Across the Fence #321
The nights are long in the winter. When I go to work in the morning, the sun is just peeking over the horizon and it’s dark when I head home. It doesn’t leave any time to travel the back roads and enjoy the scenery. We do a lot of that in the other seasons of the year. Now it’s dark if we go out.
When I do travel back roads of this county at night, it’s very evident that the lights have gone out on many farms. There was a time when the countryside was dotted with the warm glow from the windows of farmhouses and barns. It made the cold nights of winter seem a little warmer. Each cluster of farm buildings was like a welcome island in a sea of darkness. You knew farmers were busy milking cows and the barns were full of life, noise, and activity. Nearby a warm glow also emanated from the kitchen windows of the house as supper was being prepared.
I thought about this the other evening as I drove home from work in the dark. As I passed the house where I grew up, there was no light, no warm glow, no sign of activity, no path or tracks in the snow leading to the door. The old farmhouse looked cold and lifeless. It has joined the ranks of so many other old farmhouses that are no longer lived in. Those drafty, uninsulated, old houses have not improved with age. The only source of heat for the upstairs in our old house was a small register in the floor of one room. Even that room was so cold by morning that frost and ice covered the windows and windowsills. You hated to put your bare feet on the cold floor when you had to get out of bed.
At the time, that was all we knew. Most of the people we knew lived in the same type of winter conditions as we did. We had no idea that some people lived in houses that had heat in every room. For those of you who lived in houses like ours, remember the wonderful designs that Jack Frost left on the windows each night. You had to scrape a hole in the heavy frost to see outside.
They may have been cold in the winter, but there was life in those old houses. The warmth came from old woodstoves and oil-burners, but the life and light came from the families who lived in those houses. Now so many farmhouses that once lit up the evening countryside are dark.
I hauled milk for over a year back in the early 1960s. All the farms I stopped at were small, family-run, dairy operations. Today, only a handful of those farms still have cows that need to be milked twice a day. The lights and life have gone out in most of those barns. At several places, the barns are gone, and in some cases, all the buildings have disappeared. I’m very aware that life has changed a lot since those days, but there’s a sadness about the loss of a lifestyle that was the norm for so many people at one time.
Farming involves long hours, seven days a week, in every kind of weather. It’s hard work, involves a lot of investment, and it’s hard to make a profit when milk and crop prices go down and gas, seed, fertilizer, and equipment prices keep rising. According to the Wisconsin Farm Bureau Federation, the average dairy farm in the state lost about $100 per cow per month last summer. Meanwhile, large food companies are making hefty profits and consumers are paying higher prices. Something is very wrong with that picture. Is it any surprise that so many lights have gone out.
Farmers are a tough, special class of people. I have a lot of respect for them. Farming was, and still is, one of the few businesses where a family can work together. That’s special. Unfortunately, many of us didn’t appreciate it at the time.
I left the farm after high school, but no matter where I went or what I did, the experience of growing up on a working farm had a big influence on me. The majority of people raised on farms have a work ethic that’s hard to find any place else, and it generally follows them no matter what they do in life. Even when I was in the army, the subject of farm boys came up. After we completed basic training, our platoon sergeant told several of us, “When I found out I’d be training guys who would be going to Vietnam with me, I told them I wanted Midwestern farm boys. They know how to work, they know their way around the outdoors in all kinds of weather, and they know how to shoot.” He got his wish. Most of us were Midwestern farm boys.
Times change and fewer and fewer kids have the opportunity to grow up on a farm in the country. Those of us who had that experience should consider ourselves lucky. There are many good memories to look back on. That warm glow from the windows on a cold winter night, as you walked from the barn to the house, with the sky full of stars above, is a great memory for many of us.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Saturday, January 1, 2011
A Plethora of Winter Information
Across the Fence #320
The view out the windows, in every direction from our four-season room, is like a calendar picture. Snow clings to the pines and provides white caps to the bare branches of trees. The snow is so deep that even walking with snowshoes is a real workout.
As I sit here writing, snow is falling again. I could do without that. We have more than enough snow to last the whole winter as far as I’m concerned.
I imagine people who live in warmer climates wonder what we Northerners do all winter. I guess we sit around and talk about the weather. In my case, I write about it too, mainly because dealing with snow and cold weather occupies a lot of our time.
It seems like each time it snows, it also turns cold, bitterly cold in many cases. That’s when you put on several layers of clothes and a facemask just to go out and feed the birds. It’s not as simple as just filling the feeders when you live in the country. The wind howls and deposits huge drifts in any path that was open a few minutes earlier. I try to keep a path open to our LP tank, so Rich from Heartland Country Co-op doesn’t have to fight his way through three feet of snow to reach it. His job is tough enough in the winter. He filled it a few days ago, so we’re good for a while. Now that our fuel supply is taken care of, I’ve resorted to using my snowshoes to walk across the snow to feed the birds instead of trying to keep a path open.
I imagine some people think I should be writing about more important things than the weather, but when you live in the Frozen Tundra, weather ranks at the top of topics for discussion when people get together and talk. In days gone by, men would gather around the pot-bellied stove in a general store and discuss the weather. Now it’s hard to find a pot-bellied stove or a general store, so this column will have to do. We could talk across the fence, but the snow’s too deep along our fence-line to do much visiting there. I’ll probably get some negative feedback from people who have to work out in the snow and cold temperatures, when I talk about how nice the snow looks out our windows.
My good friend, David Giffey, is editor of the Spring Green Home News. Each week he writes a column called “Another Story.” In one of his columns he tells about an interesting discussion he had with a reader of his newspaper who was critical of things he wrote about, as well as things he didn’t write about.
He was accused of writing about trivial things, like Howard the Dog, when he should have been commenting on more important issues, namely war and body counts, specifically from the war in Afghanistan. The man had a son in Iraq at the time, and was against “Obama’s Wars.” David reminded him that the wars had been going on since 2001 when Obama was still a state senator in Illinois, and he had inherited both wars.
I found this discussion very interesting because my friend David is a Vietnam veteran, who served with the 1st Infantry Division. He knows all about war, first hand and up close. Like most of us who found ourselves involved in a war, he didn’t like what he saw and experienced either. David has been a peace activist for the 25 years I’ve known him. If there were more people with his strong convictions and courage to oppose war, perhaps this world might even experience peace one day. If you’ve driven along Highway 14 near Arena, Wisconsin on a Saturday morning and seen a man walking along the highway carrying a sign with a simple one word message, “Peace,” that’s my friend David. I hope none of the readers of this column are among the people who have thrown objects at him, shouted obscenities, or given him the one finger salute. I’m always puzzled how the word “peace” can bring out the worst in some people.
Now back to Howard the Dog that was mentioned by that man in his discussion with David. I was hoping he had named him after me, but David claims he didn’t. Darn! I think it’s a great name for a dog.
Speaking of names, in last week’s column I mention the card game “Wisk.” I meant “Whist.” I bet those of you who know your card games are wondering what Wisk is. I guess I’ll have to invent a game called Wisk now. Thanks to Matt, editor at the Jackson County Chronicle, who caught my mistake and alerted me, I was able to get the correct spelling in some papers. Maybe I can blame the Whist blunder on the weather and cold temperatures for giving me brain freeze. For those still trying to find the rules for Wisk, stay tuned. As David would say, “That’s another story.”
In this story we’ve discussed many important subjects: the weather, snow, bird feeding, LP gas, snowshoes, Obama, war, peace, signs, newspapers, dog names, card games, pot-bellied stoves, general stores, and brain freeze. Where else can you find such a plethora of information, other than visiting across the fence each week?
The view out the windows, in every direction from our four-season room, is like a calendar picture. Snow clings to the pines and provides white caps to the bare branches of trees. The snow is so deep that even walking with snowshoes is a real workout.
As I sit here writing, snow is falling again. I could do without that. We have more than enough snow to last the whole winter as far as I’m concerned.
I imagine people who live in warmer climates wonder what we Northerners do all winter. I guess we sit around and talk about the weather. In my case, I write about it too, mainly because dealing with snow and cold weather occupies a lot of our time.
