ND Veteran's Cemetery, 2012

We celebrated Christmas with our little family this past weekend.  Now everyone is free to go and do whatever they want for the rest of the holidays.  Early Sunday afternoon we led the way to the North Dakota Veterans Cemetery a few miles south of our house.  Quite an amazing sight it was.  This picture in no way shows all the monuments in the cemetery but gives an idea how it appears with the Christmas wreaths placed at the foot of each stone.  I've forgotten the number buried out there, but I think it's between three and four thousand.  Often times we've had to wait before entering Highway 1806 because a procession led by a hearse followed by mourners is passing by as it carries they escort a veteran on his final ride.

***

How can a person write anything without thinking of the other funerals taking place now in Connecticut?  It's been hard to watch the news lately because it's hard to wrap brains and emotions around the murders.  Some rethinking is taking place among previous stalwarts of the 2nd Amendment.  A reinterpretation of just what is meant by the language has been heard.  Written in the day of single shot muzzle loading rifles, how does it apply to today's rapid-fire multitudinous bullets spraying from the tip of a barrel?  Joe Scarborough, self-professed right-wing conservative, gave a compelling argument that gun ownership needs to be looked at again. He said that his previous gun views were no longer relevant.  His video of the long argument he makes can still be found and viewed on MSNBC and probably other sites after Googling it.

***

Movies and video games do their part in making violence seem normal or natural.  When we last were in a theater for "Lincoln" the previews seemed especially  graphic, basically terrible.  One of them featured a slave turned gunslinger who had lots of scores to settle.  Bang, bang.
***
Maybe history is violence.  Going back to the saying that if you think you've got it tough, read a history book, I currently reading William Manchester's third book in a trilogy, The Last Lion, which is the biography of Winston Churchill.  He stands tall as a historical figure and the story of just how tall he stood when Hitler's bombs were falling all around him is worth the read.  Churchill wasn't just a fat, toady looking little man.  In an obscure fight known as the Battle of Omdurman in 1898 he rode as a cavalryman as England fought to keep its empire together.  On horseback his unit was ordered to charge with sabers drawn.  With a lame shoulder he knew he wouldn't be able to fight well, so he drew his pistol and entered the fight with it, killing three. 
***
It's best to get off the violence talk.  We are in a season where we should proclaim peace on earth and goodwill to all men.  Merry Christmas.

12-12-12

The statue of boots, rifle, and helmet stands at the entrance to a military installation in Bismarck called Fraine Barracks.  It seemed appropriate to take a picture and post it today when a funeral was held yesterday for one of the North Dakota National Guard boys killed in an explosion.  Behind it stood a flag pole flying a flag at half staff.  Four members of the guard died recently, two of them in Iraq and  two by their own hand after returning.  Sad stories at Christmastime.

***

I just received a Christmas letter from my old English teacher, Mrs. Slatta.  Actually two came, one written personally to me by her daughter, and the other written on behalf of her mother by the same daughter.  You see, Mrs. Slatta is now 103 years old, so she gets help doing some of these things.  Both women enjoyed knowing how I got reacquainted with the son through the Western Writers of America.  Her husband at the time was the school superintendent and our civics class teacher.  I still remember the day when we talked about the Russian's orbiting Sputnik.  1957.

***

Winter came to Mandan, snow, cold, and wind. I always think about those Southern boys up here in the oil patch and how they must be complaining. I saw a sign in the window of the Medora bookstore that would answer them: If you think you've got it tough, read a history book. One of the benefits of Mary's family history collecting is the hard times that those of a couple generations ago suffered through. Two different cases of extreme hardship come to mind. In each of them families of immigrants traveled westward to new homes, and a woman had to give birth in the middle of a snowstorm. The wagon boxes the families rode in were turned upside down to make a shelter, and the woman was wrapped in horse blankets. Each time things turned out okay with the births, though in one of them the man complained, upon being rescued, that he had run out of tobacco during the night.

***

Last Saturday's weather threatened, but I drove west to Medora to do a book signing in the Western Edge bookstore. The business places in that town have been sponsoring a weekend filled with activities, eats, and shopping. I pulled into town a bit early to do some shopping for the little granddaughter for something Mary had seen in one of the shops last spring. A nice plate of goodies sat there, and I helped myself to a krumkake liberally sprinkled with powdered sugar. Mmmm. A schedule of business places offering treats and eats lay on the table. I counted 21 of them. No way could I visit all of them, but I took off for the Cowboy Hall of Fame building and the advertised Rocky Mountain oyster offering. Upstairs three ladies stood preparing them, but they were not done yet. I looked over the counter at those little raw bluish nuggets in a bowl and decided I could forgo that cuisine. I said to one of the ladies the only time I'd ever eaten them was when I was crazy-full of beer. She said, “Go down the street and drink three or four, then come back.” I didn't.

The hotel served a very hearty chili. The meat ingredient was not hamburger but chunks of steak. A bowl of that tasted good, and for a dessert, plates of truffles beckoned. One of them and I was on my way to the bookstore for what I discovered is a community favorite, Mary E's bread pudding with rum sauce. People lined up to get at that. A crowd like that promised a few book sales, and I didn't get at the pudding for awhile. Even though the drive home got a bit dicey from the weather, I was not disappointed since I returned home with a nice check.

