Looking back
Seven years ago, in 2019, I wrote my first memoir. One of my goals was to discover the source of my father’s anger, often directed to me. I had a mostly happy childhood because of close ties with my extended family. Yet, over a dozen pages in Mennonite Daughter: The Story of a Plain Girl describe, discuss, and analyze my dad’s heavy-handed treatment of me as the oldest daughter living in the Longenecker household. My memoir closes with an acceptance of his positive influence in my life, noting his contributions to my personality and character, determination and courage, among them. An acceptance that felt somewhat tentative at the time, but real.
These traits I see in the profile of my dad here, intent on sharpening farmers’ knives in one corner of the shop near a window. Farmers regularly needed the dull edges of their scythes, plow shares and mower blades sharpened, so they would cut more efficiently with a clean edge in the field. My dad was the fixer!
In the snapshot below, Daddy is breaking in a newly purchased Minneapolis Moline tractor, an iconic American farm machine, known for its distinctive “Prairie Gold” color and red and gold logo. It was likely manufactured in Hopkins, Minnesota. I imagine that the M.M. company loaded the tractor onto a freight train and shipped it to Rheems, PA, where the train stopped long enough for my dad to unload it. I remember Daddy talking about “waiting for the train to stop” in the village of Rheems, PA.
Its price tag still dangles from the tractor grill. “Who will buy it?” he must wonder.
In these snapshots and movie that follows, I observe his focus and intention needed to work the machine—along with courage to continue pursuing tractor sales and farm equipment repair in the face of challenges of running a business without his father’s help. All at the close of World War II.
In the video he is wearing a puffy denim work hat with a long bill. It looks almost like the hat of a train engineer. Here he is testing out the new tractor–switching the gears from forward to reverse and back again. When the video moves to the shop’s interior, he is sharpening a farmer’s knife.
My daddy was only 31 years old when his father, the founder of H. R. Longenecker and Son, died. The partnership of father and son, Henry and Ray, that was to have lasted much longer, ended when my grandfather Henry died suddenly of a stroke. In time, my dad Ray expanded the shop located in Rheems, Pennsylvania, and added a large farm equipment repair space with concrete floors, equipped with embedded copper heating pipes that unfortunately failed to transmit enough warmth from feet to body during cold Pennsylvania winters.
Credits:
Video courtesy of Aunt Ruthie Longenecker’s 16 millimeter movie camera, 1950s. Artist Cliff Beaman customized this 30-second clip and music from a much longer video.
* * *
What I Know Now
For me, the years have distilled into worthy lessons learned. Looking back through the long lens of time, my father’s life lessons appear larger than his shortcomings to me now as I recollect my early years. I don’t minimize the pain. However, indignation concerning his mistreatment of me has become much less harsh, an amalgam of bitter and sweet, like the cocoa drink Barbara Crooker uses as a metaphor in her poem “Not a Spoon, a Key,” quoted in Bedside Prayers, ed. June Cotner, 1997.
Not a Spoon, a Key
We open memories
like Hershey’s cocoa—
the lid sticks tight.
We think the past
has happened,
is fixed as a photograph
locked in an album,
but it changes, it develops,
mixed with time,
like sugar mixes in
the dark and bitter powder,
making a drink
that warms and restores.
~ Barbara Crooker, poet
12 Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.
News Flash! The computer on which I’ve written hundreds of blog posts and typed the manuscript for both my books has been replaced. After nearly 12 years (gasp!) of steady service, a special Christmas gift for me included a new computer.
You would agree, dear friend: It was time, it was high time!
How lovely a new PC…My father was the knife sharpener I sharpen my own kitchen knives but we struggle to find someone to sharpen garden tools…its good that your feelings about your fathers treatment of you have mellowed, Marian I hope you have a lovely week 😉 x
Your knives may become dull, Carol, but you are still sharp–cook, word-weaver, cookbook writer.
Happy New Yea to you, and happy writing in 2026. 😀
Bless you,Marian…Happy New Year with bounteous happiness and good health x
And the same to you, Carol.
I love the video. Isn’t it wonderful that you have it. Your dad was a hard worker and it must have been stressful running the business on his own. I’m so pleased that you were able to forgive him and appreciate what he taught you. Unfortunately not everyone is able to do that. Have a super week. xo
Shirley, below, replied that video is a wonderful memory enhancer. I think it has sharpened my recollection of him and added some “adult” understandings as well. Life is too short for grudges. Thanks, Darlene! 😀
My husband and I now share a PC–it is not perfect but doable. The HP people tried to fix the machine and with great patience, I can usually make it work–sometimes waiting 15-20 minutes for a photo to present itself on my blog. Anyway, my hubby shines in the innovating department–(and brings home way too much lumber in my book), but it helps create things that work for him in his various shops: one shop in the garage on our house, another in the basement, and another in the building where he stores the most stuff. 🙂
Your husband has a natural gift for wood-working and you reap the benefits, some clutter notwithstanding. Sharing a computer–that would be hard for me since Cliff is online quite a lot, and, of course, I am too. Thanks, Melodie! 😀
Good morning, Marian!
