Bridging Generations

Ancestors and descendents of Joyce Verla Pratt and Mark Richard Berrett

Grandpa Berrett

Thomas Francis Berrett

My Grandpa Berrett

Thomas Francis Berrett
13 April 1882 – 15 April 1957

My Grandpa Berrett passed away just before I turned three years old, so naturally I have no personal memories of him.  To introduce him here, I’ll use some of my dad’s memories of his father.

Dad taught me as well as the other children to be fair and honest in our dealings with other people.  While I was a young boy, we had a lot of people come to the place to buy tomatoes and fruit.  Dad told us to always make sure the basket or box was full and well rounded and be certain that there was no bad product in the container.

When I started thinning beets and topping onions for the neighbors, he told me to always give a full hour’s work for the pay I received.

Horse drawn plow - circa 1936

Horse drawn plow – circa 1936

I remember fondly that he taught me early in life to drive the horses, and I received a lot of satisfaction from driving the team while getting the land ready for planting, springtoothing the orchards and cultivating the crops.  By the time I was 14, I was hauling tomatoes and fruit to the factory for canning or fruit to the packing house for shipment.  I remember particularly well the day Dad taught me to cultivate tomatoes with the one-horse cultivator.  He showed me how to guide the horse while I had the lines around my waist, and also how to miss the tomato plants by dipping either the right or left handle of the cultivator.  I know he became frustrated at my ineptness at first, but he didn’t give up on me.

Dad was always very fair with me.  He told me what he expected of me, and as long as I kept the rules, he always kept his word.  As an example, he told me I couldn’t drive the car until after I was 16, but after I got my license, I don’t remember a time when he denied me the use of the car when I asked.

Dad loved to trade horses, and I do fondly remember going with him many times to the horse sale at the Ogden Stockyards.  One of the happiest days of my life was while I was 11 years old.  One day Dad went to Ogen saying he had to buy something for the milk house, but when he came home he was leading a bay pony behind the car.  He had been tot ht horse sale and bought me my first pony.

I’ll always be thankful for the things he taught me by work and by example.  I’ve always felt that he was one of the world’s honorable men. 

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  1. Pingback: Young Hattie Brown | Bridging Generations

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