Items sought for silent, live auction

If you are old enough or have memories of your parents talking about those good old days, you will hopefully be able to relate to some of our family’s memories.

My mother talks about "old blue," which was the wood-burning heater that they had in the dining room in the old farmhouse. It was a loathsome character then, but today it would be a masterpiece with its shiny enamel-like surface and silver trim. 

It was big, heavy, and an object of many descriptive words, not always nice, because it took up so much space. And, the sooner it could be moved out of the house in the spring, the better.

During the summer, it sat in the "summer kitchen" until the coolness of autumn dictated its travel into the main house again. Mom remembers it as a "Dad doesn't like activity" repeated every spring and fall. 

Old blue ate a lot of wood and that and the wood cook stove kept them from freezing in an old, un-insulated house each winter. The big living room’s double doors were kept closed to save heat and only opened during the winter for a short time at Christmas when an overflow of relatives, who also contributed their body heat, made it possible to enjoy the room with the player piano and phonograph.

Some bedrooms were closed off and the big room above the kitchen and dining area received heat from the floor register. The stovepipe that went through the middle of the room became the "winter resort"...

If the woodpile got low or covered with snow, there was coal that could be purchased. That was something that the family didn't like to do. 

Though it saved work and gave off more heat, there was always that smell that touched off my mother’s allergies. Grandma Hanson hated coal, but it did last through the night better than wood.

The area around the stove was a hub of daily activity, other than what involved actually using kitchen cook stove. Drying clothes, mending, ironing, schoolwork, card games, letter writing and use of the nearby wall telephone to keep in touch with the neighbors all took place in the kitchen. 

Two short and one long was the ring that sent someone scurrying for the phone. Other ring combinations were for neighbors on the line, but unless you were a "rubber neck" and listened to their calls, you didn't pick up the phone.

When the furnace was installed it was like a gift from Hawaii. A hot water furnace also came with those ugly registers that were placed in each room as a year-round fixture and always in a spot where you wished you could put something else. 

Sometimes they let off a little steam and often clunked when they were picking up heat after being set low for the evening to save fuel. You could always tell who the wealthy people were from the sacred smell of hard coal (anthraicte).

It sure cost more but gave off more heat. You also still had to haul out "clinkers" or residue that didn't burn down to ashes. 

There were those who had automatic stokers to auger the coal.  What a luxury — but it also sometimes raised problems and the house would fill with smoke. Later, some of the old furnaces were converted to fuel with a fuel oil fired gun.

It was one of the biggest changes for the rural community when electric lights, electric water pumps, small appliances, and furnace fans that spread heat in the house came into being. Home freezers also allowed people to store meat and other foods that used to have to be canned or forgotten until the natural cold of winter came.

And don't forget the iron that didn't have to be heated on the cook stove that sometimes spread soot on freshly laundered garments. Now the iron is seldom used because most cloth is less likely to wrinkle, or it may be knit or not the style.

Electricity was like waving a magic wand. I do remember my mother saying how Grandma Hanson wouldn't put in electricity until she had enough extra cash to pay for it even though it meant waiting several months after the electrical lines went through.

Stanley Johnson was the electrician who wired the house. Mom said that he gave Grandma an iron because she was able to pay cash on the spot for the job that he had done.

Outside it made things so much easier. This being the time of year for baby chicks and animals to arrive, they needed electric heat lamps to keep them warm. The workday was longer but easier and winter activities changed. 

Did you ever go to the post office to be greeted by the chirping of boxes filled with little yellow chicks probably hungry, thirsty and befuddled not knowing where they were? Yep — they came parcel post by the hundreds to be picked up and taken home to a "brooder house" heated just by fuel and later by electricity. 

My mother can remember in not so ancient times hearing the chicken post office chorus. A small box of special birds had been sent through the U.S. Mail and yes, they peeped!

Chickens were important. Most women claimed them as her project. The money left over after bartering for groceries was her money to spend on clothes, thread, stamps and such. 

It meant picking eggs from sometimes “picky” chickens, searching out hidden nests if the chickens ran free range, culling out the roosters and so called "non layers" by using two fingers to feel to find something. Chicken was fried, cooked and made into favorite dishes but not before they were beheaded, doused in warm water, picked of all their feathers, gutted, washed and prepared. 

Grandma never used the legs but there were those who did. The heart, liver and gizzard were special treats to some. 

A chicken went a long way in feeding folks and also provided the delicious gravy to pour over the mashed potatoes. Rural women were usually excellent cooks with good economical ways of making a chicken go a long way to fill empty stomachs.

