Searching for a Quiet World

Across the Fence #272

As I was snowshoeing on the trails at Norskedalen near Coon Valley, the silence that surrounded me was very welcome after a hectic week. I was the only person in the whole place on a beautiful Saturday morning when hoarfrost covered the trees and transformed everything into a winter wonderland. As I hiked uphill and down, across streams, and watched deer watching me, I started thinking about how much our world has changed in the last 100 years.

Lets time travel back to the early 1900s and visit the average home in America. It was a much quieter world. Most people had never seen or heard an automobile. The Ford Model T didn’t arrive on the scene until 1908. Only five years before that, the Wright brothers flew the first flight of their airplane at Kitty Hawk. Think how much those two inventions changed transportation around the world.

The first commercial radio broadcast didn’t occur until 1920, only 90 years ago. Before that time, people couldn’t sit around and listen to the radio to get the latest news and listen to entertainment. There wasn’t a radio in most homes until many years after that. When do you remember first listening to a radio?

The first talking movie, “The Jazz Singer,” came out in 1927, 83 years ago. Does anyone remember the silent movies or seeing this first talking movie? If you’re in your 90’s you may have seen it as a child. The movies have come a long way since then.

Television didn’t arrive in most homes until the 1950’s. I think we got our first TV around 1954. Before that time, the evenings were relatively quiet in the house. There was conversation, reading books, and playing games. Evenings in the summer, after chores were done, were spent sitting on the lawn under the maple tree because it was too hot in the house. Air conditioning wasn’t invented until 1932, and I don’t remember anyone with an air conditioner in their home, even in the 1960’s. When was the first time you encountered air-conditioning and what did you think? Now we even drive in the air-conditioned comfort of our cars. Our ancestors must be rolling in their graves when they see what wimps we’ve become.

Another invention that has changed the world is the computer. The first one (ENIAC) was built in 1945. I’m older than the computer age! I probably got my first computer around 1989. It completely changed the way I did my business. It must have been like a farmer going from farming with horses to using a tractor.

The Sony Walkman came along in 1979. Then we could not only listen to music in our homes and cars, but we could carry it with us everywhere we went. Now we have iPods, cell phones, and other devices that we carry with us. Instead of listening to the music of the wind in the trees and birds singing, people are tuned into the latest music blasting in their earphones, while out walking.

Think about all the items I’ve mentioned. Most have injected artificial sounds and noise into our daily life. Before the advent of radios, televisions, iPods, Walkmans, stereos, phonographs, Boom Boxes, telephones, cell phones, and numerous other sound devices, what did most people do? Perhaps they talked to each other. Can you older, or should I say, “more mature” crowd remember back to what it was like before television? Maybe some of you even remember when you didn’t have a radio in your home.

Think what a difference the addition of all these items that make noise have made in your home. I’ll bet that in most places, the television is constantly on when people are present. I notice the difference when I’m trying to write this column. Noise, and even music, can be a distraction. I can do some of my best thinking while on a walk or sitting someplace in nature where only natural sounds are heard.

Author Jerry Apps and I share a fondness for the words and thoughts of Henry David Thoreau. Jerry wrote in a recent blog, “Though his writing is sometimes difficult to grasp, these words by Thoreau, written in 1854, continue to resonate with me: ‘In wilderness is the preservation of the world.’ Those words were important in Thoreau’s day; they are even more important today. So I sit and read and ponder the layers of meaning in Thoreau’s writing, and their application to today’s frantic world.”

I also ponder those things whenever I get a chance. They came to the forefront as I hiked through the silent, snow-filled woods at Norskedalen. Snow softens everything, even sounds. Snow rounds off the sharp edges of the world and adds light to the dark places. There’s a peacefulness found in nature that’s hard to find in the world we’ve created with all the man-made sounds. Granted, not everyone likes the solitude of the small areas of wilderness that remain. Maybe that’s why I found myself alone in the woods in Norskedalen on a beautiful winter day when I thought more people would have been out enjoying the day. I like to think that this is the world my ancestors found when they came from Norway, a quiet, peaceful, picturesque world. There are still pieces of that world left if you look for them.

