Pot-Bellied Stoves and Storytelling

Across the Fence #428

The Old Farmer said, “There’s a good reason we were born with two eyes, two ears, and one mouth. For those of you who are math-challenged, that means you should keep your eyes and ears open twice as much as your mouth.”

That advice comes in handy if you write a weekly column. You never know when the idea for a story might present itself. Over the years a lot of great storytelling has taken place around a pot-bellied stove and in more recent years at local diners where “the boys” gather for coffee and storytelling each morning. If they’re retired, which most of them are, they probably gather for afternoon coffee too. I’m surprised that any local restaurant can stay in business when the boys plunk down a dollar for a bottomless cup of coffee each day. Even more astounding, how can their bladders hold all that coffee? You don’t want to take a bathroom break and miss something. I find that the older I get, the more frequent my trips to the bathroom are, but that’s another story that most older folks can relate to.

Some of the best storytelling took place around those old, wood burning, pot-bellied stoves. They were once used as a source of heat in just about every business in town. The old stove became a favorite gathering spot in those stores.

Here in Westby, the old farmers used to gather at Art Hegge’s John Deere Implement Shop on Main Street. It was a great place to hang out, visit, and tell stories on a cold winter day. They sat on old chairs around the stove. The heat felt good after coming in from the cold weather outside. The radiant heat soon penetrated the heavy winter coats and long johns. Coats were unbuttoned and the chairs moved farther away from the stove to escape the heat. They couldn’t do much about the long johns. Those wouldn’t come off until spring! As the logs in the stove started burning out, the stove lost some heat and the chairs started moving closer to the stove again. You can almost hear the many stories and opinions rising once again from the heat around that old stove.

Many of those old farmers were experts at telling a story. There was never any of today’s hurry up and get to the point attitude. A good story needed to be fleshed out and the important points accented by spitting a bit of tobacco out of the corner of the mouth. When the tobacco juice ran out, another chaw was added if the story wasn’t finished. 

Some country humor is brief. Don’t say too much, give only the information that’s needed, and don’t volunteer anything extra. A case in point: One day when the men were sitting around the stove at Art Hegges, he said, “Ralph.” “What?” said Ralph. There was a long silence. Finally Art spoke up again, “Ralph.” “What?!” said Ralph a little irritated. There was another long pause before Art said, “Ralph, it’s your turn to put another log on the fire.” It was a simple conversation, with a minimum of words needed. Ralph got up, threw another log in the stove, and the storytelling continued.

Author Ben Logan has a great story about the use of exaggeration in country stories. When he and their hired man, Lyle, were talking about the wild stories being told by the assembled farmers one day, Lyle told Ben, “I guess some things are just too important to be left up to the truth.”

  

An old farmer said, “I’m going to live to be 100, if I don’t die first.” He also said, “If I lose my sense of humor, you can start digging.” How true that is. Life’s too short to walk around with a chip on your shoulder or finding fault with everything. You can even find some humor in growing older. While we were having coffee and conversation at Borgen’s Café in Westby recently, my friend James from Gotham said, “I’m at that age where I can hide my own Easter eggs… and have trouble finding them.” Now that’s the kind of humor you’d have found around the old pot-bellied stove years ago. 

When we lived in Madison, I was a member of a Wednesday morning breakfast club for 32 years until we moved back to Westby. There were eight of us in the group most of that time. All of us were working when we first joined the group, but by the time we left Madison, most of the group was retired and two had died. We were a very diverse group: liberals, conservatives, Republicans, Independents, and Democrats. We had varied occupations: A real estate developer, a heart surgeon, a lawyer, an aide to Senator Kohl, an appraiser, an accountant, an employment agency owner, and me – an advertising agency owner. What did we have in common that held us together? Most of us came from small towns, had farm backgrounds, and had been in the military. We also think one of our group had been a CIA operative, but he would never admit it.