I’m happy for you that you found some peace and acceptance. I remember being outraged on your behalf over some of his treatment of you.
How wonderful to have those family photos and videos!
Congratulations on your new computer!
Thanks for joining me on my journey here, Merril. We have been through some twists and turns along the way, and I appreciate your presence. 😀
You’re welcome, Marian. It’s a pleasure! 😊
What a beautiful story of forgiveness, Marian. Though you remembered what happened, you chose to see the events from a different perspective. That shows growth and forgiveness.
I’m glad you have a new computer! And what a treasure to have a video to show of your dad!
At age 30 or 40 I could not have written a blog post like this, but as the poem says, “it [a memory] changes, it develops, mixed with time.” I always appreciate your comments, L. Marie! 😀
Hi Marian, I often think about your book and your relationship with your dad when I read your posts. I’m glad you’ve been able to make peace with the past.
Robbie, you have the gift of empathy, among other talents. Thanks for expressing this so well here! 😀
I’m glad you’ve come to a place of reconciliation and peace about your relationship with your dad. The years sure do give us wisdom (if we’re receptive to it, of course).
Wow! What kind of computer was it that lasted 12 years??
Liz, I have a MacBook Pro, which I’m still using as I type this. The new computer is on another desk, waiting to have WORD, ZOOM, and other apps loaded. This computer will give up the ghost soon; just this morning I had to run Onyx, a maintenance tool, just to get my computer to “talk” to the printer. The new one is also an Apple product, a MacBook Pro. 😀
I don’t blame you for sticking with the Apple Macbook Pro! It has served you well.
Cliff and I each have one. We probably won’t switch to any other model.
I’ve thought about switching, but I have too much money invested in PC software.
Thanks for sharing from your heart, Marian. My Papa was the opposite. At a time when corporal punishment of children was the norm, even touted as Biblical, he never lifted a hand in anger. There were long talks and explanations instead! We were eight children and my mother was exasperated at times! She had a wooden spoon and marched us to the bathroom. She spanked me for the last time when I was around 12 and I just laughed when she whacked me!
Elfrieda, I know your extended Mennonite family has historically had many challenges–leaving the Old Country. And then Paraguay and Canada )?) –along with ministry in Congo. But your family unit has always been close and loving. I admire that. And, you are fortunate. Thanks for sharing some more details here. 😀
Your post naturally brought me back to thoughts of my dad. He was raised in a strict German home. I didn’t know my grandfather well, but he seemed to have a hard edge the few times I was around him. I’m sure Dad’s upbringing influenced the kind of person he became—hard working, strict, demanding, impatient at times with a bit of a temper, but also honest to a fault with a good heart. Showing affection was hard for him, but he softened as he got older.
It reminds me that the characters I like most in books are those like my dad, imperfect and relatable, but with more positive traits than not.
Thanks, Pete, for helping me look at my dad from another angle. And, it’s true, without conflict, our story would be flat and inauthentic. Not that I wish for the painful treatment, but at least I have a heap more understanding than I did “way back when.” 😀
Welcome back, Marian. 😊 I’ll start with the details you provide in this post such as you know that it is a Minneapolis Moline tractor in Prairie Gold. I love this type of description. And what a treasure to still have Aunt Ruthie’s 16 mm footage of your father. I watched it thinking “this is Marian’s dad!” It’s just so personal. I can understand the shock (and fear) he felt when he lost his own father at a time they were building a partnership. I’m glad he overcame it and even expanded, but I bet it left an emotional mark on him until he died. I’m glad that “the lens of time” has softened feelings and judgements. That’s a long journey. And finally, congrats on your new computer! What a GREAT feeling!! 😊💜
What a lovely memory enhancer video is. It may also be one of the reasons you can forgive your father his trespasses? Seeing him alive and so intent on providing for his family and servicing the farm community that needed his tools and his sharpening skills helps us all to imagine that even his sins of anger and domination may have derived from an over-active sense of responsibility?? Stuart and I are reading through the Anabaptist Community Bible, and clearly the Proverbs support the kind of use of the Rod that may also have motivated your father. Mine too. Enjoy your new computer.
When I write my posts, I get clarity, and when I read comments like yours and others, my insight gets sharper.
