Across the Fence #376
Fifty degree weather, bare ground, dry roads, I knew it was too good to last. On January 12, winter finally arrived with its cold breath, and wearing a white coat that it left behind. It was just enough to blanket the ground. Since that first snow we’ve had several more close encounters with Old Man Winter. The latest was this morning when he laid down a coating of freezing rain and then dumped a layer of snow on top of the ice to cover up his treachery. I think I’ve had enough of winter now. Bring on the groundhog and let it be an overcast day!
Our driveway is a story unto itself. The wind that always seems to accompany the snow, deposited two-foot drifts in our driveway. It was winter as usual in Sherpeland. Next year I’m putting up a snowfence to try and stop the snow from filling the driveway. It’s worth a try. I wish I could find some snowfence like we had when I was young. It was made with wood laths instead of the orange plastic stuff I see around these days. I still think some old things are better than the new. It’s too bad all those old tobacco laths got buried with the old granary. I could get some flexible wire and string a fence together. I guess that would be more work than just blowing the snow out of the driveway.
There’s something about our driveway that seems to attract snowdrifts like iron to a magnet. In some places the wind will blow the snow away so you can even see the grass. Meanwhile, the driveway has two-foot drifts. It’s always so windy where we live that you don’t need a snowstorm to get snowed in. As long as there’s snow on the ground and wind in the air… we’ve got drifting.
And another thing, what is it about snowblowing that no matter what direction you blow the snow, it always blows back in your face. I look like a snowman when I’m done. Even my glasses get frosted over and icicles hang in my mustache. It doesn’t help that it’s usually dark and 50 below zero when all this takes place. Perhaps I exaggerate a bit, but it feels like 50 below. It’s just one of the many joys of enduring winter on Coon Prairie where the wind blows free and the temperature is always colder than the “official” recorded temps.
I guess I need to get in touch with that kid that used to inhabit my body. He loved frolicking in the snow. It’s hard to find him back these days. I wonder if kids today spend as much time playing outside in the snow as we did, or are they inside, watching TV, on the Internet, busy texting, or playing video games. In all fairness to them, we didn’t have any of those devices when we were very young. We didn’t have a TV until I was 10 or 11 years old. Computers, video games, and texting, were not in our vocabulary and unheard of to us.
Those thoughts came about during a phone conversation with Joel Thompson this week. We were neighbors and best friends when we were growing up. In those days you always wore clothes that an older sibling had outgrown. Since I was the oldest child there weren’t any used clothes in our family, so I inherited a lot of his hand-me-down clothes. He was a year older than me. Joel now lives in North Carolina so we don’t see much of each other, but we make use of new inventions like e-mail, that were alien to us when we were students in Smith School.
During our phone conversation, we recalled all the fun we had playing in the snow. We did a lot of skiing together. We wondered if kids still make ski jumps like we did on Birch Hill and many other hills, or is everything organized and supervised by adults these days. Perhaps we could have used a little supervision to keep from getting hurt or killed, but it wouldn’t have been half the fun, or as adventuresome, if adults had been telling us what to do. We were never bored or at a loss of what should we do next.
I recall one time when my brother, David, took a nasty fall off one of our makeshift jumps and hit his head on the hard-packed snow. Joel and I were standing at the top waiting to go down, while David was sprawled out at the bottom of the hill and not moving. We yelled at him to get out of the way so we could jump. The poor guy finally crawled off to the side. It wasn’t until we got to the bottom of the hill that we found out he’d seen stars when he whacked his head. Fortunately all of us were hard-headed Norwegians. David headed right back up the hill for his next jump. Later that day I took a header into the snow, scraped my face, and cut my lip. We wore those cuts, bumps, and bruises as badges of honor.
It was all part of a day’s adventures when we kids created our own fun outdoors in the snow. I need to search for that “inner” kid again and start enjoying all this new snow.