Needless to say we had a lot of interesting conversations over the years and many of us became close friends. I guess that Wednesday breakfast group was our way of sitting around the old pot-bellied stove that was an important part of our rural roots. 

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Listen To the Old Farmers

Across the Fence #427

A couple weeks ago I wrote that it looked like we were in for a typical, cold January winter. I’m always working at least a week ahead when I write my column and things can change by the time you read it. I should know better than to talk about the weather. The day that column came out the weather in Westby was a balmy 38 degrees (above zero). We never did get the extended stretch of really cold temperatures the weather forecasters were predicting. So here I am enjoying a warm, sunny day while you were reading about how cold it was going to be. By the time you read this column, maybe that cold weather will have arrived.

We could go by The Old Farmer’s Almanac, but I prefer to listen to old farmers talk about the weather and give their observations about life. They’re much more down to earth and fun to listen to. A few examples: An old farmer said, “Now they have a weather channel on TV where you can watch the weather 24-hours a day. We had something like that when I grew up. We called it a window.” An old farmer also said, “There’s one good thing about a blanket of snow. It makes my yard look just as good as my neighbor’s.” I’ll add one of my favorites, “A snowy day is the perfect time for a walk in the woods.” Unfortunately, as I write this it’s been raining, foggy, and the temperatures in the mid-40s. That’s not real conducive to taking walks in a snowy woods.

The old farmer also says, “You can’t milk a cow with a milking machine if the power goes out.” That’s what happened one night this week. We don’t realize how dependent we’ve all become on electricity until we don’t have it. There we were wandering around in the dark searching for a flashlight so we could find some candles. You’d think we’d be better prepared for emergencies.

For many years I’ve said that if someone wanted to attack us, all they’d have to do is knock out our sources of power and most of this country would be plunged into a dark, communication-void world, and people would be helpless. Think about what would happen if your electricity were shut down and couldn’t be restored for months. There would be no TV or radio, unless you had a battery-powered radio and a big supply of batteries on hand. There would be no communication by cell phones once the battery ran down. There would be no electricity to recharge them. Computers, iPods, iPads, and all other technology would be shut down as soon as the battery went dead. There would be no electricity to power your stove, microwave, refrigerator, dishwasher, washing machine, and dryer. There would be no water for drinking, washing, flushing toilets, or taking baths if an electricity-powered pump controls your water supply.

A few more things to think about: Your garage door opener won’t work. You won’t be able to get your car out of the garage if you don’t know how to switch the opener over to manual operation. Once you got on a highway, many places would be experiencing gridlock because all the traffic lights would be out. We don’t have to worry about that here in Vernon County where there are only three stoplights in the entire county, all three of them in Viroqua.

The old farmer says, “This makes me wonder how the State of Wisconsin can justify wanting to build bypasses around Viroqua and Westby connected by the four-lane Uff Da Bahn. They claim it’s to relieve all the traffic through Westby when we can’t even qualify for a stoplight because there isn’t enough traffic. Trying to understand the thinking of state bureaucrats is like trying to push a wet rope up a hill. Sometimes I think they’ve been drinking downstream from the herd.”

Those are just a few of the problems that would be caused by our electrical sources being destroyed. We are now so far removed from knowing how to live without electricity that it would plunge most of the country into panic and chaos. It would be doubly hard for those of us in the northern part of the country where winter can get very cold. You might have to start busting up your furniture to burn for heat. But you couldn’t do that inside because not that many houses have “real” fireplaces.

All you old timers and old farmers could probably find a way to survive. You lived during the time when you didn’t have all the things I’ve talked about. It wouldn’t be easy, but I’d place my bets on all of you finding a way to overcome the obstacles.

The old farmer says, “We managed to live without electricity at one time, and if we had to, we could do it again. Woodburning stoves, windmills for water, outhouses, candles and oil-burning lanterns are just a few of the many things that would need to be used again. It’s scary when you realize how dependent we’ve become on others for our survival.”