Early November Miscellaneous

Below our house a large cornfield stood until stiff winds of a month ago knocked many of the stalks flat to the ground.  We noticed upon returning home from Branson that the field had been harvested for what still stood.  Hordes of geese moved in, tens of thousands of them, to finish gleaning corn laying on the ground. They provided an entertaining view each time we drove past.  One morning I heard shotguns blasting away, and now, there are no more geese gathering.  I miss them.

,,,

We bought tickets for the new James Bond movie "Skyfall."  This was just for the heck of it.  James Bond isn't too brainy, so a person doesn't have to do much thinking, just sit back and watch.  We didn't feel cheated because it was entertaining.  Several months ago while we toured the North Dakota Cowboy Hall of Fame, I stopped to look at an exhibit.(How this got into a collection of cowboy stuff, I don't know.)  A Walther PPK pistol sat in a showcase and was identified as the type of gun James Bond carries.  So I looked closely when he drew his iron, and sure enough, it looked the same to me.

...

The folks downriver on the Missouri have been complaining about the low level of water in the river that endangers barge traffic.  On one of our trips we spent time in Mark Twain's town of Hannibal, Missouri.  We stopped atop a hill overlooking the river and watched barge traffic float slowly by.  Barges are large, and I imagine cost of freighting grain, or any other products, is quite economical.  Politics will start getting played real hard to protect that industry.

...

I can't resist telling this story on my wife.  Krolls restaurants offer a good bargain each afternoon: two-for-one burgers, fries, and malts.  When it's close to suppertime, we will occasionally go and fill up.  The best part of the deal is the malts.  They mix each one up in the silver cans we used to see as a kid.  They serve the finished product in a glass container.  The good part is this: There is enough left in the tin container to fill the glass once again.  And upon request, they bring a styrofoam cup to take the excess brew home.  I enjoy my malts to the last drop and like to draw hard on the last slurp and make it go braaackkk.  Drives Mary crazy!  Well, last week, there she was enjoying hers to the last drop and BRAAACKK she goes.  I made immediate eye contact with her over that, but the good part was that a brassy old woman had come in and ordered at the counter.  She turned around and said, "You big kid!!"  But she scolded in fun and we had a good laugh over it.  Some comeuppance for the wife, though.

...

It's been an interesting week for me.  This coming Saturday I've been invited to come to Medora for a book signing at their Cowboy Christmas celebration...  I had an email from a gentleman who is reviewing my book for the Western Writers of America and needed additional information...  An email arrived from Paris, France from a gentleman researching the West who wants a book.  Not knowing postage costs I went to the post office and discovered that postage for the book is $10.03...  Ole, while not a brilliant scholar, was a gifted portrait artist. His fame grew and soon people from all over the country were coming to Minnesota to have portraits done. One day, a stretch limo pulled up to his house.

Inside was a beautiful woman, who asked Ole if he would paint her in the nude. This was the first time anyone had made this request of Ole. The woman said money was no object. She was willing to pay $50,000. Not wanting to get into trouble with his wife, Ole asked the woman to wait while he went in the house and conferred with Lena, his missus.

In a few minutes, he returned and said to the lady, "Ya, shoor, you betcha. I'll paint ya in da nude, but I'll haff ta leave my socks on so I'll have a place to wipe my brushes."

November end

Here it is, almost the end of November and the squirrels are feasting on the little crab apples in my backyard.  I think I quoted Rooster Cogburn last week, "Time has a way of gettin' away on you."  Mary said I'm gonna hafta retire one of these days.  But I'm having too much fun wishing there were a few more hours in a day.

With Thanksgiving over, I'm still giving thanks that the election is over.  It's still a grand topic, though, amongst all the talking heads on the cable networks.  It's not too early to make a few New Year's wishes: I hope we never hear another word about birtherism, or the name Grover Norquist, or that the world was created in six days, or the church telling me how to think, or (fill in the blank).  I read an interesting article awhile back where twenty-one scientists were asked if they are religious or atheist.  Surprisingly, several admitted to believing in a first cause, but a quote by Wernher Von Braun resonated most with me.  He said, "I find it as difficult to understand a scientist who does not acknowledge the presence of a superior rationality behind the existence of the universe as it is to comprehend a theologian who would deny the advances of science."  

The new chancellor of the North Dakota University System wrote a good article in last Sunday's Tribune. He fears the classical, liberal education has been watered down to meet demands of industry that serves today but not tomorrow.  At one point in the article he states, "To put it simply, we want to create free minds, not ideological ones."  I still refer to the cartoon character Dilbert when he asks, "When did ignorance become a point of view?"  It still amazes me when I hear some of the stuff that falls out of a politician's mouth when he opens it.

My own education was in the liberal arts area, and we studied a little of this and a little of that.  That's the way I still conduct my life.  The only regret I have is that a big blank spot exists in my past where I didn't read enough books for the ideas.  This following bit kind of explains why.  A friend will come and bail you out of jail.  A good friend is one who sits beside you and says, "Damn, that was fun!"

We spent Saturday afternoon in the theater watching the new movie Lincoln.  It was a good one.  The political battles were tough ones.  I'm going to read Doris Kearns Goodwin's Team of Rivals soon since the movie was based on that book.  The way the Lincoln character is played is very interesting.  They made him out to be human, telling raw jokes, pulling shenanigans to get his way, and all the time, holding to his beliefs. 