One of Grandma’s claims to fame will always be her homemade chicken and noodles where she boiled a chicken with celery, onion and spices to make a rich broth. Then she used the chicken eggs and flour to make the noodles, which she cooked in the broth. 

It was and still is a family staple that no one seems to tire of. My mother has taken over the job of making this family favorite.

It could be said that Grandma paid for the farm by always putting away "chicken money" secretly so she could make double payments on the farm. She also raised Giants, a rooster that grew to almost turkey size and was exceptionally good eating. 

They were killed, cleaned and at first sent to the Butcher Brothers Locker Plant in Ellendale. There they were dipped in cold water so it formed a protective ice coating. 

These giants were then wrapped well and placed in the locker (later the home freezer). That icy coating kept them from getting freezer burn. 

More than one of Grandma’s frozen beauties was super wrapped and sent by the postal service to O'Donn Lageson, a friend of my uncle Paul’s, who was in the service and just so happened to have a friend in the kitchen who would roast it for him and others so they could enjoy a treat from back home.

Some of our Star Eagle readers have commented they like to read about events such as family and school reunions, birthdays and anniversaries, and birth and wedding announcements. In order to read about these important things, we need our faithful readers to pass along the information to us. 

If you have news, please contact me via e-mail, This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.; by postal mail, P. O. Box 192, Geneva, MN 56035 or telephone, 507-256-4405.

Birthdays and Anniversaries:

• Thursday, February 7th: Cheryl Cornelius, Ted Pelzl, Kelly Simon, Emma Lorraine Klemmensen, Karissa Dolan, Dorothy Katz, Joel Radjenovich, Steve & Holly Glynn.

• Friday, February 8th: Lainee Ann Krohn, Erin Thompson, Terry Wacek.

• Saturday, February 9th: Emily Eder, John Warnke, Donnavon Eaker, Laura (Edwards) Baudoin, Brad Lerum, Howard Goette, Kelly Lageson, Heidi Nelson, Karen Knudson, Tami Sorenson, Jay Wangsness.

• Sunday, February 10th: Brooklyn Jo Baudoin, Brett Mitchell Kubiatowicz, Greg Hagen, Abbey Jensen, Tom Wayne, Dean Reiter, Michael Glienke, Wayne Osmundson, Rachel Strand, Judy Thostenson, Peggy Talamantes, Greg Nelson, Madison Johnson, Dick & Mary Ann Ewing.

• Monday, February 11th: Helyn Langlie, Megan Pence, Jet Wayne, Neil Douglas Schmidt, Donna Wilker, David Dunn, Julie Christensen, Rhonda Thompson Christensen, Steve Gallentine, Earl Cleven, Teresa Knudson Pratt, Nadine Berg.

• Tuesday, February, 12th: Gail Skroch, Joe Moon, Michael Hanson, April Van Riper, Rick Borchert, Eugene Kruckeberg, Travis Wayne, Jessie Olson, Greg Oswald, Taff & Jean Worrell, David & Carolyn Hanson.

• Wednesday, February 13th: Cobi Gowlland, Becca Spurr, Greg Spurr, Jim Brocker, Eric Olson, Linda Ingvaldson, Bonnie Jensen, Brian Rechtzigel, Anita Kes, David & Carolyn Nelson, Terry & Pam Roberts.

May all the good wishes that you receive on your special day bloom in your heart and bring you joy!

We have been experiencing what most of us would call a mild winter, and a strange one at that. We are constantly flirting with temperatures ranging from below zero to the 30s and back. This is not uncommon for Minnesota; in fact, it gives us a chance to utter that much over-used phrase: “If you don’t like the weather, wait a while and it will change.”

The fishing on the channel this winter has been less than sensational, judging from the number of permanent houses residing there. This is the least number of houses I have seen on the lake in recent years. 

The walleye action on the channel was good early on, but as of late, the bite has slowed. There are still some walleye and crappie to be had. 

Fountain Lake, on the other hand, has more houses than in other years and the reason for all the houses is quite simple: fish! Although there aren’t many walleyes to be had, the crappie and sunfish have been biting. I have heard that the fish haven’t been “slabs” but they will still be good eaters.

As we tip-toe into the month of February, I am hoping that our area lakes will maintain enough oxygen to sustain the fish population. It is a double-edged sword because on one hand, we could use the snow that would add much needed moisture to our low lakes and dry streams. On the other hand, too much snow cover blocks the sunlight needed for oxygen that sustains fish life.

