Comics Aren't Always Funny

Across the Fence #536

I’ve always been a fan of newspaper comic strips, or as some people call them, “the funnies” or the “funny papers.” The funnies used to be filled with comic strips that had great artwork, good story lines, and lots of good humor. Maybe that’s why we call them the funnies.

Comic strips have changed over the years. That’s only natural because just about everything seems to be in constant change. Lately, I feel like I’ve been left behind and don’t understand the humor or lack of humor in many strips. Over the years many of my favorite strips have been dumped in favor of new, more modern and up-to-date strips. I’ve tried to get into the new strips, but many of them seem to be way over my head when it comes to understanding the humor in them. Call me an Old Fogey if you want, it won’t bother me.

This past Sunday, the day after Valentine’s Day, the cartoon strip “Retail” by Norm Feuti greatly offended me. I usually like the strip and have been following it for years. The art and writing are good, but this one crossed the line as far as I’m concerned. Perhaps many of you follow this strip too. 

On Sunday it dealt with Valentine’s Day and Cooper, one of the main characters, was reading a verse he had written for his girlfriend. It begins, “Violets are blue, roses are red, I’m glad you chose me instead of some other guy.” One part then goes on to say, “I’m glad you chose my wit and charm, and not some rube down on the farm, who smells like manure, and isn’t too bright, and commits felonies every Saturday night. But truly I’m glad that you picked me, because I know in reality, you’d never end up with guys like those, and I’m lucky to be the one you chose.”

"Retail" comic strip by Norm Feuti

Ok, that sounds like another put-down of farm and rural folks by big city, urban thinking. I find that offensive. I’m proud to say I grew up on a farm and am still a country boy at heart. I’m a rather “old” boy, but still a country boy. Yes, I’m one of those rubes down on the farm that he mentions, and yes I smelled of manure because we worked in the barn every day. I hate to admit it, but we only took a bath once a week because we didn’t get a bathroom in the house until I was a sophomore in high school. We had an old two-holer outside that worked just fine all year round. So I guess I’ll have to concede that I probably smelled like manure, but I wasn’t alone. There were a lot of us farm kids. 

Now as far as this rube not being too bright, that may be up for debate, depending who you talk to. I like to think I’m fairly smart. It’s my opinion that us farm kids who went to one room country schools had a wonderful education that prepared us for high school, college, and the work force. I think farmers have to be very smart. There’s always been a lot involved in farming and now they have to be tech-savvy too. Show me another job where you have to know as much about so many areas as in farming. 

Back to that Valentine poem, let’s look at the last statement… “and commits felonies every Saturday night.” I don’t know where he was going with that. I will admit, I used to have a bit of fun on Saturday nights with my friends, but I don’t think we ever committed any felonies. Even farm boys had to have fun once in a while.

  

I realize other cartoonists have found themselves on a hit list when they’ve poked fun at certain things in society. I won’t be putting out any hit list, but I did send the cartoonist a message that I was a regular reader of his strip and liked it. However, I told him I was disappointed with this particular cartoon and explained why. I then told him I’ve been a fan of cartoon strips since the days of Milton Caniff and an early Charles Schulz. He’ll probably think, “Boy, this guy is a really old geezer.” We’ll see if I get any response.

Just in case you’re wondering who Milton Caniff was, he drew two strips, Steve Canyon, and Terry and the Pirates. Charles Schulz drew one of my all time favorites, Peanuts. Other classic strips that I loved were Pogo by Walt Kelly, Li’l Abner by Al Capp, Gasoline Alley by Frank King, Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson, Prince Valiant by Hal Foster, For Better or for Worse by Lynn Johnston, B.C., and The Wizard of Id by Johnny Hart, Beetle Bailey by Mort Walker, Hagar the Horrible by Dik Browne, and my list could go on and on. I’ve got to include Willie and Joe cartoons by Bill Mauldin. Many of those cartoonists are gone now, but others have continued drawing their strips. Some of those strips are history. 

That short list of cartoons includes some wonderful artists and innovators in the world of cartooning. Just like life, cartoons can’t be funny all the time, but they’ve brought, and continue to bring, a lot of humor into a world that really needs to chuckle or laugh once in a while.

