The Inter-Generational Skidder

So we spent our first weekend camping in the woods behind the barn. It was a great weekend over all, give or take an event or two. The kids spent nearly the whole three plus days on the 4 wheelers, they had sparklers, smores and even a ball game. I thought the last bit was perfect given how the week end started. As always the kids got along perfectly, I don't think there were any real spats, even among the brothers and sisters that were there.

So I'll fill those you in that are wondering where the idea for this post started, especially since the piece of machinary mentioned in the title has yet to make an appearance. Jen, Ian and I started camping with my cousins Gene and Angela and their families 2 years ago. We camped in Kingsbury Maine on a track of land owned by Linkletter Inc. A logging company Gene works for who gives it's employees permission to use the areas not being harvested. We started out with a tent and air mattresses. Soon moving on to buy a small '70s vintage camper trailer late in the first year. We used it last year in Kingsbury, hauling it up in the spring and bringing it back in the early fall. This year circumstance caught up with us. Gas prices were going to drastically reduce how many weekends we were going to be able to drive all the way to Kingsbury, my Grandmother Rines also gave us a scare a few weeks ago, and being up there was just too far for me and Angela. When we bought the camper Dad had suggested leaving down behind the barn. So this year we took him up on it. So last Sunday Clint (Angela's husband), Troy (a mutual friend of mine and Angela's) and I hauled our campers down to the perfect camping site. A little meadow that was flat and way away from every body. Unfortunately it wasn't on Basford land. We contacted the owner and he was nice enough to give us this weekend to get another site ready.

Here enters the skidder. The back up site we chose was nice but not as flat. We, as in all of us including the kids, worked to clear the fallen limbs and scrub brush. We put the chain saws to work and dug a fire pit. We had a nice stack of wood started and it was taking shape. There were still a lot of old logs and tops laying around the edge of the clearing. So when Dad offered to bring the skidder down to clear that stuff up I didn't hesitate. Under normal circumstance this wouldn't be an even of note. But when you find out that the skidder is older than I am, you start see some of the significance. Dad didn't buy the skidder new, as with most Wayne-mobiles it was a used market purchase. From my memory it was an upgrade to the old Bombadeer that Dad had used to skid logs out to the yard. This was literally a sidewalk plow that had caterpillers (tracks). Where the bombadeer was limited in where it could get too and what it could twitch out, the skidder wasn't. If my memory serves this was the first major purchase that Dad bought for working in the woods. The "Black Beauty" was the second and deserving of it's own post.

For those that don't remember or have yet to meet the skidder, it's a yellow John Deere with a plow on the front, winch on the back, and tires as tall as any Basford. The final payment on the skidder was made in 1978, when the independent logger could actually make a good living cutting wood and paying to have it hauled to the mills. That would change within a few years of that final payment. To give some perspective, I was 8 then, just 2 years younger than my son is now. From about '73 to '80 Dad worked in the woods every day it didn't rain cats and dogs or the breath froze in a cloud in front of your face. Of course Gramp worked with him, though I'm not sure when he did so full time. He finally gave it up in '80 when the independents were pushed out the days of the large loggers took over. The skidder became Gramp's full time toy then, understand that at this point he was 60 years old. He used it nearly every day until he handed it's full time operation over to Uncle Bill and Tom. It was with this skidder that all of us Grand Kids earned extra money in the summers. From Zeb to Joe each of us that lived on Basford Road, at one time or another, accompanied Gramp to the wood lots. Whether it was cutting fire wood, pulp or logs the skidder was central to getting the work done. Now that skidder has been passed on again. Jeremy uses it to cut various lots, and of course Dad uses it for nearly everything. For those that don't know the skidder was the machine of choice to do the "fine detail work" on the lawns around Mom and Dad's house. It was used to haul the trailer that Jen and I lived in out behind Jeremy's house, the same trailer that sits behind Mom and Dad's house now that is full of lumber. If you look really close at the front you can still see the dents where the trailer ran into the skidder's rear tires as he hauled it down Route 220 from the Ferris' lot.

The thing that may be most interesting is that it's as famous for being broke down as it is for the work it's done. There were periods in its' life where it spent more time torn apart than it did running.

I think if we, the grand kids, think about it there is most likely at lease one memory where the skidder plays a central part. I'd love, as I'm sure everyone would, to hear those memories, as they most likely would have Gramp in them too.

Peanut Butter Fudge

I was thinking of writing a piece about Gram when I remembered that on the previous message board to the one we're using now we started a thread at the time she passed to share our memories of her. That forum still exists, even though we don't use it anymore. The link is above if you'd like to read all that's in that "remembering" thread, which was started by Aaron; but I'm going to pull some selected entries out of it and put them here.