Mutual Aid Society

A few days ago the Bismarck Tribune printed a picture of a badger and a coyote walking together on the prairie.  Little more was said about it in the caption, but it could have made an interesting article.  These two species do that, or is it better said that the wily coyote knows a cheap meal when he sees it.  Badgers dig for their food and are very efficient at it.  Once in awhile, though, their unearthed prey gets away on them and starts running away.  Here's where the patient Mr. Coyote gets a cheap meal.  My carving shows just such a situation.  It must have been 12-15 years ago that I carved it.  Like John Wayne says in the movie True Grit, "Time just gets away from us."  But then someone else said, "Birthdays are good for you.  The more you have, the longer you live."

We'll be heading east to Fargo for Thanksgiving.  With our little family all there now, it makes for convenient holidays.  On the way a side trip to Lisbon will take us to visit my mother again.  On the car's radio we can listen to all the blather about black Friday and how great the shopping deals will be.  At one time Thanksgiving stood quite alone to be celebrated, and it was a good celebration.  Oh, that lefse!  But now it stands in the way of Christmas which at one time was looked on as a religious holiday.  I think that many give religion little thought as being associated with Christmas.  The way I look at shopping, it's the second mouse that gets the cheese, or another way of looking at it: since it's the early worm that gets eaten by the bird, sleep late.

I'm reading a good book right now,  Ivan Doig's The Bartender's Tale.  As with most of Doig's stories, it takes place in Montana.  This one is set in 1960, and a lot of it hearkens back to the construction of the Fort Peck Dam.  Doig can write a good story.  One item caught my eye when mention was made of the poor living conditions the workers had while the construction of the dam took place.  Things are pretty tough now, too, but man-camps serve a large population of workers with adequate housing, and more is being built all the time.

Finally, I'm getting around to writing a story about Pigeon Point in Owego Township.  I've found quite a little information with which to carry the story.  It's a fascinating subject.  John James Audubon wrote quite a little  about the huge numbers of pigeons that flew about the country: "The air was literally filled with Pigeons; the light of noon-day was obscured as by an eclipse, the dung fell in spots, not unlike melting flakes of snow; and the continued buzz of wings had a tendency to lull my senses to repose."  So it was in Owego.  One old writer talked about knocking pigeons out of the trees with sticks.  Why?  They ate them.  A market existed for them in big cities, so a few bucks could be made.

Branson, MO

A Two-Minute Digest of Branson, MO

“Travel makes one modest. You see what a tiny place you occupy in the world.” Gustave Flaubert

So there we were, driving at 5:30 in the morning to catch a tour bus at the Ramada Limited for another one of our jaunts to Branson, Mo. A line-up of seven shows awaited us, tastefully arranged by the travel department of the North Dakota Farmers Union. Jeff, the bus driver and tour director, and Diane, his capable, bubbly hostess met us. Rolling along the I-94 corridor, our bus stopped at Steele, Jamestown, Valley City and Fargo to pick up additional passengers. Fifty-seven people filled the seats, including eight jolly widows from Wishek who joined us at Steele, two lively ladies from Oslo at Fargo, plus a wide assortment of folks just like us, all looking for a few days of good entertainment, away from the incessant political ads.

My wife and I are veteran bus tour participants and, as we've learned, to ride is to be filled with stories, such as “Three retirees, each with a hearing loss, were playing golf one fine March day. One remarked to the other, 'Windy, isn't it?' 'No,' the second man replied, 'it's Thursday.' And the third man chimed in, 'So am I. Let's have a beer.'”

Council Bluffs, Iowa marked the first night on the road, and when we leave the next morning, the hostess calls our attention to four 20 foot statues on a bridge constructed from the junk remains of 9-11's Twin Towers wreckage. Not attractive, but they made a powerful statement.

For many miles I-29 parallels a line of unstable hills known as the Loess. People who have built large houses on the lip of it can watch dirt slides creeping close to them; some houses have even been condemned and abandoned. We learned only one other geological formation exists like it, in China.

About 4:00 on the second afternoon, we drove into Branson in time to eat before taking in an evening show – 3 Redneck Tenors. As their name implies, they were a hoot, but they could sing well. Next morning we attended Twice Adopted, a singing group of ten South American kids who'd been adopted by a childless couple from Branson. Twice Adopted meant they also have been taken into the Southern Baptist fold. Next up was Comedy Jamboree, Presley's Country Jubilee, Cat's Pajama's, Pierce Arrow, and Haygoods.

Maybe the most remarkable show was Cat's Pajamas. Six young men comprised the whole cast. No instruments accompanied them, just facsimiles thereof made with their voices, and they worked up a sweat. Many of the shows include a hillbilly comedian. Was it in the Comedy Jamboree where the comedian wore a t-shirt, squatted down low, stretched the shirt over his bent knees and started wiggling and bobbing them up and down? “Dolly Parton,” he said.

