Julius (Juke) Bartels - Part 3

Part 3

I entered the world on October 2, 1953. At that time, my dad was 34 years old and already responsible for caring for my mother, 4 sisters and 3 brothers. A daunting task upon my reflection, but I am guessing he did not think of it in that way at all. That was his life. He loved us and worked night and day to provide for us. But he was tired a lot and could take a nap anywhere.

My earliest memory of my dad is when I was probably 4 years old. He was milking one the cows and I was standing behind him watching. He was not using all of the teats of the utter and I ask him if he every squirted the little one in the back. He proceeded to use it, but instead of directing the milk into the pail, he shot the milk at me, some hitting me in the face. We both laughed and he continued with his work.

My dad had a great laugh, a rather robust one. I can still hear his laugh, and the sound of his voice, hidden somewhere in my brain. I wish I had a recording of his voice, but sadly I do not. One keen memory I have of my dad's voice is when he would call the cows back to the barn at the end of the day. His strong baritone voice called out "coo-boss" (that is what my young ears heard anyway). Looking up the dutch word for cow I see that it is "koebeest" ) Anyway, it was amazing to me as a kid that he would bellow this out a couple of times and sure enough, the cows would start making their way from wherever they were in the pasture back to the barn for feeding and/or milking.

Being one of 10 children that grew up in the house meant that one on one times with dad were very rare. A very memorable time for one of these occasions was a blustery winter day when just dad and I went ice fishing. I am guessing I was only 6 or 7 years old.  It was one of those crystal clear colder than cold winter days. Dad cut the hole in the ice and we hovered over it and waited. I don't think we lasted long as I got rather cold and we caught nothing.  I recall him talking and me listening as we waited.  I do not recall the topics he talked about, but the time alone with him was special. It is the one and only time I ever went ice fishing. I don't think dad ever went again either.

Dad was a physically strong man. A life of farming and working at the Western Foundry in Holland seriously toned his muscles. He would pick up a burlap bag full of feed in each hand and swing one at a time over each shoulder. I don't know how much they weighed, probably 80 to 100 pounds each. It was impressive to me and as a lad and I wanted to be that strong some day, but that never happened. For some reason my muscles did not get all that toned sitting behind a desk.

To be continued...................................