Aaron: "I remember her smile, her sitting in her chair and that smile would come as I walked into the living room. Always glad to see me. I remember her strength, such a quiet powerful strength. No matter what was going on, always in the mode of dealing with it, I never heard of her ever asking "Why me?". Of course I remember her door always being open. Her sense of humor, Jen reminded me of a time we were visiting, she and Grampy were at the kitchen table and she very non-chalantly asked Jen if she liked her "Pot Plant". Well if that didn't catch us by suprise. Last Sunday when we stopped by she told me, "I feel like the old man Tim Conway used to do, I used to laugh at him..." Of course I remembered the character I used to lay on that old brown oval run that was in the room off the kitchen and watch Carol Burnett after eating supper with them. I remember as a kid going to the Tasty Freeze after Dad's softball games over in Pittsfield, and we always stopped to fill the milk jugs for Grampy to take to the woods the next day. I remember her reactions to game 4 of the World Series. Late in the game, a few base hits and she says "Oh no, here we go". I'm going to miss her......we love you Grammy....."

Karen: "What a wonderful idea Aaron and so nicely put. I share with you her smile and amazing strength. I also remember Gram letting me read her "true story" magazines when I was a kid and thinking they were so racy! I remember cleaning the walls with her on Great-Grammie's side and just having the best time. Of course the kids table at the holidays. as an adult I am always amazed at how she treat each one of her child, grandchildren and great-grandchildren special, like we were the only one and the amazing love between her and Grampy.
How blessed we all are to have been part of her life.
As Justin has been chanting since we visited last weekend "I had fun at Great-Grammie's house" ............."

Aaron: "I found it amazing she always seemed to know what was going on with everyone, and the rare occasion where you did have news she hadn't heard, she was always interested, eager even to hear what was going on. You said it right, she made each of us feel as though we were the favorite. A rare person indeed. I too sort of marvel at the strong, deeply caring love that she and Grampy have for each other. When Jen and I told Ian, Jen put it all in perspective, they were married for more years than a lot of people live. I'm unsure of exactly the number of years but I know it was more than 60.
It's interesting you mentioned Justin having fun there last weekend, we stopped in on Sunday and Ian had a great time looking at all the pictures and then the family tree that Bruce did."

Kimberly: "I remember one time when I was over there, and she used to have that light that turned the flower pretty colors with music i think. And we were talking about how pretty it was. I think i was like 5 or 6. But i don't know what happened to it. It used to be on the table next to the stairs, but the last few times i've gone up there it's not there..... I kinda miss looking at it when I visit."

Joan: "May make it through a little something as it was a week ago tonight that we lost Mom. I guess her strength is what I think of most and her acceptance of people the way they are. I admire the way she could put together a special meal. Maybe the rest of us will get there someday"

There's more in there if you want to read them, including memories of Hershel and Shirlene.

Icons of Yore: The Breakfast Express

Unfortunately as a teenager I had a habit of missing the bus to school and later on when working in the shoe shop, I might've been "out late" the night before and Mom couldn't get me going in time to ride with her. So I'd drag my dead ass up to Gram and Gramp's to catch a ride on what I fondly call The Breakfast Express, which wasn't so much a particular transportation device (though I remember it mostly as that black early '70's Olds Cutlass 2dr or the 4dr from the '60's before it), as it was the people on it and what they were doing.

Who were these people, you ask? They were Stan and Geneva (Gram and Gramp), like it was one person because they were always together it seems, and occasionally yours truly riding in the back along with chain saws and dinnerware. What were they doing? Aside from seeming to be running late, Gram would have a plate in her lap with eggs, bacon and toast, which she would be cutting up and feeding to Gramp while he was driving us to our destination.

Now people with better story-telling skills can describe the scene better and you "had to be there" to understand truly how comical and cunnin' it was, but that's one of the fondest memories I have of my grandparents and is truly a metaphor for the kind of relationship they had...symbiotic, a team (kind of a quirky team) made up of the strengths and weaknesses of the players.

And it seems to me these rides also involved tea on a saucer and maybe a donut, a newspaper and a fair amount of fussing and grumbling; but I think you get the picture, especially if you too had the pleasure of riding on the Breakfast Express.



(Editor's note: Right now the stories are centered on Stan and Geneva but please feel free to volunteer to contribute stories about other aspects of being a Basford, whether it centers around them or not, whether it takes place on Basford Rd or not. Right now I miss them both terribly but I think we owe it to them to put forth the effort to share their memory. I think we also can use this as an excuse to bring the family closer together. If anyone has a picture of either car, please email me.)