Odds and ends: In the RFD theater we saw Roy Rogers' Trigger, Dale Evans' Buttermilk, and Bullet, the Wonder Dog, all stuffed, of course. --- Somewhere we were asked what do you name a child if you cross a Minnesotan with a Palestinian? Yassir Youbetcha. --- In one theater, the usher's name tag proclaimed Melody Byrd. Is that your real name? My folks named me Melody, and I married a Byrd. --- In Osceola, MO an Amish man wearing a black hat rode by in his horse and buggy. A black-hatted Amish does not want his picture taken. --- Tornado damage from the past February 29^th storm is still evident in Branson.

Highways nearing Branson pass through solid rock walls that have been excavated with dynamite. Vertical drill holes in which explosives were inserted and detonated. --- A man was driving frantically trying to get his pregnant wife to the hospital in time. He had to pull over and called the doctor who asked, “Is this her first child?” “NO, it's her husband!” --- A gunslinger emptied his six shooter at the feet of an old miner who came into town leading his mule after asking him "how'd you like to dance?". With his gun empty he turned his back to the old man and started bragging to his friends. He heard the two hammers of a shotgun click and turned to see a double-barrel 12 gauge aimed at him. “Son,” the miner asked, “have you ever kissed a mule's ass?” The gunslinger stuttered nervously, “N-n-no, but I've always wanted to.”

On Friday we departed to return home. Will we return? Well, yah. We were informed that Farmers Union just received the contracts for tickets to Daniel O'Donnell show next year. The wife wants to go, so we cut a check while the bus was rolling and reserved a place. That will make the fifth time we traveled to Branson, each time a great time. Now we look forward to our bus tour in January, an eighteen day trip to the Southwest.

Not all was smooth as we returned. The snow and ice on Saturday created some poor driving conditions and we were put up for the night at a Jamestown motel. Arriving at the motel parking lot we found our cars well coated with ice, something for which we spent a half-hour warming the car enough to soften the ice to peel away.

Halloween, 2012

About three weeks ago we reshingled our house, or should I say we contracted with Lowe's to have our house reshingled.  I wanted it done when there was still warm weather so that the shingles would seal up good, but time kept passing and no crews came around.  Finally, a delivery of materials came and sat for a few days, then a dumpster arrived, but still no crew.  Now I started riding hard on Lowe's, where are my shinglers.  You have signed a contract with me to perform.   A crew showed up one evening, and I relaxed.  Next morning here they come knocking on the door:  One of the crew fell off a roof and broke his leg.  We're being called back to Fargo so he can get medical attention.  Now what?  More phone calls.  Finally a call comes, I am sending a crew in from Fergus Falls.  I think you'll like them.  Well, it did turn out all right.   They were a good crew that worked hard.  Arriving mid-morning on a Saturday, their foreman told them if they get the roof stripped by noon he'd buy supper at Golden Corral.  They did, he did, and to get it they worked until about 8:00 that night, and then returned to finish the job the next morning, Sunday.  I think the job was a good job; it withstood two days of very heavy wind a couple weeks ago.

***

Another shipment of books came in for review from Western Writers of America.  I always have plenty to read.  The other day I went into a thrift store that has a good used book department and found seven Bernard Cornwell books.  He is a good action writer, a historical fiction author, who knows how to write adventure stories with lots of battle scenes. 

***

I wonder if some people will ever start believing that global warming is real and will bring about climate changes whether we want them to come or not.  Satellite pictures of glaciers tell a story of the biggest symptom, shrinking ice fields around the globe.  To my line of thinking, this is an indisputable fact.  It's in line with those who deny evolution.  Why, I think there is even a flat-earth society that still meets.

***

- Remember to save the earth: It's the only planet with chocolate!

- Accept the fact that some days you're the pigeon, and some days you're the statue!

- Always keep your words soft and sweet, just in case you have to eat them.

- Always read stuff that will make you look good if you die in the middle of it.

- Drive carefully... It's not only cars that can be recalled by their maker.

- If you can't be kind, at least have the decency to be vague.

- If you lend someone $20 and never see that person again, it was probably worth it.

- It may be that your sole purpose in life is simply to serve as a warning to others.

- Never buy a car you can't push.

- Never put both feet in your mouth at the same time, because then you won't have a leg to stand on.

***

Next week at this time the election will be over.  Thank God!  I think it's about time to look at the way England and France conduct theirs.  They limit the campaigns to a set number of days.  I won't post a blog next week.  We're heading to Branson!!!

Some Good Stories

Yesterday we took our regular trip to Lisbon to visit my mother.  I picked up a copy of McLeod's Centennial history book printed in 1986 while there and when paging through it ran across this story told about relatives in Burleigh County.  I read it aloud.   "It was here on a very stormy afternoon in mid-January that Elisabeth told Arne he'd better harness up because she thought number eleven was on the way!  The nearest midwife lived 17 miles away, so no time was lost debating its arrival.  Hay was pitched into the wagon box, standing by on the sleigh and with several horsehide robes and blankets, Arne left the ranch on another familiar mission!  Things went quite well - about two-thirds of the way there, Cliff decided now was the time. Arne unhitched the team, took off their harnesses and turned them loose.  He then tipped the box upside down over the hay with Elisabeth bedded down inside and let nature take its course.  The team of ponies arrived home during the night and by the crack of dawn, a family "scout" was on his way, following the footprints of the returning horses, where he found mother and son doing fine, but dad had run out of chewing tobacco!

