Me, Myself and Memories

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  Noreen 3:01 pm on September 5, 2019 Permalink  

  I Like It 

  I like this time of year.  Ya, ya, I realize what comes next but for this day and the ones previously that we have had, I like it . . . I like it a lot.

  With the temps and dew point as they have been it takes me back to the Boon Lake farm when Carrie and Kevin were wee ones.  Oh how I cherish those memories.  I would most likely be digging potatoes at this time of the year, while the kids played in the grass alongside the garden.  We had a huge garden at that.  

  In the basement of the farmhouse was a separate closet just right for hanging carrots and onions up by the stems.  We didn’t wash off the potatoes, carrots or onions as they kept better and longer.  It was a tight fit as there was a crock of sauerkraut biding its time as to when we could cold pack it.  A smaller crock had the rendered lard in it from the most recent hog butchering.  The lard stayed cool and a small container would be brought up to the kitchen as needed.

  The fruit jars on the shelf held fruit sauces of various flavors and jams and jellies.  Oh I remember the backache I had gotten one year from peeling pears for sauce canning.  It took me right into Hector to the chiropractor.  It did give a lot of satisfaction after the fact.  Elvera didn’t peel her pears . . . the core was taken out and in the jars they went.  Not the style that Lena taught.  The only thing that stopped the filling of the larder was when I ran out of fruit jars.  

  We had splurged on two Sears chest freezer that were in the same basement closet as the furnace.  Orlin worked at 3M in Hutchinson and had bought one of their electric sealers.  There were various sizes of the plastic bags and with little work, the bags were filled with goodies and the air within the bag was minimal.  There were containers of strawberries and raspberries alongside plastic bags of peeled and sliced apples waiting to be made into apple crisp, sauce or pies.  Saving the cardboard container of a pound of butter all year long was the perfect fit for a plastic bag filled to the brim with the sweetened frozen berries to stack up neatly in the freezer.  When I had extra time, I would make up apple pies and freeze them, ready for the oven when one was needed. 

  Right alongside of the garden items in the freezers was the butchered chickens, ducks, a few turkeys and of course the packages of beef and pork in a variety of cuts.  

  Hmm. 

  It was not an easy life, but it was my life and I was meant to be a good farm wife and a good farm mother.  Carrie and Kevin were always just at the end of my elbow, either pitching in or pitching a fit that one was doing what the other wanted to do.  I will say that Carrie was good at cleaning the chicken gizzards among so many other gopher jobs.  Both kids put on many miles fetching things for me when we were in the full thrust of the fall work of cleaning out the garden.   

  Hmm.    

  As I have said many times . . . me, myself and memories . . . it never gets old.

   
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  Noreen 3:37 pm on September 4, 2019 Permalink  

  The Rest of the Story 

  It has been quite the summer on Stauffer Avenue.  Dennis found himself a project that pretty much kept him busy from May right up to today, September 4th, 2019.

  Today he and his lifetime friend, Dwayne, put the mower back on the Cub-Lo-Boy.  It’s been quite the season of cleaning, painting and tricking out the 1968 tractor and mower.  I knew Dennis had taken the two wheel trailer with the mower on it over to Brett’s garage.  Dennis came back home and drove the tractor to the garage.  I didn’t ask any questions, but I made sure he had his cell phone along.  “Call me if you need me and . . . be safe.”  What more is a person to do.  When there is want power in place there is no stopping two 82-year-old fellows.  That was at eight this morning.  

  Almost to the exact stroke of twelve noon, Dennis and the Cub-Lo-Boy were home, towing the two wheel trailer behind.  Dennis’ first thing was to get his bowl of oatmeal and flax meal going.  He must have worked up an appetite.  

  It must have all gone well.  The tractor and the trailer were parked in the driveway.  Dennis made sure I didn’t need to get the car out of the garage as he said he was going to take a break in his recliner before greasing some zerks on the mower.  Dennis must have been totally satisfied with the day, the job and the finished project.  Relaxing with his Trump 2020 cap on his head and covered up with his favorite Santa blanket . . . all is well on Stauffer Avenue.   

