This is a photograph of my mother, Ruth Longenecker, in the tobacco field located in our family’s acreage in Bainbridge, Pennsylvania seven miles from our home. Until the photo was restored, I did not realize the presence of a figure in middle distance, who I’m guessing is my father.
Thus, I can assume my Aunt Ruthie Longenecker took the snapshot sometime in the mid- to late-1940 s. My father, mother, and aunt were invested in agriculture even though none of them lived on a farm with a barn and livestock.
I saw this photo many times as I shuffled through old pictures stored under our piano bench lid in the living room. After Mother died and I began more purposefully writing my memoir, I scrutinized the picture for detail. I also connected it to the stance of the Lancaster Conference of the Mennonite Church on farming tobacco crops in those days.
Commentary in my WIP memoir sets this photograph in an historical/religious context:
It was early June and Mother and Daddy and I were in the tomato patch. Actually, it was not a tomato patch; it was a 9.1-acre field in Bainbridge, where my mother and I were about to push new tomato plants into the ground. Years earlier, my parents had planted tobacco, a high-cash crop, but a Mennonite revivalist came through the county, preached powerfully against making a profit from plants that could be turned into deadly cigars and cigarettes, and so like many other Mennonites they switched their crops to tomatoes or corn.
Shortly thereafter, the Lancaster Mennonite Conference Rules and Restrictions devoted several lines to the prohibition of tobacco farming by members using scripture verses to justify the rule which stated that “Since the production and use of tobacco seriously affects our Christian witness and has harmful effects on the body, members are asked to abstain from the use, distribution, and production of tobacco.” *
After the early years of their marriage, Daddy never planted tobacco in the Bainbridge field again. Bushy tomato plants replaced the upward sweep of tobacco fronds.
* Article V—Restrictions
Section 3. Since the production and use of tobacco seriously affects our Christian witness and has harmful effects on the body, members are asked to abstain from the use, distribution, and production of tobacco. Isaiah 55:2, I Corinthians 10:31 (1968)
* * *
At least one of my Metzler uncles persisted in raising tobacco, and my dad and his brothers-in-law would gather in the barn’s stripping room to smoke cigars.
Now, in 21st-century America, smoking is largely taboo. Smoking is no longer thought to be cool, and smokers are generally ostracized. In most public places smoking is forbidden, except for designated sections in airports or restaurant patios.
When on tour, my husband finds still smoking allowed in small towns in Alabama and Georgia.
In fact, he does not smoke!
But he did publish a children’s book encouraging non-smoking.
Click here for more information
Note: I’ve explored this topic in an earlier post, Mennonites and the Marlboro Man, before it made an appearance in my memoir text, now a work in progress.
Did your family participate in any activity now considered taboo?
Society’s norms often dictate behavior in a culture. What other practices, once accepted, are now forbidden, or at least frowned upon?
The reverse is also true: Some practices, once discouraged, are permitted or even encouraged these days.
Your thoughts do count . . . Thank you!
Wow! Those photos are treasures! Your family has such a vivid history.
How wonderful that your husband has a children’s book.
As a writer for kids and teens, you know what’s needed to capture the attention of this age group. For readers who don’t know you: https://lmarie7b.wordpress.com/about/
Thanks for kicking off the conversation today, L. Marie!
Marian — You know how a recent post of mine was a memory jogger for you? Well this post is a memory jogger for me.
My parents sent us to church on a bus, but didn’t attend themselves except for Easter and Christmas. Until I was seven, both of my parents smoked. I came home from church one Sunday and repeated exactly what I heard Pastor Norman J. Forge preach from his (Baptist) pulpit:
If you smoke (or dance, or play cards, or go to the movies, or swear) you’re going straight to hell in a hand basket!
Poor Pastor Forge meant well, I suppose, but he forgot to put on his spectacles of grace and mercy, which is how God sees us, in my opinion. I’m glad your parents quit smoking though, with or without the pastor’s admonition. I think you will enjoy Darlene’s comment below. Ha!
Marian — You’re right, I enjoyed Darlene’s comment. Oh, and mom and dad didn’t quit smoking because of what I told them Pastor Forge said. I told them that if they didn’t stop, I’d start. I got a good whuppin’ out of it, but in the end, they quit (mom first, then dad).
See, you were already foxy and full of determination, Laurie.
Just like your making me accountable for sorting through my files (more than 2 years ago!), you made the encounter with your parents a win-win situation.
My mother was a smoker, and you rarely saw a picture of her without a cigarette in her hand. She was a “dirty smoker”, with ashtrays all over the house. If she was headed out, you could be assured she had a tissue and her pack of Old Gold + matches. After she passed I inherited her little oak writing desk. The top will never be refinished; it comes completes with burns from cigarettes that fell off the ashtray. As kids we all tried to get her to quit, but she refused.
