Museum of Memories

Shaw farm in the early 1900's

Shaw farm house 2018

  

 I’ve spent some time in the last couple of weeks down in Mandan at my family’s farm. My Dad passed away at Easter, and my Mom has now moved into an apartment in town, as the farm is just too much work for her to take care of at 87 years old.

   My siblings had been working for days by the time I got there.  They had spent hours donned with dust masks emptying out the old rock basement of all it’s hidden treasures, some left by my grandparents, and a few by the homesteaders in the late 1880’s.  Years of setting things aside, for the next generation to find, and have to decide what has to be done with it. Sadly most of the treasures in the basement had to be tossed as moisture, and mold had taken hold and disintegration had begun.

   There were other closets that held treasures too many to tell of.  Things hidden for years, and not discovered until now.  We even found our great Grandfather’s law books in the attic from the late 1880’s.  He was one of the first lawyers and a judge  in the Dakota Territory, and was there helping North Dakota became a state.  

    My daughter showed up late on the 4th of July and spent a couple of days helping sort through things, having a few days off from her summer job in Medora.  That evening, I spent telling her stories of my childhood in this old farm house.  Showing her many treasures that triggered my memory of stories long forgotten even to me.  The treasures were wonderful to find, but sad at the same time, as it means there will be no more memories in the old house, or adventures out across the pastures and field.  Someone else will soon enjoy the beauty of this old farm, overlooking the Missouri River.  It saddens my heart that soon I won’t be heading up Highway 1806 to visit one of my favorite places on this earth.

    The last few weeks, truly have been a Museum of Memories.  That’s all we really have left of our past, memories.  I’m not dwelling there, but it was nice to visit to remember from whence I have come.  It’s wonderful to remember that I grew up in a house full of love and music, in a family that worked hard on the land as well knowing how to have times of fun.  I learned hard work will pay off if you don’t quit. I know what it’s like to get up at five a.m. and haul hay before the heat of the day makes it unbearable.  I know what a bale hook is, and how to use it in a little round bale.  My Dad being one of the last in North Dakota to use a small round baler. He finally was forced to quit when parts were no longer available.  

     I learned it’s always important to stop and enjoy life along the way.  I have memories of many Sunday afternoon times at the sandbar.  Running through hot sand and jumping into a pothole to cool off.  

    Memories become like a museum.  We see the past and what it held but we don’t live there anymore, we don’t do things the way we did as a child.  Life has changed and we grow up and move on.  There are things to remember, in our museum of memories and there are things to forget. But never forget the love, it’s the best item on display in our museum of memories, and that never gets old or out of style.