So far, I haven’t had to fight off the urge to jump in the truck and drive to Cabela’s or Fleet Farm and troll through the sporting goods aisles. I know it will only be a matter of time before that happens. I can’t think of a better way to fight off the cabin fever bug than spending a little time (and money) in the fishing aisle of one of those stores.

Whenever I start daydreaming about fishing and summer, I think back to my youth and the times I would get lost in an article in one of my fishing magazines. My cousin Tom had given me some of his old issues of Sports Afield and Outdoor Life before he went off to the Army. In these pages, I discovered there were many places in our country similar to ours. I also felt the rush that the author of an article felt as he fought a tarpon in the backwaters of the Florida coast.

There were many places I thought that I’d like to visit, but to this day I haven’t gone much farther to fish than Wisconsin, Northern Minnesota and South Dakota. If it hadn’t been for my uncle Ben, I probably would have been destined to a childhood of fishing for bullheads and rubbertails. My mother always encouraged me to go fishing and when she could find the time she also loved to fish.

As a kid growing up north of town, life didn‘t really seem all that complicated. There was always water in the “slew” and most of the “cricks” in the area had water year-round except for late August in some years. As kids, we would almost live down at the “Bridge” in the spring and early summer watching as the tad poles evolved into frogs, and we always marveled as that event unfolded.

The bridge I am referring to is not the one by the dam on the north side. It’s the one on Bridge Avenue north of the fairgrounds between the two sloughs. 

If I was going to the north side to do some fishing, I would tell my mom I was going down to the dam. But if I was going to the “crick,” I was going to the bridge. 

It seem like we always had our own terminology for things in those days. We also had names for certain places like “skunk hill” or “dead man’s woods” that seemed like magical places that were just waiting for young adventurers like ourselves to explore.

There was one spot on the edge of the “slew” that was probably my favorite place to spend time as a kid. It was on the north side of the slough and west on the corner of the field bordering the slough. 

This was a place not very far from home that I could go to by myself if none of the other kids was around. This spot was nothing more than a couple of willow trees and small elms with a few bushes all bunched together with some swamp grass mixed in. 

A guy could make a stand from that spot and fend off attacking Indians or bad guys and even a vicious bear or mountain lion. I really didn’t need much more than my imagination those days, and I always felt safe because I was “packin’ heat” which, in this case, was my trusty Daisy Red Ryder BB gun. 

I usually always toted “Old Red” along whenever I ventured out into the slough in search of a new adventure. Yes, there are some pretty darned good memories from those days.

Until next time, enjoy what our area has to offer, and with a little imagination, you can have an outdoors adventure of your own.

Please remember to keep our troops in your thoughts and prayers because they are the reason we are able to enjoy all the freedoms that we have today.

Echoes from the Loafers’ Club Meeting

"It feels as if this is last year."

"That’s because you didn’t make any New Year’s resolutions. Mine is to stop putting my foot in my mouth. I’ll bet yours is to lose 100 pounds."

Driving by the Bruces

I have two wonderful neighbors — both named Bruce — who live across the road from each other. Whenever I pass their driveways, thoughts occur to me, such as: I remember when I knew more than my phone.

I’ve learned

It’s not difficult to be overdressed.

Honesty is the best policy — unless you want to be elected.

The Mayans taught us that a calendar isn’t the end of the world.

It’s the cold and flu sneezin’

My son recovered from the flu, but claims to have dirt under his fingernails from clawing his way from the grave.

I was heartened to see his miraculous recovery. I remember boarding one of those "Get in, sit down, shut up, and hold on" buses. It was overcrowded. I stood next to an older woman on the bouncing vehicle. As the blocks passed slowly, I noticed a young man, seated, with his eyes closed. "Are you O.K.?" I asked. "Are you ill?”

"No, I’m O.K.," he replied. "I just hate to see an old lady have to stand."

The cafe chronicles

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. That’s when retired guys decide whether to go back to bed or not. The rest of us talk about what kind of jobs we want after we retire. The retired lot claimed that getting older is a walk in the park. One of those parks where no one picks up after their dogs. We talked of hybrid cars we’d owned that ran on gasoline and prayers.

Unrelated dog tales

I spoke in Indianapolis and met a man covered in leather. So much leather that the Hoosier State must be devoid of cows. He wore only one glove. Either he’d lost one or it was a very narrow cold front. He held a tiny dog. It was a miniature Doberman pinscher. I asked him, "How much smaller will it get?"

I watched another man walk on the ice of a Minnesota lake. The man looked cold. He moved with the shuffle of one tormented by a brisk wind. I watched a dog run to the man. The happy hound bounded about, wagging its tail. The dog didn’t want to be the man. Dogs are great companions because they are happy being a dog.