Trust Me, I Know What I'm Doing

Across the Fence #271

I had a dream. Well, it was more of a nightmare. I still have them every once in a while. They’re always Vietnam related. Many of them involve me being drafted again and back in Vietnam because the war is still raging. It usually has something to do with the army being short of medics so they’re calling up old buggers like me because we have experience.

Up until the other night, one of my more interesting dreams involved Roy Rogers. I had been drafted and sent to Vietnam again, where I was assigned to my old 4th Infantry unit. I was really ticked about it until I found out my Sergeant would be Roy Rogers. One night we were on an ambush patrol when we realized we were completely surrounded by the enemy. We could hear them out there in the dark as they crawled closer and closer. There were only six of us and it seemed like there were hundreds of them when they all opened up on us. We sat in a small circle, back to back, as bullets flew all around us. But, I wasn’t afraid because Roy Rogers was on our side. As they closed in on us, I woke up, so I don’t know if we survived or not! With Roy on our side, we must have won the battle.

The other night I had my most interesting nightmare. You guessed it. I was back in Vietnam again. We were getting ready to head out to the boonies for several days on another ambush patrol. My old buddy, Big Lee from California, was also a part of this adventure. As we were packing up, blackening our faces with camouflage, and loading our M-16 magazines, Big Lee said, “I’m getting tired of us going out there and getting shot at all the time. It seems like they always know where we are.”

“I know what you mean,” I said, “But I’ve got a plan.”

When we showed up at the chopper that would fly us to our drop-off point, I was ready. Big Lee took one look at me and said, “Doc, what the H… do you think you’re doing in that?”

“Trust me,” I told him. “I know what I’m doing.” I was dressed for battle in my deer hunting outfit. I was wearing my blaze orange coveralls, blaze orange stocking cap, and blaze orange gloves. I ‘d even tied blaze orange strips on my rucksack. You can’t go deer hunting without your long underwear, so I had put them on too. By the way, the temperature was approaching 100 degrees as we prepared to board the chopper, and I was already sweating profusely.

The other four patrol members arrived, Elmer Wischmeier, Harlan Springborn, Larry Skolos, and Don Hanson. Elmer from Missouri, said, “What the h…’s going on here. Is it Halloween already? Has Doc lost his marbles?”

“Trust me,” I told Elmer. “I know what I’m doing. Back in Wisconsin when we go deer hunting, everyone has to wear blaze orange so other hunters can see us and not shoot at us. Trust me. It works.” They all just shook their heads in disgust.

After the chopper dropped us off, we headed out single file into the brush. After walking for a couple hours, we came to what appeared to be an old, overgrown railroad bed. It looked very familiar. We followed it and came to a marshy area. As we began crossing to the other side, we came under heavy fire from the wooded area at the edge of the marsh. We dropped into the wet marsh and crawled for any cover we could find. Big Lee and I settled in behind a big log and started returning fire.

As I sighted my M-16 over the log, the area in front of me looked just like the edge of the marsh in Tanner Flowage near Black River Falls, Wisconsin. That’s why the old railroad bed had looked so familiar. We had hunted deer in that area for many years when I was young. I didn’t see any deer now, but the woods was full of guys in black, all shooting at us. It seemed like every one of them had zeroed in on me. The bark began peeling off the log as bullets slammed into it. Bullets were stripping the leaves and branches from the small trees around us. We just hunkered down behind the log hoping they’d run out of ammunition. I was sweating profusely from all the heavy clothes. An explosion shook the ground nearby. Now they were lobbing mortar rounds on us too. They came whistling in and exploded all around me. That’s when I realized I was all alone.

I looked around and saw my patrol buddies, Big Lee, Elmer, Harlan, Larry, and Don, sitting and relaxing in the shade of a nearby tree. They had broken out their c-rations and were eating and watching the fireworks, all directed at me. No one was shooting at them.