*
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Saturday, January 21, 2012
The Dark Winter Haymow
Across the Fence #375
A haymow at night can be a frightening place, especially to young, fertile imaginations that have grown up on stories of Trolls, Nisse, Boogeymen, and Tramps.
Summer was never a problem because the large haymow was empty and the cows had been let out to feast on fresh pastures, so we didn’t need to feed hay to them when we let them in for milking morning and night. There was no place for those scary creatures to hide in an empty haymow.
Winter was a different story. During the summer, we had been filling the haymow and when it was full, bales would be stacked nearly up to the cupola at the top of the barn. There was just enough room left at the top to walk around and have access to the open hay chutes to throw the bales down. It seems like it was always dark when we crawled up the handmade wooden ladder on the outside of the barn and entered the small door into the dark haymow. We carried a small flashlight because we didn’t have any lights in the haymow. Going into a haymow at night is like entering a cellar without turning on the light. It’s so dark you can’t see your hand in front of your face. It’s a perfect place for creatures of the night to hide and wait for unsuspecting victims to come along.
Is it any wonder that we hated to climb up in the haymow and throw down hay during the evening milking? We much preferred to crawl up in the silo and throw down silage. At least you didn’t have to worry about some horrible creature attacking you. There was no place for them to hide in the silo, even though it was dark and cold in there too; although raccoons have been known to seek shelter in silos.
During the summer when we were stacking bales in the haymow, we built a vertical chute for the two openings in the floor where we threw the hay down. We also built a chute that went almost straight up from the door opening. We piled the bales to form small steps so we had a way to climb to the top of the piled hay. In the dark, that narrow chute only added to the adventure.
Cats liked to make their homes in holes or crevices in the hay. It was a warm place to seek shelter on cold, winter nights. A cat suddenly springing to life and seeking a safer hiding place could make the hair stand up on the back of your neck. Shining the flashlight around in search of creatures waiting to attack you, only added to your uneasiness as the light created scary shadows in every corner of the barn.
My grandmother told stories of the Nisse that lived in barns in Norway. They could be very mischievous if you didn’t feed them rommegrot at Christmas. If any of them had stowed away on ships coming to America from Norway, we thought they could be living in our barn. We had never left a bowl of rommegrot for them. They would be very hungry and irritated after all that time. The Boogeyman that lived in dark places was also one of her stories. What better place than a haymow on a cold winter night. Even they needed a place to stay warm. Grandma Inga had a way of telling a story that made the little creatures come to life.
As we got older we knew those creatures were just found in stories, or so we hoped. But, what if a tramp, or a wild animal, had crawled up in the haymow to seek shelter out of the snow and cold wind? Dad used to tell about finding tramps sleeping in the hay of their barn near the railroad tracks when he was young. But that was when many men road the rails during the Great Depression. I think we could pretty much eliminate tramps when I was young.
That still left the possibility of some sort of animal making its home in our haymow. Raccoons could climb ladders. I knew skunks hibernated and I didn’t think they could climb a ladder, but I knew I never wanted to come face to tail with one.
All those images of possible creatures lurking in the haymow, certainly added to the stress of every trip up that ladder. It’s hard to hold a flashlight while lugging heavy hay bales to the chute and tossing them down. One time the flashlight followed a bale down the chute. I made as hasty an exit as I could, as I felt my way over the bales in the almost total darkness. I quickly exited the door before some creature could reach out and drag me back into the haymow. Luckily, the flashlight landed on the pile of hay and didn’t bust. Then it was back up the ladder and into the darkness again, to complete my interrupted job. It was always better when David and I ventured into the haymow together.
That old barn is gone now, along with the creatures of the night that may, or may not, have lived in the haymow. I never ran into any of them. They must have been real good at hiding. I’m just glad my days of climbing into a dark winter haymow are in the past.
*
A haymow at night can be a frightening place, especially to young, fertile imaginations that have grown up on stories of Trolls, Nisse, Boogeymen, and Tramps.