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How We Communicate Has Changed

Across the Fence #535

The way we receive information and news that’s happening around the world has greatly changed during my lifetime. That realization passed through my mind the other day as I opened our rural mailbox to see if we had received any mail. It was mostly junk mail and a couple of bills, no personal letters. Those kinds of letters are few and far between these days. It’s still nice to receive a letter with a hand-written note inside. I sometimes get one of those from a reader who doesn’t have a computer. I also thought of poor old Charlie Brown who would open the mailbox each Valentine’s Day with great expectations, but was always disappointed when the mailbox was empty. 

A lot of happy and sad moments have centered around mailboxes and what we find or don’t find waiting for us. I thought of how different it was 100 years ago, and yet the anticipation and emotions haven’t changed. I remembered my grandmother, Inga Sherpe, telling about going to the mailbox during World War I, hoping to hear some news about her brother, John Ostrem, who was missing in action. Every day there was nothing. Then after several months, when she opened the mailbox she found a letter from John. She tore open the letter and then went running up the road to the house to tell everyone the good news. John had been severely wounded, but was alive and in a hospital in France. That’s the kind of emotional message that can come in a hand-written letter.

John Ostrem - World War I - 4th Infantry Division 

That was in 1918 and Grandma Inga couldn’t just pick up the phone and tell other people the news. They didn’t have a phone. They couldn’t get in the car and spread the news either. They didn’t have a car. I imagine they harnessed up the horses, climbed in the buggy, and headed off to tell other relatives and friends. That was happy news that couldn’t wait to be spread. 

We forget how limited our methods of communication were almost 100 years ago in 1918 compared to today, 2015. Now we have phones, cell phones, computers, iPads, e-mail, Twitter, and Skype, just to mention a few. All those methods are pretty much instantaneous ways to communicate with people almost anywhere in the world, and it’s right at our fingertips. We tend to forget how much all this technology has changed the way we exchange information.

The telephone was another huge improvement in how we communicate. Instead of walking or driving to a neighbor or friend to tell them some news, we can pick up the phone and call them. That’s something my grandmother couldn’t do when she found out her brother was alive. Eventually, most people had party lines, and everyone else on the line could hear what you were talking about. It was called rubbernecking. Now we have another form of rubbernecking. It’s called Facebook. Think about it, you can check on what your “friends” are posting and saying every day and they don’t know you’re listening in unless you click on “Like” or make a comment regarding something they said. You can check on what they had to eat that day, what they did, who they were with, who posted in a “selfie” with them, check up on what they are thinking about, what they like or don’t like, what their political and religious likes and dislikes are, and the list goes on and on. It’s just like rubbernecking on the old party line.

Think about how much has changed since our ancestors left their homeland in a foreign country and came to America. Letters were their only form of communication with family and friends they left behind. Think about how long it would have taken a letter to go from where you are to whatever country they came from and for a reply to get back to you. Some of those ocean voyages took two to four months. It could be ten to twelve months for a two-way conversation. Now I can call or instant message relatives in Norway and talk or type a message and it’s right now, 24/7. What would my great grandparents, who sailed from Norway, think about these technological changes?

Now we have instant news from around the world. During World War I it could take weeks for news to get to some rural areas. They couldn’t turn on a TV and watch live reports from the battlefields like we can today. Because of the limited sources of communication 100 years ago, my grandmother and the Ostrem family were left in the dark much of the time, and had no idea what John was going through. Thank goodness for local, hometown newspapers. People got most of their news from those weekly papers. That’s been the one constant during the past 100 years. Our local papers are still providing us stories about local people and happenings. That’s a valuable service in a changing world.

All the technological advances in how we communicate have brought the world to our doorstep and changed how we see it and our expanding universe. I wish I could time-travel 100 years into the future and see the changes and what new knowledge about life and our universe will be discovered. My grandmother and I would probably both say, “Uff da ney, I don’t believe it!”

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There's A Lot Going On

Across the Fence #534

Where do I begin? There’s the snowstorm, ski jumping, Ground Hog Day, tobacco harvesting, lutefisk, and Valentines Day.