What a poignant story! I’m not sure how you feel about the little oak writing desk, but its indelible memories are imprinted on its surface. This is touching, Ginger. Thank you for sharing.
Hi Marian–such wonderful photos.
Both my parents used to smoke, but both quit. I think I told you this before–that a girlfriend of my mom’s taught her how to smoke when my mom was home sick and bored.
Also, isn’t “hell in a hand basket” such an odd expression? I wonder why a hand basket? 🙂
Researcher that you are, Merril, you’d enjoy this link about the allegorical phrase, which refers to an Hieronymous Bosch painting, a Star Trek comic book title and more: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/To_hell_in_a_handbasket
Thanks for re-telling the story of your mom’s learning to smoke. If she was home sick, I would think smoking would have made her sicker. Maybe she was just bored – ha!
About the wonderful photos ~ handy Cliff is my ancient photo restorer. Yay!
Thanks for the link. I actually did look up the phrase, which traced it to the mid-19th century. 🙂
Yes, of course, that is true about smoking probably making her sicker, which is the irony of the tale. I’m assuming it wasn’t a respiratory thing, and I’m sure she doesn’t remember what it was. Yes, I’m sure she was bored.
👍
Absolutely fascinating, Marian. The church was right all along. How wise they were>
The strict boundaries at which I chafed were mostly good for me though smoking never held a lure. Oh second thought, my sisters and I practiced “smoking” pretzel sticks in the garage a time or two. Ha!
Yes, scientific proof of my church’s position came later. Thanks for pointing this out, Joan!
I am sure your parents had no idea of the harmful effects of tobacco smoking. It was good to see they switched to something more healthy, tomatoes and corn. Initially as Baptists we weren’t supposed to dance but mom and dad still enjoyed a dance once in awhile. Later we switched to the United Church of Canada and dancing was allowed, in fact we held dances in the church basement. Many happy memories.
Pushing boundaries is apparently in your DNA, Darlene. Without that tendency, you and your husband may never have had the courage to move to Spain. It occurs to me too that dancing is simply good exercise! 🙂
We must move with the times and what was thought to be cool once is no longer so. I am glad your father saw this and changed his crops to something more healthy and beneficial to all. your stories are always fascinating, Marian. Thanks for sharing once again,
It’s easy to share stories that are true and unvarnished by time. I’m glad you enjoy them, Fatima!
These wonderful stories bring back memories of my days in Rheems, PA. When I was 7 years old, out of “religious conviction,” I yanked out several of our adjoining neighbor’s young tobacco plants. My father made me apologize. I was relieved when Farmer Harvey La Victor accepted the situation well with some amusement. Marian, thank you for this post!
You made me smile, Conrad. Children are so trusting – and so literal. Your comment reflects the fervor in Laurie’s reply above. Ha!
I had a great uncle who was a smoker. He was a bachelor and lived with his sister (my widowed grandmother). He never got cancer but my grandmother died of pancreatic cancer in her early eighties. My older brother began to smoke in his late teens and hid the cigs in the shed. My sister and I snuck one to the outhouse and tried it, but it was so gross we never wanted to try it again!
All three of my brothers took up smoking but they all quit when they learned how damaging it is to the body.
I’ve always thought cigarette smoking would be disgusting and you have confirmed it. I must admit I like the scent of pipe smoke, although I don’t know anyone who smokes a pipe nowadays.
Wise brothers you have, Elfrieda. Thank you for your contribution!
What a great way to dig into family history, Marian, and connect it to your family, religious, and cultural roots. That was my immediate question: Do Mennonites think smoking is OK? Did they ever think so? And you answered it.
And as always, I love Cliff’s contributions. I see photos of my dad in 1957 with a cigarette. He was so sick and soon gave up cigarettes because doctors were beginning to advise against tobacco. Three days before his death in 1959, knowing his kidneys had failed and there would be no miracle, Daddy asked for a cigarette–or so my mother told me. They must have allowed it in the hospital because she said he had a smoke. Tobacco is that addictive. It didn’t deter me from experimenting and getting addicted to the stuff. When I got bronchitis, it was easy to give up because I would do anything to stop coughing. I never returned to a mouth that tasted like an ashtray smells.
When smoking was the “in” thing, magazine ads showed the glamour. Even doctors advertised cigs, puffing away with a smile, so I’m not surprised that your dad had a smoke in the hospital. I like your graphic description of a smoker’s mouth “that tasted like an ashtray smells.” Eeew!
Thanks, Elaine. (( ))
I know my dad smoked cigars and pipe but I always thought he was the only one in the family that smoked. When I was small and would get earache he would blow cigar smoke in my ears. It is amazing that I always thought that helped. We would go out for Sunday dinner with friends and I always had to sit in the front between the two men while they smoked their cigars. The other little girl sat in the back with her mom and my mom.
