My uncle after about age 50 could no longer stand up straight because of back problems from bucking hay and all the other physical labor. He farmed until he died in his 70′s. His wife had lost two fingers in a farming accident. My grandfather had back problems most of his life from the farm labor, but lived into his 80′s. They were all great examples to me, but I just couldn’t see myself working a farm for the rest of my life. A lot to love about it, but it is hard, hard, work, and unless your farm gets larger and larger, it’s just about impossible these days to make a living at it. At 160 acres and 45 diary cattle, my uncle made a living, but not a fortune.

There are a lot of other ways to teach kids about hard work that don’t involve so much physical hardship.

Great follow up, though, to learn more about the Watson family.

Sometimes my husband and I wish that our kids could grow up on a farm and enjoy all the labors associated with that lifestyle, but that’s probably because I’m not familiar enough with the workings of a farm to know any better…

I was in the hospital for 6 weeks after the auto accident that cost me those brain cells* when my baby was in high school.

*My standard excuse. That accident has to be good for something.

As one who spent his youth on a dairy, milking cows, delivering milk and growing hay my dad also echoed the thoughts that it was a valuable experience. More than anything else, it taught him that he didn’t want to be a farmer when he grew up.

My husband spent all summers of his boyhood on his grandfather’s farm learning about his allergies. Bucking bales of hay or walking through the cornfield sent him to bed with eyes swollen shut.

He got to drive the tractor instead. Still, more than anything else it taught him he shouldn’t be a farmer more when he grew up.

It didn’t do me a lot of harm NOT growing up on a farm. As the oldest of 8, whose mom was in a hospital for most of my 12 or 13th year, I DID learned how to work anyhow. It was a valuable experience, but one I have been happy not to pass on to my kids.

Ralph’s dad Lorenzo (age 14) was living at home in Limerick, Maine in 1860. His father’s name, David, and sibling names mostly match in the census and New Family Search (NFS). For example, his next younger brother was James and the youngest child was Millard Fillmore Watson. But his mother shows up as Susan in the census and Sally Pendexter Day in NFS. The name Pendexter also shows up as our letter-writer Ralph’s middle name.

Evidently the 12-year-old-crossing-the-plains Lorenzo Watson is a different person. (Disregard that part of comment 13. )

So, here’s the latest. Lorenzo was born in Maine in 1845. He served in the Civil War from December 1863 to June 1865. He reenlisted in the Army in San Francisco in November 1866 and remained in the service until April 1868.

NFS shows that he was confirmed in January 1868. (The original baptismal date is obscured by a more recent proxy baptism.)

Lorenzo was in Parowan in May 1871 for his marriage to Sarah Clark and in December 1879 for his second marriage to Emily Crane.

Lots of story in-between those dates!

That matches the unit history of the 2nd Maine Cavalry–which was organized in November and December 1863. I’m in too big a hurry to link to that right now.

That unit history also talks of service in the deep South–by ship from Portland to New Orleans, and then a year in miserable, malarial places like Louisiana, Alabama and Florida. Amazing anyone could live through that!

And it seems that the 12 year old Lorenzo Watson in the 1862 immigrant company was an Englishman–the dates in the overland travel database match the Familysearch dates for that man.

One source indicates that L.D. Watson was mustered into service in December 1863 (Limerick, ME).

(Mark is referring to part of an “Are You Smarter than a 5th Grader?” I caught last night. A woman who teaches world history thought that the Bastille was in Rome, and when asked who was the first president to preside over 50 states puzzled over it a minute, finally saying she thought it was in the mid-to-late 1800s, so maybe it was John Adams. It’s like the verbal version of one of those “how many things can you find wrong with this picture?” puzzles.)

(It comes from the same explosion of knowledge that turns aspirin (acetylsalicylic acid–C8H9O4), combined with anything, into arsenic, or which would put the Bastille in Rome and Hawaii’s statehood in the late 1800′s while John Adams was President–at 150 years of age!)