Summer was never a problem because the large haymow was empty and the cows had been let out to feast on fresh pastures, so we didn’t need to feed hay to them when we let them in for milking morning and night. There was no place for those scary creatures to hide in an empty haymow.
Winter was a different story. During the summer, we had been filling the haymow and when it was full, bales would be stacked nearly up to the cupola at the top of the barn. There was just enough room left at the top to walk around and have access to the open hay chutes to throw the bales down. It seems like it was always dark when we crawled up the handmade wooden ladder on the outside of the barn and entered the small door into the dark haymow. We carried a small flashlight because we didn’t have any lights in the haymow. Going into a haymow at night is like entering a cellar without turning on the light. It’s so dark you can’t see your hand in front of your face. It’s a perfect place for creatures of the night to hide and wait for unsuspecting victims to come along.
Is it any wonder that we hated to climb up in the haymow and throw down hay during the evening milking? We much preferred to crawl up in the silo and throw down silage. At least you didn’t have to worry about some horrible creature attacking you. There was no place for them to hide in the silo, even though it was dark and cold in there too; although raccoons have been known to seek shelter in silos.
During the summer when we were stacking bales in the haymow, we built a vertical chute for the two openings in the floor where we threw the hay down. We also built a chute that went almost straight up from the door opening. We piled the bales to form small steps so we had a way to climb to the top of the piled hay. In the dark, that narrow chute only added to the adventure.
Cats liked to make their homes in holes or crevices in the hay. It was a warm place to seek shelter on cold, winter nights. A cat suddenly springing to life and seeking a safer hiding place could make the hair stand up on the back of your neck. Shining the flashlight around in search of creatures waiting to attack you, only added to your uneasiness as the light created scary shadows in every corner of the barn.
My grandmother told stories of the Nisse that lived in barns in Norway. They could be very mischievous if you didn’t feed them rommegrot at Christmas. If any of them had stowed away on ships coming to America from Norway, we thought they could be living in our barn. We had never left a bowl of rommegrot for them. They would be very hungry and irritated after all that time. The Boogeyman that lived in dark places was also one of her stories. What better place than a haymow on a cold winter night. Even they needed a place to stay warm. Grandma Inga had a way of telling a story that made the little creatures come to life.
As we got older we knew those creatures were just found in stories, or so we hoped. But, what if a tramp, or a wild animal, had crawled up in the haymow to seek shelter out of the snow and cold wind? Dad used to tell about finding tramps sleeping in the hay of their barn near the railroad tracks when he was young. But that was when many men road the rails during the Great Depression. I think we could pretty much eliminate tramps when I was young.
That still left the possibility of some sort of animal making its home in our haymow. Raccoons could climb ladders. I knew skunks hibernated and I didn’t think they could climb a ladder, but I knew I never wanted to come face to tail with one.
All those images of possible creatures lurking in the haymow, certainly added to the stress of every trip up that ladder. It’s hard to hold a flashlight while lugging heavy hay bales to the chute and tossing them down. One time the flashlight followed a bale down the chute. I made as hasty an exit as I could, as I felt my way over the bales in the almost total darkness. I quickly exited the door before some creature could reach out and drag me back into the haymow. Luckily, the flashlight landed on the pile of hay and didn’t bust. Then it was back up the ladder and into the darkness again, to complete my interrupted job. It was always better when David and I ventured into the haymow together.
That old barn is gone now, along with the creatures of the night that may, or may not, have lived in the haymow. I never ran into any of them. They must have been real good at hiding. I’m just glad my days of climbing into a dark winter haymow are in the past.
*
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Dale Nestingen Was "Mr. FFA" To Me
Across the Fence #374
Another beautiful sunset just ended the day. The daylight hours are slowly increasing each day. As I look out the windows from our four-season room where I do much of my writing, there’s still a pink glow on the western horizon. It blends into a deep blue higher in the sky. Venus shines brightly as the dark blue begins fading toward black.
