare, "Sure! Go ahead and pop!"
The Refrigerator...
At the Sperry home all our needs were provided. As small children we did not have the freedom of raiding the refrigerator. Our snacks and meals were set out for us at particular times. Now at home most of the time I had to get my own food. I would look in the refrigerator and then ask my dad if I could have such and such food. I don't know how long this went on until one time he kindly, but emphatically replied, "This is your home, you can have any food that you want." To this day I have a hard time helping myself to someone else's food unless I ask if it is OK. (Photo: Mom and Pop in later years)
The "Rats Nests"
When I left the Sperrys my hair was in pigtails with a part through the top of my head. Mrs. Sperry would see that my hair was cared for, which means she must have routinely undone the pigtails and combed out my hair. Now at home I would simply run a comb through the smooth part of my hair before walking to school in the morning. I don't know how many weeks this went on until at some time my older sister, Sally, came to visit or I went to her home for the weekend. I only remember her taking out my pigtails and using scissors to cut out tangled globs of hair, "rats nests" as she called them. She may have cut my hair short so that it would be easier for me to care for by myself. I do remember feeling secure and loved during that brief time of adult attention.
School...
I was enrolled in St. Catherine's grade school,at least a mile walk away from home. I know it was 3rd grade but I don't know how many weeks or months I attended there. I didn't make any close friends, though kids would play with me at recess. I don't recall anything remarkable about being there, other than I didn't care for kickball that all the other girls were excited about. It was school. I do recall an occasion watching Pop drag my 1 year younger brother, Nick, kicking and hollering down the sidewalk, all the way to school. Guess he didn't want to go.
The Peeping Tom....
There were shades for our windows but I don't think we were concerned about pulling them down consistently after dark. There was a "middle bedroom" off the dining room, connecting 2 other bedrooms and a bathroom. One night I was going from the dining room into the back bedroom when I glanced up and saw a man looking in the window at me. I was so startled I froze for a few seconds and then with my heart beating wildly continued on to the back room and climbed in bed with my older sister, Kate. I never told anyone. Far into my adult years I had an exaggerated fear of someone being outside the house, ready to assault me. Up to that point I don't think I feared anything.
Protection....
I felt free to run around the neighborhood alone and explore several blocks from home. I remember one afternoon when a man approached me and chatted with me. I think I was close to my house. I don't know if I had seen him before or not. On this occasion he told me I should come see him under a particular bridge some distance from our house when it got dark that evening. I felt no fear or suspicion. I told him, okay. I did not go. Perhaps Pop was home or maybe I forgot about it. But now I thank God for his protection of naive, young me.
Changes, Again....
Pop liked to have Mom and the younger kids go to northern Wisconsin for the summer break to get them out of the city for a few weeks. They would travel by train 500 miles to Uncle Mike's farm, which had been Pop's home growing up. This time I went with them. None of us had any notion that this would be a pivotal change in my life once again....
Chapter 5: Uncle Mikie's...Summer, 1955
I don't remember my first train ride, 500 miles between Indianapolis and Fifield, Wisconsin. It must have been exciting. The Soo Line railroad serviced northern Wisconsin for many years. (stock photo) My grandpa Micheal Jarusinski (standing far right in photo) worked on this railroad. Unfortunately I never met him as he died 2 years before I traveled to Wisconsin. 
My Aunt Emma and Uncle Jack must have met us in the village of Fifield and driven us to Uncle Mike's farm about 5 miles out on a back road. 
The few months of summer at Uncle Mikie's was a Huckleberry Finn life for me. I reveled like a young exuberant colt set loose, oblivious to danger or hardship. I was free to run barefoot through the fields, explore the surrounding forests, splash in chilly, rocky Sailor Creek about a 2 mile walk down the dirt road.
(photo: Dad's sister, Aunt Clara, with kids on the dirt road next to the farm)
Across the road from the farm was Russian Pete's cabin.
(photo: Russian Pete?, Pop's youngest brother Uncle Joe, Pop, younger brother Nick, Georgia)
(Uncle Joe was the picture taker of the family)
THE TRACTOR...
On Sundays Uncle Mike would climb upon his red tractor and wait for 2 or 3 of us kids to stand on the platform in the back, holding onto the metal seat. He'd take off chugging down the dirt road, turn left and chug more until we got to Highway 13, where he turned right and sped up for the 5 mile drive into Fifield. We would attend Mass at St. Francis church and then head to Andy's store and bar to shop. We kids would hang around in the store or outside while Uncle Mike enjoyed a beer or two. Sometimes he would go to Herbst's grocery and bar instead. (Both these establishments still stand today.) After a few hours we would all chug back to the farm; we kids all exuberant from the outing. (red tractor: stock photo) (photo: my younger siblings, Nick and Betsy, with cousin, Buddy, in front of Andy's store, 1958)
WHEN MOM SAVED MY LIFE...
Plumbing was an outhouse tucked between an old garage and large barn. (see picture) The facility was situated across the yard and driveway from the house. Many pieces of junk were scattered on the ground. On one occasion I did what I needed to do there and cleaned with torn out pages from an old catalog (We would glance through the catalog while sitting there).
