Reminiscences

Rich riding through my "old stomping grounds" in Southwestern Iowa brought back memories of what many of those living in this more civilized area have probably not experienced in their youth. Bear with me while I re-live a couple of these memories from my childhood.
 Grandpa Dillenburg had passed on in his forties so Grandma lived alone down by the train tracks in the tiny town of Benton. It was the southernmost home in the town of maybe fifty people and no other home was on the dirt road. South of the house was a cornfield and after that another dirt road leading to a small creek to the west. Grandpa had been a painter and he used all his left over paint to paint the house and the large rocks that were near it. The home was bright with blues, reds, yellow, white, you name it. Quite a place. No indoor plumbing or water. The old pump in the front yard was the water source. Anyway, I digress.
 I would occasionally stay with Grandma. While there I have eaten horse corn (known here as field corn). We picked it from the corn field across the driveway and boil it like sweet corn. Not too bad actually. I have no idea who's field that was where we picked it. Another treat was popped soybeans. They didn't pop like corn but they broke open when fried in oil and would be crunchy and again, not bad.
 Then there was the "road hunting." We only walked

when hunting squirrels. For pheasants, rabbits, and quail we simply drove along the gravel roads in the winter and Dad shot them out the car window with his .22 rifle or single shot .410 shotgun. Many times he would put the gun over me to shoot out the passenger car window. My job was to run out and grab the game and throw it on the floor in the back seat so we could proceed. I remember one snowy day Dad and I were making the rounds and had an especially fruitful day, bagging 18 rabbits. We got home and someone had dropped off another 12. Dad had thirty rabbits to clean. Mom would fry rabbits and make some of the best gravy from the cracklins you have ever eaten. Illegal hunting? Heck yes, but that made it more fun. Besides, it really was a plentiful food source in the poorest county in Iowa.
 Anyone wasting their time reading this to the end, thanks for listening to an old man's ramblings about the good old days.
Ken