[October 16, 2023] She had a great body, was content and cooperative, and had a sweet temperament. And she seemed to like me. Every afternoon after school, I visited her, visited her family, talked to her, and helped as best I could. I was 11, and Bessy was 6, and she always seemed to appreciate me being there for her. We lived in the rural part of the state, where the roads were mostly hard-packed dirt and electricity and running water had become available for those living in towns during the last decade, not so much the rural areas. The farm kids I knew were tough because of living a hard life that required taking care of farm animals, planting and harvesting crops, bringing in money to help the family, learning ‘readin-writin-rithmetic’ in school, going to church, and doing those things their parents said needed doing and what is expected that young kids do. Their kids were ready to take their place in the family by showing they could do chores and lead younger children in life skills. Little did I know that our neighbor, farmer Jacob Simons, would go out of his way to help a little boy … me.
I’m not sure Mr. Simons needed an unskilled local boy from town to help him on his farm or milk his cow. He gave me the job anyway. That’s how it was so often done in the South, neighbors helping neighbors, part of our culture. His eldest, Linda, of seven kids, had the same job as me. We team-milked Bessy, first Linda, then me, then Linda, and so on. I’d never milked a cow before. There, on the farm, there are no days off. Farming is a seven-day-a-week operation. It’s a difficult job. I was paid 50 cents for about two hours of effort each day, including prepping Bessy by calming her, walking her to the milking area (usually she followed me), cleaning her tits and the milk bucket, milking her by hand, keep from upsetting her, doing a follow-up cleaning, and taking the milk to a special container with a lid. Once I was there for a while, I think Bessy started to like me. Then, after I arrived, she would raise her head and stare into my eyes, sometimes lick me with that huge, sandpaper-like tongue, and nudge me to get my attention when I wasn’t paying enough attention to her. She was a smart girl. Mr. Simons taught me what I needed to know: to stay focused on Bessy and not let my mind wander, or else the bucket of milk might spill. He also taught me about pride in doing a difficult job well and the importance of God and family.
I was a town boy, so I had it easy. Farm kids did many farm chores before school, things I never imagined doing, getting up before sunrise. And they often took jobs outside the farm to help support the family. Farm girls began babysitting early and helped their moms clean the house, prepare meals, and care for the younger children. All this required physical stamina, smarts, determination, and a sunny disposition. I liked Mr. Simons and his family. Their home was a hive of activity. By modern standards, they were poor: no plumbing, electricity only in the kitchen, a wood stove heater, a smelly wood outhouse for your private business (yuck), no television set, no air conditioning (none of us had AC), and a roof under constant repairs. They may have been house-poor, but they were family-rich. One could tell they were generous folks. Mrs. Simon would sometimes invite me over for a supper meal. That was great fun eating at their long kitchen eating table. And she once gave me an entire homemade apple pie, my favorite. They had a big family, and they worked hard for themselves. I never realized what a sacrifice it was for them all and the great trust that Mr. Simons had in me, especially to milk his only cow, Bessy. I’m eternally grateful and humble for what they did for me. I now realized how easy of life I was living.
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Please read my books:
One of your best letters. Appreciate them.
Yes, great memories.
Gen. Satterfield hits another homerun with his newest series. He is putting together a plan of action for his oldest grandkid, his granddaughter to take up the responsibilities to be a good person and reliable and happy. Read is book “55 rules for a good life” and there you will find his philosophy of life.
Great series of letters. Well done!!!!!!!!!
Another great article, Gen. Satterfield. Every day I go onto your website, I am now looking for another letter. Thank you for the inspiration you are providing to us with these letters.
This is why as a new subscriber, I will be here for Gen. Satterfield.
Excellent article. I was raised in the south (North Carolina). Working on the farm was hard work. It taught me attention to details and teamwork. These qualities help me to have a very successful career in the military. Mr Jimmy williford was the farmer I worked for during my teenage years. He was a great man to work for. He treated me like family. He taught me how to drive. I got my driver’s license at 16. He needed me to go to the farmers depot store to get the daily thing for the peanut planting. He passed last year from health care issues, the day before he passed he called to speak to me. Life is so fragile so take every moment to appreciate your support from family and friends
Thank you for your story and inspiration, Eddie.
