Potatoes run deep in my roots. All my childhood and growing up years I cannot remember not having potato harvest in the fall. I can remember, at a pretty young age, dad teaching me how to run the little Ford tractor to scrape the dirt out of the cellar. I thought I was pretty hot stuff. Then I graduated to pulling boards in the back of the truck. My next promotion was going to the field, riding on the combine, pulling dirt and vines. There were usually several of us out there, so it was fun to have the company. Then I got the coveted job....driving truck. You were then out of the weather and out of the heavy, stifling dirt.
So this year I decided to make a little extra money by working in the harvest for a local farmer. It had been 20-something years since I did, but I was determined. When they told me they already had enough truck drivers and that they could really use me in the cellar, I thought, "OK, not my first choice, but OK." Three weeks later...we finished. My feet, hands, and back complained to me every day, but, all in all, it wasn't too bad. After the first day, Lataun said to me, "Mom, you can say it sucks if you want to." I thought, she doesn't remember that this thing runs through my veins.
Some of the potatoes are called chippers. If you've ever eaten a potato product made by Frito-Lay, or eaten french fries at an In 'N Out Burger, chances are they came from Bancroft, Idaho. One of my jobs was to stand by the machine called the "clod hopper" and save the few potatoes that would sometimes lose their way and fall on the wrong belt with the clods. It was part of their "No Spud Left Behind" program.
These guys have a huge building that has five huge cellars in it, with all the latest technology to store the 800 acres they grow. I hope dad has somehow been able to look down and see the giant strides that are being made. It would have been nice if he could have had a few good years while he was working so hard at it.
This is part of the cellar crew. There were 12 of us in all. I worked with some friends here as well as made some new ones.
I Spud You
Quack, Quack
The End
This is part of the cellar crew. There were 12 of us in all. I worked with some friends here as well as made some new ones.
I Spud You
Quack, Quack
The End
5 comments:
That brought back memories. I didn't put in nearly as many days as you did in a cellar or on a combine or in a truck, but reading your post, I could almost smell the cellar. Did you have a sack lunch every day and everything? I hope you take your "spud money", that's what we used to call it, and do something especially fun or fine. Your pictures and captions were clever. You always make me smile.
Myrna, I love that post. Mom had us get jobs when we picked potatoes for the farmers that didn't have combines. I never actually got to be a truck driver, but Grace likes to do that. I just remember thinking that our feet would never warm up again when we were working one year on Halloween night. I think you guys even went trick or treating in your work clothes. Dusty eyelashes and all!
(Love the last spud...reminds me of something)
What a great post, I can smell the cellar from here in Boise. See it wasn't so bad and it goes to show that spuds were "our life".
(Maybe next year we should all go to Mud Lake and work for Gary and then we can really kick back the memories !!)
oh good idea Aunt Di. I'm going to ask Gary to hook you all up...(wink). I don't know if he would hire all you guys...you might break out into old drill team routines (wink, wink) and be useless to him.
I'm glad you're done with spuds so I can call you whenever I want again...
This is tooo cute!!! One big reason I love Idaho: THE SPUDS!!!! I love the pics of the shaped ones too! Love you!! xoxo
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