How interesting that you remember stories as “Daddy’s little girl.” I think my dad and uncles enjoyed their guilty pleasure” in the stripping room because they would be away from the women who might fuss. Right?
It’s so nice to see you here, Gerry, adding to the family lore. Thank you!
Interesting post Marian. Funny how your parents gave up growing tobacco because it was considered the right thing to do, giving up some lucrative profits. especially in those days when almost everyone smoked. 🙂
You are right on the money! Some farmers who had to pay a mortgage found it almost impossible to give up farming tobacco because it was so lucrative. Otherwise, they would lose the family farm, which in their minds equated to a betrayal of their family heritage. My dad farmed inherited land, so the money derived from tobacco farming wasn’t as big an issue for him. Still, I don’t think he made the decision lightly.
Thanks, Debby!
I had no idea your mom was called Ruth as well. Is that why your aunt went by Ruthie? Was she a sister from your dad, then?
Smoking has always been more prominent in Belgium than in the US, and it still is. Not used to that anymore, it bothers me to smell the smoke of cigarettes, when having lunch or a drink on patios of restaurants and bars. With this beautiful weather, one enjoys sitting outside, but it’s ruined by the smell of those smokers. It’s not only unhealthy for them, but it influences their surroundings negatively, so I find it selfish as well.
I see why the tobacco was replaced by tomatoes, but I find it interesting what a big influence the preaching revivalist had. Then again, it’s how religion spread. I enjoyed reading your memoir excerpt, Marian.
My aunt and my mother had exactly the same name including the middle initial: Ruth M. Longenecker. My aunt never married, so she retained her birth name. You can be sure they avoided having the same doctor or lawyer – ha!
Yes, in our travels in Europe, we noticed more smoking than in the US, and somehow the scent seemed stronger too. Smoking is selfish in a way, but because nicotine is so addictive, smokers have a hard time quitting.
In my comment above to Debby Kaye I mention the quandary stopping tobacco farming presented to some families. Thank you for your insightful comment. I’m glad you enjoyed the memoir snippet too, Liesbet. Thank you!
What a beautiful photo of your mom amidst the tobacco plants. Nice job Clint! I do find this post so fascinating. I would imagine they’d make less money growing tomatoes instead of tobacco, despite the fact that it was the right thing to do. More right than they even knew.
As a child and then a teenager I grew to hate smoking so much. My dad was a nonstop smoker. By the time I was 12 and was taught in school how harmful smoking was, I put little notes underneath his pillow that said smoking kills. He never acknowledged them. My dad died from the harmful affects of smoking. He was a very strong ox of a man, but got congestive heart failure and bladder cancer from smoking. As an adult I understand his addiction more. He began smoking as a 14-year-old in the early 40s, living alone a lot since his father had left the family and his mother had to work full-time. And he was a paratrooper in World War II and of course they all smoked there. By the time he came back after the war he was addicted full-time. Ah, you’ve made me talk too much about my feelings about tobacco and smoking. 🤔Thank you so much for this post. 🙏
Your love and care for your dad shines through in your reply, and your thoughts (long or short) are always welcome here – ha!
Laurie (above) was very outspoken in her denouncing smoking to her dad. You chose the literary way. I’m guessing your dad was touched by your gesture, but couldn’t stop because of the addiction. And I don’t suppose meds to quit smoking were available back then even if he had an impulse to stop.
I’m glad you connected to this post. Thanks for adding your story, Pam! :=)
Hi, Marian, great post! Thought-provoking questions. I could go on and on about smoking…. but instead I’ll spend time with your questions about how societies’ norms dictate our behavior.
As an Oblate of St. Benedict, my spiritual guides teach me to adapt and/or translate a Rule older than 1500 years to fit the current culture. For example, ancient Benedictines practiced excommunication and physical punishment, but current Benedictines understand that for those times, in comparison to other secular and religious cultures’ standards of behavior, Benedict’s prescriptions were remarkably gentle, patient, accommodating, and merciful. Therefore, current Benedictines translate the spirit of the Rule regarding “punishment” for “offenses.” As Joan Chittister writes (in The Rule of Benedict ) we seek to hold people accountable while understanding the humanness of our humanity, to “soothe what hurts them, heal what weakens them, lift what burdens them, and wait…. [with] love and help and care.”
The spirit is love and mercy; not vindictiveness or powerful displays of authority.
The norms of Benedict’s time dictated that physical punishment and excommunications were right and proper behavior modification techniques. Today, our culture says physical punishment is wrong, and modern psychology teaches that “shunning” doesn’t grow or mature people or develop a greater capacity for love, but instead makes people cowering, fearful, and stunted. Treating someone as an “untouchable” doesn’t represent the “gentle manifestation of a loving and parenting God who wants us to be all that we can be.”
