Beuna Carlson - Farm Girl: A Wisconsin Memoir

Why Have I Written?

Why have I recorded my memories, I, an elderly woman, known to friends and family, but unknown and unimportant to the rest of the world? Why should anyone read these stories of a time of great hardship and adversity in America? And why, in these times of relative prosperity, should anyone care about people who lived so differently nearly one hundred years ago?

Historians have recorded dates and statistics of the Dust Bowl era and of the Great Depression. Analysts have posited reasons, and economists have issued warnings. Apologists have defended and critics have blamed. Novelists have authored stories. History books have recorded, selectively, the facts that suited the authors perspectives. Movies have glorified the victims or vilified the heroes, again depending upon the point of view of the producer.

There are few firsthand accounts of what life was like for a farm family in the 1930s, living with hope but little else. The extreme drought, record-breaking summer heat, and the failure of crops challenged even the hardiest farm families. The Great Depression with the collapse in prices for farm producefurther tested their mettle. Not only surviving adversity but also prevailing over misfortune with humor, love, and a sense of beauty, many of these farmers and their children went on to become leaders in the 1940s, during World War II, and beyond.

The hope, the can-do spirit, and the determination not to give up were the principles that produced a generation of strong, determined, innovative women and men. Children saw that their parents were careful with money, that their make-do was a sign of creativity, and that work was an acceptable four-letter word. We learned that to do without something that seemed important at the moment would not permanently damage us.

This little book of memories of a Wisconsin farm girl is, in reality, a tribute to my parents and to the thousands of other farmers and their wives who hung on through the Dust Bowl and the Great Depression, not as victims but as victors. They taught by word and by example that a person can find ways to deal with adversity, that bitterness, hopelessness, and dependency are not the answers. There can be happiness in a neighbors success, joy at the birth of a fine calf, a moment of pleasure seeing the case of eggs ready for trading or catching the sun glistening on jars of ruby-red chokecherry jelly to be enjoyed during the dark winter days. Finally, to share an evening meal with family around the kitchen table at the end of the day was a reward for the days labor.

Of course, there was sorrow, disappointment, and loss. My dad once gave me the wise advice that you can grow old and bitter or you can choose to accept life as it is and move on. If I have understated the problems, it is because I have reflected my parents efforts to do their best to make our childhood experiences good ones and to keep some of their financialconcerns from worrying me and my siblings. It has been with a sense of joy that I have recalled and recorded these stories of my childhood. If some of the rough edges of my memories have been softened by the years, so be it.

JANUARY 2020