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There was always much astir on the farm each Saturday night.
The chores were completed early to take advantage of the light.
Supper was done, the dishes were washed and put away.
The sun had settled on the Hoosier prairie ending another day.

Dad would doff his shoes and settle in the parlor, whereupon,
Getting comfy in his favorite chair he'd turn the radio on.
Though the Philco's reception was full of static and very spotty,
He'd tune in WJJD Chicago to listen to Lulubelle and Scottie!

We kids wanted to hear the Lone Ranger, but despite our plea,
He'd tune in WSM for the Grand Ole Opry, Nashville, Tennessee;
And shoo us off for our regular Saturday evening rite,
To bathe in a tub behind the stove to cleanse us of our blight!

Mom scurried about fixin' a scrumptious dinner for Sunday fare.
Gracious me! She made my taste buds tingle, I do declare!
Preparin' chicken and dumplin's, gravy and mashed pertaters,
Cakes and pies and a salad of garden fresh termaters!

After we were abed, Dad prepared his lesson for Sunday school,
Where he had spent many years teachin' The Golden Rule.
Things moved at a slower pace and were much simpler then.
'Tis so comfortin' to recall such special times now and again!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)

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