Did you know?

A Public Policy Polling survey showed that Congress is less popular than head lice, cockroaches, Donald Trump, root canals, traffic jams, brussels sprouts, and colonoscopies. It is more popular than John Edwards, the Kardashians, telemarketers, and Lindsay Lohan. 

Customer comments

Brad Edwin of Albert Lea told me that a hockey game had been canceled because of ice.

Rich Murray of Albert Lea passed along good advice to a family member. "Why am I working harder to resolve your situation than you are?"

Tom Stockwell of Burnsville told me that his dream is to have the lightbulb concession in Las Vegas.

Tom Benson of Hartland told me that there is a city in Faribault County that is so cold, it says "Frost" on its water tower.

I asked Don Lau of Glenville if he goes south for the winter. Don lives in Minnesota not far from the Iowa border. He told me that he had driven south a few times, but if the weather was no better by the time he got to Kensett, Iowa, Don turned around and went home.

TGIF

Thank Goodness It’s February. My wife’s birthday is in February. I struggle to find suitable gifts. One year, we rode in the basket of a hot air balloon over a desert in Arizona. We did that so we could see what a desert in Arizona looked like from the basket of a hot air balloon. The flight was amazing. There was little sound. Landing was a drag. We landed in the desert and the basket, including us, was dragged for quite a distance. I don’t think it was a record, but it was memorable. Happy birthday, honey.

Nature notes

Shirley Gunderson of Albert Lea saw a bald eagle being mobbed by black-capped chickadees while it was perched in a tree. It presented a bizarre scene. The bald eagle was about 500 times the size of a chickadee. Why do birds mob raptors? Mobbing is a collective response to danger. The chickadees were either trying to drive off the eagle or calling attention to its presence.

Meeting adjourned

When patience ends, let kindness hold.

Picture this: you’re at a party with a number of adults. In the next room, all the children of those adults are gathered. Playing starts out nicely among the kids, and the adults feel comfortable not keeping a constant watch.

Before long, there is the sound of some scuffling, and a high-pitched cry ensues. Quick, look around! 

You’ll see some parents’ heads jerk up and they immediately head toward the scream. Others might turn their heads a bit, but will quickly resume their conversations.

The ones who run to the next room? Rookies. These are the first-time parents. We veterans know how to tell A. the cry of our child and B. whether it’s a cry that needs immediate attention or not.

Back in September, I wrote about the scariness of being a first-time parent with Jayna. As Anton’s birthday approaches, I can look at how things change when bundle of joy number two arrives.

The attitude quickly set in that we knew what we were doing, even before Anton was born. We had everything planned out, including knowing what needed to be packed for the hospital and what to have ready at home for the new arrival.

And then, life throws you a curveball. Michelle had gone in for a regular check-up a week before her due date. I was coaching our final junior high basketball game of the season. 

Just as I finished my halftime speech, my phone rang. It was my mother-in-law, telling me I needed to come to Owatonna since they figured Michelle would be having the baby.

I left (the team immediately went on a huge scoring run and finished the season with a good win!), but hadn’t sensed any urgency from Mary, so I went home, grabbed the suitcase, and headed to Owatonna…where I found out they needed to do an emergency C-section!

Everything went fine, but we already knew that just when we thought we had this parenting thing figured out, we would have to learn all over again. As many of you know, raising boys is a whole different ballgame from raising girls, and I’m not just talking about the ability to duck while changing diapers!

Sure, we quickly became those veteran parents from the above example. We didn’t rush directly to the doctor at the first sign of a fever, and we didn’t worry as much about bumps and scrapes. 

Just like his sister, Anton once rolled off the bed, and he has certainly had his moments where the temper he inherited genetically has shown up. But he's a gentle soul and has made us proud to have named him after my two grandpas (Anton and William).

Do we know more the second time around as parents? Sure, but there are always new challenges. Having taught plenty of siblings over the years, it’s pretty hard to find two that were completely alike; every child is unique.

My kids like some of the same things, but they continue to develop their own personalities on a daily basis, which means that Michelle and I are never done learning as parents!

Word of the Week: This week’s word is aftermorrow, which means the day after tomorrow, as in, “The basketball player knew he didn’t have a game until aftermorrow, so there would be more time to rest his sore ankle.” Impress your friends and confuse your enemies!

