Little Egypt Heritage Articles eduda tsunogisdi © Bill Oliver 15 October 2006 Vol 5 Issue: #33 ISBN: pending Osiyo, Good Evening Ladies and Gentlemen of Little Egypt We Americans are a mixed lot in more ways than one. We are a people who challenged authority when we deemed they were wrong. We are a people who propose that arming teachers and administrators would avoid school shootings tragedies. We are a people so intent on monetary profits that we will outsource our industries cutting off our own work force. And, yet we are a nation so benevolent that we drop all differences during crisis. We are a people that took land away from others, yet have always helped each other build communities. The first pioneers came in groups and worked with each other to raise shelters, clear fields for planting, shared starter livestock and then did the same to newcomers. Sometime in the 1830s, a branch of my family moved from Tennessee to southern Illinois. This wasn’t the first move they made. The older brother was born in Virginia; the younger brother was born in North Carolina. Their children were born in Tennessee [we think]. In southern Illinois there is evidence that the older brother’s “place” was the community “center”, for his house was the first meeting place for the church that these brothers organized. Thus, in my minds eye, I envision this set of families first coming together to build the older brother’s place, and then moved on to the younger brother’s place. It may have been even a tighter community, for there is some evidence that a third brother and other Tennessee neighbors migrated with these two brothers. This community helping spirit fostered needed social events. The coming together to “raise barns” and harvest crops are events that many of us can remember experiencing. The call would be spread in gathering places such as church and town stores that so-and-so would harvest his crops on such-and-such day and all were invited. As a youngster I didn’t know how it all got organized, but it sure seemed to come off without hitches. Some folks brought saw horses, others brought doors to lay across them, everyone brought food – meats, breads, vegetables, potatoes and yams, cakes and pies, milk, coffee and tea. One would think it was Thanksgiving. All came early and the work would begin. By noon the meal was ready and the men would stop their work long enough to eat and tell stories before returning to the task at hand. This entire county was built this way as communities would leap frog from east to west. It embodies the selfless need for a team effort to accomplish a difficult or formidable task for the good of an individual, a family or a community. In barn raising, there was a great deal of preparation. Barns were, well into the 20th century, of timber frame. This preparation was the responsibility of the individual farmer and traditionally done during the colder months when there was more time to spare by the helping neighbors. The lumber harvested was primarily hand hewn timbers coming from the farmers own woods. Until one hit the plains, old growth forests held numerous trees with long narrow tapers and very dense growth rings. This facilitated the conversion from log to beam. Often farmers became so skilled that the surfaces were smooth enough to fool a person into believing it was mill saw’n. However, the fashioning of the frame was often done by a “craftsman” called a carpenter/joiner. Before a frame could be put up, the foundation had to be prepared. Large boulders, called plint stones, with other stones, were laid to form the foundation. These were all laid up dry until the late 1800s, early 1900s. The sills and floor joists were assembled prior to the calling of a “raising crew”. White oak and chestnut woods were used if available. If a community wasn’t brand new, a “calling” probably wasn’t very difficult because there were sufficient numbers of people to do the various jobs necessary. As intimated above, families worked together for a variety of purposes. Years of necessity and tradition enabled people to come together for common causes. It wasn’t all work and no play; these "work fests" also filled a social need. One didn’t usually spend leisurely hours visiting. As mentioned, entire families would descend upon the chosen site. Women came to prepare meals for the raising crew. Young children would frolic about with other young children. Older girls and boys would start filling their roles in this drama of community effort. Of course, weather had to co-operate. The first bent [a transverse framework to carry lateral and vertical loads] was very important. It required the coordination of hands lifting the timbers while other hands stood ready to jab their pike [spiked] poles for the vertical launch. Timbers were usually pegged together and with two bents in place progress was made with a bit more confidence. Depending upon the size of the barn the number of bents could be as many as seven or eight. When the bents were in place, scaffolding was then laid across the top to provide a platform for raising the “plates”. When the frame was complete rafters would be set in place and the task was finished. The goal was to have the frame standing by the end of the day, as devoting more from their own work and chores for two days in a row would be difficult for anyone. If the frame came together without mishap or mistakes and there wasn't a late afternoon thunderstorm, its completion would be cause for social festivities. I often think of the respect our Native Americans had for all of nature and their prayers of preparation of the hunt, asking the intended game to forgive the necessity of killing them. In barn raising there is a tradition of nailing a green bough to the frame by the master carpenter or owner/farmer. This is traced back many centuries signifying homage to the forest from which the frame has come. With the work completed it would be time to eat, the work of the women that afternoon would be consumed with an exuberance equal to the work involved in raising the frame itself. Very often barn dancing into the late evening would climax the day's work. A quote in my local newspaper’s political page set me to thinking about these things this week. “The biggest difference is not between Democrats and Republicans. It’s between all of us and the Amish. May God help us.” [JoAnn Crouch-The Blade Editorial Page, 11 Oct 2006] These words brought to mind that the entire community surrounding the recent tragedy in Pennsylvania mourned – Amish and non-Amish. Here is a community deep in sorrow that resisted the zeal of an “eye for an eye”. Plus, today the wife of the man that caused the tragedy "thanks" the Amish community for their forgiveness. This, among the other differences in our people, is why my country stands tall. e-la-Di-e-das-Di ha-wi nv-wa-do-hi-ya nv-wa-to-hi-ya-da. (May you walk in peace and harmony) Wado, Bill -=- 1133 PostScript: