Grandpa's Stories

Our Dad (Ivan Woodrow Butterfield) was born on his family’s farm in Tingley County Iowa in 1915. His time spent on the farm in the years leading up to and during the Great Depression had to be tough. I believe that the lessons learned during that time helped him to develop (and pass on) the hard work, never give up, I can do anything attitude that our family tries to live up to. 

We lost Dad to an accident in 1990. But it is amazing how much his influence is felt by our entire family on a daily basis. 

We wanted to share with you, our friends,  the Dad we knew. Dad used to hand out a little business card that stated his name and the phrase “ If you haven’t met me, you haven’t missed much… But if you haven’t met Jesus, you’ve missed everything.  We’ll Dad, I believe that you were only half right, those who hadn’t met you did miss quite a lot.

In truth, Grandpa was the title he really loved, so that’s how we’ll refer to him as we share his stories, stories he wrote. Anyone who knew Grandpa knew that he loved a good story. In his latter years, Grandpa realized the importance of recording his story. Recalling his “life on the farm” as a young boy to traveling to Louisiana to support his family, Grandpa made audio recordings that were later transcribed for our family to share.  Through blog posts and a new section of the web site, we’ll be sharing a story each month in Grandpa’s own words that will give you a peek at the Grandpa we knew and still love.

By the way… If you don’t know Jesus, give us a call. We’d love to talk with you. 

Thanks Dad.

--John

The first of Grandpa's Stories:

 First Recollections

     My first recollection is of living on a farm about three miles north of the town of Tingley, Iowa, in the county of Union.  I must have been about three years old, but I can well remember how the house, barn and outbuildings were situated.  About the only other thing I remember happening while living there, was when Dad was going to help a neighbor cultivate corn and I wanted to go along.  Dad agreed to take me and got out an extra horse so I could ride behind him.  He tied the reins of my horse to the back of his cultivator and we started out.  I wanted to drive the horse myself and finally persuaded Dad to allow me to be on my own.  When he turned my horse's reins over to me, I discovered that the horse had a mind of his own as he promptly turned around, much to my dismay, and headed for home with me screaming every step he took.  Dad turned around and caught up to me and my horse, and we remained tied for the rest of the journey.  I don't remember if we ever got to our destination or not.

     Sometime after that, Dad bought a farm (or at least we moved to a farm) down south in Ringgold County, Iowa near the town of Diagonal, known as the Dan Frazier Place.  As was the custom in those days (1918-1919) when a farmer moved from one farm to another, the move was made between March 1st and 15th, which is about the worst time of year as far as weather is concerned in Iowa.  At any rate, we moved in a sleigh.  What a day!  Or should I say night, for I recall carrying a lantern as we walked beside the sleigh to keep warm.  A sleigh on the farm was a wagon with the wheels removed and runners affixed in their place.  It must not have been more than ten or twelve miles from one farm to the other, but I recall it was snowing very hard and we had to get off the sleigh and walk to keep warm.

Meeting the Neighbors

You know, it's interesting how sometimes you plan your day and it doesn't go that way at all. I stayed home today to finish/start some honey-do's that I've been promising Bethany that I would do. Truth be told, I really wanted to be out at the Flagon pasture putting up some fence. So I started my day with mowing the yard. While I was gassing up my weed eater, I heard a four wheeler on the railroad tracks (which is illegal, by the way). The longer I listened, the slower the four wheeler moved. Eventually, the engine died, and I heard some girls talking loudly. So I decided to go and see if they needed help. They had already tried to turn around and, in the process, got stuck straddled across one of the rails--a very dangerous situation if a train were to come down the tracks. When I got there, the battery on the four wheeler was dead and wouldn't take a charge, making the situation even more dangerous. The four wheeler was too heavy for me to push out of the holes the girls had dug with the wheels while trying to get loose. Long story short, it took our farm four wheeler and about an hour to get them free and towed back to the road. We were so lucky there was no train. During that time, I had an opportunity to help and meet these girls (and later their mother) who had recently moved into the neighborhood. For us, this is what life is about--helping others when they need it most. Had I not been home, I wouldn't have been available to help. I didn't plan on spending part of my day wrestling a four wheeler, but I'm glad I was able to help our neighbors.
--Will

Is it worth it?

I would like to tell you one of the reasons I love living on Butterfield Farm.  Every Sunday John and I get up, go to church, enjoy a nice lunch, and go grocery shopping if I didn’t get it done on Saturday.   I usually get home and start cooking about 2 or 3 p.m. to have supper ready for 6:30.   Our family gets together every Sunday night here, and we have a meal together.  We will have grandparents, moms, dads, aunts, uncles, sons, daughters, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, adopted family (the Whatleys) and many friends come and spend Sunday evening with us.  Sayleigh will call us all together by screaming “CIRCLE UP, CIRCLE UP!”.  We will all hold hands as Sayleigh and Case say our blessings.  Sayleigh starts with “Hey God….” then our more serious blesser, Case, ends with “thank you for our pood”  AMEN!  There are squeals, laughter, crying (yes even crying), talking, running, and guitar playing going on all at the same time.  Craziness is what it is and I am thinking "Is it 9:00 yet?".  Then everyone goes his or her separate ways, and John and I sit down and say “WHEW!  Listen, do you hear that?  Nothing, absolutely nothing."  Is it worth it?  YES, it is worth every moment!  I would not change a thing.  Well, I would change one thing:  having you join us.

--T