Yes, I believe my dad did suffer from an over-active sense of responsibility. After all, he had three daughters to raise and didn’t want any of them to bring shame upon the family name. (None of us showed any tendency in that direction, but still . . . ) Thanks again, Shirley! 😀
My brother and I reflect on my Dad’s flaws fairly frenquently when we first started chatting after his wife died. Now they have tapered off, as have the rough times we had with him. I love this post for several reasons. 1. You came to grips with your Dad’s cruelty and shared it with your readers. 2. It is the kind of post that your fans like to read that expands the backstory of your book. 3. My grandfather was a cutter grinder for the entire time I knew him. He had large machinery like your father’s in his garage, and I would go out to the garage just before lunch and “help” him. That meant making him stop, hold me on his lap and shelling and eating peanuts together right before lunch. No wonder we both ended up with weight problems in our old age. 🙂 Thanks for sharing this, my friend.
As I just wrote to Shirley, “When I write my posts, I get clarity, and when I read comments like yours, my insight gets even sharper.”
I love the way you listed your observations. And the surprise at the end with your grandfather–haha! You’ve made my heart sing today. Merci beaucoup! May you be blessed many times over for your generosity, Marsha. 😀
I love the poem. At my age, I find it to be true for me too. The video is quite the treasure. My dad taught me to sharpen our kitchen knives and how to properly polish shoes among other skills, some of many small gifts that mean so much to me these days.
Welcome again, Linda. Isn’t it true, distance in time from our childhoods sharpens our appreciation for our parent’s gifts, large and small. Thanks for checking in with a comment here! 😀
Wow Marian, I enjoyed the knife sharpening vid. I surely could use someone who has one of those now to sharpen a multitude of knives for me, lol.
It’s funny how we must look back on our past and notice things we never would have thought of back when. I had similar experience when I wrote – P.S. I Forgive You, about finally finding that forgiveness I couldn’t while she was alive.
And congrats on the new computer. I know how difficult it is to pry us from one we are comfortable with. Hugs xx
Our backgrounds are very different but our stories have parallels. Sometimes I think foregiveness is ongoing as we develop new insights.
Yes, a few years ago we bought a set of expensive knives that “never need sharpening,” but guess what: They’re DULL!
I’m still writing this on the old computer because I haven’e loaded the apps I need on the new one. Oy Vey!
Thanks for keeping in touch, Debby!
Amazing to have that video! And yes, the older we get as we reflect about our childhood, I think perhaps the more understanding we become of our parents. I, like Merril, was so upset when I read your memoir about the treatment you received from your dad. I also related to it. My dad loved me and I knew it until I became a teenager. Then he disliked most of what I did (the clothes I wore, the politics I believed in, the music I liked) and he made it very clear that he was not happy with me. During many meals I was banished from the dinner table (after we disagreed about something in the news) and I sat up in my room, alone and hungry.
I feel now that he was mourning his little girl who had adored him. Once a teen, I didn’t agree with him, and I became more independent and not needing (or wanting) my parents. Many years later we became close again. Not as close as I now wish we could be, but I forgave him for his treatment, and I think he forgave me for growing up. 🙂
Congrats on the new computer!! I gave up my big PC for a HP laptop three years ago and never looked back. (However, it’s connected to a large screen monitor, which helps my eyes). And the poem is PERFECT. Thanks for sharing it.
Pam, thank you for revealing your dad’s early treatment of you. I think strong-willed, independently minded daughter often get the brunt of their father’s displeasure. Still, I am happy you circled around to find some connection to your dad. And that you could forgive him.
Congrats on making the transition to a computer. Even though it was three years ago for you, I imagine getting new apps and so on felt a little uncomfortable at first.
Always good to hear from you, Pam! 😀
I finally had a chance to watch your video, Marian. So precious that footage is. You’re fortunate to have had an aunt who filmed so much of those times.
When I grew up, I often saw my mom sharpen her kitchen knives. She knew how to do that by moving two blades against each other rapidly. Her dad – my peter – must have taught her when he owned and worked in his own butcher shop. He was a POW in Germany during WWII and learned the butcher’s craft there.
Yes, I realize more and more that my aunt with a movie camera in the 1940s was pretty special. Thanks for taking the time to check in here; I know you are very busy preparing for the transition to Europe, Liesbet.
Thanks too for sharing some history from your own family in Belgium–an intriguing story! 😀
Hi Marian – I enjoyed this post about your father and the complicated relationships that we spend our lives learning to understand. Congratulations on getting a new computer! Twelve years is a long time for your old one to last. Although I love new technology, I’m a big believer in using things until they are on the verge of not working. My mother’s “make do” approach is one I’m proud to carry with me.
Thanks for reading and commenting here, Barbara. You’re right about my relationship to my dad–complicated, for sure.
Yes, I’m frugal to a fault, but, like you, proud of it too! 😀
Oh and I meant to add that I really enjoyed watching the video of your father sharpening blades and working the tractor!
I am indebted to my Aunt Ruthie. Without her movie camera in the 1940s-1970s, we’d have no video of our family in that era. 😀