I could tell my mother enjoyed it because she was laughing and wiping tears from her eyes.  Then she told this story from her experiences.  It seems her dad, my grandpa, had gone to the Venlo store for groceries, but for some reason Grandpa's tobacco did not get put into the sack.  When he got home and realized it wasn't included, my mother was drafted into service to ride the horse the three miles and fetch it.  I still remember stories when stranded in three day blizzards the man had run out of tobacco and couldn't wait until the roads opened up so he could feed his habit.

Wife Mary reminded me of another story concerning an uncle of her dad's.  Immigrants, they were heading out to their chosen land. "They had about 30 miles to go.  Ice crystals were forming on Max's face and he was tired and hungry.  Before they left Shields, Max's lady cousin informed Benigna she was pregnant and the baby was due any day.  No one knew she was with child.  When her husband died at sea she was terrified thinking she and her boys would be sent back to Krassna if they were found out.  After a few miles she went into labor.  Benigna told Max what was happening.  They unloaded the hayrack, dug a hole in the snow and set the rack upside down over the hole.  They put straw on the ground under the hayrack and tied the horses to the side.  When the horses laid down they put blankets over the horses and laid down between the horses and the rack.  The heat from the horses kept them warm. The baby was born at about 1:30 in the morning in a snow bank under an upturned hayrack.  Max milked the cow and the morther drank warm milk to give her strength.  The baby lived."  The story went on to tell they left the scene next day and drove along until they came to someone's sod house where they stayed.  Tough people!

She gets the RFD TV channel and for some background noise it was turned on to an old Roy Rogers show.  I had a good laugh when Pat Buttram and Gabby Hayes were riding and arguing about Gabby's driving in an open Jeep.  Gabby couldn't take anymore and jerked the steering wheel off the column and handed it to Pat.  They made a show of handing it back and forth while the Jeep was still rolling down the road trying to keep up to Roy on horseback.  Finally they ran in the ditch and then really started arguing.  Great stuff,  simpler time!

Talk about being stranded for three days, check out this story: A cruise ship passes a small desert island.  Everyone watches as a ratty-looking bearded man runs out on the beach and starts shouting and waving his hands.  "Who's that?" asks one of the passengers to the captain.  "I have no idea," replies the captain, "but every year we sail past, he goes nuts."

It's Almost Time to Celebrate!

In three weeks we will be at peace since the election will have been held and the airwaves can be cleaned up.  There's too much money pouring into these campaigns permitting the candidates to clutter up our minds with excessive "stuff."  We've already voted; yesterday we went to the Morton County courthouse, showed our ID's, and got 'er done.  Upon looking at the calendar, we realized we will be on the road to Branson, MO on election day, so we voted early.  Nothing to it.
...
All, and I mean all, politicians become experts at propaganda techniques to put themselves and their ideas forward.  When in college several classes taught the techniques: name calling, glittering generalities, transfer, testimonial, plain folks, and bandwagon.  Here is a brief description of each.  See if you recognize any.
1.  Name Calling - a technique to create an unfavorable opinion, even hatred, against an opponent.
2. Glittering Generalities - appeals to such notions as honor, glory, love of country, desire for peace, freedom, and family values.
3. Transfer - use of symbols such as waving the flag to  stir our emotions and win our approval.
4. Testimonial - associates a respected person or someone with experience to endorse a candidate.
5. Plain Folks - an approach to convince the audience that the candidate is from humble origins, someone they can trust and who has their interests at heart.
6. Bandwagon - persuade the voters to follow the crowd through the impression of widespread support.

Without any problem, readers of this humble blog will recognize any one of these techniques presently at use.
...
A few quotes from notable persons support the above.  William Tecumseh Sherman writing in a Civil War letter, "Reason has very little influence in this world: prejudice governs."

"Writing a story without presenting a meaningful opposing force is propaganda." 20 Master Plots.

"It is a poor sort of man who is content to be spoon-fed knowledge that has been filtered through the canon of religious or political belief."  Louis L'Amour.

"When did ignorance become a point of view?" Dilbert

...
George McGovern just entered the Hospice Program in Sioux Falls.  I remember asking him once in Bismarck how it was as a bomber pilot in World War II with 30 some missions.  He replied, "I was scared all the time."  We will never know what men of his ilk went through.  Doctor Wilson in Bismarck flew in bombers, too.  In an Osher Institute session, I remember him saying they had just dropped their bomb load where the explosions destroyed some site.  The crew began cheering about their accuracy when the pilot came on the intercom and said they had just bombed Switzerland.  Not good.
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The first printing of Paha Sapa Tawoyake: Wade's Stories sold out, and I have placed an order for a second printing which will be available for Christmas giving.  They will arrive later this week, so I will have to promote some more.  By the way, to dispel any notions, there is no money in this project.  Sales from the first printing paid for the book.  I can look forward to each price per book being less with the second since some of the one-time front end costs need not be paid again.  Speaking of not making any money, one more story can be told.  The Western Writers of America has sent me lots of books for which I've done reviews to be published in their magazine "Roundup."  In the last issue, I saw where the editor listed me as a staff writer.  I wrote telling him I noticed the credit.  He wrote back, "I figure the staff writer credit is in lieu of MONEY! HA!... But I'll buy you a beverage at the next convention."   I knew there was no pay for reviewing books,  I do it because it's fun, and I keep the books, likewise those sent by the Bismarck Tribune.  Las Vegas is the site of the next convention.
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The woodcarving emerged from a block of wood about 15 years ago.  I just took off all the wood that wasn't a happy drunk.

