Once you have lived on the land, been a partner with its moods, secrets, and seasons, you cannot leave. The living land remembers, touching you in unguarded moments, saying, “I am here. You are part of me.”
Many of you know those are the opening lines from The Land Remembers by Wisconsin author, Ben Logan, who died September 19, 2014 at the age of 94. We’ve lost a great gentleman and a great writer. He was a friend who I was lucky to spend time with at his farm on Seldom Seen Ridge, where we talked about his life, his writing, his World War II experiences, and life in general.
Ben Logan at his kitchen table, drinking tea as we talked.
Ben’s writing touched the hearts of so many people, because it’s not just the story of a farm and the land, but a story about the people who lived on the land.
The family life he wrote about was once the norm in this country, now it’s the exception as we move toward an urban society. People refer to this as a simpler time, but I prefer to use the phrase “a gentler time.” It certainly wasn’t an easier time. Life was hard and work was very physical for man, woman, and child, but it didn’t seem as hectic as the world we live in today.
The importance of family also comes through in Logan’s writing. It was a time when the entire family worked together and relaxed together. The big Maple tree in the front yard provided many days and evenings of sitting in the cool shade, enjoying each other’s company. It was the center of their hilltop world. It reminds me so much of my own upbringing and the Maple tree in the front yard on our Coon Prairie farm.
Can you relate to these scenes and events? Planting, harvesting, rainy days, wildflowers, ghosts, listening to the corn grow, killing frost, Christmas, blizzards, one-room school adventures, planting the garden, which came first–the chicken or the egg?, the two-headed rattlesnake, and much more. The words will pull at your heart, you’ll bring your own memories and experiences to his story, and The Land Remembers becomes YOUR story too! That was his key to writing. He brought us into the story and we were right there with him. If you haven’t read his story, put it on your to-do list.
In 2009, an event was held at the historic Hotel Boscobel to recognize and honor Ben Logan, one of Wisconsin’s most popular authors. I was honored when asked to be one of the writers who would read from his book, The Land Remembers.
At the time, Ben had moved from his farm on Seldom Seen Ridge between Gays Mills and Mount Sterling, Wisconsin to Maplewood, an assisted living facility in Viroqua. On the morning of the event, I picked Ben up and we drove to Boscobel. A storm that had gone through the area earlier in the morning was retreating ahead of us. The colors of the hills around us were brilliant. Ben remarked about the many shades of green with the dark storm clouds as a background. It was a perfect setting for writers. Ben related how when he was young, his mother would have him look up at the sky above him and then slowly bring his eyes down to the horizon. She wanted him to observe how the colors changed as he looked at the different areas of the sky.
Over the years, Ben and I have had many conversations about writing and life. The more we talked, the more parallels we found in our lives. As we drove along we both remarked about wanting to know the story behind every road name and every abandoned old barn. There were so many interesting ones. He said, “I’m always searching and looking for answers. Curiosity is essential to be a good writer.” Then he quoted Robert Frost’s poem, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, “I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep.” I was surprised to hear that line and told him that’s always been one of my favorite lines too.
I asked Ben, in looking back, what one thing would he pull out of his life that he considered the most important thing?
His response was, “There’s so many. I suppose the sense of staying tuned into things, and reading my responses… and being willing to accept that I’m different one day to the next, almost to the point that exact days don’t repeat themselves. You’re always edging forward, somehow… and the most important thing is having curiosity. I still have a tremendous curiosity about things. I still have an irresistible urge to push open the door of an old deserted farmhouse to see if those who once lived there left fragments of their life story. We need to stay tuned into things, keep our minds open.”
I asked what he wanted his epitaph to be. He answered with little hesitation, “He walked through open doors!”
We know what a great writer he was, but he was an even greater person. He was a gentle man, who cared about people. I’ll miss him, but his words will be with us long after he walked through that door to the next chapter in his life.
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