  Life on Stauffer Avenue continues to be sweet.

   
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  Noreen 4:26 pm on August 16, 2019 Permalink  

  A Day Similiar 

  My activities today were reminiscent of times past when I spent quite a few hours in the kitchen getting ready to feed a group.

  Long about 1989 the county accountant, Perry Shroeder, proposed a what if to me.  The employees owned the pop machine in the courthouse and the resources were getting substantial.  What if we put on a noon luncheon for all the county employees.  I was game to do it.

  After we had agreed on a date, Perry arranged for the county garage to be cleared out and swept out during a time from eleven to one.  The library, county highway shop, human service crew all had fluctuating noon hours.The garage was a stone’s throw from the courthouse.  The custodial department volunteered to get the tables and seating arranged.

  We have a wonderful Chinese restaurant in town.  I visited with Kun Hung and he said he would  take care of everything and bring the food.  We agreed on the price per person.  I mentioned to him we could have plenty of crock pots on hand to keep the variety of rice hot.  Kun’s response was memorable . . . “No, no.  No crockka pots.” Kun arrived with the portable steam ovens.  The first employee noon lunch was a huge success.  It was wonderful for employees to visit with each other from other departments.  All we had in common to that point was that our W2 forms came from the same place.  That was the first of many total county employee noon meals.  

  Perry and I tried to involve more people to ramrod the meals but it didn’t pan out.  One instance that I recall was that someone from the courts volunteered to bring the sauerkraut for the grilled link brats.  It was enough for maybe eight people and we were set up for 90 people.  A dash to the grocery store and a visit to the extension’s kitchen saved our butts.  That did the buddy thing for the events.  If I did it on my own, I knew there would be no panic at the designate date or time.

  Perry and I took care of the noon lunches until I retired in 1999.  We did one hell of a blow out once each summer.  It made for great camaraderie and great memories.  Ten summers of people getting together.  Priceless.

  Today I was in my totally cleaned kitchen and prepared food for a family gathering tomorrow.  It is the family of my father’s family of eight siblings. It is the Wendlandt family.  There is one of the originals left . . . Aunt Janet at age 88.  It is so special to me that Carrie’s and Kevin’s will be there.  That was all I needed to be aware of and I volunteered to bring enough of the pass around dishes for all of us.  How could I not!  I made sure that family favorites were prepared.  

  It’s just about supper time and I am totally ready with the food, the list, and the mode of transportation for the food.  It will be about a 75-80 mile trip and the food needs to arrive in good stead.  This is the peace that passes all understanding.  One sad note is that Mom’s family picked the same date for the Riebe family gathering.  It was first come first serve.  Perhaps the next one Dennis and I will be able to attend.

   
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  Noreen 3:48 pm on August 15, 2019 Permalink  

  A Choice of Two 

  This morning we had choices.  Well . . . not really.  But each of us had an agenda.  One for Dennis and one for me.  I knew I had the winner.  Dennis needed to go out and meet with a dietitian.   

  Dennis’ tests are always pre-diabetic.  There needed to be someone on one and I was not one of those ones.

  My lot for the day was cleaning the kitchen range from top to bottom.  My task was much more desirable than Dennis’.  I am amazed how many parts can be taken off and managed at the kitchen sink.  Of course a few older towels hit the floor to mop up my sploshing and splashing.  I used a lot of Kevin’s Fresh Start solution to help cut the grease.  Yes . . . I said grease.  It can get and stay in the least accessible places.  It doesn’t help when a kettle or two may have boiled over since the last time the cleaning lady was on board.  Getting into the far corners of the oven was a challenge.  I took lots of breaks.  For days such as this, I long for the Sears upright range and oven that Orlin had bought when we first moved to Texas.  Full sized oven and broiler at eye level.  Covered pull out range top with lots of storage underneath.  By noon I was done and Dennis came home about that same time.

  Lots on information on fact sheets for my ole cowboy.  I know it isn’t in his wheelhouse.  Yes . . . I am the one that does the cooking.  I am satisfied with salads.  Dennis is not.  There will be more baked chicken which Dennis is not a fan of.  I won’t be nagging him, but I will be encouraging him.  I will also cut back on baking.  It doesn’t have to change overnight, but one step at a time.  Dennis is fond of making pasta hotdishes but I will be seeking out some boxed pastas that I know are made of cauliflower, to lower the gluten amounts.  Time will tell as I am not going to be in favor of ignoring this and having more meds for Dennis.  

  It turned out to be a great day with both of our objectives being met . . . eye to eye, nose to nose and toe to toe.  Maybe tomorrow the choices for each of us will be more desirable.

   
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  Noreen 4:02 pm on July 15, 2019 Permalink  

  It Told Me Something 

  No matter what you think your schedule holds for you . . . it may be subject to change.  Our weekend was meant to be quiet on Stauffer Avenue and wait out the heat.

  Thursday morning Dennis got a phone call from grandson Ryan.  His pickup wasn’t getting out of the shop as quickly as they had promised.  Ryan was due to leave for Silver Bay Thursday after work to pick up his daughter Addison.  Addison had been visiting Dennis’ daughter since the day school let out in St. James.  Hmm.  Dennis being separated from the little red pickup . . . he stepped up and agreed, Ryan could use the pickup and spend the weekend with family. 

  Dennis still had the Ford Galaxie convertible to get out of the back garage and do his tooling around town.  Ole cowboys need to have that freedom of checking out the favorite places . . . and Dennis does it well.  

  Thursday night we had just bid Ryan a safe trip with the little red pickup when Dennis’ cell phone rang.  Son, Kenny, who trucks out of Arizona had gotten a load to Rochester, MN.  He would be at our home Friday morning for the weekend . . . could he use a vehicle to visit old friends.  Dennis knew he wouldn’t let the Lincoln MKX out of the garage with not knowing where it would be going, so the convertible was the choice.  

  The garages looked forsaken.  Even the three cats roamed around wondering if we were moving.  

  I could tell by Friday evening that there was something about Dennis.  Dennis is usually ready for conversation about what the RFD channel had on or something that reminded him of his farming days.  Dennis was getting quiet.  By Saturday I finally ask him if he would head up to the grocery store for me and pick up some milk and bread.  Did I need it?  No.  Driving the MKX was just not Dennis’ idea of tooling around town with it.  Dennis did run the errand and he was gone for a bit but in the garage the car went.  It didn’t come out of the garage all day Sunday.

  Sunday evening supper didn’t appeal to Dennis, he thought he might have the flu as he felt blah.  I knew where the blahs had come from.  His routine . . . his schedules . . . his vehicles were not where they were supposed to be and accessible for him.  I really felt helpless and bad for Dennis.  It was before 10 o’clock when Dennis went to bed.  He wasn’t feeling too perky.

  I am a light sleeper and at 6:15 this morning.  There was noise outside in the driveway.  First the convertible pulled in and right behind it was the little red pickup.  Brett collected the drivers and off they went back to Brett’s.  Dennis vehicles had all collected at nephew Brett’s late Sunday night and Brett had grilled out for all the fellows. 

  When Dennis got up at 7:30 he couldn’t help but see the driveway as it is right next to the bedroom window.   Oh my gosh!  No time for his usual plaid PJs that he wears out to the patio porch to start the day.  Dennis was dressed with his work shoes on . . .  and he was moving.  I know he barely had put his coffee cup on the table in the patio porch and spent no time at all getting the pickup garage door open and in went that little red pickup.  With the garage door opener he had the garage in the east portion of the acre open ready to receive the convertible.  There was one happy cowboy.

  There is a moral to this story.  We all want to help.  We all want to give.  We want to feel good about the helping and giving.  Dennis gave until it hurt.   As God is my witness, Dennis has and had no clue as to what had brought on his doldrums.  His life had been different for the weekend and it had had an affect on him.  This told me that we are so vulnerable when our beloved life and surroundings change.  I sure was happy to see the ole Dennis back and I did not fault him for mowing a portion of the acre in this heat.  He was feeling good and ready to tackle the day.