I was eager to continue whatever fun I was having and ran barefoot from the outhouse, abruptly onto a rusty nail sticking up from an old board. I yelled as the nail pierced into the central bottom of my right foot.
My next memory is Mom yanking out the board and plunging my foot into a bucket of cold water, which instantly turned dark red. I don't know how long I had it in there, but at some point Mom stuffed the wound with wads of homemade bread.
(photo: Mom-Gertrude, Aunt Emma, youngest sibling, Betsy, probably 1955)
TRAIN WHISTLE, BUNNIES AND A MOUND IN THE HILL...
We were free to run around the farm. There was a large hay field between the house and the back woods. On the backside of the field was what resembled a primitive Hobbit house...a large mound with a wooden door and grass over the top it all. I don't remember if we tried to open the door and venture in. To me it was a source of great mystery. Today I know it was a root cellar where hardy vegetables like cabbage, potatoes and carrots plus apples were kept, mostly for the winter, at a consistent cool temperature. But even now I wonder why it was so far from the house, and how did they ever get to it in the winter when snow could be several feet deep. (stock photo of a root cellar)
At night I would lie in bed next to one of my siblings,
listening to the whistle of the train crescendo and then fade away as it crossed the nearby road. It's haunting song somehow soothed my young soul. Sometimes I would snuggle with a real bunny from one of the rabbit pens, until the night I literally smothered one with love; as I found out in the morning that it had gone to bunny heaven.
listening to the whistle of the train crescendo and then fade away as it crossed the nearby road. It's haunting song somehow soothed my young soul. Sometimes I would snuggle with a real bunny from one of the rabbit pens, until the night I literally smothered one with love; as I found out in the morning that it had gone to bunny heaven.
The House and Uncle Mikie
Uncle Mikie's house was a mysterious dwelling. I recall three sagging wooden steps as we entered a creaking door into a small dark area with sloping floor. Another door opened into a square kitchen with a ceramic sink, some kind of oven and an old wooden table full of dishes, dish towels, baked goods. There was a door into a square living room with no windows and an ornate wood burning heater. Along the inner wall was a set of stairs resembling a ladder leading to a door sized opening in the ceiling/ upper floor to 3 square bedrooms. We were allowed to sleep in 2 of the rooms but were forbidden to venture into "the back bedroom". 
Of course our curiosity led us into the back bedroom where we discovered a bed draped in a quilt and a satin pillow sheltering what had been large funeral spray with satin ribbons. Throughout the summer we would occasionally wander in there and wonder about the secret it held as my young mind recalled whispers that Uncle Mikie's wife had died. (photo: my sister Paula sitting on the steps, older brother John, an aunt)
There was a sloping front porch that housed an old pump organ. I would sometimes play it, though I didn't have any knowledge of the stops or pedals. It has long since been lost to history.
The summer was a maze of examining old books laying around the living room. An intriguing one was like a 12 inches cube. It was an old health/healing book. I would study the pressure points of the feet and hands, wondered about the "time lines" that predicted one's length of life and marveled at all the exotic tonics and procedures it explained. (I would be interested to know my reactions if I were to examine it today, as it conjures up scenes of Medieval libraries.)
As time went on Aunt Emma would tell me stories of gypsy caravans that stopped at the farm when she was growing up and how her mom hid the girls till they were gone. She would load them up with chickens and baking supplies. I have come to believe that Grandma Mary Roman was half Romanian Gypsy.
Uncle Mikie
Uncle Mikie became the owner of the Jarusinki family farm. He and 7 siblings grew up there. I think there was a baby boy who died. Even now I don't know his complete story but that his wife, Louise, had passed on recently before that summer. I have
(photo: a very sun tanned Mike and my younger brother Nick, Aunt Betty and husband Levi, at the farm 1955)
Uncle Mike must have been living as best he knew how and was kind when he agreed to let our brood invade his domain. He milked 6 cows by hand, grew and harvested hay for them, had some chickens and rabbits He is remembered for his inch thick hamburgers stuffed with large onion chunks and homemade lemon meringue pies. In the evenings he would sit in the living room, playing his concertina and sometimes listening to the radio. There was no TV. He had a teasing mind and was always full of puns. One of his favorite when we would pass a yard was, "Look at that, you haul in a little dirt and you have a lot."
He weaved in and out of my life for several years. His last months he lived with Louie and me as he endured diabetes. (photo: Uncle Mike in later years. Probably at Aunt Emma's funeral...otherwise he never wore a suit. Uncle Mike and Aunt Emma at Newman Lake near Park Falls)
Aunt Emma and Uncle Jack
Aunt Emma was my dad's sister. She lived with her husband, Jack, in Park Falls about 8 miles north of the farm.
I must have spent a fair amount of time with her that summer, as pictures show. She must taken me to get a wardrobe of suitable girl clothes and invited me to spend time with her at their home. There I took a bath and brushed my teeth, as there was no plumbing at the farm except the kitchen sink.Summer came to an end and it was time to leave Uncle Mikie's farm. But I did not travel back to Indianapolis with mom and the other kids.
(photos: 9 year old Georgia and with Aunt Emma)
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