We’re lucky enough to have great views of sunrises and sunsets every day. Our lives are a progression of sunrises and sunsets as we travel along the life paths we’ve chosen. During the past week, the sun has set for the last time for two important teachers in my life. I wrote about Corrine (Fredrickson) Zable last week. Six days later, Dale Nestingen, my high school Vocational Agriculture teacher and FFA advisor, passed away. He was 82.
As a farm boy I took Ag classes in high school. During those four years I learned about a lot of things and had experiences I wouldn’t otherwise have had. I’m proud to say I’m one of many students who earned the Wisconsin State Farmer Degree under Dale’s guidance. Even though many of us never became farmers, things we learned in his class have served us well in many other areas. They all added to our life experiences.
Aside from the book learning, we had many hands-on experiences that I remember. A farmer must be a jack-of-all-trades and know how to do many things. We learned how to test milk for butterfat content by collecting samples from each cow in small bottles during morning and evening milkings. At school we put the samples into a centrifuge to determine the butterfat.
There was a forge in the shop portion of the classroom where we learned about blacksmithing. We found it fascinating to heat the metal in the red-hot coals and then hammer and shape it into hooks and other useable items on the anvil. I can still hear the sizzle as we dipped the still hot metal into the pail of water to cool it. We also learned how to weld.
We learned carpentry skills. I built a crate to haul pigs in and a show box to use at the fair when I showed cattle. Both of those items survived until the day of the auction after my parents died. They were sold at the auction and are probably still in use today. Not bad for something I built 50 years ago.
We learned how to test the moisture content of corn, how to judge dairy cattle, how to dehorn calves, and yes, I even learned how to castrate pigs. My father never liked that job, so it became my job to do the “surgery” while he held the pigs down. I could even mention making oyster stew but that’s another story! All these things were learned through the teaching and guidance of Mr. Nestingen. I still find it hard to call him Dale.
We also learned leadership through the FFA (Future Farmers of America). It was a compliment to the 4-H programs that most of us farm kids were involved in. During my senior year I was president of the Westby Chapter. It afforded me many experiences I would never have had if I hadn’t been involved in FFA. It included trips to officer’s training classes, the Wisconsin State FFA convention for two years, the national convention of the American Institute of Cooperation held at the University of Minnesota campus in Minneapolis, and the National FFA Convention in Kansas City, Missouri. There was also the 3-day senior FFA trip to Chicago by train from La Crosse. Those trips and experiences may not seem like much to most people these days, but back then, we were farm kids who had seen very little of the country outside the borders of Vernon County.
Our involvement in the Vocational Ag program and FFA provided many learning experiences for us and expanded our horizons. We learned that we were capable of doing many things. It forced me to become involved in public speaking, something I’d been petrified to do before that time.
While I was president I also wrote and edited a bi-monthly newsletter called the “Westby Future Farmer.” I guess even in high school I wanted to be a writer. I found back some of those issues, buried in a box of stuff in the basement. I’d like to share a message I wrote in one of my Messages from Your President.
“We owe a lot to our advisor, Mr. Nestingen. Since he came to Westby (during our freshman year), our chapter has had two American Farmer Degrees (Robert Erickson became the first, and Larry Strangstalien became the second, to achieve this honor from Westby). Twelve members have achieved the Wisconsin State Farmer Degree, and David Meyer became the vice president and president of the Wisconsin State FFA. We’ve had representatives at the National AIC convention for two years, won co-op awards, state awards, and many other accomplishments too numerous to mention. Without his help and initiative, none of these things would have been possible. The Westby FFA, Westby High School, and the community, can be proud to have Dale Nestingen.”
The sun may have set for Mr. Nestingen, but it will continue to rise and shine brightly for all those “farm kids” he helped, as we continue their journey through life.
*
Another beautiful sunset just ended the day. The daylight hours are slowly increasing each day. As I look out the windows from our four-season room where I do much of my writing, there’s still a pink glow on the western horizon. It blends into a deep blue higher in the sky. Venus shines brightly as the dark blue begins fading toward black.
