NEWSPAPERS: Olive (FLECK) KEPHART, 100th Birthday, Sinking Valley, Blair County, PA Contributed for use in the USGenWeb Archives by Aileen Fulcomer Copyright. All rights reserved. http://www.usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm http://www.usgwarchives.net/pa/blair/ ________________________________________________ Blair County Shoppers Guide, Duncansville, PA, Wednesday, October 24, 1979 Sinking Valley - Mrs. Olive Kephart, better known to all of Sinking Valley, as "Aunt Doll" will be 100 years old on Oct. 30. The daughter of Aaron and Mary [Plummer] Fleck, Aunt Doll still shares the household duties of the family farm with her daughter, Faye Kephart. Ladies of the Arch Springs United Presbyterian Church invited everyone to the church for an open house celebration for the oldest member of their congregation On Sunday, Oct. 28, 2-4 p.m. In anticipation of this event, Mrs. Don Loose, close friend of the Kepharts for many years, put down some of the ideas and stories Aunt Doll has shared with her over the years. The result is a very real tribute to her friend, and the Guide is honored to share it with our readers. Aunt Doll's 100 years By Louise Loose There were a thousand things for a farm woman to do. Her day began before dawn and usually did not end until the stars were out. She cooked for her household, which included a hired man or two and often hay hands, balers and threshers. The farmer's wife listened for the thresherman's bell as he moved from farm to farm. When it rang close by, the last minute preparations for dinner took place. In earlier years, when need was, she helped outdoors or with barn chores. Aunt Doll made butter as late as two years ago. The peach orchard yielded well and she sold peaches by the bushel. This gave her pin money. Or she sold corn, berries, tomatoes or whatever was in season. She made sausage and smoked pork or cooked some down for storage in a crock. Earlier, farm soap came from the grease kettle and wood ashes. Herbs were also collected and dried in outer sheds. Hops, boneset and tansey, a bitter aromatic plant, were home remedies and with them she cured family ills. Most farms had a small apple orchard. When fall picking time came, the classic drink on many old time farms was cider made from cull apples. It was barreled fresh from a press such as a one-horse sweep power mill, then stored in the farmhouse cellar where by late winter it had developed a mild and happy condition known as "hard". Apple butter was made the old way - the hardy farmers were traditionalists - boiling cider in an open kettle over an open fire. Aunt Doll and her woman friends peeled apples by the bushel and had the snits prepared ahead of the day of boiling. These were slowly and tenderly added until the right consistency of thickness was acquired. Then sugar and spices were added. Oftimes to the keep the thickening fluid from boiling over while the constant stirring was going on, a piece of pork was used on the end of a stick, thus "pouring oil on troubled waters." The completed apple butter was shared with those who came to help nd stored in gallon crocks in the cellar with paper and muslin tied around the tops to secure it. When cold months arrived, this meant it was time to butcher the hogs, can cure and smoke the pork. The beef was canned in jars. Winter brought the lighting of the lamps and lanterns and trimming the wicks. Kerosene to fuel the lights was five cents a gallon. The Milk Wagon Aunt Doll talked of days when milk was hauled by horse-drawn sled or spring wagon to Union Furnace, where it was loaded on the train. She recalled how she warmed bricks and placed them around daughter Faye's feet or kept some in her lap to keep hands warm. Even so, the long frosty trip was a cold chore. At the turn of the century, many farmers were using a flail to thresh out grain on the barn floor. The tool dates back to Biblical times. Farmers were jacks-of-all-trades or else they hired a man who was, because horse collars needed to be mended, harnesses fixed and pumps repaired. The RFD mail carrier touched all rural homes, if only remotely, and was a special friend to the farmer. At one time mail was delivered to four area post offices - Culp, Arch Spring, Skelp and Union Furnace. Specific homes had a small room with an outside porch or entrance so mail could be easily gotten. This comprised an official post office and most likely would be a general store. Sammy Roseberry carried the mail on his back from the general store at Union Furnace where the train stopped to leave it, bringing it to Arch Spring daily. Someone from the Kephart farm would go to the general store and post office at the Arch once a week to get the mail. Later, it was delivered by horse and buggy to mailboxes. Calico, 10 Cents a Yard When the Sears Roebuck catalog came and calico and gingham were 10 or fifteen cents a yard, it was time to order for a new house dress or a Mother Hubbard apron. Yard goods were also carried many times by a peddler with wares strapped on his back and jewelry to sell dangling from his chest. This was a heavy load and it was one of his joys to see if a country lad was able to lift it. The peddler also sold linens - some with pink borders, which made runners for tables and dressers. There were wide bleached and unbleached tablecloths, too. The unbleached were for everyday use and wore well. Later the salesmen came by horse and wagon and had a larger assortment with bolts of calico, gingham, muslin, outing flannel and linen. Mosquito netting was a favorite as windows needed covering to protect from insects during hot weather. Like many others, the farmer was at first skeptical of the telephone but soon found it a great timesaver and a friend of a crisis. And his wife discovered she could hear - and overhear - some very interesting tidbits of news on it. Before phones, the dinner bell rug in a raucous manner and was the only way to sound an alarm. It is to live twice when we can enjoy the recollections of our farm way of life. Such tings as washing on the board over a tub of suds were hardly jobs to be proud of, but one usually was proud of the results. There were always sheep at the farm and on occasion they cosseted and made much of one. On the farm this applied to a lamb without its mother, which was reared on bottle milk. If there weren't too many, the cows were called by name and made friends with. Toward evening they came to the house and waited to be milked. This was in the days before Bossie was a mechanically operated milk machine. A Quality Life Life is made up, not of great sacrifices or duties, but of little things, in which smiles and kindness and small obligations given habitually are what preserve the heart and secure comfort. Aside from gardening and the perpetual house chores, Aunt Doll made time for the ladies' missionary meeting of the Arch Spring Presbyterian Church. She has often spoken of the time she helped coach the children for Christmas pageants and children's presentations, walking down the hill and around the bend to church in the afternoon for practice sessions. Aunt Doll also babysat the neighbor boys who lived in the log house at the end of her lane. Fondly, she remembers how easy Terry and Jeff were to entertain with wooden spools, books and made-up stories or a now antique toy which belong to her son Clay. She learned the art of slowing down. She always relaxed when a visitor stopped by and always anticipated a friendly visit from a neighbor, relative or friend. If an acquaintance stopped whom she hadn't seen for a while, this was a special treat and gave pleasant thoughts to her long evenings at home. In fact, it is these visits that help sustain her today. She understands people and situations and appreciates friendships. As she often reviews the days, weeks, months, and, yes, years, she takes stock of joys, disappointments and blessings and is so thankful for a strong body. She can renew her spirit by reviving the past and reliving golden memories and seeks again past resources of inspiration. How beautiful can "time with goodness" make an aged one look? Childhood itself is scarcely more lovely than a cheerful, kindly, sunshiny old age. Every tomorrow has two handles. One can take hold of it with the handle of anxiety or the handle of faith. I am sure Aunt Doll takes the handle of faith. She found her joy in common things. Her birthright was a quiet soul, A healthy body clean and whole. A battered hat of straw her crown, Her kingdom was a field - sometimes gold, sometimes brown.