It seems like each time it snows, it also turns cold, bitterly cold in many cases. That’s when you put on several layers of clothes and a facemask just to go out and feed the birds. It’s not as simple as just filling the feeders when you live in the country. The wind howls and deposits huge drifts in any path that was open a few minutes earlier. I try to keep a path open to our LP tank, so Rich from Heartland Country Co-op doesn’t have to fight his way through three feet of snow to reach it. His job is tough enough in the winter. He filled it a few days ago, so we’re good for a while. Now that our fuel supply is taken care of, I’ve resorted to using my snowshoes to walk across the snow to feed the birds instead of trying to keep a path open.
I imagine some people think I should be writing about more important things than the weather, but when you live in the Frozen Tundra, weather ranks at the top of topics for discussion when people get together and talk. In days gone by, men would gather around the pot-bellied stove in a general store and discuss the weather. Now it’s hard to find a pot-bellied stove or a general store, so this column will have to do. We could talk across the fence, but the snow’s too deep along our fence-line to do much visiting there. I’ll probably get some negative feedback from people who have to work out in the snow and cold temperatures, when I talk about how nice the snow looks out our windows.
My good friend, David Giffey, is editor of the Spring Green Home News. Each week he writes a column called “Another Story.” In one of his columns he tells about an interesting discussion he had with a reader of his newspaper who was critical of things he wrote about, as well as things he didn’t write about.
He was accused of writing about trivial things, like Howard the Dog, when he should have been commenting on more important issues, namely war and body counts, specifically from the war in Afghanistan. The man had a son in Iraq at the time, and was against “Obama’s Wars.” David reminded him that the wars had been going on since 2001 when Obama was still a state senator in Illinois, and he had inherited both wars.
I found this discussion very interesting because my friend David is a Vietnam veteran, who served with the 1st Infantry Division. He knows all about war, first hand and up close. Like most of us who found ourselves involved in a war, he didn’t like what he saw and experienced either. David has been a peace activist for the 25 years I’ve known him. If there were more people with his strong convictions and courage to oppose war, perhaps this world might even experience peace one day. If you’ve driven along Highway 14 near Arena, Wisconsin on a Saturday morning and seen a man walking along the highway carrying a sign with a simple one word message, “Peace,” that’s my friend David. I hope none of the readers of this column are among the people who have thrown objects at him, shouted obscenities, or given him the one finger salute. I’m always puzzled how the word “peace” can bring out the worst in some people.
Now back to Howard the Dog that was mentioned by that man in his discussion with David. I was hoping he had named him after me, but David claims he didn’t. Darn! I think it’s a great name for a dog.
Speaking of names, in last week’s column I mention the card game “Wisk.” I meant “Whist.” I bet those of you who know your card games are wondering what Wisk is. I guess I’ll have to invent a game called Wisk now. Thanks to Matt, editor at the Jackson County Chronicle, who caught my mistake and alerted me, I was able to get the correct spelling in some papers. Maybe I can blame the Whist blunder on the weather and cold temperatures for giving me brain freeze. For those still trying to find the rules for Wisk, stay tuned. As David would say, “That’s another story.”
In this story we’ve discussed many important subjects: the weather, snow, bird feeding, LP gas, snowshoes, Obama, war, peace, signs, newspapers, dog names, card games, pot-bellied stoves, general stores, and brain freeze. Where else can you find such a plethora of information, other than visiting across the fence each week?
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Happy Monopoly New Year
Across the Fence #319
New Years is the time of year when the old meets the new. The curtain falls on another year, and rises on a new one. Sometimes we wish the ball that falls in Times Square at midnight to usher in a new year, was a crystal ball that allowed us to look into the future and see what awaits us. But as we begin each new year, the unknown is always just around the corner where we can’t see it.
Perhaps the beauty of New Year’s Eve, is that it gives us a chance to start over. It’s when we make resolutions that we’re going to change our ways. We’re going to lose weight, start exercising, quit smoking, and the list goes on and on. Most of those resolutions quickly end up on the pile of good intentions gone bad.
I know I’ve made resolutions that are forgotten long before all the New Year’s Day parades and football bowl games are history. I’ll have to try and do better this year.
A lot of my friends have had health problems the past year or two. We’re getting older and it becomes even more important to try and stay in shape. I want to lose at least 25 pounds. That would certainly help take some weight off the arthritic hip I’m now dealing with. As someone once said, old age isn’t for sissies.
I’m not a party animal so I’ll leave the New Year’s celebrating to others. If you do go out and celebrate, make sure you have a designated driver or don’t drive. I want you back here next week so we can visit across the fence again. I plan to kick back in my recliner, do some writing, and try to stay awake long enough to watch the ball drop in Times Square. Since we’re on Central Standard time, I know it’s still an hour until “our” midnight, but I usually manage to make it and see if the new year feels any different.
When we were young, my folks never did much celebrating either. Many times, neighbors or relatives were invited to our place or we went to theirs. The adults played Whist or Dirty Clubs (card games), and us kids played Monopoly and tried to stay awake. It seemed like a much bigger deal back then if we could say we saw the New Year in. My cousin, Wayne, was usually with us, and we each tried to gain control of Park Place and Boardwalk so we could put hotels on them. It seems like I ended up going to jail a lot and going past GO and not collecting $200.
I haven’t played Monopoly for a long time now, but maybe I can find our old board back. It must be packed away in boxes we still haven’t opened in the basement, unless we gave it to one of the kids. By the way, we never did finish those Monopoly games we played on New Year’s Eve. When the New Year came, everyone headed for home because there were cows to be milked and chores to be done in a few hours. We put all the pieces and Monopoly money back in the box; where it often stayed until the next New Year’s Eve.
When I think back on those unfinished games, I realize that’s what New Year’s Eve really boils down to. We’ve lived another year and tried to play the game of life to the best of our ability. When the curtain falls on 2010, there will still be a lot of unfinished business, and a lot of things we meant to do but didn’t get done. In this case, we don’t get to box up the pieces and put the game away. As the curtain rises on 2011, we will continue playing. Just like the game of Monopoly, we don’t know how it will turn out. We can try to do everything right, pick the right cards, buy the right properties, and not take too many stupid chances, but sometimes we still get hit with unexpected problems. It has a lot to do with the roll of the dice.
No matter what happens, it boils down to staying in the game and continuing to play, even when the road ahead looks daunting. In life and in Monopoly, I’ve come to the end of some years, and wondered how I was ever going to make it. The mountains for many people seem very big at times. When that mountain looks too big to climb or overcome, instead of giving up, it’s time to look at it as a challenge and find a way to conquer it.
When I was cross-country ski racing, I never looked at how many miles I still had left to the finish or to the top of a steep climb. I concentrated on where I was, how to attack the next hill, and how many miles I had behind me. It’s easier to say, “10 miles down,” instead of “25 miles to go.”
May your New Year be filled with good health, happiness, and wonderful opportunities in life, just like in the game of Monopoly. May you never land on the Go To Jail square, may you find a Free Parking space, and when you pass GO, collect $200.
The curtain is rising on a new year and the journey continues. Have a great one!
New Years is the time of year when the old meets the new. The curtain falls on another year, and rises on a new one. Sometimes we wish the ball that falls in Times Square at midnight to usher in a new year, was a crystal ball that allowed us to look into the future and see what awaits us. But as we begin each new year, the unknown is always just around the corner where we can’t see it.
Perhaps the beauty of New Year’s Eve, is that it gives us a chance to start over. It’s when we make resolutions that we’re going to change our ways. We’re going to lose weight, start exercising, quit smoking, and the list goes on and on. Most of those resolutions quickly end up on the pile of good intentions gone bad.
I know I’ve made resolutions that are forgotten long before all the New Year’s Day parades and football bowl games are history. I’ll have to try and do better this year.
A lot of my friends have had health problems the past year or two. We’re getting older and it becomes even more important to try and stay in shape. I want to lose at least 25 pounds. That would certainly help take some weight off the arthritic hip I’m now dealing with. As someone once said, old age isn’t for sissies.
I’m not a party animal so I’ll leave the New Year’s celebrating to others. If you do go out and celebrate, make sure you have a designated driver or don’t drive. I want you back here next week so we can visit across the fence again. I plan to kick back in my recliner, do some writing, and try to stay awake long enough to watch the ball drop in Times Square. Since we’re on Central Standard time, I know it’s still an hour until “our” midnight, but I usually manage to make it and see if the new year feels any different.
