Dear Mary,
Things haven’t gone too badly since you’ve been gone again to Mpls to babysit our grandkids. Last time you went I filled the hamper and didn’t have anything to wear - well, I figured it out this time: I haven’t changed clothes. So when you come home you won’t have to worry about washing. Just throw these away!
I know how possessive you are of your lawnmower, so --- since mine is getting repaired --- I’ve left yours alone. The grass is getting long, but that will make it seem worthwhile mowing when you get home. After 35 years of marriage I know when to leave well enough alone.
I’ve been out to the ranch helping to put up hay. It’s really pretty out there, so green. Old flatlander that I am, I didn’t know how settled I’d be when we moved out here, but there’s a beauty in this country that really appeals to me. This morning, Tuesday, was very foggy as I drove south of town and the layers and patches of fog blended into the lay of the land. One sight was especially striking: Little Heart Butte was completely surrounded by the white haze except for its peak that stood up high and clear. It reminded me of Mt. McKinley, except for its smaller scale, of course.
On Monday at the dinner table Marty asked Angie to stick around this morning to give me any change in instructions. She drug her feet a bit since she likes to take a morning walk. I suggested she could just stand in front of the house and run in place. That didn’t go over well. Her sense of humor is something like yours.
Did you hear the one about the lady who after looking in the mirror got all depressed. She told her husband, “I’m not the woman you married. My face is wrinkled, I’ve got granny-flab hanging on my arms, bags under my eyes, etc. Please, honey, say something positive about me so I can feel better about myself.” He thought a minute and offered this, “Well, your eyesight is good.”
Well, I’m writing this Tuesday night so I can get a good start in the morning to come and get you at the Fargo airport. I’m tired and could use a good night’s sleep. My back gets stiff bouncing around in the tractor, my eyes get tired in the sun, I’ve got a bit of sunburn, etc. I wonder if you’ll say something good about me to make me feel better when I see you.”
Love,
Lynn
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Channel Surfing
Sometimes, when I sit vegetating in my chair, I pick up the television’s remote control and start running through the few dozen channels cabled into my house. Once in awhile I land on a station that catches my interest and watch it through to the end. I channel surf in my thoughts, too, with a variety of images flitting in and out of my mind. Many of them get little attention and quickly pass, while others linger a bit longer to get mulled over a bit longer. I think I’ll do a little of that right now and see what pops into this screen in my head.
Channel 21 - Here comes one of Clark Douglas’s trucks with its stock rack rattling on the washboards on the gravel road. I can’t see it yet; it’s hidden in a cloud of dust, but I’ve been expecting it to come to pick up my 4-H heifer and take her to Lisbon for Achievement Days, so I know it’s him. The big Ford drives into the yard and Gene Jaster jumps out, pulls down the ramp, and my blue ribbon winning Holstein walks right up.
Channel 34 - My buddy and I pitch our tent in Manitoba, unload the boat, and proceed to do some fishing. Evening comes and some Canadians, camped near us, invite us over to drink some of their rye whisky. I drink too much and fall soundly asleep in the tent but am awakened by what I take to be my buddy’s loud snoring. I stumble out the next morning to discover our campsite has been torn to shreds by a marauding bear.
Channel 45 - The Sheldon Shadows are playing basketball in the old town hall. A time out has been called, and I’m a bench-rider standing on the outside edge of the huddle. Coach Grosgebauer, in one of his usual lapses of strategy to overcome a score deficit, looks about for someone to chew on. He spots me, “Bueling, I haven’t seen you doing anything yet!” I reply, “You haven’t put me in yet, Coach.”
Channel 53 - My first year out of graduate school and I’m the principal of Wind River High School in Wyoming. The car I drive is a 1966 Chev Impala that has served me well, taking me round trip to Alaska and through a year of grad school in Greeley, Colorado. Home for Christmas vacation I decide to treat myself by retiring the old steed and buy a new car, a 1971 Buick Skylark in which I fly off to the future.
Channel 72 - The girl who will be my future bride and I drive through the fall foliage of the Sheyenne River Valley near Fort Ransom, and she loves the scenery, brilliant colors, and my company. I think I’ll set the clicker down and watch this channel. It should be an interesting program.
