That butter, and the whipping cream that would later be on top of the pumpkin pie, came from local dairy farms, sometimes through barter. Jars of canned vegetables - or possibly home-made preserves - would be given in exchange for big square prints of butter, or jars of cream so rich and thick that it almost didn't need whipping. Of course, none of these edibles came anywhere near a Board Of Heath inspection, and the folks involved knew nothing about FDA regulations — or cholesterol for that matter.

If the number of people was high enough we ate in shifts, with the men gorging themselves at the main table and the kids fighting each other at card tables set up in every space available. Once the men were sated and groaning, the women would sit in their places and leisurely eat with less urgency but probably more appreciation — after all, it was their labor that had created the feast.

Eventually it was time for clean-up and the men disappeared, some to find a place for a nap, others moving outside to smoke, chew, spit, cuss and tell jokes. You wouldn't catch these guys doing any dishes - it wouldn't have even occurred to them - but that's just the way it was at that time.

But if Granddad was in the right mood, he'd get out his harmonica and play for us. One of his favorites was a song that dates back to the Civil War or earlier, and was also a favorite at barn-dances — "Turkey In The Straw." Unfortunately, I don't have a recording of Granddad, but here's a video of the song in a rare early filmed performance by Freddie Fisher's Schnickelfritz band. Silly, but fun.