This Begins Our Tenth Year

Across the Fence #471

This begins the tenth year of “Across the Fence.” I had no idea when I wrote that first column that I’d still be writing it ten years later. At the time, when asked if I’d like to write a weekly column, I had no idea what that would involve. I guess ignorance is the springboard to new adventures, and for the last nine years it’s been a great adventure. Your positive comments about my stories keep me going when deadlines loom and the well seems empty.

The anniversary of Across the Fence always comes during Thanksgiving week. I think that’s very appropriate because it gives me a chance to thank the publishers and editors who provide space for my column in their papers, and all of you who take time to read them.

I want to thank all the papers that run “Across the Fence.” Two of you have been there since the beginning. Others have joined along the way. I’d like to welcome the readers of the Lamberton News in Lamberton, Minnesota who recently joined us in visiting across the fence. I appreciate everyone who visits with me each week.

For all of you who remember what “case weather” is, my wish for you is that your poles are always straight, strong, and never roll. It’s become a yearly tradition in this Thanksgiving column to remind you of what my father always told us. “Make sure you check the poles so you don’t fall down and kill yourself.” If you’ve raised tobacco, or helped hang or take down tobacco, you’ll understand that statement.

I’ve written about a lot of different farm experiences and so many of you grew up on farms and in rural areas, and had the same types of experiences. Now we live in a time when many people have never set foot on a farm, let alone grew up on one. The younger generations know little or nothing about the world we grew up in. They live in a technology-filled age where the world is at their fingertips. 

I received an e-mail from Lowell, a friend of mine in Madison, who was lamenting his frustration with Facebook and this techno world we, the older generation, have been thrust into. He wrote that I might need a little reminding of what my parents could recall if they were still alive.

He said, “This just re-enforces my new perspective on myself.  If I compare myself with my grandchildren, regarding modern technology, I feel very inadequate. Therefore now, and in the future, I will only compare my ability in this area with my grandparents. That becomes less frustrating because I have come beyond the kerosene lantern, the wooden box on the wall that served as a telephone (with the little shelf to bump your head on), and the small AM radio on the shelf above the wood-box in the kitchen. Oh, and the pail that contained the butter, milk, cream, etc. that was put down in the well, just above water level, to keep cool until we needed them. Those trips, especially in the winter, to the neighborhood well to get drinking water... don’t forget the kettle of hot water to melt and prime the pump. And, some of that canned meat would taste so good for lunch today, along with canned vegetables and fruit. There are still pleasant memories; even walking to the out-house in the Minnesota winter. It felt so good to come back into the warm house. While out there you might as well bring in an armful of wood for the stove. And that Brownie box camera by Kodak, did a pretty good job of bringing back memories of a lot of family and friends.”

I think Lowell has a good point there. If we compare our knowledge of modern technology with our children and grandkids, we often feel left out in the cold. But if we compare what we know to our parent’s generation, we’ve come a long way from the life we knew when we started. I also think most of us look back with some nostalgia and pride that we were able to survive with a whole lot less than what we have now. We’ve gone from kerosene lanterns to electricity and wall phones to cell phones. We once lived without TVs, computers, and a phone with us at all times. Living as we once did would be unthinkable to most people today. 

I think the older I get the more I appreciate this area I was born and raised in, and the way we lived. Lowell reminded us of a whole list of memories from those days to get us started down the road for our tenth year of visiting together. 

A big Thanksgiving THANK YOU for reading “Across the Fence.” Some of you even admit to looking forward to it each week. A friend once told me he enjoyed the column because it was like that box of chocolates… you never know what you’re going to get. Many have told me they enjoy the positive stories, when so much of the news today is negative. I’ll keep trying to stir up good memories for you, provide a mix of chocolates, and at the same time make you think about this wonderful world we’re all part of.    

I look forward to meeting you here each week “Across the Fence.” Have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

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Walking In the Footsteps of History

Across the Fence #470

On Friday, November 22, 1963, Dad milked the cows before leaving for Hayward to go deer hunting. At that time I was hauling two loads of milk each day, and would have to clean the barn when I completed my morning milk route. Shortly after 12-noon I was in the barn and started wheeling the manure out with a wheelbarrow, while listening to WISV, the Viroqua station on the barn radio. It’s now WVRQ. Sometime between 12:30 p.m. and 1:00 p.m., programming was interrupted for a special announcement – President John F. Kennedy had been shot during a motorcade in Dallas, Texas. No other details were available at the time. I quickly finished the chores and headed for the house to see if there was anything on TV about the shootings. We could only get two stations out of La Crosse at that time, and everything was in black and white. Ma, Grandma Inga, and I were watching a CBS special report from Dallas, when Walter Cronkite came on, took off his glasses, looked up at the clock, and reported that President Kennedy had died at 1:33 p.m. (CST).

I had planned to go scouting for deer in our woods that afternoon, but instead watched the continuous coverage of the assassination news for the rest of the day until it was time to do chores and milk the cows. After milking, we were riveted to the news coverage the rest of the evening. Continuous live coverage of the events, including the shooting of Oswald, continued until after Kennedy’s funeral.

