The Old Henry J, Growing Up In the Fifties

photo fo two people, a child and an adult looking at a sunset over the ocean

Life was a lot slower and simpler in the fifties and sixties.

Written by Gary Wonning

My grandparents had given me a nineteen fifty-two Henry J for my first car, I was only fifteen so I couldn’t legally drive it on the road, but I kept that car spotless. This was in the early sixties, our lives revolved around hot good looking cars. Very seldom did a week go by when I didn’t wash it or clean it up to keep it looking nice.

In all reality, it wasn’t much of a car, but it ran and had a radio, what else did I need?

I was the only one in my group of friends that had a car, so I was top dog.

Soon, Jim  and I would be making weekly trips to Batesville in my juke box on wheels, in search of adventure, and whatever else we could find.

I started to have trouble with it, minor things; the doors wouldn’t stay closed, radiator problems and such.

One Saturday evening, we had decided the proper action would be to circle the Gibson Theater in Batesville and wait for the show to end. We reasoned that girls would come swarming out of the theater and that would be our chance to meet a couple of them. (Teenage logic.)

Growing up on a dairy farm in southeastern Indiana, Gary traveled very little until midlife, when the opportunity became available to him.

Grabbing his camera and a bag full of equipment, he began his vision quest traveling to most areas of the United States and several countries abroad.

Along the way he collected several thousand photographs that he wants to share with everyone.

http://www.travelnsnap.com

Gary decided the best way to accomplish his goal was to publish photo documentaries on the various areas of the world he has visited.

Sell Art Online

 

What will follow will be several photography books, who knows how many will wind up in his collection.

To contact Gary:

journeysthrulife@gmail.com.

http://www.journeysthrulife.com.

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A New Life

Art Prints

 

Written by Gary Wonning

Finally, one morning, I fed the last of what feed I had to the cattle and I had no idea what I was going to feed them that night. I didn’t say anything to dad, because I knew he was broke, and I didn’t want to worry him. I was hoping for a miracle.

Driving in the driveway after school I sensed an unusual calm. I hardly noticed, but there were no cattle near the barn, I assumed they were still out in the barren pasture. 

I walked into the house, dad met me at the door and said,”You don’t have to milk tonight, I sold the cows.”

Shocked, I replied,”That’s good, I don’t have anything to feed them anyway.”

He looked at me kind of weird and never said anything. 

Just like that, my farming days drew to a close.

Gary has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

The Cushman Motor Scooter

When I was about fourteen, I was able to buy a motor scooter with the money I had saved up by working various farming jobs, including baling hay. At last, I had something to drive other than a tractor. It was a Cushman “Box” scooter. I think that at one time they were used by the military during the “Big” war.

photo of a Cushman scooter

Riding the Cushman

It was in dire need of a paint job, so I tore it down and with the help of dad sanded and repainted it. I have to admit, it looked pretty cool when I was done. It was my pride and joy; I drove that thing everywhere, through the creek, across fields and even on the road as long as the road wasn’t heavily traveled.

The best part was that I now had transportation to my hay baling jobs.

Gary has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

Farming In Shifts

 

Written By: Gary Wonning

During the spring planting, if the rains delayed us, we would work in shifts,.

At first, we only had one tractor, so dad would start working the fields at sunup and I would do the milking, then when I was finished, I would bring a five gallon can of gas and take over while he did other chores.

We would take turns eating lunch, each bringing more gas so the tractor would run constantly until after dark, we only stopped to sleep, then do the same thing the next day until the crops were planted.

Soon we added headlights to the tractor so we could see to work after the sun went down.

 

Gary has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

 

 

No more Sweet Potatoes

 

Written By: Gary Wonning

An excerpt from my book,”Those were the days my friend.”

I ignored it for a while, but sometime in March, it began to wear on me. Finally one evening during supper, I pushed my plate away and exclaimed, “That’s it, I don’t care if I starve to death, I’m not eating any more sweet potatoes. “

Gary has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

Feeding The Chickens At Grandpas

Written By: Gary Wonning

My cousin  Bob and I would sit in the corn crib and make rows in the corn cobs by shelling the corn off the cob and letting it fall to the ground.

Grandpa Huneke was always pretty thrifty and never wasted anything, so I wondered why he would let us shell the corn like this. The corn would only fall through the floor of the crib to the ground below. It seemed like a total waste to me until I looked down one day and saw all his chickens eating the corn. We were having fun and feeding his chickens at the same time.

Gary has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

Surviving The Winter Down On the Farm

Written By: Gary Wonning

To be able to go to school every day we would wait at an intersection along the highway for the school bus to arrive in the morning and dad would be there waiting for me when the bus arrived back in the evening.

It was the end of March before Santa found out where I was living. When I came home from school one evening, there in a Montgomery Ward shopping bag was my basketball lying in Grandpa’s chair waiting for me. No Christmas wrappings, I guess Santa ran out of paper.

The author has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome