Richford Resident Remembers Romanian Childhood

- George Mueller (Müller) of Richford was born November 22, 1918, in Romania. The following is an excerpt from his autobiography, "A Short Description of 'My Life Story!'"

My birthplace, Macea, was a village near the Hungarian border with a mixed population of about 5000 Romanians, Germans, and Hungarians.Our house was located on the corner on Dam Street. It was situated near a sandy spot of the side street and across the side street lived a Romanian family, but I can't remember ever talking to them.

After about 100 feet, the side street divided into a four feet lower and higher section, which was practical in a sense because we kids could sleigh ride down during the winter, and in the summertime we could play in the sand. Other houses were built the same way!

Along the street a few houses away was a food store, and across Dam Street lived a widow who made a living by having a large scale, and store space rented out and steps leading to it. On the other side of the side street was a blacksmith shop, and as a little boy I watched him working. At times when I had nothing else to do, I built his working place in miniature in the corner of our yard, out of dirt, like my father did professionally! As a child I was very cautious and did not trust strangers. I had a crackling whip, and when other boys tried to beat me I used my whip to defend myself and it worked every time.

In the 1930's, soccer-ball playing came to our town. That was something different and we kids liked it a lot. Through the years I got quite good at it and used to play it every time possible. The most fun was when the grownups trained because they used a real soccer-ball. We poor people could not afford one so we children made a fake soccer-ball out of rags, but they did not bounce.

In school, I had no problems learning and finished six grades Elementary School, in German and Romanian. School days were fun for me!

In 1930, my father planned to grow watermelons and others for commercial sale (one acre). My father built a shack for protection against the weather and after school was out I stayed out there until school started again and watched the melons in the daytime against theft and in the evening against the black crows when they came back from the mountains! They were real pests. They came down and went to the watermelons and poked a hole into it, then went to the next one.

In the evening, my father came and brought me cooked supper from home and stayed overnight until 8:00 am. From then on I was by myself. I liked it out there.

There were neighbors, too, of course, who also grew watermelons, and they also had somebody watching so I was not alone Some were grownups, even girls. Naturally the big boys visited the grownup girls at night! In late summer when the pumpkins were ripening, the young men wanted to play bowling. I was the setup person (since I was no man yet). At the end of the game, they paid me for my service, which was nice.

Sometimes my father visited our neighbors in the evening and I went along but after a while I fell asleep and my father woke me up, when they separated and went back to the shack, to sleep.

Some neighboring boys and myself also played soccer. Since our soccer-ball was no ball and I hit the ground several times (barefooted), there went my toenail. I lost three toenails that way! Oh, how it hurt! Because shoes were out of the question, everybody was barefooted!

Staying healthy was no problem because water was not far away. At the far away field was even on Appointed Lawman, with a house and a dug water-well and could also buy certain kinds of food there. The water was very good. Our field was about three hours walk from home, the other two acres were only about 1.5 hours from home, but we had to carry the water in the springtime with us in a container from home. It was in a clay container and we had to bury it the ground to keep it cool. The first year it was a real headache for my parents because we had a baby, Kathy, to take care of in the field, so it was not easy street, especially for my mother!

As for selling the melons, my father hired two farmers with horse and wagon to bring the melons to the railroad station. They had to drive to the field with a bunch of straw to put between the melons. We picked the ripe ones and the drivers loaded them into the wagon. When both wagons were loaded, to the railroad station they went. At the station, the buyers checked the load and told my father, "Cut that melon open for me." My father did. If it was satisfactory to him, he bought the whole load. That happened with each load. The melons brought in good money.

We were later than the ones that had their own equipment. We had to offer melons later longer than the others and got then more money, scarcity drives the prices up. The seeds of the watermelons had to be small, otherwise they would not buy them! Other growers that had their own transportation grew watermelons with big seeds and the melons grew bigger, too, but they brought them to the local market and also made out well.

All in all I had a good life out there in the country, on our land!


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