Then I heard Big Lee yelling to me above the din of the battle. “Hey Doc, you were right when you said we should trust you. Nobody’s shooting at us. This is great! You gotta’ wear your deer huntin’ outfit more often.” “Amen to that, brother,” the others yelled!

That’s when I woke up.

Snowshoeing In A Winter Woods photos

Two Voices Struggle Within

Across the Fence #270

Help! I’m trapped inside and can’t get out. You’re probably thinking I’m referring to all this snow and the cold temperatures we’ve been blessed with this winter. You’re partially right. It’s been a tough winter so far. At least with winter, we know each day is getting longer and the sun will eventually chase the snow and cold weather away for a few months.

Unfortunately, the prison I’m trapped in won’t disappear along with the melting snow. I once heard a statement that inside every old person is a young voice yelling, “What the hell happened!?” That’s pretty much where I found myself this weekend. I suspect I’m not alone in feeling like a younger spirit that’s trapped inside an aging body. I know mine sure doesn’t work the way it once did.

Since I work all week and it’s cold and dark when I get home, the weekends are my time during the winter to spend outside. I had planned to do some snowshoeing at Norskedalen and go cross-country skiing on the groomed trails at the Snowflake Ski Club in Timber Coulee. I was looking forward to it. You younger people are probably thinking, that old bugger shouldn’t be trying to do all that physical stuff. Even Linda worries about me overdoing it.

Maybe they have a point. I hate to admit it, but age is starting to take its toll on my body parts. I started having left knee pain Friday afternoon. Actually, I shouldn’t complain. The left knee pain helps offset the pain I have in my right hip. But it’s kinda’ tough. Now I don’t know which side to limp on. At times I look like I’m doing the Tim Conway shuffle. That comes in handy when everything is snow-covered and icy. But it makes me look like an old man shuffling along as I’m walking. “You are an old man,” a second voice from within reminds me.

The recent snow and slippery streets may have contributed to some of my aches and pains. I slipped on a patch of ice hidden under new snow and performed some moves that would have made Dancing With the Stars contestants envious. I managed to stay on my feet, but it may have been easier on my body to just fall. However, as those of you who have a few years behind you know, we don’t bounce as good as we once did.

Is it any wonder that the retired crowd makes a mass exit and heads south for the winter? While they’re sitting on the beach in the sun and sipping Mint Juleps, I’m still working here in the Frozen Tundra and wondering why I’m not down there with them.

Those were my thoughts on Saturday as I felt trapped in my house and this aging body with a sore knee and hip, not to mention several other aches and pains.

But that was yesterday, this is Sunday. It’s a new day and the first day of the rest of my life. This morning I couldn’t take it any longer and decided I had to escape. Five degrees above zero, a very cold wind, out of shape with a tender knee and hip… no problem. It was time to cross country ski. I rounded up my clothes and equipment and headed for Timber Coulee and the new cross-country trails in the shadow of the huge Snowflake ski jump. This was the first time I’ve been skiing in two years. This is a guy who used to ski 40 miles every week during the winter.

As soon as I stepped into my bindings and glided down the well-groomed trail, I felt like I’d died and gone to Heaven. I didn’t set any speed records. I don’t have the stamina I had when I was younger. As I skied around the trails, the young guy trapped in my body wanted me to speed up and see how fast we could go. The old guy, who also resides inside me, pushed the young guy aside and said, “Whoa now Sherpe, pace yourself, this isn’t a race. Don’t kill yourself, you’re sucking wind already.” Having gained both weight and a little common sense with age, I decided to listen to the older voice, even though I wanted the younger one to kick butt and break free.

Two other skiers were on the trails. I watched with envy as they flew across the snow like well-oiled machines. The young voice inside me said, “We used to ski like that. Lets kick in the afterburners.” Then the old voice spoke up again. “Those guys were probably in diapers when we used to race in these hills. You’re old enough to be their father. Just be glad you’re still physically able to be out here skiing on a beautiful morning and having fun.”