The old farmers live in a technology-filled world, but are very aware of a time when they weren’t so dependent on others for everything. The old farmer says, “Those days weren’t always easy, but we made it.”

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Snowshoeing Blends Nature and Memories

Across the Fence #426

All is quiet in Sherpeland as I sit down to write this column. A layer of white still covers the ground, but much of it may disappear this week if the temperature gets into the mid-30’s. I’d hate to see it all disappear. It’s been perfect for snowshoeing lately. The nice thing about snowshoeing is being able to travel through snow-covered fields, brush, and wooded areas that most people don’t venture into during the winter. Without snowshoes it would be very hard to walk through some of the areas. When the recent high winds blew a lot of the snow off the ridges, I think it deposited it in the valleys and low-lying areas. I really had to struggle through some deep snow today. It would have been almost impossible without snowshoes.

I’m always looking for animal tracks and trails and trying to read the stories they tell. You never know what you might find at the end of a trail. One trail ended in an open field. There was no sign that the small rodent had burrowed into the snow or backtracked. There was only the slight disturbance of snow where a hawk or owl had suddenly swept down from the sky and plucked the unsuspecting rodent from the snow. It was the end of the trail for that animal and a welcome meal for a hungry bird. That’s the way of nature–a continual life and death struggle for survival. One must die so the other may live. In winter, those struggles are often recorded in the snow.

As I was working my way through some heavy snowdrifts, my mind wandered back to stories told in the snow when I was young. Cars would get stuck in snowdrifts on our road; now know as Sherpe Road. Back then it didn’t have a name and when the folks first bought the farm, we were the only farm with access onto that road. There were no farm buildings beyond our farm, just an abandoned old shed and foundation where a house had once stood before it burned down. They were hidden in a grove of trees and brush. Our house now sits next to those trees. The road was quite secluded and the area near the grove of trees was a favorite parking spot for young people. Perhaps the term “parking” is as alien to many of you younger folks as “party lines” and “outhouses.” 

That was back in the “olden days,” long before cell phones and texting, back when people actually talked to each other instead of sending messages, back before bucket seats and seat belts in every car, back when there wasn’t a console with the gear stick, cup holders, and storage unit between you and your passenger, back when a guy could cruise down the highway with his girl cuddled up right next to him. It was much more cozy that way… so I’ve been told. I, of course, would never have let myself be that distracted while driving, but I have it on good authority that people did drive that way. Sometimes it looked like a two-headed driver cruising down the road. 

I’m sorry I’m getting off the subject. We were talking about parking. When a couple wanted to talk for a while, they’d find a nice, quiet, secluded spot where they could park, and then engage in some stimulating conversation without being disturbed. Back in those “olden days” Sherpe Road was a great place to park and have those conversations. Which brings me back to remembering how quickly that road could drift shut in the winter whenever there was a strong wind. Several times there was a knock on our door late at night. When the folks opened the door they would find a young man, looking cold, snow-covered, and embarrassed, standing on the porch. He would sheepishly explain that he had become stuck in a drift back where the old house used to be, and wondered if Dad could pull him out. 

Dad was not a happy camper whenever we had these unexpected guests, but would always get the tractor and pull them out. I suspect he also gave the young man a good lecture while they were riding on the tractor through the snow. Remember this was before most tractors had a cab for protection from the elements. It was always bitterly cold because of the wind and drifting snow. Not the kind of night you want to leave the warmth of your house and venture outside. He would come back looking like a snowman. 

There was always a young girl waiting in the car when Dad and the young man arrived with the tractor. He could tell the car had been sitting there for a while because snow had drifted around it. Another parker learned not to park on Sherpe Road on a windy, snowy night. I wonder if any readers of this column were among those unlucky parkers?

You never know what you’ll find as you snowshoe through the countryside on a beautiful winter day. Sometimes you even find memories of stranded parkers and Dad “rescuing” them.

