| Notes |
- A Pioneer Wisconsin Mother
by Adelia L. Ruff of Cleveland, Ohio formerly of Wisconsin
Contributed for Mother's Day
(written about 1937 and published in a Cleveland newspaper on Mothers Day)
The nice feeling as we dressed so long ago before the great fire in the parlor and all the while sniffing the savory odors coming from the dining from the great kitchen where Grandmother was busy already having fed most of her big family and patiently turning griddle cakes and sausage with a deft hand, face flushed with heat from the big range, a big checkered apron tied neatly over the flannelette dressing sacque and wool skirt is never forgotten. We used to laugh at the little peplum on her blouse, or sacques, as they were called, for it made Grandmother look like a little fat duck, we said. Only a person living in those glorious happy days can appreciate them. Though there were troubles, it seemed everyone was too busy to worry long.
True, I had lost my own mother at an age of 18 months, but I was too young to miss her as my older sister did. She would run crying to my Grandmother for her Mommy. bury her face in the comforting arms, until somehow the kindly words and soft little noises soon assured her she was safe in this other mother's arms, the mother whose tears were slowly trickling down a soft wrinkled cheek as she rocked the lonely little orphan.
. . .
I have watched with pity fruit lying rotting away on the ground while so many folk today are hungry. Nothing was ever wasted in Grandmother's day. If she couldn't use it herself she was sure to find a place for anything she did not need. She had learned what it meant to be hungry. She knew what hardships ordinary folk like herself had to endure, so she gave of herself and all she owned so freely; for she said always, "There's nothing ever lost a friend gets."
This "helper" and friend to all landed at New York when she was nine years old. The family crossed the Atlantic in a sailing vessel from Germany. Many times they despaired of ever seeing land again , but after sixty days they finally landed in their new world to build a home and raise their children. I wonder what Grandmother would say if she knew the startling conditions today in her native land. Of course she became an American citizen and never returned to Germany. They were very happy making their living on American soil. They lived in tents on Staten Island with others who came across the ocean with them. The little nine year old girl was very happy and very busy for though young, she had many duties and learned a great deal from her thrifty mother.
Arrived about the same year was another family, John Remmel, a sturdy lad of nineteen, his parents and brother and sister. He paid little attention to little Kate whom he saw often, but when he was twenty-five and she fifteen they were married. The little bride of five feet and her six foot husband bought a team of oxen, stored their few belongings in the newly acquired covered wagon, left New York and started West to Wisconsin. After weeks of weary, slow travel, they reached their destination, a little place called Hollandtown, which then was partially wilderness. Soon after they had their little log house snugly built. The winter was long and cold, but they were hardy and strong, and in the spring, Margaret, their first baby was born. When the baby was 3 days old, sturdy Kate Remmel was helping her John in the fields, with the baby nearby in a home made basket, placed wherever twas sheltered. Two years apart their children were born until they had eleven sons and daughters.
After dark, this wife and mother spun the wool cut from their flock of sheep, then knitted the many warm garments needed for the coming winter.
While fruit was gathered, nuts dried and stored away, garden produce brought into the root house, in fact this hard working pair of settlers worked steadily from morning till night, for wasn't this a fine new world for them? And did they now have many years ahead in this new country where nature supplied them all they needed? Did they bemoan their fate it someone had more than they? Oh, no, they thanked the good Lord for being so kind to their more prosperous neighbors!
. . .
Sometimes crops were so bad that there would be nothing but bread to eat and not a great deal of that, but this fearless mother raised her brood to manhood and womanhood, with the exception of one little boy who was severely injured early in youth.
One by one, her daughters and sons were grown up, marrying and acquiring farms and families of their own.
Many a neighbor called on Mother Kate when a baby was born, someone was dying or to help when a wedding was being prepared for. Then there was much preparation, for a farm wedding was a great event! Dancing and merriment! Folk driving miles in the old lumber wagon with a stove or dining room set loaded on the back; and all the peeking in big pantry where chickens and vegetables were all prepared in advance and pies and cakes. They were happy days! Peeling apples to dry in the sun; traveling miles through the woods for hazelnuts, when the snow was flying through the air great loads of logs were hauled to the farm yard to be sawed and split in the right lengths and neatly piled; the long winter nights, while the wind howled round the sturdy log house, the stories, the comfort of such a home! When someone went to the storeroom he usually came back with a big pan of nuts or corn to pop, and many a molasses taffy pull was cooled on the broad stairs off the front hall. All of mother Kate's family helped her to celebrate the holidays and many who lived too far to come often, came for restful, happy vacations. Their life was centered around the beloved farmhouse.
All her life her grandchildren, children, were coming and going and her eyes fairly shown and she was happiest when the old farmhouse was packed with her laughing, happy family.
. . .
I have watched, too, the quiet desolation in the kind old face as a cyclone laid the crops flat.
I have seen her lips quiver when a neighbor, friend, was in trouble, then quickly with jaw firm and determined she would set out to make things right, if in her power. For those in deep trouble, many a prayer passed her lips on Sunday, in the little church that she attended unfailingly.
What grand times were made possible at threshing time at the old farm home when again neighbors came in, helped Mother Kate prepare the many good substantial dishes for the men who helped with the threshing. That was a great time for the children on the farm. Did you ever walk in the granary when the men started to pour in the golden grain? Did you ever play in the big straw stack or climb up in the hay mow to find a nest of baby kittens, after watching the mother cat for several days to see where she had hidden them? Did you ever go down the lane with an old shepherd dog to get the cows and let the soft earth squidge up between your toes? Did you ever climb a gnarled old apple tree to get an apple just beyond your reach? Now that I am a wife and mother I can look back on the full life I lived with that blessed Mother Kate, my friend, my wise counselor, the only mother I ever knew, revere and respect her memory as something too beautiful to put into words.
. . .
Ten years before her death she buried her husband John in the quiet little cemetery beside her loved ones who had gone before.
It was harder managing after that so Mother Kate was persuaded to sell the home. They moved to Little Rapids, Wisconsin, to a house belonging to one of the greatest Tuberculin testing stations of that time. Nearby was a big paper mill. Mother Kate could see the Fox River from her window, there was farm land all around her but she longed for and spoke often of her home on the farm where so many years of her life had been spent. Often she thought of those first years spent in Hollandtown, but of course, most of her married life was spent in Outagamie County, an ideal farming spot, although Wisconsin is noted far and wide for the most wonderful dairy and farm state she claims honor to.
Eight years ago at Easter time, this fine old Mother Kate at 84 was taken ill with influenza.
When she became seriously ill, and news of her illness spread throughout the countryside, where old and young she had served and helped alike, folk came daily to see or inquire of her, with hushed voices. Saturday, after Easter Sunday, she passed into her great reward, as fine a mother, grandmother and great-grandmother who ever pioneered in Wisconsin.
She left no money, she had put away only enough for what she called a decent burial. For how could she have money when she gave of all she ever had to those who needed it most?
Many things I have mentioned I tell of as they have been told to me, and of course, knowing Mother Kate, I too can pay her no greater tribute than "she could always spread her wings a little further". How do I know? Because I was one of those orphans who she mothered for eleven years.
She had no medals for bravery or achievement, but in the hearts of her orphaned grandchildren and hundreds of others she aided, now scattered all over the world, is imprinted indelibly, reverence, love, adoration and respect for dear little Mother Kate, who always spread her loving arms a little further.
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1843 - 1929 (85 years)