We’re lucky enough to have great views of sunrises and sunsets every day. Our lives are a progression of sunrises and sunsets as we travel along the life paths we’ve chosen. During the past week, the sun has set for the last time for two important teachers in my life. I wrote about Corrine (Fredrickson) Zable last week. Six days later, Dale Nestingen, my high school Vocational Agriculture teacher and FFA advisor, passed away. He was 82.
As a farm boy I took Ag classes in high school. During those four years I learned about a lot of things and had experiences I wouldn’t otherwise have had. I’m proud to say I’m one of many students who earned the Wisconsin State Farmer Degree under Dale’s guidance. Even though many of us never became farmers, things we learned in his class have served us well in many other areas. They all added to our life experiences.
Aside from the book learning, we had many hands-on experiences that I remember. A farmer must be a jack-of-all-trades and know how to do many things. We learned how to test milk for butterfat content by collecting samples from each cow in small bottles during morning and evening milkings. At school we put the samples into a centrifuge to determine the butterfat.
There was a forge in the shop portion of the classroom where we learned about blacksmithing. We found it fascinating to heat the metal in the red-hot coals and then hammer and shape it into hooks and other useable items on the anvil. I can still hear the sizzle as we dipped the still hot metal into the pail of water to cool it. We also learned how to weld.
We learned carpentry skills. I built a crate to haul pigs in and a show box to use at the fair when I showed cattle. Both of those items survived until the day of the auction after my parents died. They were sold at the auction and are probably still in use today. Not bad for something I built 50 years ago.
We learned how to test the moisture content of corn, how to judge dairy cattle, how to dehorn calves, and yes, I even learned how to castrate pigs. My father never liked that job, so it became my job to do the “surgery” while he held the pigs down. I could even mention making oyster stew but that’s another story! All these things were learned through the teaching and guidance of Mr. Nestingen. I still find it hard to call him Dale.
We also learned leadership through the FFA (Future Farmers of America). It was a compliment to the 4-H programs that most of us farm kids were involved in. During my senior year I was president of the Westby Chapter. It afforded me many experiences I would never have had if I hadn’t been involved in FFA. It included trips to officer’s training classes, the Wisconsin State FFA convention for two years, the national convention of the American Institute of Cooperation held at the University of Minnesota campus in Minneapolis, and the National FFA Convention in Kansas City, Missouri. There was also the 3-day senior FFA trip to Chicago by train from La Crosse. Those trips and experiences may not seem like much to most people these days, but back then, we were farm kids who had seen very little of the country outside the borders of Vernon County.
Our involvement in the Vocational Ag program and FFA provided many learning experiences for us and expanded our horizons. We learned that we were capable of doing many things. It forced me to become involved in public speaking, something I’d been petrified to do before that time.
While I was president I also wrote and edited a bi-monthly newsletter called the “Westby Future Farmer.” I guess even in high school I wanted to be a writer. I found back some of those issues, buried in a box of stuff in the basement. I’d like to share a message I wrote in one of my Messages from Your President.
“We owe a lot to our advisor, Mr. Nestingen. Since he came to Westby (during our freshman year), our chapter has had two American Farmer Degrees (Robert Erickson became the first, and Larry Strangstalien became the second, to achieve this honor from Westby). Twelve members have achieved the Wisconsin State Farmer Degree, and David Meyer became the vice president and president of the Wisconsin State FFA. We’ve had representatives at the National AIC convention for two years, won co-op awards, state awards, and many other accomplishments too numerous to mention. Without his help and initiative, none of these things would have been possible. The Westby FFA, Westby High School, and the community, can be proud to have Dale Nestingen.”
The sun may have set for Mr. Nestingen, but it will continue to rise and shine brightly for all those “farm kids” he helped, as we continue their journey through life.
*
Saturday, January 7, 2012
A Teacher Who Made A Difference
Across the Fence #373
Corrine Zable made a difference in many lives. She’ll always be “Miss Fredrickson” to those of us who had her as a young, single teacher at Smith, our one room school, south of Westby. Corrine passed away on December 29, 2011. She died as a result of head injuries she received when she lost control of her bicycle just before Christmas. Her death brought sadness to her former students.