Can it already be 50 years since that momentous event that shook our world? I think everyone remembers where they were and what they were doing when they heard the news. A lot of water has gone under the bridge since that day, but it still remains a watershed moment in our lives. Since that time we have followed the many stories about the assassination and the many conspiracy and multiple shooter theories. Movies and close to one thousand books have been written about the subject. With the 50th anniversary here, there have been, and will continue to be, many more stories and specials about that event.

In 2011, I attended a four-day national conference in Dallas, Texas. One afternoon we had free time to sightsee around Dallas. Several of us decided to head for Dealey Plaza, the site where Kennedy was assassinated. We rode the rapid transit train to near the plaza, found the Texas School Depository Building, and went up to the sixth floor museum. Most of us had been alive when Kennedy was killed and found the experience fascinating as the history of that time came alive again. The area around the sixth floor window where Lee Harvey Oswald had waited and fired the shots from, had been recreated to how it had been that day. As we looked out the window to the X’s on the road where the car had been as the shots were fired, I realized that a good, trained marksman with a telescopic sight on a rifle, could easily have made those shots as the car traveled slowly away from the shooter.

We toured the many exhibits on the sixth and seventh floor museum, and then went outside and walked down the sidewalk along Elm Street where the motorcade was traveling when the fatal shots were fired. It was eerie to look up the street to the sixth floor window where we had just been and picture Oswald aiming his rifle at Kennedy. We also walked up on the famous “grassy knoll” where many people still think a second shooter fired from. I stood in the spot where Zapruder stood when he took the video of the assassination that we’ve all seen numerous times.

We're on Elm Street, the grassy knoll behind us, looking 

up at the Texas School Depository, shown below. The 

window is the second one down on right of left building.

As we looked at and experienced standing in all the places that we had seen so many times in news reports, we tried to imagine if Oswald could have accomplished the assassination alone or was there more than one person involved? According to most official reports, he acted alone, but many people will never believe those reports. Sometimes it’s hard to separate truth and reality from myths. As humans we’re prone to believe what best fits what we think happened, based on our perceptions and beliefs, and it’s not necessarily reality-based. Perhaps part of our continuing fascination with this historical event is the mystery still surrounding it. How many people were involved and was there a cover-up by the government for some reason? As I mentioned earlier, close to one thousand books have been published on the subject of the assassination. Over 95% of those books were pro-conspiracy. I imagine this anniversary date will spawn even more books and specials on the subject. 

I was glad that we took the time to visit this historic site when we had the chance. As someone who enjoys walking in the footsteps of history, this was a visit I’ll always remember. If you’re ever visiting Dallas, I’d encourage you to visit the site also, and remember that day when you first heard the news, “President John F. Kennedy has been shot.”

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The Peacefulness of An Evening Walk

Across the Fence #469

November is when the wind—a cold wind, comes roaring across the prairie. A sudden gust of wind rattles the windows and makes the house groan and creak. The remaining leaves are making a last ditch stand against the wind, but its a losing battle, as they are torn from their home in the trees and go tumbling across the ground in search of a final resting place. The cold wind reminds us that winter isn’t far behind. Before long, a blinding snowstorm will come riding in on those winds.

November is when we know that fall is over. The bright colors are gone in most places, replaced by dull browns and rust-colored leaves on those trees that still have leaves. November can be a dreary, dark month as the nights get longer and the days get shorter. It’s a depressing time for many people. 

Even though it’s colder and the wind is often biting, I still like to get out and walk, or hike might be a better word for what I do. It’s my way to get in touch with the nature around me and find the solitude I need. I know many people who can’t do any activity without other people around them. That’s not me. I cherish the solitude I find, whether walking, skiing, or snowshoeing. It was that way back in my running days too. It’s my time to think, without a lot of distractions around me. You could call it a moving meditation process. It also gives me ideas for stories as I experience the world around me.

Now that Daylight Savings Time is over, I’ll have to spend time walking in the dark. It’s just getting light when I go to work and dark when I get home. As long as the moon and stars are out you can still find your way and some of my most memorable walks have been in the dark. If you do walk or run in the dark, be safe and be seen. I just purchased new, red LED, blinking armbands from Blue Dog Cycle in Viroqua. They work great. If someone hits me with those on, they were trying to hit me, not because they didn’t see me.

When we lived in Madison, I did a lot of hiking in the 1,260 acre UW-Arboretum where there were over 20 miles of hiking trails. I made use of all of them. We lived close enough that I could walk or run there from our house. It’s what kept me sane while living in the city all those years. I know it wasn’t the smartest thing to go walking alone in the dark, especially in a wooded, isolated area. There were some reports of people being robbed or assaulted, but I was never afraid. I loved and needed the solitude I found there.

An Arboretum stream that I crossed during my walks.

I often encountered deer, raccoons, squirrels, turkeys, and a few owls that made their home in the Arboretum.

One evening as I left the peacefulness of a secluded pond behind, I followed the trail into a heavily wooded area called Gallistel Woods. Even though the moon was rising, many trees were still covered with leaves and allowed very little light to penetrate. Darkness surrounded me. I could hear animals scampering through the leaves and brush along the trail and was startled by a deer as it ran across the path in front of me. 