The scurs seem to have forgotten that a blanket of snow keeps temperatures below what one would normally think they should be. Will their new shipment of memory pills arrive in time for the next forecast? Starting Wednesday, mostly cloudy with a slight chance of an overnight snow shower. Highs 30 – 35 and lows near 20. Partly cloudy Thursday with a high of 30 and lows of 10 – 15. Mostly sunny for Friday with a high around 30 and lows of 20 -25. Partly cloudy for Saturday with an increasing chance of snow by evening. Highs of 35 with lows around 20. Mostly cloudy with a moderate chance of snow for the daylight and a better chance for the evening hours. Highs near 30 with lows around 15. Partly cloudy becoming mostly sunny for Monday with a slight chance of snow in the morning. Highs around 25 and lows near 20. Mostly sunny on Lincoln’s Birthday with highs of 30 – 35 and lows around 20. The normal high for February 12th is 27 and the normal low is 8. The scurs will be wearing their stovepipe hats in Abe’s honor.

Last week brought an end to the month of January and with it hopefully an end to extended periods of below-zero temperatures. Days are becoming noticeably longer with the sun setting now after 5:30 p.m. and rising before 7:30 a.m. This becomes particularly apparent when one has been bumbling around in the dark during chore time both morning and night. On Lincoln’s Birthday, we’ll have notched an additional hour and 29 minutes of daylight since the winter solstice December 21st. We’re gaining daylight at the rate of about 3 minutes a day and while it isn’t spring yet, one can sense it coming. January left us with sparse snow cover with most of it blowing off the fields. We tallied only 1” of snow at the ranch in January although we did get .41” of welcome moisture in the form of rain. Every little bit helps at this point. February on the other hand has started off with measurable snow on 3 of the first 4 days so at least we’re not looking at dirty, bare fields as we were. It’s nice to see some snow. After all, it’s too early to think about planting a garden or heaven forbid corn just yet.

The arrival of snow meant a return of some feathered friends we hadn’t seen since the December snow left in January. Late Monday afternoon about 5:30, there were 3 male and 3 female cardinals snacking on the cracked corn and safflower we’d put out for them. Initially on Saturday, there was a male and a female. On Sunday another male and female appeared so additional food was placed in the area they seemed to be frequenting. When the new pair was spotted on Monday I couldn’t believe my eyes. The snow must’ve had something to do with their reappearance. The stark contrast of the red males against it in the dwindling minutes of daylight was downright breathtaking. 

The snow elsewhere in the dooryard hasn’t necessarily been breathtaking. It has come close to knocking the wind out of both Mrs. Cheviot and me though, courtesy of the nasty spills we’ve taken on the ice hidden beneath it. If you look around there are lots of walking wounded and horror stories of their plight. The purveyors of grit and salt must be doing land office business as a result. Reminds me, we’re nearly out of grit. Time to make a trek to that little store in Hope that carries everything the store where you go to the bathroom in the big orange silo doesn’t. That should spell warmer temps and an end to the ice. Not that I’m superstitious or anything. I just hate it when my lucky rabbit’s foot has to break my fall.

Even the brood ewes don’t like their slick feedlot. They don’t wander out of the barnyard much and tend to stay close to their hay feeders where they don’t have to worry about falling. Of course, being as fat as they are with as much wool as they have, the worst thing that can happen is they might hurt a leg. All that padding is good for something. The increased hours of daylight have meant we’ve had a better opportunity to gauge the progress of their gestation. We may see some lambs on the ground before shearing day on the 16th. Won’t be the first time, probably won’t be the last.

Yes, as was mentioned in last week’s Bugtussle Bugle, I’ve started on my 11th year of writing this column. If you kept the photo of my mug from the front page, your rodent problems should be solved. Carrie Gilbertson pointed out this was the “tin” anniversary year although I’ve never quite figured out what all that nonsense concerning anniversaries was all about. Maybe if it was a Fishing Trip or Goose Hunting anniversary I’d get it. Still, I do feel a little like the Tin Man when cranking out these column inches. In a week’s time, I get a little rusty before shifting into writing mode. I start out slowly, it takes me a little while to get limbered up and I may mutter something that could be mistaken for “oil can” especially when a surprise deadline looms near. In the end I achieve my goal and the mission is accomplished.

Thanks to the loyal column readers without whom there would be little point in writing it. Thanks to Jim and the staff for putting up with my ever increasing demands, even to the “mad paragrapher” who made me realize the passion I still have about writing. Thanks especially to Reed for the spot-on framed caricature that graces the wall above the writing desk in the basement studio. It’s almost as accurate as the scurs’ weather forecasts. And oh yeah, I got the money.

See you next week…real good then.