Let me try to describe the rich experience of a very special childhood growing up on the west side of Conneaut Lake in Northwest Pennsylvania during the war years of 1040 and beyond.
We called Granddad's summer house, 'the big house' cause next to it, granddad had a smaller cottage for family which we called 'the little house'. Life back then was in many ways similar to that depicted in Little House on The Prairie. Grandad had been born in the west in 1870, so his values and way of life were the much like the Engle family depicted on TV.
Behind and beside the main houses were flower gardens, a vegetable garden, an orchard, grape arbors and more. Behind that, freshly scythed fields blended gracefully to my uncles house, a tennis court and stable for Bill, our horse (the stable would later be converted to a summer cottage).
Behind the tennis court was acres and acres of woods interspersed with open fields, a creek, a small swamp and a much larger swamp. A single train track formed the east and north borders of granddad's property. Twice a day the train came. Once heading north, the other south. A loud growling churn and rhythm of the old steam engine, the whistle, the deep rumble as the earth shook and we ran to wave at the conductor, fireman and brakeman.
My cousins and I loved to watch the trains go by. We counted all the cars and wondered with all the roar, soot, smoke and cinders why some of the older box cars or maybe our woods didn't catch on fire.
Hidden near the middle of the woods behind the giant yellow pines granddad had planted on the west side of our property was a fairly small and incredibly picturesque swamp which formed a kind of border to the back of the woods. Then behind that more woods, a larger swamp and creeks full of minnows which we caught and used as bait to go fishing.
There was truly an incredible richness and beauty to growing up touching both nature firsthand and the emotions of the depression, the war and a tangled family. We vividly experienced, smelled, tasted and felt this fine countryside before, during and after the War Years of the 1940's.
As he had done in the few acres north of the big house, granddad had planted dozens of both scotch, yellow and white pine trees, spaced about 75 feet apart as the orchard blended to fields and the woods. There were about 5 rows of these beautiful pines with about 8 trees in each row.
Further back in the woods, behind this group of pines, there was a brief meadow, then two small sand pits. A mile or so back to the west came the real woods, the little and big swamps. From white birch trees to old hickory stands, there were maple, oak, elm, and a dozen more kinds of trees. We experienced nature as God had made it.
There were wild elderberry bushes and hazel nut bushes. Lots of rabbits, squirrels and immense flocks of birds. Pesticides weren't in use yet, so some of the bird flocks darkened the sky with hundreds, sometimes even thousands, of birds. From wrens to robins, from purple martins to crows, blackbirds and starlings your ears told you you were never alone. For my 10th birthday granddad gave me a book by John James Audubon so I could identify and learn about these beautiful and amazing creatures that could actually fly.
Before I had got my own 22 rifle at about 11, I had a Daisy BB rifle. The bad birds which ate our corn and destroyed to garden became targets, but of course bb guns don't shoot very straight or very far, so the birds escaped easily. When I got a little older I got a 16 gauge shotgun to make sure the blackbirds and crows actually left a little corn for our family.
We didn't really shoot the birds, but the sound of the shotgun would scare them away. We even made our own scarecrows, but our home make scarecrows didn't really work too well.
Crows are pretty smart, and I got the feeling they were up there making fun of our efforts to chase them away. The birds got some corn and we got some corn. In the late summer and early fall, fresh corn on the cob was added to the garden grown green beans, peas, carrots and fresh fish from the lake. In the fall the apples ripened. We even had a few peach and plum trees. Add the grapes, the grape juice that grandma canned, the jams and all the rest and you had food like most folks today can not imagine.
The scents of our meals cooking mixed with the flavor of the two wood stoves, homemade bread and rolls, and of course pies. Except for things like flour, granddad's shopping list didn't have many other foods on them. The ice man brought the ice for the ice box, the milk man the milk and there was no such thing as a supermarket. Granddad even made his own soap!
