Coal

SOME PEOPLE were fortunate to have their coal delivered to their coal bin in the basement.  NOT the Wolf household.  We did not have a basement so the coal was delivered and placed in a huge pile behind the house.  It was my job to bring in two 5 gallon buckets of coal each night to fire the pot bellied stove in the living room and the coal range in the kitchen.

One year my dad got a huge price reduction of $2.00 ($14 Instead of the normal $16) per ton, on 5 tons of coal.  The problem was that it was basket ball sized coal instead of the regular baseball sized chunks.  I was issued a hatchet and told to break the coal down before I brought it in the house.  That was bad enough but when the coal pile was covered with snow or ice it got to be difficult.  It didn’t take me too long to figure out that I would be better off to split the coal when the weather was nice.  My brother did not have to help because he never got the buckets full enough to last out the night.

Then there was the job of disposing of the ashes.  I had to clean out either stove once or twice a week and spread the ashes on the garden.  That made the ground easier to spade BY ME in the spring when I spaded the garden.  My brother could not spade a straight row so he lucked out on that job too.

The farmer that I worked for used to burn wood.  Not only did we cut the wood but I was given the job of throwing the wood through the “coal door” in the side of the house.  Sometimes I would miss the window and take a shingle off the house.  Needless to say, this was frowned upon.

In 1984 I installed a wood burning stove in our basement.  It was sort of fun to cut the wood, haul it to the house, carry it to the basement and load the stove.  I got smart enough to cut pieces just small enough for Connie to carry down the stairs to fire the furnace.  I don’t think she ever caught on.

Ah yes, the good old days.

Dal