When we were young, my folks never did much celebrating either. Many times, neighbors or relatives were invited to our place or we went to theirs. The adults played Whist or Dirty Clubs (card games), and us kids played Monopoly and tried to stay awake. It seemed like a much bigger deal back then if we could say we saw the New Year in. My cousin, Wayne, was usually with us, and we each tried to gain control of Park Place and Boardwalk so we could put hotels on them. It seems like I ended up going to jail a lot and going past GO and not collecting $200.
I haven’t played Monopoly for a long time now, but maybe I can find our old board back. It must be packed away in boxes we still haven’t opened in the basement, unless we gave it to one of the kids. By the way, we never did finish those Monopoly games we played on New Year’s Eve. When the New Year came, everyone headed for home because there were cows to be milked and chores to be done in a few hours. We put all the pieces and Monopoly money back in the box; where it often stayed until the next New Year’s Eve.
When I think back on those unfinished games, I realize that’s what New Year’s Eve really boils down to. We’ve lived another year and tried to play the game of life to the best of our ability. When the curtain falls on 2010, there will still be a lot of unfinished business, and a lot of things we meant to do but didn’t get done. In this case, we don’t get to box up the pieces and put the game away. As the curtain rises on 2011, we will continue playing. Just like the game of Monopoly, we don’t know how it will turn out. We can try to do everything right, pick the right cards, buy the right properties, and not take too many stupid chances, but sometimes we still get hit with unexpected problems. It has a lot to do with the roll of the dice.
No matter what happens, it boils down to staying in the game and continuing to play, even when the road ahead looks daunting. In life and in Monopoly, I’ve come to the end of some years, and wondered how I was ever going to make it. The mountains for many people seem very big at times. When that mountain looks too big to climb or overcome, instead of giving up, it’s time to look at it as a challenge and find a way to conquer it.
When I was cross-country ski racing, I never looked at how many miles I still had left to the finish or to the top of a steep climb. I concentrated on where I was, how to attack the next hill, and how many miles I had behind me. It’s easier to say, “10 miles down,” instead of “25 miles to go.”
May your New Year be filled with good health, happiness, and wonderful opportunities in life, just like in the game of Monopoly. May you never land on the Go To Jail square, may you find a Free Parking space, and when you pass GO, collect $200.
The curtain is rising on a new year and the journey continues. Have a great one!
Sunday, December 19, 2010
The Kingdom of Driftless Beauty
Across the Fence #318 (Christmas Extra)
The following story runs in the Westby Times in their Christmas issue.
Fairy Princess Sonja sat on top of Three Rock Chimney, the highest point of Sunshine Prairie in the Kingdom of Driftless Beauty, trying to determine what was wrong. It was almost Christmas, but there was no joy in the kingdom. There was no snow, the Christmas lights kept going out, and no one had heard a word from Santa Claus since last Christmas. Sonja knew there was evil in the world and bad things sometimes happened, but righting those wrongs was her job, and she loved it. She felt very fortunate to be the Fairy Princess in the Kingdom of Driftless Beauty.
Sonja pondered the words of Ole, the green-striped frog, who said that someone in the kingdom must be depressed or angry and causing all the problems. It was true that the Wicked Witch of the Southeast had cast a spell over the royal prince and princess and turned them into a Troll and one of the Billy Goats Gruff, but that happened years ago, long before the cow jumped over the moon, made the little boy laugh, and the dish run away with the spoon. Why should they still feel depressed or angry after all these years?
“By the way, I wonder what ever happened to that cow?” Sonja questioned out loud.
“What cow?” asked Ole, “Are you talking about the cow that Jack sold for the beans, that turned into the beanstalk, and where the terrible giant lived?”
“No, not that cow, the one that jumped over the moon.”
“Oh, that one,” said Ole, “I haven’t the froggiest idea, but I’ve wondered what happened to the dish that ran off with the spoon. Talk about your odd couple!”
“Enough of this talk,” said Sonja. “We’re getting off the subject. The problem is to find out who’s depressed and angry at this time of year. It’s causing some real problems. All the Christmas lights keep going out. We can’t have that happening now. This is supposed to be a happy, joyous time of year.”
So... aren’t you gonna’ find out who’s got a problem and get this whole light-dimming thing fixed?”
Just then a white dove appeared, landed on Sonja’s shoulder, and whispered in her ear.
“I have work to do,” said Sonja, as she climbed aboard Sun Dancer, her flying Unicorn, and with the white dove riding on her shoulder they were off.
They soon touched down in Mary’s garden, where Mary was sitting and looking quite forlorn.
“Mary, Mary, quite contrary,” said Sonja, “How does your garden grow?”
Mary looked up with tears in her eyes. “Not worth a darn, since the rain quit falling. My poor garden is drying up and everything is dying.”
“I’m sorry about that Mary, but I’m trying to fix the situation. I understand you may have an idea who’s causing the problems.”
“I was over at Prairie View Mall this morning, shopping for some low-moisture, flowering cactus plants for my garden, when I overheard the Butcher, the Baker, and the Candlestick Maker talking. It seems that Jack-Be-Nimble had tried to jump over a candlestick and didn’t clear the flame. They said he singed his you-know-what and vowed he’d get even with the Candlestick Maker. They said he was really angry and depressed. I think Jack’s your man.”
“Sounds like he may be the cause of all the trouble. I think I better visit Jack-Be-Nimble and see if we can get to the bottom of this.”
With that she was off in a cloud of dust. Normally she would have left in a cloud of daisies and rose petals, but due to the lack of rain and snow, the land was turning into a dust bowl of dying plants and flowers.
When Sonja arrived at Jack-Be-Nimble’s house, she found him lying on his couch still nursing his burns. He was depressed and angry, but not enough to cause the problems plaguing the Kingdom.
Sonja left Jack’s house and started down the street when she encountered a little girl sitting and crying by the side of Cherry Blossom Lane.
“Why the big tears, little girl,” asked Sonja.
“There’s not going to be a Christmas,” cried the little girl. After the rain quit falling this summer, everything started drying up. Now the Christmas trees are dying, the Christmas lights keep going out, it’s not going to snow this year, and Santa won’t be able to come. It must be the Grinch trying to steal Christmas again. Either that, or Scrooge has moved back into the Kingdom. There’s not going to be a Christmas, I just know it!”
“Now, now, little girl, there’s going to be a Christmas. I’m the Fairy Princess Sonja from Sunshine Prairie and I would never lie to you. Just because the leaders of the Kingdom have been known to lie, doesn’t mean that Sonja would lie to you. Now, put on a happy face and I’ll take a trip to the North Pole and see if I can get to the bottom of this problem. I’ll explain the situation to Santa and tell him all the little boys and girls are counting on him, and snow or no snow, he has to make the trip on Christmas Eve. Just keep that Christmas spirit in your heart and it will come.”
The little girl was smiling again as Sonja, the white dove, and Sun Dancer broke out their heavy coats and struck a course due North.
As they approached the North Pole they encountered increasing turbulence the closer they got. Sonja was almost thrown from the back of Sun Dancer as they made their final approach to the Reindeer landing strip. For being only a few days before Christmas, things seemed extremely quiet. There was not an elf in sight, no reindeer practicing takeoffs and landings, no stockpiles of presents, no nothing. As Sun Dancer glided to a stop on the runway, Sonja dismounted and looked around. Not a soul in sight. Something was very wrong here. She grabbed a bouquet of thorn-studded rose stems for protection and headed for the toyshop. Sun Dancer walked cautiously behind her and even the white dove seemed nervous.
She knocked on the door but there was no answer. It was unlocked, so she carefully opened the door and peered inside. The normally noisy and busy workshop was silent. Sonja moved cautiously through the huge workshop, past piles of unfinished toys, and headed for Santa’s desk. The huge rolltop desk, usually piled high with letters this time of year, now stood empty. Across the front was tacked a sign, “Gone Fishing,” signed: Ex-Santa Claus.
“What in the world is going on, Sonja said to the white dove, “It’s almost Christmas and Santa has gone fishing. We are in trouble.”
