During the midsummer of 1948 Wayne asked me to make dinner (lunch) for him and three other men that were helping him bale hay. Back then it took four men to run a hand tie baler. One man drove the tractor; two men had to sit on the baler, one on each side of the chute to hand feed and tie the wires that held the finished bale together and one on the bale cart.

I was seventeen years old and had never cooked for farm hands before and was quite intimidated about doing it. We had our own beef and garden vegetables so that was a plus. I decided I would make roast beef for the main course. I put the roast on to bake while I peeled the potatoes for mashed potatoes and sliced fresh garden tomatoes, cleaned the radishes and green onions then arranged all of them on a platter. I added a cooked vegetable and made a desert. Meanwhile, I set a pretty table with a table cloth and table service arranged like we learned in our Home economic class at school. All was going so well and I was very proud of myself.

Just before the men came to the house to eat at noon, I took hot pads and carefully lifted the roast out of the oven and placed it on the meat platter. At this point, all was still going much too well until I picked up the platter of roast beef and headed toward the dining room table. I am not sure how it happened, but the roast beef slid right off the platter onto the kitchen floor. I was just less than devastated. I wanted my mama!! I scooped the roast back onto the platter then hastily cleaned up the mess I had made. I was much too distraught to cry. My first thought was to set the meat aside, but it was the main course and we needed meat. My second thought was how to salvage the meat. I chose the second thought. I washed the meat and set it back on the platter, then very carefully carried it to the dinner table. I did it just in time before the men came in to wash their hands and eat. If any one could sweat bullets, I did.

I felt so guilty about my deceit as I stood aside watching the men dish up their food. The guys all complimented me on what a fine meal I had made for them. Their compliments let me know that my secret was still intact. The old adage of “What you don’t know will not hurt you” fit well here. I never ever told Wayne what happened that day.