A few days ago I made the statement, “What a difference a year makes.” I also posted two photos showing our house and driveway a year ago with huge drifts and piles of snow. The other photo was taken on January 30th of this year, showing hardly any snow and lots of bare ground. My brother, Arden, responded, “Careful, don’t tempt the snow gods.” I should have listened to him, but too late. Looks like the snow gods heard what I said and decided to show me, and everyone else, who’s in charge. That was quite a storm that moved through the area, dumping lots of snow and whipping it around with high winds. It really drifted around our place, but we’re lucky compared to much of the Midwest and East Coast, so I won’t complain.

January 2014

January 2015

Luckily, the snow arrived on Sunday instead of Friday and Saturday when the Westby ski jumping tournament was going on. At least the snow waited until it was over. I doubt if it could have been held with the weather and wind we had on Sunday. It takes a very dedicated group of volunteers to pull off such a major event and it was quite an accomplishment. The Friday night jumping under the lights is very special.

Also on Sunday, there was a Super Bowl going on that we Packer fans think the Green Bay Packers should have been playing in. Things don’t always go the way we want, but at least the snow gods weren’t involved in the outcome. Now the Seattle Seahawk fans know how Packer fans felt two weeks before, although I think most of Wisconsin would be in a deeper depression if we had lost the Super Bowl in the last 30 seconds.

As I write this, Ground Hog Day is winding down. I hear the little rodent, Punxsutawney Phil, saw his shadow and predicted six more weeks of winter. Down in Sun Prairie, Wisconsin, Jimmy the Ground Hog was also dragged out of his nice warm hole to face the cold weather, throngs of people, and reporters. He wasn’t a happy camper and instead of whispering his prediction in the mayor’s ear, Jimmy sunk his teeth into it. The flustered mayor then reported that Jimmy told him we’d have an early spring. Jimmy’s handlers said the mayor must have misunderstood his prediction, because the sun was shining and he could see his shadow. There would be six more weeks of winter. However, it was decided the mayor’s proclamation overruled Jimmy the ear-chomping rodent. So there you have it. I guess we’ll have to ask the snow gods. I think I’ll stick to watching my “weather rock” to see what the weather will be. At the moment it’s buried under a drift of snow. I can safely tell you that winter is still here.

I was a bit confused about what season it was the other morning when I was harvesting tobacco. There wasn’t a snowflake in sight. Now before you think I’m losing my marbles, it was a dream. I can’t tell you how relieved I was when I woke up. We ran into one of my high school classmates, Barbara (Melby) Anderson, at the grocery store and I told her about my dream of harvesting tobacco. She said, “Howard, that wasn’t a dream, that was a nightmare!” I think she was right. That dream had all the ingredients to qualify as a nightmare.

We were still living in Madison and I was under heavy deadline pressure from several of my clients. That’s when Ma called to tell us Dad needed me to come up and help harvest tobacco. Next thing you know we were at the farm and the sun was barely up. Ma said that Dad was already in the tobacco field. My brothers, David and Arden, and sister, Janet, all headed out of the house and to the 10-acre tobacco field west of the barn. 

Dad quit cutting tobacco and started barking orders like a drill sergeant. “Arden, you start milking, Janet, you start piling, Howard and David start spearing. As soon as you have a load speared we’ll start hanging. Howard, you’ll be in the peak, David under him, and Arden on the rack. I looked at David, “Good Lord, I haven’t crawled in a shed for years. How are we ever gonna’ do this?” David said, “I saw a ladder in the shed. We can use the ladder to climb up.” Janet said, “I’m supposed to be working at the hospital this weekend. I hate piling tobacco.” I said, “I’ve got all kinds of work to get done and deadlines to meet. If I don’t get those jobs done on time, I’ll lose those clients.” Arden said, “What are we doing cutting tobacco this early in the morning? It’s still full of heavy dew.” Dad had the last word, “We’re gonna’ get all this tobacco harvested while all of you are here. Now get to work!”

Dad hanging tobacco.

That’s when I woke up. Boy was I relieved. Now we’ve got the big lutefisk dinner at Our Savior’s and Valentine’s Day is almost here. My weather rock is still snow covered, but life is good!