The farm is the best place to learn about life and living life properly.
Yep, best of all.
Today’s article is giving me a bit more insight into the Deep South in the 1960s. That was an interesting time for America in the cities. The rural areas were a totally different world. Oh, Gen. Satterfield, I’m enjoying your latest book “55 Rules for a Good Life,” that is a lot of rules and I’m working on them.
I had to have my wife read this one. We all got a big kick out of your humor and experiences. Gen. Satterfield, you sure had a full childhood. And, I’m sure there is much more to come, since you’ve not even got into your High School years much.
Yep. 👀
No. 29, I can’t wait for No. 30. 👍
“I liked Mr. Simons and his family. Their home was a hive of activity. By modern standards, they were poor: no plumbing, electricity only in the kitchen, a wood stove heater, a smelly wood outhouse for your private business (yuck), no television set, no air conditioning (none of us had AC), and a roof under constant repairs. They may have been house-poor, but they were family-rich. One could tell they were generous folks.” by Gen. Satterfield
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This is what I like to read. Please give us more soon because it makes us appreciate the difficulties folks had long ago. Not to say that Gen. Satterfield is old or anything like that.
Got that right, Ed. Good to see you on Gen. Satterfield’s blog, it’s been a long time. Hope you’ve been well.
Great. 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸
Gen. Satterfield, please take my congratulations for your long-running series on letters to your granddaughter. Occasionally I find your website to hit a high bar and today and this series is doing exactly that. I hope the series continues and I also hope that you put them into a book form. That would go over pretty well, IMO, with mostly older ladies. Now, I don’t mean to insult “older women,” but actually compliment them because they have the experience to understand human nature better than younger folks. And those ladies today haven’t been raised in the toxic 4th wave of feminism (which lies to girls). Everyone, please enjoy.
Thanks RED!
Wow,, RED, great to hear from you again and I agree with your comments. We all can get better but our past is our past and best to understand and remember it and know how it influences us today. Better that than to dwell on dreams that will never come true.
BC and RED and Gen. Satterfield, great to see you on today. I’m just can’t get over how much I’m enjoying this series of Gen. S’s childhood and how it helped make him who he is todAY.
EXCELLENT. PRECIOUS.
ENTERTAINING. HOPEFUL. EDUCATIONAL. 🤣
This is the kind of articles I really really really like to read. The more the better. Gen. S, keep them coming. I’m also giving them to my daughter. And she loves them too.
” She had a great body, was content and cooperative, and had a sweet temperament. And she seemed to like me. Every afternoon after school, I visited her, visited her family, talked to her, and helped as best I could. I was 11, and Bessy was 6, and she always seemed to appreciate me being there for her. ….. Who is she? That is the question I had in mind when I read this introduction. And, totally unexpectedly, Gen. Satterfield (little boy Douglas) is writing about Bessy the Cow. She meant a lot to him
We just gotta love this website. IDK but I think gen. Satterfield has hit upon something special here.
—– like so many patriots. 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸
I had no idea you were talking about a cow, Bessy, upfront. i thought it might have been a little girl. Great wording. Hey, Gen. Satterfield, thank you for this series on “Letters to My Granddaughter.” These letters often make me laugh, or cry, but always make me feel better about myself. You life is so close to those experiences I had.
You got that right, girl!!!!! Loving these letters. And they give me a better understanding of the upbringing of boys, and so different than that of girls. Today, we just coddle kids and they become mental basket cases. Grow up “rich” like Gen. Satterfield and you get a different view of yourself, family, and community. Keep ’em coming our way. ❤❤❤❤❤ – a Five Hear rating.
You ladies are all over it. Thanks. and i too appreicate Gen. S. for his letters.
Yep ……………
👀
BINGO ………
I was a town boy, so I had it easy. Farm kids did many farm chores before school, things I never imagined doing, getting up before sunrise. And they often took jobs outside the farm to help support the family. Farm girls began babysitting early and helped their moms clean the house, prepare meals, and care for the younger children. All this required physical stamina, smarts, determination, and a sunny disposition. – Gen. Doug Satterfield
Loving it too Frankie ……. BINGO
Great comments today, ladies.