We hunted and fished and explored and camped overnight in those woods. There were few mosquitos back then, as there were no bug sprays but thousands of birds (and bats) which kept the mosquitos in check. At night we went to sleep to the sounds of crickets and awakened to the sounds of morning doves and the breeze whistling and rippling though the birch trees were we'd put up our tent. After the war, we got a big army surplus tent that you could actually walk around in. With kerosene lamps and an old card table in the tent I'm sure folks could hear our laughter miles away.
At the east end of the property was (and is) the lake. There granddad had planted willows along the shore. Back then he owned about a mile of lakefront, from just north of fireman's beach all the way up past the old sea scout point.
There were only a few motorboats on the lake back then, and the fishing was unbelievably good. I never heard of a fishing license. Maybe kids didn't need them.
Weeping willows along the shore and even one at the end of the dock was planted later when I was born in 1938. The waterfront was just east of the old railroad track and ten wooden steps led down the cinder bank of the rail road tracks to the waterfront. Mint grew next to the steps and at the base there was a small plum tree. To the left were three 30 or 40 foot high pines the remained untrimmed all the the way to the ground. The triangle of pines made a great hiding place when we were very small.
The shore willows grew very large and sometimes we'd have storms so violent they'd actually blow down half or much of a willow tree. Back in the woods the downed trees were removed, so as they rotted they became a great place to get grubs. And those grubs got us fresh perch, rock bass and once in a while a small mouth bass.
At the south corner of the dock and waterfront stood granddads boathouse which held 2 rowboats. One for the grand kids, the other one granddads fishing boat which we weren't allowed to use or even touch because he left much of his gear in the double bow rowboat.
Heading west from the big house there was a huge elm tree and there two 30 foot ropes supported a wonderful wooden swing. West of and in front of the swing was a small eight sided tool house, where granddad kept his rifles, tools, and fishing poles. And yes he kept the tool house locked although he never locked the house. The rope on the swing was so long you could almost soar over the top of that toolhouse. And last I looked, 70 years later, it and the other houses were still there!
Next to the tool house was a glider. Atype of swing that would hold six people were people could relax in the shade of a hot summer day. Along the fence south of the little house was a small four person glider made just for the kids. What other granddad in the whole USA was so thoughtful? But then he had 39 grandkid and I knew them all. Kids like me and my 38 first cousins just on granddads side of the family.
West of the tool house was our food supply: granddad's garden, apple orchard, chicken coop and the split log we cleaned the fish on. Between the chicken coop and the garden was a 10x10 compost pile. You didn't buy fertilizer (or much else) in those days, you composted your garbage with fallen fruit, cut grass, food scraps, chicken guts, fish cleanings and goodness knows what else. Remember, there were no garbage men and no garbage service. What we couldn't compost we recycled (yes even in those days). The government needed the tin cans and more to make tanks and bullets to win the war.
There was a big and very old RCA radio in the big house and a smaller one, a Philco, in the little house, but thank God, there were no TV's yet. So our time was spent touching nature, feeling the earth between our fingers, hearing the sounds of planet earth around us, smelling the freshness of cut grass and tramping through autumn leaves. We actually tasted the richness of fresh grown food. We hugged those we loved and we cared deeply about everyone and everything. Our emotions were as rich and strong as the flavors of life and living.
About a hundred feet west of the big house were white painted lattice fences covered with grape vines and rows of roses, pansies and other flowers. Granddads favorite hobby was flowers and his second favorite (next to fishing), was grafting trees. We even had a black walnut tree after all the black walnuts in the U.S. perished in a blight. And somehow he crossed a black walnut tree with a butternut tree. Never heard of those things? From the birds to the trees, from the wood stoves to home baked pies and a gentle good life in rocking chairs and lawn gliders, we've lost so much in 21st century America.
North of the big house was a smaller 'circle' a gravel circular path with hedges, flowers and hanging mulberry trees where we could hide on a hot summer day and share the mulberries with the birds. My aunt Kat and uncle John Dearing had their wedding in that flowered cirle. There were even a few humming birds which fascinated me. North and Northwest of the circle was our driveway, that had a larger circle with a dirt road around it. South of that was a row of popular trees graddad had planted, some of which stand a hundred years later.