Used Book Sale

The semi-annual used book sale was held again at the Bismarck Public Library last week where  I made one purchase that I'm glad about.  Digging through a box, I came on a Louis L'Amour magazine, something which I've never had.  I knew that this magazine published for awhile in the 1990's and then folded, probably due to financial reasons.  Anyway, after digging down in the box a bit further, I found more and took all of them.  Of course, I bought lots of other books, but these will give the most pleasurable reading.  Curious, I looked on the internet to see if I could find any mention of this defunct publication.  Sure enough, I learned that only twelve issues were published and that is how many I found that day.  So I've got the whole set.  Then a trip to the Ebay site to see if they had any value.  Yes, they are worth much more than the dollar or two I ended up paying for them.  Some days it pays to get out of bed.

The first story I read in those magazines, Elmer Kelton's "Continuity," is a story of multi-generations living on the same ranch, five, in fact, including the youngster.  Each succeeding generation must fight the older one to make changes in the ranch's operation, the older one not wanting to admit a newer, more efficient way is available.  Kelton's considered one of the premier writers of western literature.  His novel The Time It Never Rained features a rancher who refuses to accept any government aid or programs to help him survive a serious drought.  It's a great read!  Another one he is famous for is The Day the Cowboys Quit deals with an actual occurrence when the working cowboys got tired of being taken advantage of and actually quit their  jobs.  I've yet to read it, but it is on my shelf.  My reading habits changed these last couple of years as I read more and more in the Westerns.  Maybe I thought I was above that literature and should read the recommended "stuff" that the eastern establishment promoted.  I've finally learned.  Stories of the "rough-cut"  frontier spirit suit me much better.
***
On Monday evening the Westerners featured a program on "Little Casino," a madame who ran a successful whorehouse operation in Bismarck at the sight where the Bismarck Tribune now sets.  Quite the gal, she was!  When people from this area were trying to have the capitol moved from Yankton to Bismarck, they needed to raise money.  Here came Little Casino to a meeting of that exclusive club of men and threw $1200 down.  Asked, "Isn't this a lot for you, Casino?"  She looked around the table and said, "I can see more all around me."  Search Google for her story.  Type in Little Casino, Bismarck, and several items come up.
***
I have no more of the "That's when the fight started" jokes, but Ole and Lena thankfully arrived in time to fill the void -
DURING the minister's prayer one Sunday, there was a loud whistle from a pew in the front row. It was little Ole. His mother Lena beside him was horrified. She pinched him to silence, and after church asked:

"Ole, whatever made you do such a thing?"

Ole answered gingerly:

"I asked God to teach me to whistle, and He just did!"

...
Ole and Lena finally got married, and Ole was driving her to St. Paul for the honeymoon. "Ole," says Lena, "give me a kiss." "No," says Ole, "somebody might see." "Nobody vill see," says Lena, "and besides, we're married now." "No, Lena," says Ole, "somebody might see." "Ole," says Lena, "I vant a kiss and I vant it now! Stop this car and park it. Ve'll get out and crawl under the car and then nobody vill see!" "Vat if somebody comes by?" asks Ole. "Yust tell them you're checking the clutch!" yells Lena, and Ole knows he'd better stop right then or there will be trouble. Vell, vun ting leads to another, and Ole and Lena are under the car for quite awhile ven He is so happy that his eyes are shut, and then Ole feels a hand on his shoulder. It vas Lars! "Ole!" says Lars. "Vat the heck are you doing?" "Go avay, Lars," says Ole. "I'm checking the clutch." "Vell, you'd better check the brakes," says Lars, "because your car's rolled fifty feet down the shoulder!" 

 

Just Thinkin' 'Bout Old Times

I published this picture of the Sheldon Class of 1960 once before, but after meeting up with some folks for coffee last Sunday, it seemed like it was a good one to pull up again.  My old math teacher Miss Hansen lives in Bismarck; I've visited with her a time or two before, and she has bought a book from me.  She has remained friends with my old English teacher and her husband, the school superintendent, Mr. and Mrs. Vitus, and when they passed through on I-94 Sunday, they made plans to meet her.  Mary and I were invited, so we got to have a pleasant conversation with them for a couple of hours.  When they left Sheldon, they went to Colorado where they have lived ever since.  Big on carousel preservation around the country, they spend hobby time with that.

*

A Swedish poet, Par Lagerqvist, wrote lines that return:

With old eyes I look back.

All is so long ago.

A stony road

with weary oxen homesick at eventide,

an old cart-track, the farm's gray gable

with a light in one of the windows.

The marshy meadows beside the little river

with mist over darkened water

*
Fall with threat a bit of wintry snow came all at once.  We blew out our lawn sprinkler system yesterday, Mary is cleaning plants up in the yard, and our shinglers have come and gone.  I'm glad they came when they did because we still had a few warming days to get them to set up good. 
*
I will watch the presidential debates tonight, or at least part of it.  Can't wait...
*
Here're a few more of the "and that's how the fight started" jokes:
One year I decided to buy my mother-in-law a cemetery plot as a Christmas gift.  The next year I didn't buy her a gift.  When she asked me why, I replied, "Well,you still haven't used the gift I bought you last year.  And that's how the fight started.