Channel 21 - Here comes one of Clark Douglas’s trucks with its stock rack rattling on the washboards on the gravel road. I can’t see it yet; it’s hidden in a cloud of dust, but I’ve been expecting it to come to pick up my 4-H heifer and take her to Lisbon for Achievement Days, so I know it’s him. The big Ford drives into the yard and Gene Jaster jumps out, pulls down the ramp, and my blue ribbon winning Holstein walks right up.
Channel 34 - My buddy and I pitch our tent in Manitoba, unload the boat, and proceed to do some fishing. Evening comes and some Canadians, camped near us, invite us over to drink some of their rye whisky. I drink too much and fall soundly asleep in the tent but am awakened by what I take to be my buddy’s loud snoring. I stumble out the next morning to discover our campsite has been torn to shreds by a marauding bear.
Channel 45 - The Sheldon Shadows are playing basketball in the old town hall. A time out has been called, and I’m a bench-rider standing on the outside edge of the huddle. Coach Grosgebauer, in one of his usual lapses of strategy to overcome a score deficit, looks about for someone to chew on. He spots me, “Bueling, I haven’t seen you doing anything yet!” I reply, “You haven’t put me in yet, Coach.”
Channel 53 - My first year out of graduate school and I’m the principal of Wind River High School in Wyoming. The car I drive is a 1966 Chev Impala that has served me well, taking me round trip to Alaska and through a year of grad school in Greeley, Colorado. Home for Christmas vacation I decide to treat myself by retiring the old steed and buy a new car, a 1971 Buick Skylark in which I fly off to the future.
Channel 72 - The girl who will be my future bride and I drive through the fall foliage of the Sheyenne River Valley near Fort Ransom, and she loves the scenery, brilliant colors, and my company. I think I’ll set the clicker down and watch this channel. It should be an interesting program.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
A Great Find in Rummage
Saturday mornings around here often finds us searching out two or three garage sales; it’s not that we need anything, but the thrill of the hunt supersedes any needs. And, it is only once or twice during a summer that we stumble upon choice items. The treasure I uncovered last Saturday may have been my allotment for the year, and I found it in the unlikely place of a recently closed farm implement building on main street. Odds and ends of that business were being offered as well as household items that had been brought in. There, neatly placed on shelves were a couple hundred older hardcover books from which I chose two. One of them, a history entitled Red River Runs North!, contains information I had not run across before about my historical research interest of ox-cart freighting. A wealth of facts in it will feed my writing project regarding the trail from Fort Abercrombie to Fort Ransom.
The other find grabbing my attention that day was an autobiography written by North Dakota’s own Eric Sevareid, Not So Wild a Dream. I find Sevareid’s writing pretty irresistible; how can an old farm boy not keep reading after scanning the first two lines of chapter one: “The small brown river curved around the edge of our town. The farmers plowed close to its muddy banks and left their water jugs in the shade of the willows.” Having read this book previously, I am familiar with his story. It is this book that carries the oft-quoted passage regarding how people reacted when he told them he hailed from North Dakota. To them this state “… was a large, rectangular blank spot in the nation’s mind.”
Sevareid’s use of the English language was superb! I still remember his radio and television commentaries and how precisely his two minute’s worth of words described his topic of the day. Whenever he started talking I usually stopped to listen, and since it’s been a number of years since last I read him, I’m enjoying his penned words all over again.
As a young man he demonstrated an adventurous spirit and the places he went and the enviable experiences he gained shaped his world view and influenced his professional life. He was present in Europe working as a news correspondent prior to and during World War II and sent out breaking stories and bulletins, a feat few other correspondents were able to accomplish. He’d beg or bluster his way through the management of radio stations and get small doses of airtime to inform the world what Hitler was doing at the outset of this period. His report was the first indication to the outside world that France had capitulated, offering little resistance to the Nazi army. When things started getting dicey for him and his family he knew he had to get his wife and one week old twin boys out of Paris and safely home to the United States. That story alone raises goose bumps when he found out that procuring transportation made him compete with the thousands of refugees who wanted a place on available ships, too. After a time when he knew his own life to be in danger, he made his way to England to find and report to his boss Edward R. Murrow. He had left Paris without permission, something I suppose most of us would do if our lives were in danger, but worried whether or not Murrow might fire him for insubordination. Murrow’s response to the contrary, “This is the best news I’ve had for a long time … You have pulled off one of the greatest broadcasting feats there ever was.”