   
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  Noreen 3:08 pm on July 9, 2019 Permalink  

  I Call it Good 

  Last year when Dennis came home with a Cub Lo-Boy with a mower, circa: 1968, I was blown away.  A year prior to that he was all but in a drug induced coma from drugs trying to keep him alive before we found out it was all about plugged carotid arteries.  More power to Dennis.  Come on . . . we still had room in the back garage. Dennis mowed with it several times and it mowed quite well.  The blades seemed to be in pretty good shape.  

  This early spring, Dennis was talking about taking the unit over to Brett’s and use a power washer on it.  It had been sitting in a shed for quite some years.  Once the grime was off of it, hmm!  There was talk about paint.  It was what color, what brand, how much would be needed . . . “and what do you think Grammie?”  I totally begged off.  I had no idea about painting tractors.  Obviously when Dennis was out and about in the little red pickup he was chatting people up as to what they had had success with.  A trip to Fairmont and Walmart was in order.  I went about picking up a bag of garden soil and a few plants and Dennis was in the paint isle.  The bags for his purchase was quite heavy.  

  Nephew Brett gave Dennis a spot in one of his sheds.  Once Dennis drove the Cub Lo-Boy into Brett’s shop, I had no idea what was going on on any given day.  Dennis put in full mornings and came home at Noon for his Oatmeal and then right back until supper time.  Dirty clothes got dumped, Dennis  showered and jumped into PJs.  Dennis didn’t work at it every day but he stayed at it.  The shop was out of the way and he had quiet.  

  Dennis had gotten notice that Brett needed the shop spot by the 4th of July.  I gave Dennis a ride to the shop and he drove the tractor home pulling his two wheel trailer behind with the mower in the trailer.  He had had the mower taken off so the cleaning and painting could be done on the tractor.  For the duration here on Stauffer Avenue Dennis parked the tractor in the pickup garage and he proceeded to finish up some of the painting.  Touch ups are always a good thing.

  Dennis begged and begged yesterday if I would put on the decals.  I gave in.  I will say my arms were weary by the time I was done.  More than likely from angst as much as actual movement.  Once those suckers are on . . . tough titty.  This morning Dennis and the Cub went to the coffee group at McDonald’s.  One of the fellows had worked in a body shop before retirement.  He thought that Dennis and spray cans of paint did very well.  Of course sandblasting and filling in dents would have been the ultimate.  The ultimate here was that Dennis wanted to do this on his own.  When he would come home and tell me he had gotten the back tires off as well as the front tires . . . sure glad I didn’t know all that he was up to there alone in the shop.  I call this good.  The tractor looks good and it did Dennis a lot of good.  Priceless.

   
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  Noreen 3:25 pm on June 27, 2019 Permalink  

  Dodged the Storm 

  The skies stayed black for most of the morning.  We dodged the storm with no winds and had about a half inch of rain.

  The cookie dough that was stirred up yesterday, has now been baked out with a good portion of the cookies in the freezer.  It’s kind of an “out of sight, out of mind” thing.  With the pending storm, it didn’t get as warm as quickly as they thought for today.  With the oven humping at 350 degrees for several hours, I still felt the kitchen was quite uncomfortable by the time the baking was done and all the dishes and pans returned to their rightful place.  The official sampler, Dennis, gave a thumbs up as he headed out the door.  

  In my mind’s eye, I do not know how Lena kept a family of six in baked goods.  I looked at the amount of cookies from the peanut butter batch, thinking how long would four dozen cookies last with four kids and a hard working farmer dipping into them for two lunches per day.  I kind of remember that there was never a single batch of anything stirred up.  If the oven is already hot and the utensils are dirty . . . go for a double batch every time.  It was the only way a small container could be hidden in the chest freezer in case coffee company came over.