We’ve all had some good teachers and some “not so good” teachers. Once in a while we even encounter a great teacher. Corrine falls into that category. She inspired us, opened our minds, and created a fire in us to learn all that we could about life.
Corrine grew up on a farm west of Viroqua. In 2nd grade she recalled sitting at her desk and thinking: When I grow up I’m going to be a teacher; they know where the good books are and they always have plenty of paper to write on. She said she only had one teacher in grade school that gave her any encouragement. She vowed that she would encourage all her students if she could become a teacher. After high school she attended Vernon County Teacher’s College in Viroqua. We were her first students after graduating.
One of her teachers at the Teacher’s College, Naomi (Flugstad) Bekkum, had these thoughts about Corrine. “She was an outstanding student. She had a great desire to learn and to be a good teacher.”
Corrine was a faithful reader of “Across the Fence” and sent me many e-mails commenting on stories and telling me of her remembrances of teaching at Smith School. I’d like to share some of her observations on teaching and life with you. She said, “My years with all of you kids were a joy for me. I loved teaching and didn’t want you kids to miss anything just because there were over 20 of you, and because you were farm kids like I was.”
Corrine told me, “I always gained more from my students than I ever gave to any one of them. I’m proud to have been your teacher and to have shared life with all the Smith kids when I taught there! You kids were so very special; no wonder I loved teaching!!”
She also shared many observations about life. “All of life is precious, too precious to be wasted! The happiness of life depends so much on the quality of our thoughts!” She liked Ralph Waldo Emerson’s quote, “What lies behind us, and what lies before us, are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.” “I used to tell my students that writing makes you explore and know what you really think about life and things. Thank you for your writings and making people think about things.”
Here’s what some of Corrine’s former students said about her:
David Sherpe: “She will always be ‘Miss Fredrickson.’ She was one of those teachers and people who have helped make a difference in many people’s lives. She was a great teacher and a wonderful person. She was even a good softball pitcher. Yes, sometimes she would even pitch during recess. I think it was to encourage everyone to play ball together and to get involved. Her concern for her students and everyone was genuine and sincere. She was part of our small community and our lives. If Smith School was still there, I think you could go there now and find her. Thank you Miss Fredrickson.”
Beverly (Jasperson) Kratt: “I talked with my sister, Donna, about Corrine. What we remember is that she was such a great teacher, cared so much about all of her students, and wanted them to succeed. She encouraged each of us and awarded each success. Within the last twenty years she had a home in Viroqua close to our grandmother. Donna and I met with her and so enjoyed our visit. How many teachers remember their students? We treasured our time with her and were so blessed to have had Corrine as a teacher in our educational process. I had always wanted to be a teacher – instead I worked within the university system – I feel her compassion and understanding assisted me with the relationships that I developed with peers and students. We lost a great educator.”
Sharon (Midtlien) Gilbeck said: "I stayed after school to do some things one day, and after everyone else was gone, she burst into tears… she was feeling so bad, because she couldn't get some students to learn what she was trying to teach them! That's my best memory… how she REALLY CARED about each and every student."
Joel Thompson: “Corrine was the most conscientious, helpful, inspiring, loving teacher I had in my life. She gave me something that has stayed with me for my whole life, “A Thirst For Knowledge.” I can still remember her helpful smile as she prodded each one of us to do better. I don’t remember her chastening anyone, but always had a loving attitude of help. I’m sure the Lord told her when she got to heaven, ‘Well done good and faithful servant’.”
Another quote that Corrine liked to put on the blackboard from time to time was by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: “Lives of great men all remind us we can make our lives sublime. And, departing, leave behind us footprints on the sands of time.”