The book is long and wordy, but I enjoy every page of this great writer. A symposium on Eric Sevareid will be held in Bismarck next April, and a one night lecture is scheduled at the Heritage Center in November. I plan to attend both events.
The other find grabbing my attention that day was an autobiography written by North Dakota’s own Eric Sevareid, Not So Wild a Dream. I find Sevareid’s writing pretty irresistible; how can an old farm boy not keep reading after scanning the first two lines of chapter one: “The small brown river curved around the edge of our town. The farmers plowed close to its muddy banks and left their water jugs in the shade of the willows.” Having read this book previously, I am familiar with his story. It is this book that carries the oft-quoted passage regarding how people reacted when he told them he hailed from North Dakota. To them this state “… was a large, rectangular blank spot in the nation’s mind.”
Sevareid’s use of the English language was superb! I still remember his radio and television commentaries and how precisely his two minute’s worth of words described his topic of the day. Whenever he started talking I usually stopped to listen, and since it’s been a number of years since last I read him, I’m enjoying his penned words all over again.
As a young man he demonstrated an adventurous spirit and the places he went and the enviable experiences he gained shaped his world view and influenced his professional life. He was present in Europe working as a news correspondent prior to and during World War II and sent out breaking stories and bulletins, a feat few other correspondents were able to accomplish. He’d beg or bluster his way through the management of radio stations and get small doses of airtime to inform the world what Hitler was doing at the outset of this period. His report was the first indication to the outside world that France had capitulated, offering little resistance to the Nazi army. When things started getting dicey for him and his family he knew he had to get his wife and one week old twin boys out of Paris and safely home to the United States. That story alone raises goose bumps when he found out that procuring transportation made him compete with the thousands of refugees who wanted a place on available ships, too. After a time when he knew his own life to be in danger, he made his way to England to find and report to his boss Edward R. Murrow. He had left Paris without permission, something I suppose most of us would do if our lives were in danger, but worried whether or not Murrow might fire him for insubordination. Murrow’s response to the contrary, “This is the best news I’ve had for a long time … You have pulled off one of the greatest broadcasting feats there ever was.”
The book is long and wordy, but I enjoy every page of this great writer. A symposium on Eric Sevareid will be held in Bismarck next April, and a one night lecture is scheduled at the Heritage Center in November. I plan to attend both events.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Freedom of Speech
As aggravating and damaging as it can be at times, it is our duty as citizens of this country to promote and protect free speech. As a youngster I clearly remember how frustrating it was to be bullied and intimidated by older, stronger boys and then be forced to follow their dictates. Being made to “shut up” developed into strongly entrenched resentment and prevented useful, satisfying dialogue from ever developing. The present national political scene emulates this childish approach to important debate and I am sad for that. I always enjoy hearing the oft-repeated anecdote regarding Ronald Reagan and Tip O’Neill. During the day their ideological differences were topics of fierce debate, but occasionally at night they set their differences aside by enjoying each other’s company over drinks and story telling.
My history book tells me that the first attempt to codify personal rights came about with the Magna Carta signed into effect in 1215 by King John who was forced to do so because some of the English barons rebelled. The thought set down in that document became a guiding star our own forefathers borrowed from when they wrote the U. S. Constitution and guaranteed Freedom of Speech in the First Amendment. One of my sources states “The First Amendment, also called the Great Amendment, is in many ways the cornerstone of America’s free, open, and tolerant society… It guarantees that Americans can share the information they need for a robust public debate on the issues, and to act on those issues.”
I doubt whether the one-sided diatribes heard daily on television and radio shows meet the criteria for and add to a robust public debate and I have for the most part stopped listening. I choose to open my books and study them for the knowledge therein and not feel as though I’m being told to “shut up.” After drawing my own conclusions, I am grateful to have the freedom and opportunity to express myself on this humble web log.
***
Family health concerns concerning our three surviving parents weigh heavily and take up quite a bit of our time and energies. A trip to Lisbon yesterday prevented my posting this blog. I am certain faithful readers of this blogsite will understand. We are glad the auction sale in Lisbon went well. It took lots of energy, but we were gratified by the large turnout, the good sales, and the great crew who came to help us load their possessions and haul and unload them at the site of the auction. We were also gratified to hear that their landlord was pleased with the clean condition of the property. My brother and his wife worked hard at cleaning when they came to visit, and anyone who knows my wife knows how hard she worked.
