But I'm doing a little housecleaning and throwing away at my home in Valley Center and last night as I was in the garage here, I caught a glimpse of that old filing box tucked way over in the corner. For whatever reason, I finally found the courage to open it up and peek inside. The amazing thing was, there was nothing contained therein that would have hurt me.
Our folks were business owners in the small Reno County town of Haven, Kansas. They opened their business, Scott's Cafe and Service in April of 1967 and operated it until December 31, 1978. All of us kids worked there, and depending upon which kid you were, you worked either in the filling station (for you young kids reading this that was the 70's version of a Kwik Shop only with way more service~just ask a grownup, ok?) or in the restaurant. I can remember at times it didn't matter if you were a son OR a daughter, everyone of us had to take a turn with the dishes. We worked together as a family and made a go of it and those years together were the impetus for a lot of wonderful family memories.
Our father was also a custom cutter and it was that "vocation" in his life that called him away from his family and home in Haven every year for at least 5 months straight. By early May, he was already on the way with his combines and heading south for his first stops along the Oklahoma and Texas border to cut the first crops of wheat for the year. He continued onward, pressing north through the Great Plains states until finishing late in the season in his "second home" North Dakota. When the Dakota wheat harvest was over, he would head back to Kansas in order to change out all the headers of the combines and be ready to head south once more. This time Dad would relocate to the Panhandle region of Oklahoma and Texas to cut their crops of milo (we always called it maize at our house) and corn. It was just a normal life for us and looking back, it really wasn't a bad life after all. We only thought it was from time to time.
Both of our folks are gone now~Dad, two weeks before Christmas in 1982 and Mom, two weeks after her birthday in September of 2007. Most of their personal effects have long since been given away to others. Nearly everything gone, well except for the steel filing cabinet. And last evening, Wednesday the 6th of June, 2012 it just seemed to be the time to finally open it up. I did.
I'm not sure what I thought really might be in there. Mom had always told me it was just receipts and sure enough she was right. But as I poured through all the papers, it was as if I was meeting my father for a nice visit outside in the garage. It was a visit that I'm glad I finally had and really what had I been afraid of seeing all along?
Dad's harvesting receipts were the bulk of paperwork that I located. The return addresses on the envelopes led like "Hansel and Gretel's trail of breadcrumbs" to map out the course of my dad's yearly journey......A. J. Linker's Service Station, Frederick, OK~The Farmer's Co-op in Nash, OK~The Farmer's Co-op of Haven, as well as co-ops or implement dealerships in towns like Alliance, Nebraska, Herried, South Dakota and finally the elevator in Drake, North Dakota. I could almost imagine him telling me about all of the stops that he made along the way and I swear, I don't how he would remember, but he could recall the names of the guys he cut for long after he stopped harvesting. That life meant a lot to him.
I found the receipts for insurance for the old 1966 green GMC wheat truck that he had. For $66.00 a year, you could have full coverage. There was an invoice for a 1972 bill from Truck Parts and Equipment in Wichita for $53.33 to repair another wheat truck. Countless other receipts from places like the Empress Cafe in Drake, ND (where dad and his crew always ate their meals) and diesel fuel expenditures from the Offerle Co-Op here in Kansas. As I looked at them, I remembered the sometimes "tight times" at the Scott house and especially when a harvesting year wasn't all that great and profitable. I was a kid then and I had no realization of money or bill paying. Heck at the time, I was just glad to make enough tips as a waitress to go with my friends to Hutch on a Saturday night for pizza and dragging Main. As a 56-year old and very grown up daughter, I looked at those bills and wondered "How on earth did they make it? How did they know what to do in order to survive and take care of us all?" Whatever it was, they did it! And we all came out ok.
As I made it to the bottom of the filing cabinet, I had to make the decision of what to do with all of the stuff that I had gone through. Obviously, I believe the "statute of limitations" has long run out on things if you are dealing with paper work nearly 40+ years old. I think it's safe to give them a toss now. A few things, like the deed for the land that the restaurant and station were built on, dated January of 1967, was surely a keeper as well as a few other things. I know it sounds crazy, but I saved a document, not even important, simply because both of my parents' signatures were on it. I just wanted to remember that. I'm not crazy, am I? Wait, don't tell me what you think....LOL
Well tonight, the filing cabinet is empty and instead of sitting "dust covered" in the back corner of a garage, it is sitting in the house here. Not sure what I will do with it but for a while, I just want to keep it. But memories of my father and the life he lived as a custom combiner have filled my heart and mind.
I kind of hope that when I finish growing up, that I will have become the kind of person that my dad, John B. Scott, Jr., was. I would like to have his qualities of character like determination, never quitting, and doing a job well done. My mom always told me that I had my father's hands and fingers and she's right. Only my father knew well enough to never jump a curb with a combine OR a bike. His "old lefty" was the way God made it LOL.
To those of you reading this who may be facing cleaning out the possessions of a father or mother, grandmother or grandfather, please may I tell you something? Go through everything, every little envelope and every box you find. Take time as you do it, not only so you don't miss anything but also to reflect upon what those material things, those possessions, really say about your loved one. And ok, it's taken nearly 30 years to finally go through the last thing Dad was in possession of, but that's ok too. Sometimes it takes a little longer to be ready for it but don't give up. The right time will arrive and you will be glad when you finally can do it! I was......
So, to my Father.....Oh Daddy, tears in my eyes as I type this message to you. I always knew you were a hard worker but I never realized just how hard. I'm glad that you saved receipts for me to read this evening. How did you know I would need to see them? The wheat harvest came early to our state of Kansas this year Daddy. It was beautiful and you know what? For the first time since you passed away, I was able to pull over to the side of the road and watch a combine unload the wheat into the trucks without crying. I think that shows progress, don't you Dad? If there is wheat to cut in Heaven where you are Daddy, then I know that you are having fun....no mud holes, no plugged up combines, the farmers are all happy, and the wheat gets 60 bushels to the acre. Now THAT would be one heavenly harvest! When it's my time, I'll see you there Daddy, you and Mom both. You'll recognize me right away~I haven't changed all that much. Still short. I'm glad that of all the men in this world, God chose you to be my father. Good night!
Love, Peggy Ann
This was always one of my mom's favorite harvest pictures. My dad and my oldest son's father, Rick Miller. They spent many cutting seasons together. Taken the summer of 1976 at Haven, Kansas.
The box where I found my father~
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