Tonight my arthritic hips, knee, and old football ankle are all giving me a hard time about snowshoeing today, but the pain is worth the enjoyment I had exploring the snow-covered countryside and finding some memories too.

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A January Winter Has Arrived

Across the Fence #425

Winter as we’ve known it in the past has arrived with snow and a biting wind that takes your breath away and quickly numbs exposed skin. I don’t mind the snow but I could do without the bitterly cold weather. It’s an element of nature that we have to put up with if we choose to live in this part of the country.

I was hoping for a mild winter, like the one we had last year, but it looks like we’re in for some typical January weather with sub-zero temperatures. This weather is not appreciated by man, beast, or fowl. It can be life threatening. 

We always kept our cows in the barn during the winter months, but the heifers were left outside. They had a three-sided shelter where they could get out of the wind, but it was still cold. Their water supply was an open water tank located outside the barn. We used an axe to chop a hole in the ice so they could get to the water. Some people had a water heater that kept the water from freezing, but we didn’t have one.

Feeding silage was also hard after the temperature dipped below freezing, and even harder in sub-zero weather. The silage froze solid around the edge of the silo. Sometimes it was a foot thick and we had to use a pickaxe to chop it loose and break up the frozen chunks before throwing it down the silo chute. It was a cold, miserable job.

It was even worse when we also used a snow fence silo. When there was too much silage to fit in our two concrete block silos, Dad built a makeshift silo out of snow fence, formed into a circle about the diameter of a regular silo. It was positioned against the barn and silo for support on two sides. He lined the inside with a black plastic material that people used to put around the foundation of old houses to keep the wind out. When the first layer was full, he set another snow fence on top of the first one, anchoring it inside the first one. We ended up with a temporary silo, three or four snow fences high.

We fed the cows from that silo first, because once it began to freeze and the snow began piling up, it was miserable working in the cold wind without silo walls for protection from the elements. We were often throwing down silage as the snow swirled around us. When we had emptied the depth of one snow fence, it was removed so you didn’t have to lift every forkful of silage up high and throw it over the side. There were no silo doors in a snow fence silo. Does anyone else remember using snow fence silos?

I also remember how our fingers and toes would begin to hurt after prolonged exposure to the cold temperatures and wind. We didn’t know about wind chill in those days. When we finally got inside and began to thaw out, my hands and feet hurt so bad I wanted to cry. Ma would open the front door of the wood cook stove so we could put our feet up in front of it and warm our hands up too. We’d also get white spots on our cheeks and nose. I suspect we suffered from minor frostbite many times over the years. Maybe that’s why my fingers are so sensitive to cold weather now.

When all of us siblings got together at my brother David’s for Christmas this year, we were remembering how cold it was upstairs in the old farmhouse. I don’t think there was any such thing as insulation in the walls. The only source of heat in the upstairs bedroom where us boys slept was a small, round register hole in the floor. In the morning the windows would be covered with so much frost you could hardly scrape a hole in it. If the wind was blowing there was snow on the windowsill from the gaps around the windows. Grandma Inga slept in the middle bedroom that didn’t even have a heat register. It must have really been cold in that room. No one used the back bedroom in the winter.  

As cold as it was, and as miserable as it seemed at the time, I’ve often thought of the soldiers in World War II, fighting for weeks in the bitter cold and snow. I’ve read stories about the Battle of the Bulge. A foxhole was their bed at night and they froze. They would wake up under a blanket of snow in the morning, knowing there was no end in sight to the misery. The same was true for the Korean vets who endured the hardships of living and fighting in the bitter cold of Korea. They didn’t have a nice warm house for shelter like we did, where they could warm their bodies from the heat of a wood-burning stove. The next time you feel cold and miserable, remember what they went through. My thanks and appreciation goes out to every one of you who endured those tough times.