My wife and I were watching "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire" while we were in bed.  I turned to her and said, "Do you want to have sex?"  "No," she answered.  I then said, "Is that your final answer?"  She didn't even look at me this time, simply saying, "Yes."  So I said, "Then I'd like to phone a friend." And that's when the fight started.

My wife and I were sitting at a table at her high school reunion, and she kept staring at a drunken man swigging his drink as he sat alone at a nearby table.  I asked her, "Do you know him?"  "Yes," she sighed, "he's my old boyfriend...I understand he took to drinking right after we split up those many years ago, and I hear he hasn't been sober since."  "My God!" I said, "who would think a person could go on celebrating that long?"  And then the fight started.

Saturday morning I got up early, quickly dressed, made my lunch, and slipped quietly into the garage.  I hooked the boat up to the van, and proceeded to back out into a torrential downpour.  The wind was blowing 50 mph, so I pulled back into the garage, turned on the radio, and discovered that the weather would be bad all day.  I went back into the house, quietly undressed and slipped back into bed.  I cuddled up to my wife'sback, now with a different anticipation, and whispered, "The weather out there is terrible."  My loving wife of 5 years replied, "Can you believe my stupid husband is out fishing in that?"  And that's how the fight started.

After retiring, I went to the social security office to apply.  The woman behind the counter asked me for my driver's license to verify my age.  I looked in my pockets and realized I had left my wallet at home.  I told the woman that I was very sorry, but I would have to go home and come back later.  The woman said, "Unbutton your shirt."  So I opened my shirt revealing my curly silver hair.  She said, "That silver hair on your chest is proof enough for me and she processed my application.  When I got home I excitedly told my wife about my experience at the social security office.  She said, "You should have dropped your pants.  You might have gotten disability, too!"  And then the fight started.
*
And there I was promising to write better blogs...

Roosevelt Symposium

Last Friday the annual Theodore Roosevelt Symposium  convened at Dickinson State College.  I managed to make my way over there again and listen to a few of the presentations. The topic this year - The Progressive in the Arena - stimulated me a bit.  During TR's presidency a movement began, a rising up against the big business's arrogant attitude toward the common person of this country.  A good deal of legislation passed to protect consumers.  A book written during this period by Upton Sinclar, The Jungle, really shook things up.

The Jungle described in vivid detail the unsanitary conditions that existed in the meat packing industry run by people who believed in survival of the fittest, buyer beware, and minimal regulation.  In his story he wrote of workers falling into rendering vats and being ground up with animal parts into lard.  This could not be proven, but other unsanitary practices were, such as dead rats being thrown into sausage grinders, bribed inspectors who ignored diseased animals being slaughtered, and filth and guts swept up and packaged as potted ham. I maybe should have expected as much, but the image of unclean meat caused me to have a nightmare that night.  I stood at a meat grinder and guided a long slab of meat which flopped over the backside of the machine.  When I looked back there, I saw dust, grease, dead flies, etc., lifted it up wondering what I should do, and wiped it off the best I could....A meat inspection act and the Pure Food and Drug Act of 1906 passed a vote of Congress.

***

My mind returns to the Oil Patch Tour we took recently.  One of the "experts" talked of the efficiencies in delivering oil to refineries through pending pipelines, something which is presently a political issue.  I believe the hang-up relates, at least partially, to environmental concerns.  The massive amount of crude oil presently transported by railroad tanker cars was discussed.  The name of Warren Buffett came up and his ownership of the BNSF line which he purchased not so many years ago.  Just  to learn a bit more I discovered Buffett and his corporation bought BNSF for the price of $44 billion (with a B).  Is it any wonder there is a battle for minds going on between those who would profit from pipeline activity and the Buffett people who need a payback on their investment.  The fight is taking place somewhere in the stratosphere where the oxygen is pretty rarefied.  It's impossible for me to breathe up there.

To add to the mix, the multi-billionaire who owns the major stake in ND oil just gave a whole bunch of millions of dollars to the University of North Dakota to establish a school of geology.  Can I use quid pro quo in a sentence here?  Even though this is an admirable act that will educate many needed geologists for the oil patch, it doesn't take genius thought to know he will want his back scratched, besides.  By the way, he's a pipeliner.

***

Back to Teddy Roosevelt era and common folks reaction to being played to the tune of corporate thought. Wasn't Obama ACCUSED of being progressive as though it was closely akin to being socialistic in theory.  Not a one of us can live without driving on government financed roads, attending public schools, collecting social security, utilizing Medicare, possibly Obamacare.  What did one lady say a couple of years ago?  I want government to stay out of my Social Security.  The Progressive Movement during TR's time accomplished much: 16th Amendment - federal income tax, 17th - direct election of senators, 18th - women's suffrage, 18th - prohibition, trust busting, ICC strengthened, child labor laws, allowed initiative, referendum, & recall, workmen's compensation, etc.