The white dove whispered in Sonja’s ear.
“Oh, why didn’t I think of that? Of course... we’ll find Mrs. Claus and ask her what’s going on.”
They left the Toy Shop and headed down the snow-covered walk, lined with candy canes, to the little cottage where Santa and Mrs. Claus lived. A ribbon of smoke curled lazily from the chimney.
Sonja grabbed the door-knocker shaped like a Christmas tree, and pounded it against the door several times. The door opened slightly and Mrs. Claus peeked out.
“Oh, thank goodness it’s you Sonja. I was afraid it was those people again.” She had a sad look in her eyes and paused to wipe a tear that was rolling down her rosy cheek. Haven’t you heard Sonja? Christmas has been canceled.”
“I don’t believe it,” said a shocked Fairy Princess Sonja. “Who canceled it and why?”
“Come in, come in,” said Mrs. Claus. She ushered Sonja to a cushioned rocking chair. “Can I get you a cup of hot cider? You’ve had a long trip.”
“I’d like that, but tell me what happened first.”
Mrs. Claus sat down and peered over the top of her granny glasses. “It all started about six months ago. These strangers came from a place called Mad Towne, beyond the Kingdom of Driftless Beauty. Said they were with the Down With Santa Claus Foundation and were canceling Christmas. They said it’s all a myth, and was time for Santa to stop this charade of making little boys and girls believe in something that didn’t exist. They said children needed to face reality and they were spreading the word that there was no Santa. They even outlawed Christmas programs in the schools. Claimed it was corrupting the minds of little children and making them live in a fantasy world. They brought their lawyer along to serve papers on poor Santa to cease and desist from further corruption of children’s beliefs or they’d throw him in jail. It’s over. Christmas has been canceled... forever.”
“Oh no,” Sonja said. “I can’t believe this is happening. All the little boys and girls are expecting Santa to arrive as usual in a few days. They’ll be heartbroken.”
“I’m sorry, but there was nothing we could do. They had a court order saying Christmas was canceled. Santa took it real hard. He had to lay off all the elves and send them home. I don’t know what they’ll do now. There’s not much of a job market for toy-making elves without Christmas. He also let the reindeer loose and they headed back to the wild. We’ve been worried sick about them because this has been the hunting season and they aren’t used to being out in the woods.
Santa was so depressed and angry about the whole affair, he put up a sign “Gone Fishing,” so people wouldn’t disturb him. Trouble is, he was too depressed and angry to go fishing. He’s been staying in the haymow of the reindeer barn. Just sits up there and worries about all the children who will be disappointed this year. He knows they’ll blame him. You’ve got to do something Sonja. I’m really worried about his welfare.”
“Now we know the source of all the problems back in the Kingdom,” said Sonja. It was Santa who was depressed and angry. The last person I would have thought of. But don’t worry Mrs. Claus, there will be a Christmas. But first I need to talk to Mr. Claus. We don’t have any time to waste.”
Sonja hurried off toward the reindeer barn with the white dove and Sun Dancer close behind. She didn’t bother to knock, but flung open the door and marched in.
“Santa, come down here. We need to talk.”
“Go away,” came a weak voice from the haymow. “I don’t want to see anyone.”
“Santa, you have to come down. There’s much work to do before Christmas and we have very little time left.”
“Sonja, haven’t you heard? Christmas is cancelled. It is no more. I have the “Stop Christmas” restraining order right here in my hand, personally delivered by a lawyer of the party that’s putting an end to Christmas.” Santa waved the paper in the air so Sonja could see it from where she stood.
Are you going to let a little piece of paper get in the way of you and all those little boys and girls? Do you know how many children are counting on your arrival and how disappointed they’re going to be if you don’t show up? Listen to me Santa. If you don’t show up, then you really are a myth, just like those people claim you are. But we know different, don’t we Santa? You’re very real in the hearts and minds of all those children. What will they think if you don’t show?”
Santa’s head peered over the edge of the haymow as he looked down at Sonja.
“How would you feel if they told everyone there was no such thing as a fairy princess? They say I’m just a myth. I don’t know what to do. Look at me Sonja, I’m as real as you are!”
“We know that Santa, and now it’s time to prove it to all the children who are counting on you being real. Come on down. There’s a lot of work to do before Christmas.”
“But what about the restraining order? It says I can’t deliver presents any more or pretend to be something I’m not.”
“Are you going to let a small minority of the kingdom ruin Christmas for everyone who does believe in you? The only person who can stop Christmas is you. As long as you have the Christmas spirit in your heart, it will never die.”
“You’re right Sonja. I can’t let all the children down. They’re depending on me, but how can we do it? I laid off all the elves and turned the reindeer loose.”
We’ll get everyone back. Leave it to the white dove, Sun Dancer, and me. Now get down here and back to your workshop. There’s work to be done.”
Before Santa could climb down the ladder, Sonja was out the door and on her way to Toymaker Coulee to inform the elves that Christmas wasn’t canceled after all and they all had their jobs back. The white dove flew off to the Enchanted Forest in search of the reindeer.
Before the sun had set behind the snow-covered hills of Wild Kitty Mountain, elves were streaming into the North Pole from every direction. They arrived on skis, snowshoes, by dog sled, and even by horse-drawn sleighs. Everyone was laughing and singing. It was a joyous day. Christmas wasn’t canceled after all.
Soon Santa’s Workshop was buzzing with activity. It was just like the old days, only better. As often happens when someone is in danger of losing something, it becomes even more appreciated.
As the sun of a new day arrived, there was a flurry of noise and activity outside the workshop. Santa ran to a window to look. With great joy in his voice and the twinkle back in his eyes, he exclaimed, “It’s the reindeer. They’re back. All of them, including Rudolph.”
Things were looking better all the time. They were way behind schedule, but they might just be able to pull it off. Santa was smiling again and his depression and anger were gone.
Back in the Kingdom of Driftless Beauty, it began to snow, all the lights on Christmas trees began to glow again, and this time they didn’t go out. Children everywhere ran to the windows and pressed their faces to the glass and looked out at the new falling snow. Smiles were seen across the Kingdom of Driftless Beauty and the happy, joyous spirit returned to the people. Christmas wasn’t canceled. No restraining order was strong enough to stop it from coming. Just as Fairy Princess Sonja had told the little girl, “As long as you have the Christmas spirit in your heart, it will come!”
The following story runs in the Westby Times in their Christmas issue.
Fairy Princess Sonja sat on top of Three Rock Chimney, the highest point of Sunshine Prairie in the Kingdom of Driftless Beauty, trying to determine what was wrong. It was almost Christmas, but there was no joy in the kingdom. There was no snow, the Christmas lights kept going out, and no one had heard a word from Santa Claus since last Christmas. Sonja knew there was evil in the world and bad things sometimes happened, but righting those wrongs was her job, and she loved it. She felt very fortunate to be the Fairy Princess in the Kingdom of Driftless Beauty.
Sonja pondered the words of Ole, the green-striped frog, who said that someone in the kingdom must be depressed or angry and causing all the problems. It was true that the Wicked Witch of the Southeast had cast a spell over the royal prince and princess and turned them into a Troll and one of the Billy Goats Gruff, but that happened years ago, long before the cow jumped over the moon, made the little boy laugh, and the dish run away with the spoon. Why should they still feel depressed or angry after all these years?
“By the way, I wonder what ever happened to that cow?” Sonja questioned out loud.
“What cow?” asked Ole, “Are you talking about the cow that Jack sold for the beans, that turned into the beanstalk, and where the terrible giant lived?”
“No, not that cow, the one that jumped over the moon.”
“Oh, that one,” said Ole, “I haven’t the froggiest idea, but I’ve wondered what happened to the dish that ran off with the spoon. Talk about your odd couple!”
“Enough of this talk,” said Sonja. “We’re getting off the subject. The problem is to find out who’s depressed and angry at this time of year. It’s causing some real problems. All the Christmas lights keep going out. We can’t have that happening now. This is supposed to be a happy, joyous time of year.”
So... aren’t you gonna’ find out who’s got a problem and get this whole light-dimming thing fixed?”
