What does a rusted, old tin cup and a man named Sid have in common? They don't seem to go together, but in my mind they will always be connected. I just held that cup in my hands, turning it over and examining it inside and out. It's like countless other tin cups that now have their final resting place in landfills, dumps, and sink holes around the country. But this old cup holds a special place of honor on my shelf.
I had never met Sid Podell when I received this cup from him. He had read my story about the demise of old windmills and liked the story. He decided I should have the cup that used to hang on his windmill. Sid had a farm near Middleton when we lived in Madison. We got together for lunch and hit it off right away. He was a fascinating man and we became friends. I've mentioned him before in my columns. Sid died a couple weeks ago at the age of 88. The end came on swift wings and there was no time to say goodbye.
After our move to Westby, Sid and I exchanged many e-mails, in which we discussed the world around us, past, present, and future. One time he wrote: "Thanks for your new locator designation. Wishes for happiness in your new environment and activities. I think Sherpeland is the sort of area where Mary and I shall take a summer trip. We'll drive slowly down old-time country Sherpe Road for some cold well water to be drunk from a rusty old cup."
Another time we discussed farm fences. He replied: "As you have realized by now, I find myself constantly challenging the existing order of things, a result of being elderly. It is more compelling for me, than a youngster like you, to look back to the 'good old days.' Well Howard, I too remember the rural fences over which farmer neighbors held conversations. Since reading and enjoying your 'Across the Fence' articles, I have looked around Dane County for old farm fences. None exist. Plus, there are no bib overall clad farmers present, who like to take a little time off from chores to converse across a barbed wire fence with friends and neighbors, out there under the open skies."
We also had many discussions about the human cost of war. During World War II, Sid served in the Army Air Corps as a bombardier on B-29s in the South Pacific. As a combat veteran, he was very involved in Vets for Peace. After he read my cap story last year he wrote: "I presently wear a cap that displays the name of a meaningful peace organization called Vets for Peace. I hope it tells all who look, that I am a WWII combat vet who believes that all warfare is a useless human activity that produces only victims, no victors."
We talked about our war experiences, how they've influenced our thinking, and how we live our lives today as if every day could be our last. Sid flew fourteen combat missions over Japan. As bombardier, he was the one who aimed the bombs when they reached the target; he had armed the bombs earlier, and triggered the toggle switch to release them. Thirteen of those missions were cities, not military targets. That still bothered him. Just as an infantryman releases the bullet that finds its target, he was the one who released the bombs. That's a heavy cross to bear for everyone involved in war.
Another thing we had in common was our love of the writing of Jerry Apps. Sid wrote: "I went to Jerry Apps book reading as part of the Bookfaire event in Madison. I really like his novel 'In A Pickle' and his descriptions of the transformation of agricultural technology and life on the farm in days of yore. I've been driving up to the Vet's Home at King to see an old friend who lives there, and the route goes through Waushara County and the town of Wild Rose where he has relocated in the summertime, on some 65 acres of his old farm. Like you, he loves the land and takes his stand as just one of the creatures that can gain strength and an acceptable life style by living in harmony with plants and other creatures on a non-exploitive basis."
Sid's love of the land and all things on it, his gentleness, and his strong convictions, come through in that message.
Another friend, Bill, said he and Sid talked many times about death and dying. They both said they could "go any time" because they had good lives and had done everything they wanted. I think that's a pretty good attitude. It reminded me of a couple quotes I like, "Death is more universal than life; everyone dies, but not everyone lives." Mark Twain said, "The fear of death follows the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time."
Sid is a friend who left footprints in the many lives he touched along the way. I'm sorry he never made it to "Sherpeland" to drink some cold well water from that old tin cup. This summer, I plan to sit on the back deck on a nice, warm day and raise that cup in a toast to a great man and friend.
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