My history book tells me that the first attempt to codify personal rights came about with the Magna Carta signed into effect in 1215 by King John who was forced to do so because some of the English barons rebelled. The thought set down in that document became a guiding star our own forefathers borrowed from when they wrote the U. S. Constitution and guaranteed Freedom of Speech in the First Amendment. One of my sources states “The First Amendment, also called the Great Amendment, is in many ways the cornerstone of America’s free, open, and tolerant society… It guarantees that Americans can share the information they need for a robust public debate on the issues, and to act on those issues.”
I doubt whether the one-sided diatribes heard daily on television and radio shows meet the criteria for and add to a robust public debate and I have for the most part stopped listening. I choose to open my books and study them for the knowledge therein and not feel as though I’m being told to “shut up.” After drawing my own conclusions, I am grateful to have the freedom and opportunity to express myself on this humble web log.
***
Family health concerns concerning our three surviving parents weigh heavily and take up quite a bit of our time and energies. A trip to Lisbon yesterday prevented my posting this blog. I am certain faithful readers of this blogsite will understand. We are glad the auction sale in Lisbon went well. It took lots of energy, but we were gratified by the large turnout, the good sales, and the great crew who came to help us load their possessions and haul and unload them at the site of the auction. We were also gratified to hear that their landlord was pleased with the clean condition of the property. My brother and his wife worked hard at cleaning when they came to visit, and anyone who knows my wife knows how hard she worked.
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Random Thoughts on the 3rd of June
The auction sale is done! A nice crowd attended; some things sold well, others not so well. My mother expressed relief that a prized trunk built by her dad stayed in the family when one of the Devitt girls bought it. The saddest part of the sale is that the financial proceeds from it will be eaten up in about one month at the nursing home.
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Mary and I have an anniversary coming up, number 35. Those years have passed by quickly. I guess that’s what happens when you marry the right one.
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This Saturday marks the 65th anniversary of D Day. There are several good websites containing history of that battle. One of the good ones: www.militaryhistoryonline.com. A scene from that battle plays over and over. A few men are pictured coming ashore and one soldier is hit and goes down. I’ve always wondered if he survived his wound. Casualties that day amounted to 1,500 Americans killed with 3,200 wounded and 1,900 missing in action. A veteran told me once that the term "missing in action" often means being blown to bits by an explosion and no trace of the body could be found.
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Much is being made of the Republican party’s demise and how they can’t get it together. I presume they will in the future, but there sure is a lot of acid coming from the mouths of some of their commentators. It makes me think of Newton’s Law of Motion - To every action there is an opposite and equal reaction. Having just suffered through eight years of government ineptitude and corruption, this new administration’s approach to governing should have been expected.
---
We heard of a Norwegian who was so dumb he thought the word “innuendo” was an Italian word for Preparation H.
---
I watched the NBC special last evening of Brian Williams and crew roaming around the White House for a day. One thing that impresses me about Obama is that for his youth and inexperience he exudes a confident air. Whether or not his term(s) in office will be successful remains to be seen.
---
Mary and I have an anniversary coming up, number 35. Those years have passed by quickly. I guess that’s what happens when you marry the right one.
---
This Saturday marks the 65th anniversary of D Day. There are several good websites containing history of that battle. One of the good ones: www.militaryhistoryonline.com. A scene from that battle plays over and over. A few men are pictured coming ashore and one soldier is hit and goes down. I’ve always wondered if he survived his wound. Casualties that day amounted to 1,500 Americans killed with 3,200 wounded and 1,900 missing in action. A veteran told me once that the term "missing in action" often means being blown to bits by an explosion and no trace of the body could be found.
---
Much is being made of the Republican party’s demise and how they can’t get it together. I presume they will in the future, but there sure is a lot of acid coming from the mouths of some of their commentators. It makes me think of Newton’s Law of Motion - To every action there is an opposite and equal reaction. Having just suffered through eight years of government ineptitude and corruption, this new administration’s approach to governing should have been expected.
---
We heard of a Norwegian who was so dumb he thought the word “innuendo” was an Italian word for Preparation H.
---
I watched the NBC special last evening of Brian Williams and crew roaming around the White House for a day. One thing that impresses me about Obama is that for his youth and inexperience he exudes a confident air. Whether or not his term(s) in office will be successful remains to be seen.
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