  No matter how my days go, I could never have kept up with Mom, even at the age that I am now and she was then.  I have gotten soft.  I do continue with the home chores just like Mom did.  I take a loaded Swiffer and dance around our floors.  Mom had the Fuller Brush wool dust mop that got a bit of the Fuller Brush furniture oil on it to catch dust bunnies.  We had to shake the dickens out of it multiple times on a Saturday cleaning binge.  No one took shoes off when coming into the house while we were growing up.  That’s what Mom had two daughters for.  For us, nowadays, the debris is minimal.  There are no alfalfa stems or oat chaff that get drug in on chores shoes or in the cuff of the overalls.  More than likely for us, it is the evergreen needles that come in under the shoes or grass clippings after mowing the acre.    

  Secretly . . . I enjoy keeping a home that is tidy.  It is not a chore for me.  I take as much pride in our home as Dennis does in his yard.  We are two fuss budgets, each in our own right.  I like that.  I like it a lot.  Pride in ownership of our home . . . all 720 square feet of it . . . priceless.

  What with this last rain and an inch and a half previously since we last mowed the acre,  I have a sneaking suspicion as to what tomorrow holds.  I will get sprayed down with Bug Soother and we will get it done!

   
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  Noreen 4:25 pm on June 17, 2019 Permalink  

  Losses and Wins 

  I had a quiet drive to Mankato this morning.  No one to visit with, no radio.  Quiet thoughts abound.

  So much on the media about the sporting events that take place to no end.  I’m am not into the sports.  What I hear often is the rhetoric as losses and wins that are kept track of.

  My losses have been more than I like.  Son, Scott Howard, would have been 46 this December.  Our third child may have made the huge difference as to how our family would have moved forward as a family.  My dad, Raymond, was a dynamo.  Married at sixteen and a father at seventeen, he was strict and had much to offer his family through the decades.  Not many people realized what a tender heart he had.  Leaving us at the age of 72 was far too young.  Up until the time that mom, Lena, who passed away at the age of 93, was the heart of the family.  Hard working and never too weary to be there when needed.  Mom’s heart was not as tender as Dad’s, but it was filled with love and pride for the family. Mom was able to show both sides of issues.

  Carrie and Kevin’s dad, Orlin, passed away in 2007.  How Carrie and Kevin would have, could have benefited from their dad’s council as they established themselves with families and responsibilities.  Orlin had the penchant for all things that hands could create or fix or talk his way through.  Orlin was a “black or white” individual.  At times that made things just as difficult for himself as well as those around him.

  My sister, Elvera, passed away at the age of 78 in 2016 with plans and dreams for herself and family.  Complication from cancer cares not for plans and dreams.

  My brother, Michael, passed away in 2018 at the age of 69 from complications caused by cancer.  Michael fought the illness with the heart of a Lion, but outwardly put others in the forefront of his days.  He was my brave warrior as I felt he took Dad’s place as the head of the family. 

  The losses of these family members have affected many.  That is most certainly true.  All these losses were life altering to ME and each has left their mark on Me as I am now 75 years old.  When I am done mourning them in . . . often days, the losses have more than sadness.  I have taken what each of them have contributed to my life, much like the sweet breeze of a gentle wind.  It brings to me a win of all that I have gained from having had them in my life.  The words that spring to mind when I least expect it.  The hugs that I can still feel.  The kindness of each of them when I may not have deserved it, but I took it gratefully.  The events that now feel hollow without them.  I am humbled that I can try to be what they all believed I could be.  I have huge shoes to fill on so many levels.  It gives me a reason to get up each day and do what there is to face.  

  When losses and wins are touted, I feel both equally.

   
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  Noreen 3:20 pm on May 31, 2019 Permalink  

  I Found a Nickel 

  Being outside there is always a chance of finding a treasure.  Today, as I was walking, there was a bright nickel that caught my eye.  I picked it up.  My thought was to give it to Dennis as his piggy bank is always having hunger pains.  The nickel didn’t get into the piggy bank.  I swear the old adage of people taking off on verbalizing as if someone had put a nickel into them . . . happened to Dennis.