Just then a white dove appeared, landed on Sonja’s shoulder, and whispered in her ear.
“I have work to do,” said Sonja, as she climbed aboard Sun Dancer, her flying Unicorn, and with the white dove riding on her shoulder they were off.
They soon touched down in Mary’s garden, where Mary was sitting and looking quite forlorn.
“Mary, Mary, quite contrary,” said Sonja, “How does your garden grow?”
Mary looked up with tears in her eyes. “Not worth a darn, since the rain quit falling. My poor garden is drying up and everything is dying.”
“I’m sorry about that Mary, but I’m trying to fix the situation. I understand you may have an idea who’s causing the problems.”
“I was over at Prairie View Mall this morning, shopping for some low-moisture, flowering cactus plants for my garden, when I overheard the Butcher, the Baker, and the Candlestick Maker talking. It seems that Jack-Be-Nimble had tried to jump over a candlestick and didn’t clear the flame. They said he singed his you-know-what and vowed he’d get even with the Candlestick Maker. They said he was really angry and depressed. I think Jack’s your man.”
“Sounds like he may be the cause of all the trouble. I think I better visit Jack-Be-Nimble and see if we can get to the bottom of this.”
With that she was off in a cloud of dust. Normally she would have left in a cloud of daisies and rose petals, but due to the lack of rain and snow, the land was turning into a dust bowl of dying plants and flowers.
When Sonja arrived at Jack-Be-Nimble’s house, she found him lying on his couch still nursing his burns. He was depressed and angry, but not enough to cause the problems plaguing the Kingdom.
Sonja left Jack’s house and started down the street when she encountered a little girl sitting and crying by the side of Cherry Blossom Lane.
“Why the big tears, little girl,” asked Sonja.
“There’s not going to be a Christmas,” cried the little girl. After the rain quit falling this summer, everything started drying up. Now the Christmas trees are dying, the Christmas lights keep going out, it’s not going to snow this year, and Santa won’t be able to come. It must be the Grinch trying to steal Christmas again. Either that, or Scrooge has moved back into the Kingdom. There’s not going to be a Christmas, I just know it!”
“Now, now, little girl, there’s going to be a Christmas. I’m the Fairy Princess Sonja from Sunshine Prairie and I would never lie to you. Just because the leaders of the Kingdom have been known to lie, doesn’t mean that Sonja would lie to you. Now, put on a happy face and I’ll take a trip to the North Pole and see if I can get to the bottom of this problem. I’ll explain the situation to Santa and tell him all the little boys and girls are counting on him, and snow or no snow, he has to make the trip on Christmas Eve. Just keep that Christmas spirit in your heart and it will come.”
The little girl was smiling again as Sonja, the white dove, and Sun Dancer broke out their heavy coats and struck a course due North.
As they approached the North Pole they encountered increasing turbulence the closer they got. Sonja was almost thrown from the back of Sun Dancer as they made their final approach to the Reindeer landing strip. For being only a few days before Christmas, things seemed extremely quiet. There was not an elf in sight, no reindeer practicing takeoffs and landings, no stockpiles of presents, no nothing. As Sun Dancer glided to a stop on the runway, Sonja dismounted and looked around. Not a soul in sight. Something was very wrong here. She grabbed a bouquet of thorn-studded rose stems for protection and headed for the toyshop. Sun Dancer walked cautiously behind her and even the white dove seemed nervous.
She knocked on the door but there was no answer. It was unlocked, so she carefully opened the door and peered inside. The normally noisy and busy workshop was silent. Sonja moved cautiously through the huge workshop, past piles of unfinished toys, and headed for Santa’s desk. The huge rolltop desk, usually piled high with letters this time of year, now stood empty. Across the front was tacked a sign, “Gone Fishing,” signed: Ex-Santa Claus.
“What in the world is going on, Sonja said to the white dove, “It’s almost Christmas and Santa has gone fishing. We are in trouble.”
The white dove whispered in Sonja’s ear.
“Oh, why didn’t I think of that? Of course... we’ll find Mrs. Claus and ask her what’s going on.”
They left the Toy Shop and headed down the snow-covered walk, lined with candy canes, to the little cottage where Santa and Mrs. Claus lived. A ribbon of smoke curled lazily from the chimney.
Sonja grabbed the door-knocker shaped like a Christmas tree, and pounded it against the door several times. The door opened slightly and Mrs. Claus peeked out.
“Oh, thank goodness it’s you Sonja. I was afraid it was those people again.” She had a sad look in her eyes and paused to wipe a tear that was rolling down her rosy cheek. Haven’t you heard Sonja? Christmas has been canceled.”
“I don’t believe it,” said a shocked Fairy Princess Sonja. “Who canceled it and why?”
“Come in, come in,” said Mrs. Claus. She ushered Sonja to a cushioned rocking chair. “Can I get you a cup of hot cider? You’ve had a long trip.”
“I’d like that, but tell me what happened first.”
Mrs. Claus sat down and peered over the top of her granny glasses. “It all started about six months ago. These strangers came from a place called Mad Towne, beyond the Kingdom of Driftless Beauty. Said they were with the Down With Santa Claus Foundation and were canceling Christmas. They said it’s all a myth, and was time for Santa to stop this charade of making little boys and girls believe in something that didn’t exist. They said children needed to face reality and they were spreading the word that there was no Santa. They even outlawed Christmas programs in the schools. Claimed it was corrupting the minds of little children and making them live in a fantasy world. They brought their lawyer along to serve papers on poor Santa to cease and desist from further corruption of children’s beliefs or they’d throw him in jail. It’s over. Christmas has been canceled... forever.”
“Oh no,” Sonja said. “I can’t believe this is happening. All the little boys and girls are expecting Santa to arrive as usual in a few days. They’ll be heartbroken.”
“I’m sorry, but there was nothing we could do. They had a court order saying Christmas was canceled. Santa took it real hard. He had to lay off all the elves and send them home. I don’t know what they’ll do now. There’s not much of a job market for toy-making elves without Christmas. He also let the reindeer loose and they headed back to the wild. We’ve been worried sick about them because this has been the hunting season and they aren’t used to being out in the woods.
Santa was so depressed and angry about the whole affair, he put up a sign “Gone Fishing,” so people wouldn’t disturb him. Trouble is, he was too depressed and angry to go fishing. He’s been staying in the haymow of the reindeer barn. Just sits up there and worries about all the children who will be disappointed this year. He knows they’ll blame him. You’ve got to do something Sonja. I’m really worried about his welfare.”
“Now we know the source of all the problems back in the Kingdom,” said Sonja. It was Santa who was depressed and angry. The last person I would have thought of. But don’t worry Mrs. Claus, there will be a Christmas. But first I need to talk to Mr. Claus. We don’t have any time to waste.”
Sonja hurried off toward the reindeer barn with the white dove and Sun Dancer close behind. She didn’t bother to knock, but flung open the door and marched in.
“Santa, come down here. We need to talk.”
“Go away,” came a weak voice from the haymow. “I don’t want to see anyone.”
“Santa, you have to come down. There’s much work to do before Christmas and we have very little time left.”
“Sonja, haven’t you heard? Christmas is cancelled. It is no more. I have the “Stop Christmas” restraining order right here in my hand, personally delivered by a lawyer of the party that’s putting an end to Christmas.” Santa waved the paper in the air so Sonja could see it from where she stood.
Are you going to let a little piece of paper get in the way of you and all those little boys and girls? Do you know how many children are counting on your arrival and how disappointed they’re going to be if you don’t show up? Listen to me Santa. If you don’t show up, then you really are a myth, just like those people claim you are. But we know different, don’t we Santa? You’re very real in the hearts and minds of all those children. What will they think if you don’t show?”
Santa’s head peered over the edge of the haymow as he looked down at Sonja.
“How would you feel if they told everyone there was no such thing as a fairy princess? They say I’m just a myth. I don’t know what to do. Look at me Sonja, I’m as real as you are!”
“We know that Santa, and now it’s time to prove it to all the children who are counting on you being real. Come on down. There’s a lot of work to do before Christmas.”
“But what about the restraining order? It says I can’t deliver presents any more or pretend to be something I’m not.”