In other words, we don’t aim to follow the letter of the law, but rather the spirit of its intention. Joan Chittister explains that the spirit of Benedict’s definition of offenses and corresponding punishments is “first, the need to punish is no excuse for the arbitrary wielding of power and anger and vengeance; second, sins against community rupture the community and must be recognized as such.”
Both of these attitudes are, however, while adapted for the culture in which we live, are also blatantly counter-cultural, resisting the prevailing attitudes of our modern competitive, PR-driven society. The Rule (which is really nothing more than a commentary on how to live the Gospel message in community) calls us to truthfully name wrongs as wrongful (no “spin” allowed!), and simultaneously calls us to address offenses with humility and grace, respecting the inherent dignity and uniqueness of every human being.
It wasn’t very long ago that children it was perfectly acceptable to use physical punishment on students in schools. That norm has changed, thank goodness!
Thank you for citing the more loving, gentler application of the Benedictine “rule” to cultural norms, then and now. In recent decades, Mennonites I am familiar with have followed a similar course of applying a less harsh yardstick for behavior, emphasizing more the spirit of intention rather than the letter of the law.
On a side note, I would love to be sequestered for a while in a Benedictine monastery, away from the distractions of daily life as I continue to shape my memoir into something publishable.
Thank you again, Tracy, for your thoughtful response here. 🙂
Hi Marian, I’m trying again to post – earlier on I wrote a lengthy-ish response but the server took too long to respond so it disappeared! So I’m keeping it shorter this time round.
Firstly congratulations on Cliff’s restorative powers of photographs and his creation of his book for children.
I admire anyone who can give up their addictions. Smoking must be one of the hardest. Both parents were smokers; both my brother and sister gave it up and I am full of admiration for them … and likewise for those who give up monetary pursuits when the product is harmful …
It’s hard to discern your father in the photo though enlarging it on my phone made him more visible! Not so on my lap top, unable to enlarge but maybe he is that white spot in the dead centre.
While pesticides were seen as necessary to enhance growth of eg production of plants and such, nowadays this is more awareness of their harm.
Thank you for this delightful post!
Yes, I think my dad is the white spot in the centre of the background.. I will pass on your compliment about Cliff’s photo restoration. Thank you!
I appreciate too your recalling family history related to smoking. Nicotine is so addictive. Those who successfully kick the habit have my admiration too. Thank you for reading and commenting . . . and I think it’s during your vacation time too. Double thanks!
p.s. the excerpt from your memoir is delightful!
Thank you, Susan!
This comment from cousin Ava Lee Longenecker Martin on Facebook describes the arduous tobacco farming process:
She says, “My Dad added 8 more cows to his herd when he stopped raising tobacco. It was good for me. Tobacco is a year around project. Steaming the beds, planting, weeding, topping, succoring, harvesting. In the winter evenings, stripping the leaves off the stalk. When we got done with that, it was soon time to plant the tobacco beds again.”
“I don’t know when we did our homework. Maybe we didn’t have as much as they do now.”
Marian, tobacco, the crop, made it possible for my father to pay his mortgage on the farm. Or so my father declared. No other crop paid as much, and the debt seemed crushing as it was. I came across a letter my mother wrote to a Mennonite minister explaining her pangs of conscience. It was moving to me, as it probably was to the minister. It complicated my own sense of moral absolutes, I think.
I remember an anecdote from your book or from a blog post recalling the tension the church’s edicts set up in your family. Apparently your father thought losing the farm would be tantamount to betraying his heritage. In retrospect, I have sympathy for both points of view.
Ava Lee’s response above (using my gravatar photo) shows her father’s solution to this quandary.
How well I remember helping my parents raise tobacco in Lancaster Co. Pa back in 1948. Later when George R. Brunk had his tent meetings in the area I remember we stop raising tobacco. I was a “happy camper” since it was a lot of work year round. My dad “rented farms” so we moved often and that is another challenging childhood story 🙂 I think we raised corn……I don’t recall raising tomatoes. I enjoy what you write 🙂
Thanks for weighing in on the tobacco-raising topic. Ava Lee (in a comment) above describes tobacco farming as a ton of work, which you can surely relate to.
I appreciate your reading and commenting here too, Bertha. 🙂
I love the old photos, Marian. I grew up in CT and the town I lived in had tobacco field for miles and miles. By the time I was a teenager, most of them had been converted to subdivisions, but your photos brought back memories. Good for the Mennonites for making a stand against tobacco back when others were cashing in.
I’m just now approving this comment that mistakenly landed my WP spam folder. Ugh!
Thanks for posting your memories from CT. Cigarettes are still being produced, but when I visit Lancaster County, tobacco fields are few and far between.
Thanks for visiting here, Diana. Do come back again
😀
What lovely memories.
Thank you, Lady Fiona!