The Basford Family Picnics

When you're a kid summer is the best time of the year. With no school you have all day to play, getting dirty and in trouble are the staples of an active kids life. But for a Basford kid there was that one special summer day, the family picnic. Every year the Basford clan would meet at Manson Park. The Partriarch and Matriarch of the family being Gram and Gramp, then the 5 "kids", and finally most of the 20 grandchildren. I always looked forward to that day. When I was much younger it was great because Uncle J would come out from NY and that meant getting to see Cousins M and T, the one day of the year that I knew I'd get to hang out with them. It also meant that Uncle B would be up from Saco. Of course Aunt J and Aunt P would be there too bringing the cousins in tow. Looking back that was the biggest deal, having everyone all in one place for most of a day. It didn't seem like that at the time, as a kid there were more important things on my mind.

First and foremost was the family softball game. I can remember being so excited about it, pestering Dad about when we would play, it seemed to take forever to eat and get the "grown ups" ready to play. Everyone played too, well except for maybe Gram, I don't remember her ever playing. I remember her sitting and watching. Looking back she must have so proud, her entire family playing together, laughing, competing...........Uncle J would always, more than likely several times, hold the bat by the barrel and try to hit the ball. I laughed every time too, funny what we remember isn't it. It was at one of these games when Gramp gave me the first piece of baseball advise. I was like 9 or 10 I think and of course I wanted to do everything. I was especially excited because Gramp was on my team and the gown ups let me pitch. We took the field first, my memory tells me that I struck out the side but that maybe skewed a little. When we came in to hit I wanted to bat first (of course). Gramp told me that you never have your pitcher hit lead off, it's just not done. So one of the other kids hit first. Of course I see this now for what it was, not baseball advise so much as a creative way for a Grandparent to keep a grandchild from being selfish. Well played Gramp.......as always.

At some point tennis would be played. I can remember Uncle J playing against Gramp and Dad playing against Uncle B.

Of course no Basford family gathering would be complete with out food, lots and lots of food. Burgers and dogs were the center piece of course, but there was Aunt J's coleslaw too, the adults raved about it.

Then came that fateful summer, it had to happen eventually, though as a kid I couldn't fathom it. One the saddest moments I can remember, the first summer with no family picnic. What do you mean there's not going to be a picnic????? There's always a picnic......there was always the softball game......How could this be happening????

We don't have the picnics at Manson Park anymore, but usually there's a cook out at Mom and Dad's where most of everyone makes it. Those are great times, getting caught up with everyone you don't see that often. Plenty of laughter, lots of singing, if Dad has his way, and loads of Sox talk........but it's not the same, there's no softball, and this year, for the first time in all of our memories neither the Matriarch nor the Patriarch will be there, sitting quietly, taking everything in.

We all love and miss you Gramp........

A Fine Example

You've heard me rant before about the nature of the average human being, how selfish and arrogant and frankly idiotic most are. This entry will not be another of those but a tribute to the kind of person who seems to have gone extinct.My grandfather passed away yesterday morning after a few years of ailing health. He was a man of few words, yet you always knew where he stood. There was no fudging the line between right and wrong with him. He believed what he believed without hesitation and his actions always comported with those beliefs.He was a child of the Depression, one of The Greatest Generation; people who knew hard work and hardship, yet were always there to lend a helping hand or give a piece of important advice, WHEN ASKED. He was never one to meddle in your business but you always knew the answer to a dilemma by watching the way he lived his life.No truer proof of the quality of people exists than the quality of their children. My grandparents raised some of the most genuine, kind and hard working people you'll meet...learned, charitable and respectful to all, just like they were.My grandfather was like a second father to me, except he was always there when you needed him; a counterbalancing force to the man who was my biological father. If you needed some cash, he'd put you to work; if you needed some advice, pull out the cribbage board and have a chat. He never uttered many words but said much.I could go on and on and on with specific examples of my fondest memories -- from working cutting wood with him, to playing on a softball team together when I was a teen and he was 60, to the way he looked through you peering over his glasses with that "no bullshit" way of his -- but the point of this post is merely to attempt to articulate what an important person he was to me and how he'll truly be missed as an example of the way people should be.

(Note that this was originally posted on All Things Zebster because there are some comments you might want to read there)

Request for images

Hi family and friends,

Welcome to the latest online home for all things Basford. In Zeb's initial email about this blog he noted that it should be a good place for all of us to compose longer thoughts about the family- past, present and future.

First thing's first- we've got to make this blog look like Basford Road. I will be happy to contribute my graphic/web design skills to get this accomplished, but what I need from you are your favorite photos of the land, buildings and people that make up Basford Road.

• Please email any digital photos that you would like to see on the blog to me: eric.basford@gmail.com
• If you've got special photos printed, let's try to coordinate some way for you to scan them in. Can anyone offer up a scanner?

With your contributions we can make this blog a little more like an e-Home. If I get a lot of photos I could also link in an online gallery. Let me know what you think!

Thanks and love,
Eric