“Are you going to let a small minority of the kingdom ruin Christmas for everyone who does believe in you? The only person who can stop Christmas is you. As long as you have the Christmas spirit in your heart, it will never die.”
“You’re right Sonja. I can’t let all the children down. They’re depending on me, but how can we do it? I laid off all the elves and turned the reindeer loose.”
We’ll get everyone back. Leave it to the white dove, Sun Dancer, and me. Now get down here and back to your workshop. There’s work to be done.”
Before Santa could climb down the ladder, Sonja was out the door and on her way to Toymaker Coulee to inform the elves that Christmas wasn’t canceled after all and they all had their jobs back. The white dove flew off to the Enchanted Forest in search of the reindeer.
Before the sun had set behind the snow-covered hills of Wild Kitty Mountain, elves were streaming into the North Pole from every direction. They arrived on skis, snowshoes, by dog sled, and even by horse-drawn sleighs. Everyone was laughing and singing. It was a joyous day. Christmas wasn’t canceled after all.
Soon Santa’s Workshop was buzzing with activity. It was just like the old days, only better. As often happens when someone is in danger of losing something, it becomes even more appreciated.
As the sun of a new day arrived, there was a flurry of noise and activity outside the workshop. Santa ran to a window to look. With great joy in his voice and the twinkle back in his eyes, he exclaimed, “It’s the reindeer. They’re back. All of them, including Rudolph.”
Things were looking better all the time. They were way behind schedule, but they might just be able to pull it off. Santa was smiling again and his depression and anger were gone.
Back in the Kingdom of Driftless Beauty, it began to snow, all the lights on Christmas trees began to glow again, and this time they didn’t go out. Children everywhere ran to the windows and pressed their faces to the glass and looked out at the new falling snow. Smiles were seen across the Kingdom of Driftless Beauty and the happy, joyous spirit returned to the people. Christmas wasn’t canceled. No restraining order was strong enough to stop it from coming. Just as Fairy Princess Sonja had told the little girl, “As long as you have the Christmas spirit in your heart, it will come!”
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Blizzards Are Good for the Soul
Across the Fence #318
The weather outside is frightful, but inside it’s so delightful, and since we’ve no place to go, let is snow, let it blow, let it snow.
The snow is falling in Sherpeland today. Well, it’s not exactly falling; it’s blowing sideways. The wind is really howling across the prairie. How windy is it? It’s so windy a bird flew by the window… sideways. The freezing rain that arrived before the snowstorm, created a layer of icy crust on the existing snow. The wind is so powerful, the ground-feeding birds under our bird feeder go sliding across the snow, propelled by wind gusts.
The birds have been in a feeding frenzy today. They seem to know there’s a blizzard coming. I counted twenty mourning doves at one time under the feeder near our window. When I was filling the feeder in the wooded area near the house, a chickadee landed on my hand and ate seeds I was holding. A nuthatch kept working down a branch and came within six inches of my outstretched hand, but couldn’t get up the nerve to hop onto my fingers. Perhaps another day, we’ll connect.
It’s now evening. This will be a cold, wet, windy night for our birds. They’ll need all the food they can get to keep their metabolism up and keep warm. Winter is harsh in Wisconsin, Minnesota, and Iowa for birds and animals. Many will die. We like to give the birds around us a better chance at survival by providing them a source of food. I guess you could say they’re our pets, even though they don’t give any affection and appreciation back, like you receive from dogs and cats.
At the moment our “pets” are in the middle of a raging blizzard. The weather forecast says we could have blizzard conditions tonight and tomorrow. I have news for them, step outside, the blizzard is here! The wind is roaring and no lights can be seen around the countryside. We’re isolated, alone in the midst of a blizzard in the country. Travel isn’t advised on any roads tonight or tomorrow. Even if we wanted to travel we couldn’t get out of our driveway. My only mode of travel at the moment would be on my snowshoes and that would be foolhardy with these high wind chills and whiteout conditions. We’re hunkering down and staying put for the duration.
This reminds me of old-fashioned blizzards we had when I was young. At least now I don’t need to go out to the barn and do chores and milk cows. That was always a challenge on days like this. Our old barn was quite drafty, and cold winds with sub-zero temperatures, sometimes froze the water in the drinking cups. It was even worse when a water pipe would burst. Those had to be tough times for all farmers and those problems never change. Blizzards and sub-zero temperatures still arrive each winter, and pipes still freeze.
When I was young, we never wanted a snowstorm, especially a blizzard, to arrive on Christmas Eve. Even Santa would have a hard time finding his way in a blizzard. Rudolph was good at leading the way through fog, but we weren’t too sure he could find his way in a blizzard. Plus, those strong winds could blow Santa’s sleigh and reindeer off course and he wouldn’t be able to find our house. As far as I know, Santa didn’t have a GPS when I was young. But he must have had a very good sense of direction and detailed maps, because he always found our house.
We never did get to visit with Santa like kids do now. Today there’s a Santa in every shopping mall where kids can tell him what they want. When I was young, Santa only made one visit to Westby prior to Christmas. If I remember right, he arrived on a flatbed truck and they parked it between two buildings on Main Street. Santa stood on the back of the truck and handed out bags of hard candy to all the kids. We never got to talk to him or tell him what we wanted for Christmas. I don’t recall ever writing Santa a letter either. Somehow he knew what we wanted and where we lived. But, I’m still a bit miffed with Santa for never bringing me that Lionel electric train I always wanted. I guess I should have written him a letter.
Those days when I waited for Santa to arrive are now history, just like the blizzard is history. Our road that connects us with the outside world is open again, but I liked being snowed in. The blizzard isolated us for a couple days, and allowed me to kick back and reflect. It was good for the soul. Maybe we all need a good blizzard every once in a while to help us slow down and get back in touch with what’s important. Life gets down to the very basics when Mother Nature unleashes her fury… shelter, warmth, and food. Birds, animals, and people, all need help at times. Providing our fellow travelers on “Spaceship Earth” with food, shelter, and love during trying times; is the best gift we can give any time of year.
Merry Christmas from my side of the fence to yours!
The weather outside is frightful, but inside it’s so delightful, and since we’ve no place to go, let is snow, let it blow, let it snow.
The snow is falling in Sherpeland today. Well, it’s not exactly falling; it’s blowing sideways. The wind is really howling across the prairie. How windy is it? It’s so windy a bird flew by the window… sideways. The freezing rain that arrived before the snowstorm, created a layer of icy crust on the existing snow. The wind is so powerful, the ground-feeding birds under our bird feeder go sliding across the snow, propelled by wind gusts.
The birds have been in a feeding frenzy today. They seem to know there’s a blizzard coming. I counted twenty mourning doves at one time under the feeder near our window. When I was filling the feeder in the wooded area near the house, a chickadee landed on my hand and ate seeds I was holding. A nuthatch kept working down a branch and came within six inches of my outstretched hand, but couldn’t get up the nerve to hop onto my fingers. Perhaps another day, we’ll connect.
It’s now evening. This will be a cold, wet, windy night for our birds. They’ll need all the food they can get to keep their metabolism up and keep warm. Winter is harsh in Wisconsin, Minnesota, and Iowa for birds and animals. Many will die. We like to give the birds around us a better chance at survival by providing them a source of food. I guess you could say they’re our pets, even though they don’t give any affection and appreciation back, like you receive from dogs and cats.
At the moment our “pets” are in the middle of a raging blizzard. The weather forecast says we could have blizzard conditions tonight and tomorrow. I have news for them, step outside, the blizzard is here! The wind is roaring and no lights can be seen around the countryside. We’re isolated, alone in the midst of a blizzard in the country. Travel isn’t advised on any roads tonight or tomorrow. Even if we wanted to travel we couldn’t get out of our driveway. My only mode of travel at the moment would be on my snowshoes and that would be foolhardy with these high wind chills and whiteout conditions. We’re hunkering down and staying put for the duration.
This reminds me of old-fashioned blizzards we had when I was young. At least now I don’t need to go out to the barn and do chores and milk cows. That was always a challenge on days like this. Our old barn was quite drafty, and cold winds with sub-zero temperatures, sometimes froze the water in the drinking cups. It was even worse when a water pipe would burst. Those had to be tough times for all farmers and those problems never change. Blizzards and sub-zero temperatures still arrive each winter, and pipes still freeze.
