The lost art of Sunday visits

My interview with LaVerna Kaseman was again a delightful experience. I wish it could have gone on and on. The things you learn about family when reminiscing are priceless. I really want to pursue the rumor I heard that my grandfather transported bootleg boose in the old days with a Model A or T – got to really follow up on that.

Yesterday was Sunday, a delightful, wind-free, sunny, temperate day perfect for planting and transplanting. It was not always acceptable to do those things on Sundays.

LaVerna (who by the way is my aunt) said they used to bake a dessert on Saturday. They weren’t allowed to eat it until after Sunday. Why? In the event that someone stopped by on Sunday, the dessert would already be prepared for guests.

You wouldn’t bake on Sunday. My cousin Jan told me that you couldn’t even pick up a scissors on Sunday at her house. Wow. I would be lost without my hook and needles and a bit of yarn on a winter Sunday afternoon.

Sundays were for worship at a little country church. Then Sunday dinner of chicken noodle or vegetable soup and then rest. Rest from six days of work with crops and animals. Families jumped into cars and drove along section lines admiring God’s handiwork in the field. Got to give credit where credit is due because as Uncle Clifton said, “No one waters like God.”  While we dig and plant and seed and sow, only God can make our gardens grow.

Carol Fey Photo: Mavis (Kautz)Erlenbusch at her parents’ house, Henry and Helen Kautz, 1950-1951.

After admiring the crops, looking at storm damage or waiting for a herd of cows to cross the road, it was time to visit. Relatives would visit relatives, neighbors would visit neighbors. The pastor would be invited to someone’s home for dinner or sometimes Sunday afternoons were reserved for napping.

It was a marvelous day of giving back for all the blessings of the week. For if you grew up German you knew that “Work Makes Life Sweet.” On Sundays anyway.

And, with your Sunday dress you always wore an apron in the kitchen. Here is another GEM of a photo from Carol Fey. There’s still time to get your photos to us for our food culture project.


About spidersue

Working on books, working, gardening, baking, canning, knitting, crocheting, reading, walking, getting older, getting wiser, love my children, love love love my grandchildren.
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2 Responses to The lost art of Sunday visits

  1. I remember those lazy Sunday afternoons. We would go to church in the morning, come home and eat our chicken noodle soup, and then folks would nap. In and spring and fall, I liked to go out and sit in the car which was warmed by the sun and read books all afternoon.


  2. marylou1950 says:

    Marvelous – my Slovenian grandpa used to get scolded by his German neighbors for gardening on Sundays and he would tell them that was enjoyment and not work. A simpler time.


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