  We had just finished with lunch and were not in any hurry to move past having a quiet time.  I am not sure how it started or what the nickel had kicked in, Dennis started sharing with me the times that he was a substitute mail carrier here in St. James.  He would take over from Howard Malmgren and other’s when some were on vacation or needed time off for family.  It was at a time when there were blue mailboxes at various points around town.  The bulk mail for that route was delivered to the blue boxes via an employee of the post office and his motorized cart.  As the walking mail carrier’s bag became empty, their routes were walked in such a way they had keys to open the blue boxes and reload their bags and off they went using their show leather.  Wow!  I did not know this history of Dennis.

  Dennis went right on to visit about when he was part time on the St. James Police Department in the evenings.  I knew from some of the older people about town as they have shared memories of Dennis’s badge time.  This Noon Dennis commented that it was often that when someone that had had too much to drink, the individual would be given a ride home in the squad car rather than a ticket given to them.  It was up to that individual to figure out the next day as to how they would get their car home.  Cops were much friendlier in days of old.  

  I had known that Dennis bar tended in the evening at the VFW here in town.  When Dennis came home from Korea, he worked at Toro in Windom and apparently was always up for picking up extra income whenever the opportunity showed itself.  Later on when Dennis became a full-time recruiter for the Minnesota National Guard, he was always on the go retaining many part-time jobs evenings and weekends. 

  Many businesses missed his after hours parttime career when Dennis and Howard Quick bought semis and began trucking poultry for Downs Foods and Campbell’s Soup in Worthington.  They traveled to the states of Washington, Utah and all points east of there to bring back live poultry for processing.  In the early days they went into Canada before passports were required.  Oh the tales of this “Live Poultry Transportologist.”

  I met Dennis in the very late 1980s over a cup of coffee in Detoy’s Family Restaurant here in St. James.  My life has been anything but boring since.  Yes . . . today the nickel in Dennis brought back memories to him, even those he had forgotten about.  The stories began rolling out of him and I couldn’t help but love the gleam that it brought about in his 82-years-young brown eyes.  Priceless.  The long lunch break was a good thing and then Dennis was off working on his 50-year-old Cub Lo-Boy.  He is taking off the old decals and I think there is a plan for some painting in the future.  I will be on the look-out for more nickels.

   
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  Noreen 5:12 pm on April 15, 2019 Permalink  

  Always Ready for a Bargain 

  It is not a secret, I do not like looking for, nor purchasing, clothing for myself.  Don’t like it.  Don’t do it well.  Don’t find what I am seeking.  Dennis has reiterated what he had heard Kevin say at one point in the past, “Mom, you don’t have a butt.”  There it is.  Flatness.  Without the butt bump, I have always needed to wear a belt with woven pants.  And, as all things are totally up and down with no divots, aka: a defined waist, the belt needs to be quite tight.  I don’t mind that tight feeling when we need to get all gussied up.  For at home, I can get dirty doing yard work in a heartbeat and may well change clothes in the middle of the day to leave the garden dirt outside.  Wash and wear and . . . most of all, comfort.

  Yesterday at Sam’s Club, a $9.98 sign allowed me to wander over.  Yoga pants were $9.98 each.  Various colors made of a blend of fabrics, one being a long name meaning . . . stretch.  Hmm.  A firm elastic waist in my favorite colors: navy and black.  I fit them on when I got home and knew I could very well learn to wear stilts as still some fabric in the length of the legs was dragging on the floor.

  Dennis was down for a nap in his recliner and I was spending quiet time in the sewing studio working my magic on the length of the pant legs.  Knits are not my favorite to sew with.  That comes about that when I was at Mom’s elbow learning the craft of sewing and seaming,  everything was woven fabric.  It’s all about habits and level of comfort.  I got my groove going and I now have several more pair of pants to putter around in.  Actually, in times past these pants were very well marketed as Putter Pants, long before it was found that Yoga Pants sounded like what the “in” crowd would shop for.  Lordy, Grammie is now in the “in” crowd getting dirty with yard work . . . pants are pants.  It’s all about my comfort.  These bargain pants will serve me well, and when they are worn out, I will handle that when I need to.