When I was young, we never wanted a snowstorm, especially a blizzard, to arrive on Christmas Eve. Even Santa would have a hard time finding his way in a blizzard. Rudolph was good at leading the way through fog, but we weren’t too sure he could find his way in a blizzard. Plus, those strong winds could blow Santa’s sleigh and reindeer off course and he wouldn’t be able to find our house. As far as I know, Santa didn’t have a GPS when I was young. But he must have had a very good sense of direction and detailed maps, because he always found our house.
We never did get to visit with Santa like kids do now. Today there’s a Santa in every shopping mall where kids can tell him what they want. When I was young, Santa only made one visit to Westby prior to Christmas. If I remember right, he arrived on a flatbed truck and they parked it between two buildings on Main Street. Santa stood on the back of the truck and handed out bags of hard candy to all the kids. We never got to talk to him or tell him what we wanted for Christmas. I don’t recall ever writing Santa a letter either. Somehow he knew what we wanted and where we lived. But, I’m still a bit miffed with Santa for never bringing me that Lionel electric train I always wanted. I guess I should have written him a letter.
Those days when I waited for Santa to arrive are now history, just like the blizzard is history. Our road that connects us with the outside world is open again, but I liked being snowed in. The blizzard isolated us for a couple days, and allowed me to kick back and reflect. It was good for the soul. Maybe we all need a good blizzard every once in a while to help us slow down and get back in touch with what’s important. Life gets down to the very basics when Mother Nature unleashes her fury… shelter, warmth, and food. Birds, animals, and people, all need help at times. Providing our fellow travelers on “Spaceship Earth” with food, shelter, and love during trying times; is the best gift we can give any time of year.
Merry Christmas from my side of the fence to yours!
Saturday, December 11, 2010
There's A Threat To Rural America
Across the Fence #317
This may be the most important “Across the Fence” column I ever write. I stay away from political issues in this column, but this issue could have a detrimental affect on the rural America that I write about and love. I can’t just sit on my hands and not let all of you, who live and work in rural and small town areas, know what your representatives in Washington will be voting on. There’s a serious threat to the future of a vital rural America. It comes in the form of the National Broadband Plan.
The National Broadband Plan is the FCC’s response to a congressional mandate to assure every American household has access to fast and affordable broadband service. Broadband in telecommunications, refers to data transmission, where multiple pieces of data are sent simultaneously. With wider broadband, more data can be sent faster. This affects your television and Internet service.
This plan should help rural America, but as it’s now written, it could hinder rather than advance broadband service for people in rural areas. This plan discriminates against rural customers by setting a speed standard that is 25 times slower than the speeds in city and urban areas. Support from the Universal Service Fund (USF) will only fund speeds up to 4 MB in rural areas, where it will fund speeds of 100 MB in urban areas. The FCC’s goal is to equip 100 million homes with 100 MB of service. Reaching that goal is much easier in urban areas than in rural areas. Without this support mechanism, many rural telecommunication companies will not be able to maintain service above 4 MB. Prices will be much higher for the same service in rural areas due to the lower customer densities and higher per subscriber cost of building and maintaining rural networks.
Broadband speed is vital to businesses competing nationally and internationally. Where 4 MB is adequate for most people today, tomorrow it will be as slow as a snail’s pace. It’s barely enough to download a Netflix movie or do some serious gaming on the Internet.
Let’s put what all this means to the information super-highway in another way. What if the federal government suddenly informed you that it planned to focus the majority of its transportation funds and resources on large metropolitan areas? Bigger and better roads would be built in those areas, while rural areas and small towns would have to get by with gravel and dirt roads. Urban people would be speeding along on their multi-lane, super-highways, while those of us in rural areas would be traveling slow, often bogged down, and barely moving, on the muddy, dirt roads.
Without access to the information super-highway, many rural businesses would find it hard to operate and compete. They would have to relocate those businesses to large, urban areas in order to have access to the higher speeds they need. Reliable, high-speed broadband is essential in today’s global economy in order to conduct business.
What will happen to small towns if businesses and industries had to move out of the area to stay in business? Employees would either have to move–if given the choice, or become unemployed. Unemployment is already too high in rural America. The loss of businesses and jobs will greatly impact all other businesses in those communities, including your local newspapers. It will have a domino affect. With less people and dollars to buy their products and services, other businesses will be forced out of business. Some small towns around the country could become ghost towns. This National Broadband Plan, as it is now written, is very anti-rural.
It’s time for everyone to exercise their voice and let their congressmen and U.S. Senators know they are against the National Broadband Plan. Let them know your concerns. Tell them you don’t want rural areas to be discriminated against and become second-class citizens when it comes to telecommunications. Urge them to support regulatory action that ensures equal access to broadband for all Americans, not just large urban areas.
Unless they hear from enough of us, this plan could become law and then it will be too late. The dominoes will begin to fall and who knows what will be left standing when the dust settles.
I always try to share positive stories as we visit across the fence each week. This story can still have a happy, positive ending, but it’s up to all of us in small towns and rural America to help write that ending. We can do it by exercising our right as Americans to voice our opinions. Don’t wait for someone else to write the ending for you or you may not like the way the story plays out. It’s time to stand up and be counted and not let our way of life be relegated to second-class status.
This may be the most important “Across the Fence” column I ever write. I stay away from political issues in this column, but this issue could have a detrimental affect on the rural America that I write about and love. I can’t just sit on my hands and not let all of you, who live and work in rural and small town areas, know what your representatives in Washington will be voting on. There’s a serious threat to the future of a vital rural America. It comes in the form of the National Broadband Plan.
The National Broadband Plan is the FCC’s response to a congressional mandate to assure every American household has access to fast and affordable broadband service. Broadband in telecommunications, refers to data transmission, where multiple pieces of data are sent simultaneously. With wider broadband, more data can be sent faster. This affects your television and Internet service.
This plan should help rural America, but as it’s now written, it could hinder rather than advance broadband service for people in rural areas. This plan discriminates against rural customers by setting a speed standard that is 25 times slower than the speeds in city and urban areas. Support from the Universal Service Fund (USF) will only fund speeds up to 4 MB in rural areas, where it will fund speeds of 100 MB in urban areas. The FCC’s goal is to equip 100 million homes with 100 MB of service. Reaching that goal is much easier in urban areas than in rural areas. Without this support mechanism, many rural telecommunication companies will not be able to maintain service above 4 MB. Prices will be much higher for the same service in rural areas due to the lower customer densities and higher per subscriber cost of building and maintaining rural networks.
Broadband speed is vital to businesses competing nationally and internationally. Where 4 MB is adequate for most people today, tomorrow it will be as slow as a snail’s pace. It’s barely enough to download a Netflix movie or do some serious gaming on the Internet.
Let’s put what all this means to the information super-highway in another way. What if the federal government suddenly informed you that it planned to focus the majority of its transportation funds and resources on large metropolitan areas? Bigger and better roads would be built in those areas, while rural areas and small towns would have to get by with gravel and dirt roads. Urban people would be speeding along on their multi-lane, super-highways, while those of us in rural areas would be traveling slow, often bogged down, and barely moving, on the muddy, dirt roads.
Without access to the information super-highway, many rural businesses would find it hard to operate and compete. They would have to relocate those businesses to large, urban areas in order to have access to the higher speeds they need. Reliable, high-speed broadband is essential in today’s global economy in order to conduct business.
What will happen to small towns if businesses and industries had to move out of the area to stay in business? Employees would either have to move–if given the choice, or become unemployed. Unemployment is already too high in rural America. The loss of businesses and jobs will greatly impact all other businesses in those communities, including your local newspapers. It will have a domino affect. With less people and dollars to buy their products and services, other businesses will be forced out of business. Some small towns around the country could become ghost towns. This National Broadband Plan, as it is now written, is very anti-rural.
It’s time for everyone to exercise their voice and let their congressmen and U.S. Senators know they are against the National Broadband Plan. Let them know your concerns. Tell them you don’t want rural areas to be discriminated against and become second-class citizens when it comes to telecommunications. Urge them to support regulatory action that ensures equal access to broadband for all Americans, not just large urban areas.
