Our Maine Street's Aroostook Issue 10 : Fall 2011 | Page 52
am thankful for the experience and wish my own daughter
had had that same opportunity. You really appreciate every
nickel when you work hard for it.
Our day began at four a.m. when the alarm clock
resounded its angry call, and Wayne Knight’s voice blared
on the radio, “It’s a beautiful day and all farmers are going
right on time!” followed by Dick Curless singing “Tater,
tater, tater, tater; tater raising man. Pick em up, pick ‘em up,
put ‘em in the barrel…” I came to hate Wayne’s voice and
Dick’s singing. We kids often prayed for rain, just as kids
today pray for a snowstorm big enough to cancel school for
the day.
So, we dragged our weary bodies out of bed, put on our
“picking clothes,” ate breakfast, grabbed our lunches and
headed out. Did I mention that it was still dark when we
got up? Arriving at the field at the break of dawn, Dad
headed off to his truck while Mom and the kids went to
their sections to get set for the day.
Sections were established in each field with sticks.
The field boss measured out your section with paces and
drove your sticks into the ground at the beginning and end
of your section. The kids, except my brother Joe, always
wanted small sections, and Mom, whose daily goal was 100
barrels, wanted a large section. While we knew we would be
paid for our work, only the adults and my brother Joe really
thought about the correlation between a large section and
the pay at the end. The adults were very protective of their
sections and berated any picking neighbor who dared to
encroach by moving the stick too much to their advantage.
The kids sometimes “gave away” some of their sections so
they would not have to pick as many potatoes.
So, the day began. We picked the potatoes up, put
them in our baskets, dumped them in our barrels and when
the barrel was full, we placed our ticket on it. The truck
then picked up the barrels with its grapple hook. Dad either
drove the truck or ran the grapple. The ticket placed on the
barrel identified the picker; at the end of each day the field
boss counted the tickets and credited us for each one. At
that time we were paid 25 cents for each barrel we picked. I
was happy if I could get 25 barrels a day.
If you picked up your section fast enough, you had
time to rest before the tractor came by again. Sometimes
you had to help a fellow picker who had fallen behind and
had six or eight rows of potatoes still on the ground. If you
were really lucky, you had time to take a bathroom break.
Where was the bathroom? The woods of course! There was
no such thing as a port-a-potty in the fields in those days.
Unless you brought your own, leaves were your Charmin.
At noon we stopped for lunch. The bologna
sandwich on white bread, crisp fall apple, steaming hot
chocolate from the thermos, and Drake’s Coffee Cake or
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FALL 2011
Ring Ding are like a five-star dinner when you are starved.
We didn’t even care that potato dirt usually got in the food.
We were hungry and tired. We usually sat on the ground
and ate; sometimes we sat in the car. If we finished on time,
we could play a bit before it was time to go back to work.
After lunch we continued picking until 6 p.m.
when the day ended. We gathered our baskets, put them
on a barrel and loaded into the car to head home for baths
and a hot dinner. Tess always had a home-cooked meal
ready for us when we got home – chicken pie with her flaky
homemade crust, meatloaf and baked potatoes, chop suey.
Whatever she made was delicious! After dinner and baths
it was off to bed for the kids. But the day was not over for
Mom and Dad as they still had to wash our picking clothes
and make lunches so everything was ready for the next day.
This was our routine six days a week for three weeks.
We were paid on Saturdays and gave our checks to Mom
and Dad. At the end of the three weeks we were given
one quarter of our earnings to spend as we wanted. The
rest went toward our winter clothes. My sister and I always
spent our money on toys. Joe put his in savings.
So what did we learn? We learned that money
has to be earned and that earning it can be very hard. We
learned that the farmers depended on us to get their crops
out of the ground. We learned what parents will do to take
care of their children. Most of all, we learned that hard work
is rewarded and family is the most important part of your
life.
I suppose we can instill these lessons today, but it
is much more difficult. Face it, our lives and our children’s
lives are easier today than they were 40 years ago, although
we don’t always think so. And while the farmers’ physical
labor may be easier, their lives are not necessarily so. Think
about this as you enjoy the rewards of Aroostook County
potato farmers’ hard work and dedication to the Maine
potato.