It wasn't exactly a farm for me. It was a tenement in New York. My uncle 
purchased it from the owner because the owner kept raising the rent. My uncles 
saved enough money to purchase the building, a 5 story affair with tenants from 
all over the world and of all colors. Some were nice, some were contentious, 
some were awful but everyone seemed to live together in relative harmony. My 
grandfather passed away when I was 6 years old. I only saw him once, from down 
the hallway in the apartment. He stood outside of his room and I stood outside 
the living room. We stared at each other. I said, "Hello" and he nodded his 
head at me, then went back into his room. I asked my mother later who that man 
was and she said, "That's your grandfather." I had no concept that a 
grandfather was supposed to be friendly. He was a philosophy professor with not 
much use for children, but he wasn't mean, just not very well. Yes, the days of 
leaving doors open and having all the
 neighborhood wandering in and out of the house are over forever. It's sad that 
I did not appreciate life as it was then because I was too young and took it 
for granted that this was the way things would always be. As I grew older, the 
world grew more dangerous until locks and bolts and burglar alarms were the 
only things left between us and the outside world. However, I live in a nice 
place now. My neighbor just put up a fence because he intends to get a cow. His 
roosters wake me up in the morning and my peacock shares food with my two 
outside cats. The inside cats are relatively happy and I have two enclosed 
areas for special needs cats. Not as bad as it could be.

> From: Lorrie <>
>Sent: Tuesday, September 17, 2013 8:12 AM
>Subject: Re: [Felvtalk] Chicken feathers, etc
>Lee,  I loved hearing about your grandmother.  I absolutely adored my
>grandparents, and in the 1940's they had a large farm with cows, horses, 
>chickens, ducks etc. Their house was a big 20 room victorian and had 5 
>stories counting the basement, first floor, second floor, a full third 
>floor and a big attic. My cousins and I could play hide and go seek and 
>not find each other for hours!
>You and I are both fortunate to have had such wonderful grandparents.
>Mine have been gone for many many years, but I still miss them.
>On 09-15, Lee Evans wrote:
>>    This was a long time ago, in the 1950's when there were still private
>>    butchers and my grandmother would buy her chickens from the butcher who
>>    would pluck them there in the store so some feathers were always left
>>    on. Yes, she was from Odessa, Russia and only spoke German and Russian.
>>    She would tell me (in German and broken English) that the coffee was a
>>    French recipe. My grandfather had traveled all the way from France
>>    across Europe to Russia. He was an itinerant philosophy professor and
>>    "taught" his way across Europe at Universities. The French coffee was
>>    probably his idea. I was too young to drink coffee but it was
>>    traditional to put some in my milk. Then I would watch the coffee
>>    grains float. I loved my grandmother. She was very kind to me and I
>>    loved visiting her because I could go through the mysterious wardrobes
>>    and inspect the dresses and hats my aunt created. The building was in
>>    an ethnic neighborhood in New York City, the doors were never locked
>>    and people of every color and language were constantly walking in and
>>    out, as were dogs and cats from the area. I picked up a rudimentary
>>    understanding of quite a few languages before I was a teenager. There
>>    were always strangers in the apartment having coffee or a meal and
>>    conversations with my grandmother or my uncle and always some dog or
>>    cat being fed in the hallway.
>>      __________________________________________________________________
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