I had to admit, the old guy had a point. Even though it was cold, the sun was shining, and the snow on the trails was in perfect condition. My warm breath turned into clouds and filled my mustache with icicles as I glided through a beautiful, silent, snow-covered landscape of hills, trees, and water rippling under bridges that I crossed. The young guy and old guy within me were both happy. All aches and pains were left behind and life was good. It was very good.

Snowshoeing In A Winter Woods

Across the Fence #269

It's the first day of a new year. We’ve got more than enough snow and it’s cold… VERY COLD! What a frigid entry into 2010. Tonight we’re expecting a low of 15 degrees below zero. Factor in the wind chill and it feels like 25-35 below. This weather is expected to be with us for several days. Uff da, this IS the frozen tundra you hear about. On the bright side, this will give us bragging rights for years to come as we tell everyone about how cold it was at the start of 2010.

Today I had two choices. I could sit inside where it’s warm, be a couch potato and watch football games all day, or go outside where it’s cold and get some exercise. I decided to strap on my snowshoes and go for a hike.

I’ve mentioned before the old Norwegian saying, “There’s no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong clothes.” I dressed appropriately, starting with long underwear, using layers of clothing, and topping it off with a facemask that I’ve used for cross country skiing, to avoid frostbite on my face. I was very comfortable.

I purchased snowshoes just before Christmas. I’ve been out on them several times and love it. I’d highly recommend it as an activity for anyone who wants to get outside in the winter, get some exercise, and enjoy nature.

Author Jerry Apps says, “Listen for the silence of winter, when the snow buries the land and the cold tightens its grip, turning breath into clouds and thickening ice on the lakes. There is great beauty in silence, something that we have little of these days.”

How true his words are. I have the good fortune of being able to walk out of my garage, strap on my snowshoes or cross country skis, and take off in any direction. Today I decided to head down along the fence line of the back forty. It didn’t take long before I came across animal tracks in the snow. I followed a pair of tracks that appeared to be coyotes. They were too big for a fox and a fox usually travels alone. The tracks disappeared into a neighbor’s cornfield that will have to wait until spring to be picked. There were plenty of other tracks to explore and I continued on. I love trying to read the stories written in the snow.

I was able to move easily over the crusted snow that had a two-inch layer of new snow on top. Before when I’ve tried walking through heavy snow, it’s been a real struggle as I kept sinking in. What a wonderful difference snowshoes make.

Whenever I stopped I would listen to the silence of winter that surrounded me. The sun was out, and the beauty of the snow-covered landscape with all the animal trails was exhilarating.

I continued on my hike and decided to head for Birch Hill and explore the places where I had spent many winter days in my youth. At one time, Trygve and Joel Thompson, along with David and I, built a ski jump on one of the hills.

I worked my way through the brush and trees, following a deer trail until I reached the area on top of the hill where we had constructed a scaffold about eight feet tall. We built a jump out of packed snow, farther down the hill. The hill was now overgrown with brush and trees… big trees. What do you expect after fifty years? Times change. It’s a good thing we were young and adventuresome. We were also lucky that we didn’t get seriously hurt. It looked more dangerous now than I had remembered. There was a rock outcropping along one side and trees had lined both sides of the jumping hill that we had cleared as best we could. I should also mention that the hill had a curve near the bottom because of larger trees that we couldn’t clear out of the way. It’s surprising that none of us ended up straddling one of those trees.

As I stood in the silence of the woods, I remembered how we crawled up the ladder to the platform on top of our rickety scaffold and launched ourselves down the hill and off the jump. I wondered if the rotting remains of the old scaffold was buried somewhere under the snow, like a lost civilization buried under volcanic ash. Just like those lost civilizations, only those of us who once played in these woods and hills know what we did here.

Others may pass through these woods and never know what adventures we had. Tracks in the snow disappear with the seasons. Wood from an old scaffold returns to the earth. New growth of brush and trees alter the landscape. Human intruders like me come and go, but nature remains the one constant, changing with each season. These hills and woods will remain long after my spirit has departed this world and my tracks are no longer found in the snow.