Our horse was named Bill. I learned to ride when I was about 5 by climbing on ole Bill and going round and round that same dirt road circle. I guess I was blessed, I even got to help clean Bill's stable!
North and West of the circle were more rows of pine trees, yellow pines bordered to the west with a that 500 foot row of popular trees.
As I got older, we scythed those fields all summer long to keep the place looking nice. There was no such thing yet as a riding mower or even a rotary mower and we didn't have a tractor.
I think I made as much as 10 cents and hour, but eventually I worked my way up to 25 cents an hour. 25 cents would buy a milkshake and hamburger and I thought granddad paid me pretty well. After all the room and board and beautiful grounds and surroundings and even the woods, were all free.
As briefly mentioned at the west end of the orchard was a small shed where our horse, old Bill had a stall. Later after the war, ole Bill died and Granddad converted the shed into a small cottage and traded it to my father for a new 1947 Dodge which cost my dad, a Dodge dealer, about $1600.
Just east of that cottage to be was Uncle Wes's cottage (William Wesley Anderson) which he owned jointly with my Uncle Arie )Arial Kasooth Anderson). Arie and Wes didn't get along too well but they were great uncles to us kids and as different as 2 brothers could be.
Wes loved to party and he played ragtime piano better than anyone I knew then or later. We'd sit in his living room for hours begging for just one more song. Arie, like his twin brother Ave (Avery Anderson) was quiet, reserved and very kind. Like Ave, Arie and Wes both died of heart failure in their early 50's, an age when many men died back in those days.
They left widows and fairly young children to grow up with no dad. It was the early to mid 1950's when most of the great family men who meant so very much to me, passed away.
My granddad too, in December of 1954 was gone from this earth and since I had long been abused by immediate family, my life was suddenly shattered beyond belief. But the story of the abuse is related elsewhere, this blog is for the good, better and best memories.
And these tens of thousands of fond memories vividly live on in me today.
Grandma had passed away in 1948 and although my parents were alive, by the mid 1950's I was and I felt very much alone.
My Uncles, Aunts and Grand Parents had instilled in me the love of hard work, respect, values and quest for knowledge that would support and carry me though my life. Although I was abused by my mother and siblings, I was truly blessed to have the rich family ties and experiences I speak of in this blog.
Today our society seems in many ways not to know what some of those subtle emotions and feelings are or mean and sadly not to have the depth of caring, sharing and feeling to comprehend or understand what it means to really be alive.
Footnote to this story:
Today when you walk back through those woods of my childhood, briars, brambles and muck and stagnant water have taken over and you get eaten alive by the mosquitos. The borough's and state's pest control tried and still try to kill the bugs, but of course the chemicals used for control killed most of the birds, and the bees, and so today there are no elderberries, no hazel nut bushes, and lots and lots of briars that have grown up in the open meadows and fields we once flew our model airplanes and kites in. The effects of man's meddling with nature are felt by all of us as cancer from environmental chemicals has gone from a rare disease to the 2nd eading cause of death in America.
When I was 25, I read Rachel Carlson's Silent Spring. I began to understand how fragile our world is.
Rachel, a brilliant biologist, author and one of the first environmentalists, was born the same year as my dad.
She even grew up in the Pennsylvania woods not far from where I did, and died at only 56 from Cancer, a very rare disease in 1964 the year she died. We didn't listen then, we obviously don't listen now. The 'Silent Spring' Rachel spoke of grows more silent every day.
Photo Credits: 1920 Employee Photo of Rachel from the Fish and Wildlife Commission (Public Domain photo).
But I never ever saw Freddie again or felt the house shake when he flew low over it. His plane crashed somewhere in the Pacific and Freddie and his enthusiasm and laughter would be gone forever, but living eternally in our memories. 
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