Unless they hear from enough of us, this plan could become law and then it will be too late. The dominoes will begin to fall and who knows what will be left standing when the dust settles.
I always try to share positive stories as we visit across the fence each week. This story can still have a happy, positive ending, but it’s up to all of us in small towns and rural America to help write that ending. We can do it by exercising our right as Americans to voice our opinions. Don’t wait for someone else to write the ending for you or you may not like the way the story plays out. It’s time to stand up and be counted and not let our way of life be relegated to second-class status.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Let There Be Light
Across the Fence #316
Let there be Christmas lights. I can’t believe I’m the only person who has problems with those strings of Christmas lights. Tell me I’m not alone.
It never fails. I get the box out of the basement, where I had neatly packed the lights after using them last year, and as soon as I take them out of the box, they become all tangled up. I don’t understand it. There must be a “Nisse” living in our basement. They love to create all kinds of mischief if you don’t feed them on Christmas Eve. They usually live in barns, but the old barn on the farm was torn down a couple years ago, and I suspect the little bugger decided to hide out in our basement. He’s probably a long ago stowaway on a ship my ancestors came from Norway on. This Nisse is either really old, or a descendent of the original Nisse.
But here I am talking about Nisser (that’s plural) and many of you probably aren’t aware of them. How rude of me. You may not even believe they exist.
There are several types of Nisser in Norway. The best known is the “Fjøsnisse” which is a Nisse who takes care of the animals on the farms. He’s very short and often bearded and lives in a barn or stable. He wears clothes of wool and often has a red knitted hat. You should always give him a large portion of rommegrot on Christmas Eve if you want to keep him friendly toward everyone that lives on the farm. It’s important that you leave a bowl of rommegrot for the Nisse, who – according to superstition – is the protector of the farm. If you don’t leave some rommegrot for the Nisse, he may play tricks on you. Sometimes he scares people by blowing out the lights in the barn or scares the farm dog at night. He might move the animals around in the barn, braid the horses’ mane, or tie their tails together, and other tricks like that.
There’s an interesting story about one of my ancestral farms in Norway. This story is told in the Lund History book about the Ege farm.
In 1750, all the buildings on the farm burned down. There was a Nisse who lived on the Ege farm. He had lived there for a long time. The Nisse became completely impossible, and it was hard to live with him. My ancestors on the farm decided that they had to chase the Nisse away, and he fled from the farm as fast as his little legs could carry him. To properly scare him, they followed him and shot their guns after him. After he was gone from the farm he became nasty and returned to the Ege farm, and burned all the buildings down! Perhaps my ancestors on the farm, neglected to put the rommegrot out in the barn for the Nisse one Christmas and that started all the problems! If that doesn’t prove to you that the mischievous Nisse is real, I don’t know what will convince you. Now, I will admit, my ancestors probably had a bit too much Christmas beer to drink before they saw him and started chasing after the Nisse and shooting at him.
Enough about history, lets get back to the problem at hand. I think he’s also been tangling up and unscrewing my Christmas lights because I’ve never left any rommegrot for him.
I finally got all the lights untangled. There’s no use spending a lot of time putting a bunch of dead lights up, so I tested them first. They lit up. It was very cold outside. I could barely feel my fingers by the time I got the lights strung. Then I plugged them in to admire my lights and nothing happened. I discovered I’d forgotten to flip the switch inside. I flipped the switch and only half the lights lit up, even though they’d all worked a half hour earlier. After trying to find where the problem was, I finally gave up and bought new lights.
Good Lord, those old lights couldn’t have been more than five or six years old. I’d used them when we lived in Madison. Granted, I had spliced some wires back together that became frayed and broken in the wind, and had wound electrical tape over the splices, but they worked. Not that I’m cheap, but doesn’t anything last any more?
You’re probably saying, “That’s dangerous. He should have thrown the old ones away long ago.” You’re right, but how many of you have strung five or six strings of lights together, even though it says do not connect more than three? Also, how many of you use proper ladder safety etiquette while putting up the lights? I used to put an old rickety stepladder on top of an old wobbly picnic table in order to string our lights in Madison. I’m more careful now that I’m older. I don’t bounce as good.
Despite our problems with the Nisse tangling the lights and somehow making half of them not work, we now have new lights outside and they all work. We still need to put up our tree, so that could be another tangled lights adventure. Let’s hope the Nisse hasn’t messed with those lights.
Let there be Christmas lights. I can’t believe I’m the only person who has problems with those strings of Christmas lights. Tell me I’m not alone.
It never fails. I get the box out of the basement, where I had neatly packed the lights after using them last year, and as soon as I take them out of the box, they become all tangled up. I don’t understand it. There must be a “Nisse” living in our basement. They love to create all kinds of mischief if you don’t feed them on Christmas Eve. They usually live in barns, but the old barn on the farm was torn down a couple years ago, and I suspect the little bugger decided to hide out in our basement. He’s probably a long ago stowaway on a ship my ancestors came from Norway on. This Nisse is either really old, or a descendent of the original Nisse.
But here I am talking about Nisser (that’s plural) and many of you probably aren’t aware of them. How rude of me. You may not even believe they exist.
There are several types of Nisser in Norway. The best known is the “Fjøsnisse” which is a Nisse who takes care of the animals on the farms. He’s very short and often bearded and lives in a barn or stable. He wears clothes of wool and often has a red knitted hat. You should always give him a large portion of rommegrot on Christmas Eve if you want to keep him friendly toward everyone that lives on the farm. It’s important that you leave a bowl of rommegrot for the Nisse, who – according to superstition – is the protector of the farm. If you don’t leave some rommegrot for the Nisse, he may play tricks on you. Sometimes he scares people by blowing out the lights in the barn or scares the farm dog at night. He might move the animals around in the barn, braid the horses’ mane, or tie their tails together, and other tricks like that.
There’s an interesting story about one of my ancestral farms in Norway. This story is told in the Lund History book about the Ege farm.
In 1750, all the buildings on the farm burned down. There was a Nisse who lived on the Ege farm. He had lived there for a long time. The Nisse became completely impossible, and it was hard to live with him. My ancestors on the farm decided that they had to chase the Nisse away, and he fled from the farm as fast as his little legs could carry him. To properly scare him, they followed him and shot their guns after him. After he was gone from the farm he became nasty and returned to the Ege farm, and burned all the buildings down! Perhaps my ancestors on the farm, neglected to put the rommegrot out in the barn for the Nisse one Christmas and that started all the problems! If that doesn’t prove to you that the mischievous Nisse is real, I don’t know what will convince you. Now, I will admit, my ancestors probably had a bit too much Christmas beer to drink before they saw him and started chasing after the Nisse and shooting at him.
Enough about history, lets get back to the problem at hand. I think he’s also been tangling up and unscrewing my Christmas lights because I’ve never left any rommegrot for him.
I finally got all the lights untangled. There’s no use spending a lot of time putting a bunch of dead lights up, so I tested them first. They lit up. It was very cold outside. I could barely feel my fingers by the time I got the lights strung. Then I plugged them in to admire my lights and nothing happened. I discovered I’d forgotten to flip the switch inside. I flipped the switch and only half the lights lit up, even though they’d all worked a half hour earlier. After trying to find where the problem was, I finally gave up and bought new lights.
Good Lord, those old lights couldn’t have been more than five or six years old. I’d used them when we lived in Madison. Granted, I had spliced some wires back together that became frayed and broken in the wind, and had wound electrical tape over the splices, but they worked. Not that I’m cheap, but doesn’t anything last any more?
You’re probably saying, “That’s dangerous. He should have thrown the old ones away long ago.” You’re right, but how many of you have strung five or six strings of lights together, even though it says do not connect more than three? Also, how many of you use proper ladder safety etiquette while putting up the lights? I used to put an old rickety stepladder on top of an old wobbly picnic table in order to string our lights in Madison. I’m more careful now that I’m older. I don’t bounce as good.
Despite our problems with the Nisse tangling the lights and somehow making half of them not work, we now have new lights outside and they all work. We still need to put up our tree, so that could be another tangled lights adventure. Let’s hope the Nisse hasn’t messed with those lights.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)