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Old Barns Without Corners

Across the Fence #533

Old barns have a special place in the hearts of many people. After I sent the old barn story to the newspapers last week, I received an e-mail from Rae Ann Holub, Editor of the Linn News-Letter in Central City, Iowa, where Across the Fence runs each week. She included before and after photos of the restoration of her father’s round barn.

The story begins in 1913, when her great grandfather, Robert “Rob” Kirkpatrick, went to a horse sale in Missouri. He saw a unique round barn, something new in those days, built around a silo. The silage would never freeze because it was insulated by the haymow full of hay. That’s a great feature, as anyone knows who’s chipped away at frozen silage with a pickaxe. Also, the cows could be fed on ground level in stanchions built around the silo. Before her great grandfather went home, he measured every board in the haymow floor, counted bricks, drew up sketches, and then headed home with his dream to build his own round barn.

Round barns that are still standing are few and far between in most parts of the country. Here in Vernon County, Wisconsin, we’re very familiar with them. It’s said that we have the largest concentration of round barns in the world. Two summers ago I visited the remaining ten round barns and did a video documentary on them, along with June Zalewski Pedretti, who wrote a book in 1993 on the history of Vernon County’s round barns. There were still 16 standing at that time. 

Many of the round barns in Vernon County were built by Alga “Algie” Shivers, an African American who lived in the Cheyenne Valley. Tom Shivers, Algie’s father, was a former slave who came to Wisconsin after the Civil War, and settled on land near Hillsboro. It was a very integrated community and the Shivers family was well respected. Algie learned carpentry skills and built at least 15 round barns. Algie in Wisconsin, and Rae Ann’s great grandfather, Rob, in Iowa, both recognized the uniqueness and efficiency of round barns. Not only were they efficient for feeding the cattle, the round barns were also more resistant to strong winds. Instead of slamming into a flat surface, the wind is redirected around the curves of the barn. 

Round barns were first built around 1880, but the peak popularity was between 1900 and 1920. Eventually round barns became the victim of agriculture mechanization. Square bales instead of loose hay made it harder to put a square peg in a round hole. Barn cleaners and pipelines were harder to curve around a barn instead of going straight. As dairy herd sizes increased it was harder to put an addition on a round barn. Those problems were not in the picture when Algie and Rob built their barns.

Rob Kirkpatrick and his wife, Jennie, homesteaded their farm near Coggon, Iowa in 1905 and raised five children there. He began construction on his dream of a round barn in 1914. He did all the work himself, except for a bricklayer he hired who worked for room and board and $195 for three months of work. The bricks for the barn were all shipped by railroad flatcar from Chicago to Coggon with a shipping fee of $77. They were hauled to the farm by horse and a hayrack. The total cost of the barn was $1,995, not including labor.

Rob’s daughter, Irene, and son-in-law Duane Dighton, bought the farm after Rob passed away in 1935. Their son, Dave, and his wife Marilyn, bought the farm in 1970. They are Rae Ann’s parents. Her younger sister, Lynne, and her husband Mark Rauch, now own the farm, which is designated as a Century Farm.

Kirkpatrick barn before restoration. 

The old round barn that has been a working barn, was beginning to deteriorate like all old barns, and was falling apart. But in 2005 it got a second life when Dave Dighton wanted to preserve the hard work and craftsmanship he knew his grandfather had put into building the unique barn. He also knew it would cost a small fortune to restore the barn. People told Rae Ann’s father that his grandfather was crazy for building it in the first place, and he was crazier for wanting to restore it. With the help of the Iowa Barn Foundation and private donations, the restoration was completed in time for the Iowa Barn Tour in 2005. That stately old barn is now on the State and National Register of Historic Places.

Kirkpatrick barn after being restored.

The barn is located at 3344 120th Avenue, Coggon, Iowa, 2-1/2 miles northeast of Coggon in Delaware County. If you’re interested in old barns and round barns, take a road trip and check this one out.

It’s nice to hear about old barns that have been restored so future generations can also enjoy the beauty and uniqueness of them. Many of these barns are still used for storage and livestock. It’s been said, when you take the cattle out of a barn, the barn loses its soul. I remember how empty and desolate our old barn was at the end. I know there’s a lot of truth in that statement. They do lose their soul if they’re not used.

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