Winter can be harsh, but it is also a beautiful time of year. Yesterday, the hoarfrost and snow sparkling like diamonds created a winter wonderland that was a joy to behold. The beauty of nature makes a January winter bearable.

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It's Time For A New Beginning

Across the Fence #424

Happy New Year everyone. The Mayan calendar has been discarded, the Times Square ball has been dropped, the bells have been rung, the horns blown, the funny hats put away, the champagne and wine consumed, the bowl games played, and now it’s time for a new beginning.  

What changes will we see and experience during this coming year? What new adventures await us? We’ll soon know. As you know, we do a lot of looking back as we visit across the fence. It’s important that we live in the present, but it’s good to look back once in a while, to better appreciate where we’ve been and what we have now.

As I write this we are getting closer to the fiscal cliff. By the time you read this we’ll both know if we went over the cliff, or if a compromise was reached. I don’t have much faith in our politicians anymore and will be surprised if a compromise is reached. Both parties are so polarized that compromise has become a foreign word to them. Since the Mayan calendar didn’t bring about the end of the world, I‘ve been hoping it would signal the time for a new beginning. It could start with our political leaders looking out for the interests of all the people, but our country now has the best politicians money can buy, as evidenced by the millions spent on political campaigns. I guess we have to expect they will do whatever the people want who fill their campaign chests and keep them in office. They certainly won’t be listening to me.

Another subject that has me concerned is the number of people shot to death each year in this country. We’ve become a nation that seems to thrive on violence and killing. It’s predicted that shooting deaths will reach 33,000 and outnumber auto deaths within two years. Over half of those deaths are the result of suicides. Many of the other deaths are the result of drug and alcohol related shootings. I’m not advocating that we take people’s guns away. I own guns too. The bad guys will always find a way to get guns even if there are more restrictions. They’re not going to walk into a store and undergo a background check like you and I do if we want to buy a gun. 

It will take people a lot smarter than me to come up with answers to the many problems that need to be solved. We need to start addressing the causes. Why do people commit mass killings? How can we keep young people from killing each other on the streets of our cities every day? If they couldn’t use guns, they would still try killing each other with knives, clubs, or throwing stones. That’s the way it’s been for centuries. We need to address the causes for such violence and our fascination with killing everything. Until that’s solved, I don’t see much hope for a safer, more peaceful world.

These are not the type of topics usually discussed in this column and not what you expect or want to read here, but I had to bring those two issues up that have dominated the news lately. I don’t live in a fantasy world or in the past. I will continue to talk about what it was like to live when we were younger, but we must also live in today’s world and deal with today’s issues.

Many of you have told me that you like to read Across the Fence because it’s usually a positive, feel-good message when there’s so much negative news in the world. That won’t change. It’s time for a new beginning, and we need to remember the values we grew up with and make sure we don’t lose sight of them as we continue our journey through life. I know that most people who were raised in a rural environment had a work ethic instilled in them at an early age. That work ethic stayed with them in whatever they did. There was also a spirit of cooperation and helping your neighbor. People knew their neighbors and cared about them. When a neighbor ran into difficulties or heath problems, everyone pitched in and helped. During the Great Depression, my grandmothers always had food for the less fortunate who didn’t have a garden or an animal to butcher. They looked for nothing in return. My Sherpe grandparents lost their farm in the depression and didn’t have anything either, but that didn’t stop Grandma Inga from helping others. 

We need to have some of my Grandma Inga’s caring spirit today. Would she have killed someone to take something they had that she wanted? No. She would have gone without and still tried to help others if they needed something. Would she have sat by and watched our country go over a fiscal cliff if she had any way to stop it? I don’t think so. She was very stubborn, after all she was an Ostrem/Sherpe with Norwegian blood, but she would have found a way to compromise and help, not hurt people.

As we search for a new beginning this year, lets remember the spirit of people like my Grandma Inga and Grandma Julia. The world will be a better place if we remember and follow their example.

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