Corrine certainly left behind many footprints. Now those footprints keep multiplying as her many students, from Smith School near Westby, Kohler, Taiwan, and Burma, continue to leave footprints where hers left off. Her death reminds me again how important the role of great teachers are in our lives. She will live on in each of us who were lucky enough to have been her students.
*
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Brown Christmas Stirs Up Memories
Across the Fence #372
I look out our windows and see a world of brown, with some pale green thrown in. It’s December, the day after Christmas, and the temperature at our place registered 44 degrees for a high today. It’s December in Wisconsin, 2011 style.
I’m not complaining. Those are just the facts. I could get used to winters like this. I know this is just the calm before the storm, but every day like this makes winter seem that much shorter, and it helps with the heating bills too.
I remember how cold and snowy it’s been during Christmas in the past. There were times when it was so cold the car wouldn’t start when we visited the farm during Christmas. Our kids never got to spend Christmas at our home in Madison when we lived there. We were always traveling to Platteville or Westby where our families lived. In the early years we’d spend Christmas Eve with one family and head down the road on Christmas morning to get to the other family before noon. At least it was only an hour and a half drive, except when the roads were bad. It was nice because we could spend time with both families, and grandparents always want to see their grandchildren at Christmas.
As most of you know, it’s hard to coordinate brothers and sisters in both families and try to find a time that works for everyone to get together. They have a second family to coordinate with too. Our poor kids never did have a Christmas at home, but somehow Santa always knew where they were on Christmas Eve and presents were waiting for them in the morning.
Some years we split the holiday, spending Christmas with one family and the closest weekend with the other. That was easier than packing up and heading for the other family in the morning, when the kids wanted to play with whatever Santa had brought. We were always at the mercy of the weather too, both snow and cold temperatures.
One year while in Platteville, it was so cold a tire went flat while we were attending the Christmas Eve candlelight service. Have you ever tried finding a service station open on Christmas morning that could fix a tire? We were late heading for Westby that year.
Other years it would be snowing and blowing and the roads would be snow-covered and slippery. It was great spending time with both families, but I don’t miss the stress that added to the Christmas season. I imagine most of you can relate to that same scenario at one time or another.
I don’t remember very many mild, brown Christmases during those days. I’d have welcomed the type of weather we had this year. Most were filled with lots of snow and very cold, windy weather. That made for drifting snow and slippery roads.
It also seemed like just mentioning the words, Thanksgiving and Christmas, was enough to bring every flu bug in three counties out of hiding. My sister, Janet, said, “When the kids were little, it didn’t seem like it was the holidays unless someone was on antibiotics.” How true that was, and probably still is, for all of you with younger children. It was usually the stomach flu, which made for interesting times when you were traveling and on the road. One year when we were going to Platteville for Thanksgiving, Erik came down with the flu in the morning when we were going to leave. Since we had planned on eating at Linda’s folks we hadn’t bought anything to have around the house. I checked several places that morning trying to find a place that had take-out turkey dinners. I finally settled on turkey sandwiches from the old Rennebohm Drug Store in Madison. They also had a lunch counter. At least we had turkey even if it wasn’t with all the trimmings. Poor Erik couldn’t eat anything that Thanksgiving. When I think of Thanksgiving, it seems that we usually had snow on the ground at the time and never saw the grass again until sometime in March. Now we’re heading toward the end of the year and everything is still brown.
Back to those white and brown Christmases. When we were young we always went to my Hanson grandparents, or to one of the aunts and uncles. Weather was never much of a problem since most of us lived within a couple mile radius. Most of us could have walked or skied across the fields if we’d had to. The only one that had to travel any distance was Ma’s brother, James, who lived in Indianapolis. He had a movie camera and took home movies of our get-togethers. He usually brought some movies of past visits to show us. James worked for American Airlines and got to fly places around the world that the rest of us had only heard about. He brought movies from those visits to show us too. Those places were exciting to see, but the highlight for us kids was a short Woody Woodpecker cartoon. Remember, this was before most of us had a television, or if we did, we only had one channel. Cartoons were a big deal to us.
