No Firmer Foundation
Growing Up in Ashfield in the Mid-Twentieth Century
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"... as farm kids, we were savvy about where babies come from, calves and kittens and puppies at least. Well, for the cows, though, it was confusing because we had the artificial inseminator pay a visit, but we watched the cats and dogs go at, so we kind of got the idea. By the time we were twelve or so, we’d had The Talk, and had learned with intended fear the horror of what happens when you put that thing in that place. "We knew, just from the way our parents mumbled and got red-faced and looked away, that sex must be a terrible thing. It didn’t make sense, because the cats and dogs, and even those silly cows, acted like they might be enjoying it! "Mother’s biology textbooks hidden away in the attic explained where the egg and the sperm came from and how they got together and what happened next. It was all pretty logical and straight forward. All that goofiness around The Talk! If they just explained it the way the texts did, it would have been so less stressful. So, as a twelve-year-old, I wrote that off as just one more thing that’s going to be screwy in the adult world. And, boy, was I ever right!"
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About the Book
What is so attractive about a small town like Ashfield in the middle of the twentieth century? It’s hard to define, because there’s no one thing, but lots of little things.
To begin with, there’s the town, a post-card picture nestled in the heart of the Berkshires. It’s the town hall with its Wrenn-inspired steeple. It’s the two churches, still pristine and white, still vibrant and active. It’s the hills and valleys, and Ashfield Lake, where we swam and fished.
But it’s also people who share a genuine concern for one another. It’s people who really care and who are unafraid to reach out and help one another. It’s old folks sharing values and relevant history. It’s Moms and Dad’s struggling to balance earning a living with caring for youngsters. It’s bright-eyed children, full of promise, each one an affirmation of God’s hope for all of us.
Author Bob Bates introduces us to these people in a series of light, lively and often comical vignettes, painting an honest picture of Ashfield in the 1940s and 1950s, when things were simpler but the problems were no less relevant
About the Author
Author Bob Bates is a son of the Berkshire hills town of Ashfield in western Massachusetts. He grew up on a dairy and apple farm during the 1940s and 1950s. It was a remarkable era in farm and country living as technology came knocking at New England farmers’ doors. Some farms cautiously tried the new machinery and tools and committed to it. Others looked at the future and were unable to make that same commitment. There was no middle ground; it was either grow or fold. Bob's family chose to grow. Bates attended the public schools in Ashfield, then went on to Northeastern University in Boston. He endured, and often even enjoyed, a forty-year-long career as an engineer at a large electronics manufacturer in Nashua, New Hampshire. Bob met his wife, Sharon, while working at a telephone equipment manufacturer in the Merrimack Valley. He proudly showed her his country roots. “God’s country,” he reverently called it. “Humph!” Sharon, a city girl, retorted, “Only God would have it!” Come to think of it, many New England farmers would certainly agree! Nonetheless, both of their children used every opportunity to visit the home farm. Now retired, Bates is busier than ever as a sports PA announcer, a Justice of the Peace, a model railroader, a writer, and best of all, as a grandfather!