I hope we never destroy areas like this. It’s important that those who leave their tracks in the snow after us can also enjoy the silence of a winter woods. I hope they find and enjoy the beauty of nature that we found during our journey through these woods filled up with snow.

The Good Old Days?

Across the Fence #268

I had several responses to my column about looking back. Most people appreciate the memories, but wouldn’t want to go back to living without the modern technology we’ve become accustomed to. One exception to that is my old army buddy, Kenny Lee, who lives out in California.

Big Lee wrote: “Doc, I’m sorry but I ‘Would’ like to go back in time. Nancy told me one time, ‘you’d miss what you have now.’ I told her I wouldn’t have all the things I have now, so I couldn’t miss what I didn’t have. I do miss the tight families, and simple, uncomplicated times. I miss not being able to go anywhere and not get a dang phone call. I miss going for a walk and not being afraid of getting my butt shot off. Doc, think back, we sat down and took the TIME to see what was happening around us; like kids playing touch football on the school playground, walking a girlfriend down the street in the evening. I can go on and on, Doc. Technology has made us, for the most part, lazy, and slower to use our imagination. Yes, I would like to go back to a more uncomplicated life. I think technology has cost us more than it has helped us. I just HAD to TAKE THE TIME to tell someone how ‘I’ felt about the good old days. Thank you, my brother, for being there to listen.”

Big Lee brought up some interesting points. They are some of the same things I was thinking about this Christmas season.

He mentioned tight families. That was also on my mind. I can look out the windows of our home and see the farms where most of my aunts and uncles and grandparents lived. Not that many years ago, that was the norm instead of the exception. Extended families lived close together. Birthdays and holidays were always family get-togethers. The only ones on my mother’s side who couldn’t be at every event were my uncle and aunt and their family who lived in Indianapolis, Indiana. All the rest of us “Hanson Cousins” grew up together near Westby. We’re still close even though we’re scattered to the four winds these days.

Now we find families all over the country. Few families live on adjacent farms any more. It makes it much harder for even immediate families to get together for holidays. Yes, times have changed. Because of the mobility we have these days, I think we’ll see families grow even farther apart, to the point where cousins won’t even know each other. That’s a far cry from when we Hanson Cousins grew up together. Christmas Day was always spent at Grandma and Grandpa Hanson’s home. I can still see that farm, across the fields from our back windows. I have many good memories from those days. Just like Big Lee, I’m thankful I grew up in the time period I did.

Another point Big Lee makes is that we used our imagination. I was thinking about that too. I guess Big Lee and I think alike in many ways. Lets consider radio as opposed to television. We had to use our imagination and visualize the action and what the characters looked like. I guess that’s why I still like listening to Prairie Home Companion with Garrison Keillor. When we visit Lake Wobegon, each of us has our own idea of what it and the characters that inhabit that fictional area look like.

Our kids used their imaginations when they were young. During Christmas, we were all looking at old photos. One of them had the kids sitting in empty boxes that they’d lined up and were pretending they were on a train. That’s using your imagination. I suspect they got just as much enjoyment out of playing in those old boxes as the presents they received. How many of you can relate to a similar experience?

When we were young, David and I probably had as much fun playing with the tobacco lath toys we made as we did with store-bought toys. We also did a lot of climbing and playing in trees, an activity that is frowned upon today as being too dangerous. So much has changed.

My friend, Lowell from Madison, reminded me of several other things from our past that are no more. He said, “Mother always bragged about the fact that we had running water. We ran out to get it and we ran out to throw it away.” I liked that saying. They didn’t have a refrigerator when he was young. When they sat down to have coffee, someone had to go out to the well and pull up the bucket that had all the perishables in it. He also mentioned how hard it was to get water for the cows in the winter. Sometimes it would freeze in the barn. I remember those days too in our old barn, especially the time a door had blown open and even the manure was frozen in the gutters. Not a good way to start the day!

Somehow we all lived through those days, and I think we’re better and tougher because of them. Thank you, Big Lee, for taking the time to tell what you were feeling. It gives us all something to think about.