These memories were all triggered by the brown December we’ve been experiencing. It just shows that you don’t need a white Christmas to remember.
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I look out our windows and see a world of brown, with some pale green thrown in. It’s December, the day after Christmas, and the temperature at our place registered 44 degrees for a high today. It’s December in Wisconsin, 2011 style.
I’m not complaining. Those are just the facts. I could get used to winters like this. I know this is just the calm before the storm, but every day like this makes winter seem that much shorter, and it helps with the heating bills too.
I remember how cold and snowy it’s been during Christmas in the past. There were times when it was so cold the car wouldn’t start when we visited the farm during Christmas. Our kids never got to spend Christmas at our home in Madison when we lived there. We were always traveling to Platteville or Westby where our families lived. In the early years we’d spend Christmas Eve with one family and head down the road on Christmas morning to get to the other family before noon. At least it was only an hour and a half drive, except when the roads were bad. It was nice because we could spend time with both families, and grandparents always want to see their grandchildren at Christmas.
As most of you know, it’s hard to coordinate brothers and sisters in both families and try to find a time that works for everyone to get together. They have a second family to coordinate with too. Our poor kids never did have a Christmas at home, but somehow Santa always knew where they were on Christmas Eve and presents were waiting for them in the morning.
Some years we split the holiday, spending Christmas with one family and the closest weekend with the other. That was easier than packing up and heading for the other family in the morning, when the kids wanted to play with whatever Santa had brought. We were always at the mercy of the weather too, both snow and cold temperatures.
One year while in Platteville, it was so cold a tire went flat while we were attending the Christmas Eve candlelight service. Have you ever tried finding a service station open on Christmas morning that could fix a tire? We were late heading for Westby that year.
Other years it would be snowing and blowing and the roads would be snow-covered and slippery. It was great spending time with both families, but I don’t miss the stress that added to the Christmas season. I imagine most of you can relate to that same scenario at one time or another.
I don’t remember very many mild, brown Christmases during those days. I’d have welcomed the type of weather we had this year. Most were filled with lots of snow and very cold, windy weather. That made for drifting snow and slippery roads.
It also seemed like just mentioning the words, Thanksgiving and Christmas, was enough to bring every flu bug in three counties out of hiding. My sister, Janet, said, “When the kids were little, it didn’t seem like it was the holidays unless someone was on antibiotics.” How true that was, and probably still is, for all of you with younger children. It was usually the stomach flu, which made for interesting times when you were traveling and on the road. One year when we were going to Platteville for Thanksgiving, Erik came down with the flu in the morning when we were going to leave. Since we had planned on eating at Linda’s folks we hadn’t bought anything to have around the house. I checked several places that morning trying to find a place that had take-out turkey dinners. I finally settled on turkey sandwiches from the old Rennebohm Drug Store in Madison. They also had a lunch counter. At least we had turkey even if it wasn’t with all the trimmings. Poor Erik couldn’t eat anything that Thanksgiving. When I think of Thanksgiving, it seems that we usually had snow on the ground at the time and never saw the grass again until sometime in March. Now we’re heading toward the end of the year and everything is still brown.
Back to those white and brown Christmases. When we were young we always went to my Hanson grandparents, or to one of the aunts and uncles. Weather was never much of a problem since most of us lived within a couple mile radius. Most of us could have walked or skied across the fields if we’d had to. The only one that had to travel any distance was Ma’s brother, James, who lived in Indianapolis. He had a movie camera and took home movies of our get-togethers. He usually brought some movies of past visits to show us. James worked for American Airlines and got to fly places around the world that the rest of us had only heard about. He brought movies from those visits to show us too. Those places were exciting to see, but the highlight for us kids was a short Woody Woodpecker cartoon. Remember, this was before most of us had a television, or if we did, we only had one channel. Cartoons were a big deal to us.
These memories were all triggered by the brown December we’ve been experiencing. It just shows that you don’t need a white Christmas to remember.
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