I followed the trail up a hill toward a parking lot. I could hear two owls calling to each other in the dark woods to my right. It was a haunting sound.

As I approached the top of the hill, I saw the full moon coming up over the treetops. It was very bright and appeared so large, I expected to see the flag flying on Tranquility Base!

In the sky opposite the moon, was a very bright star. I knew it wasn’t a star, but a planet. Even so, I couldn’t help repeat the old saying, “Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, wish I may, wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight!”

I continued my walk along the side of a road running through the Arboretum. It was peaceful and the moonlight bathed everything with shadows, but not scary shadows. I was suddenly aware of a large, winged form gliding silently over me. I looked up as it settled into the branches of a tree just ahead. I walked slowly toward the tree before stopping. I could tell from its dark silhouette against the moonlit sky that it must be a large Barred Owl. I called to it several times before it finally answered back. It sounded like, “Whoo, whoo, who cooks for you?” It was a Barred Owl! We talked to each other for a while, although I haven’t the slightest idea what we were talking about, and imagine the owl was a little confused too! He finally lifted his great wings and glided off into the darkness in search of better conversation. I continued on my walk, feeling richer for having just communicated with an owl.

When I reached the parking lot, I stood there for a while, savoring the moment. I hated to leave that solitude and peacefulness behind. I headed home with my spirit refreshed.

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Some Thoughts from An Old Veteran

Across the Fence #468

Every Veterans Day, I realize how lucky I am to be a veteran, and not a name on a wall memorializing those who were killed in war. I’d like to take you back 47 years to June of 1966. I was home on a two-week leave before leaving for Vietnam. What was this old veteran thinking of at that time?

A two-week leave goes much too fast. There are so many things to do and so many people to see, especially when you’ll be gone for over a year. Waiting to go fight in a war is not a very pleasant experience for anyone. Each person is filled with some fears and apprehensions. It’s only natural. I doubt if anyone talks about those fears while they’re on leave, both out of not wanting to show he’s afraid, and not wanting to worry his family and friends any more than they already are. No one likes to think that he could be wounded or possibly killed, but it’s a thought that’s often present as you wonder what the future holds for you. 

We were at the cemetery one day, putting flowers on my grandparent’s graves, when a cold chill ran through me. I thought of the chance that I could be killed over there and wondered where I would be laid to rest. Rather sobering thoughts.

I think we all feel we’re immortal, that nothing can hurt us, and we’ll live forever. Especially when we’re young, we feel that way. Nothing worries us. There’s plenty of time to do what we want. There’s always tomorrow.

Suddenly we find ourselves in a different situation. We realize that time is short. There isn’t always tomorrow. There aren’t enough hours in the day to see and do everything we want. We drive down familiar roads and walk across familiar fields that others pass through without even noticing. Familiar things around us are usually unnoticed by those who see them every day as they hurry through life. But now I saw everything in a different light. I saw and heard trees rustling their leaves in the breeze along the roadside near our back forty, birds singing, and the hay waving on the prairie fields. I would stare and try to savor and remember each detail, to store it up for the long year ahead—or perhaps for eternity—when I wouldn’t be here. I looked at everything as if I may never get to see it again. I remember thinking, this may be the last time I see this, and a lump would rise in my throat, not so much feeling sorry for myself, but regretting that I hadn’t spent more time noticing the world around me. For the first time I was really living, not as if there’s always tomorrow, but as if there may never be a tomorrow. In many ways, going to Vietnam was good for me. It opened my eyes to a lot of things and most of all, made me appreciate life more. Too many people live their entire life without really noticing the world in which they live. They are just along for the ride.

My leave was fourteen days of living and seeing things as I had never seen them before. I knew how I felt about going to Vietnam and I knew how my family, fiancé, and friends must feel, and this bothered me more than anything. I really think that it’s worse for those who are left behind.

I always did hate goodbyes and those days were the worst. What does a person say to a person who’s about to leave for a war zone. “See you later, have a good time.” That doesn’t quite fit the situation. I knew it was awkward for the people shaking my hand and telling me good luck. I’d tell them to behave themselves and I’d see them in a year. You try to laugh and joke about it to ease the feelings of those you leave behind and also to cover up your own feelings and fears. You act brave and stand tall so they won’t feel sorry for you, and to make it easier for both them and yourself. But behind that joking smile, it’s no joke and you aren’t very brave at all. But you’ve got to act brave. Walk like a man! Many who go are still kids, not old enough to vote in an election or get served a drink in a bar. They may not even be old enough in another year when they return, but they’re old enough to be sent off to a war and be killed. Nothing made much sense at that moment. Age doesn’t help make you a man anyway. It’s what you have inside. It’s how well we would stand up to the challenges ahead. 

Leaving La Crosse: Slaback, Sherpe, Springborn, Skolos 

As the plane lifted off the runway in La Crosse and headed for Fort Lewis, Washington, I looked at the countryside below and knew it would be a long time before I could once more walk in those woods that we saw below us. 

I thought of Robert Frost’s poem. “The woods are lovely, dark and deep... but I have promises to keep... and miles to go before I sleep... and miles to go before I sleep.”

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