They bought the farm ~1977

I was almost 3 when we moved to the farm.  My folks were planning to leave Long Island and settle in Minnesota, which would have suited my norwegian mother well.  They had already put their Northport home on the market when dad's program proposal at the high school was accepted.  He didn't expect that it would be, as it had been turned down for four years before this one.  When they finally said yes, it was a bitter sweet victory- he was glad for the opportunity, but they were all set to leave, the house was for sale... now what?!

The farm was a suggestion of a friend who had already moved out to what was then the boon docks of Long Island.  A small family farm that was overgrown, falling apart, and would likely be bought up by realtors and parceled up for a development.  Mom and Dad took a trip out to see the place.  Mrs. Bryant was selling the house.  She was an old lady, living alone.  Her husband had died, her four sons had moved away, and she lived in just 2 rooms of the house, leaving the rest to slowly settle and deteriorate.  Mrs. Bryant's house was filled with unbelievable amounts of odd collected objects.... one chest of drawers was devoted entirely to buttons.  Buttons!  (I actually wish we had acquired those buttons-- oh the crafts I could do!) The grounds were all but swallowed in brambles and overgrown saplings.  From the back of the house you could just make out the top of the main barn.  

My parents had no idea as to what else was there.  They fought there way to the top of the property and as they reached the peak of the hill they found the old oak.  This was a grand tree.  It still is.  The way my dad tells it, he and mom looked at each other in the presence of that tree and said yes.  I have to tell you, they were crazy to take this on.  

According to the story, Mrs. Bryant was holding on to the place hoping for a family that would move in and NOT develop.  She likely could have sold the property for much more than she ended up getting from my parents had she chosen to sell to realtors.  It is lucky that she was seeking preservation, or rather, continuation of this special place.

My parents scraped together everything they had in order to buy the farm, plus some added help from my grandmother, who I can almost guarantee was shaking her head in disapproval as she wrote the check.  

We moved into the farm house in October of 1977.  My older brother was 4 years old, I was nearing 3, younger brother was just past his first birthday... #4 wouldn't come until 1979.  I believe mom had some major doubts about the choice they had made.  The house was run down, dirty, falling apart.  She was in a new town, didn't know anyone, stuck at home with 3 babies, no money... Dad off to work everyday teaching.  I tell you, the fact that this place came together was truly a miracle.  And the greatest testament to my mother's ability to endure and plug away, day in and day out.