***

There is always a fight going on somewhere.  How about this -

I took my wife to a restaurant.  The waiter, for some reason, took my order first.  "I'll have the rump steak, rare,please." --- He said, "Aren't you worried about the mad cow?" --- "Nah, she can order for herself." --- And that's when the fight started.

My wife sat down next to me as I was flipping channels.  She asked, "What's on TV?" --- I said, "Dust." --- And that's when the fight started.

My wife was hinting about what she wanted for our upcoming anniversary.  She said, "I want something shiny that goes from 0 to 150 in about 3 seconds. --- I bought her a bathroom scale. --- And that's when the fight started.

My wife was standing nude, looking in the bathroom mirror.  She was not happy with what she saw and said to me, "I feel horrible; I look old, fat and ugly.  I really need you to pay me a compliment." --- I replied, "Your eyesight's damn near perfect."  And that's when the fight started.

When our lawn mower broke and wouldn't run, my wife kept hinting to me that I should get it fixed.  But somehow I always had something else to take care of first, the shed, the boat, making beer... --- Finally she thought of a clever way to make her point.  When I arrived home one day, I found her seated in the tall grass, busily snipping away with a tiny pair of sewing scissors.  I watched silently for a short time and then went into the house.  I was gone only a minute, and when I came out again I handed her a toothbrush.  I said, "When you finish cutting the grass, you might as well sweep the driveway." --- The doctors say I will walk again, but I will always have a limp.

A Bus Trip Through the Oil Patch

 

On Thursday we departed the Bismarck State College parking lot at 7:00 am and returned thirteen hours later, 8:00 pm.  Only twice did we step off the bus, once at the location pictured for noon lunch and once at a Cenex in Stanley, ND.  I stood in the middle of this man-camp dining facility and shot towards the kitchen/serving area, but this picture gives a poor scale; the room was very large.  Our walk-through of the man-camp was interesting.  Hallways ran out from the hub like tentacles.  Laundry, exercise room, computer room, etc. gave the workers the things they needed be satisfied.  This camp was said to be quite small, about 350 beds.  I asked what do you do about law and order if someone comes in drunk.  "Oh, we've got our own police force."  A joke overheard: If you want to find your car in the Dickinson Wal-Mart parking lot, just look for the North Dakota license plates.  The first six plates I looked at as we drove into this camp's parking lot came from six different states.

We learned that 193 rigs presently work in ND.  Two experts accompanied us: Lauren Donovan, a reporter for the Bismarck Tribune and Drew Combs working for the state.  He has worked around the world in the oil business, and she knows how to ferret out information from people to become very knowledgeable.

North of Dickinson, Donovan pointed out all the large facilities being constructed for oil business.  The farther north we drove the more truck traffic we encountered.  Communities we visited: Killdeer, Watford City, Williston, Minot, Stanley.  One question I've had for some time was answered.  So often I've seen long trailers coming down I-94 with just one rear axle.  I saw hundreds of them in the oil patch.  They hold liquid for the fracking process.

McKenzie County does not have a system set in place for zoning, or at least not a good one, so we saw many random collections of campers huddled together, here and there.  Step-on guides pointed out the  huge development of housing in their communities.  One said Halliburton was especially aggressive in getting their people into permanent housing, the better to retain workers.  Miles and miles of blue water line lay along the road waiting to be buried and put into service to supply the huge demand.

In Watford City a line of oil wells sat on the north side.  From them oil pipe goes down, then extends two miles horizontally to the south under the city.  Hard to comprehend.  Most anytime we'd come to a stop light, traffic would have backed up two blocks waiting for it to change.  All over we'd see patches of ground scraped clean of sod waiting for something to happen, whether it be a new oil well site, a storage yard, a parking lot, a site for new housing, etc.  The wife said, "We thought we had a lot of construction going on."  Nine thousand trucks a day pass through Williston.

Near Ross, the guide pointed north to the open prairie and told us one person's land sports 27 producing wells that bring him about five thousand dollars each per month.  The Cenex C-Store in Stanley serves up one million dollars of seven inch pizzas each quarter.  I saw a few walk out the short time we were there.  All in all, the oil patch boggles the mind.

Touring the Oil Patch

Thirteen hours on a bus yesterday touring the oil patch doesn't leave enough time to blog today since I'm off to Dickinson this Friday morning for a Roosevelt Symposium now.  (I know, the oil well is on its side.)  This blog will reappear sometime Saturday.

Touring the Old Wade Ranch

We traveled Wednesday to the Anchor Ranch and delivered several copies of Wade's Stories to the present owner, Duane Voigt.  Mary used to babysit the Voigt children, and so, with that pleasant relationship, we received a warm welcome from him.  Filling the air with several hours of stories, he told us that as a younger man his friends hung the nickname "Windy" on him.  A widower, often referring to Alma's memory and the life they made together on the ranch, he gave us a four-wheel drive tour winding among, sometimes atop, the buttes cresting the horizon.

As the afternoon wore on, I realized more than one story echoes in this rugged landscape.  Of course the Wade story reverberates.  Another, Duane's family, displaced from Elbowoods by the construction of the Garrison Dam and the rising waters of Lake Sakakawea, drove their herd of cattle overland in the 1950's to this place, a trip of about ten days.  Finally and presently, Duane's daughter and family, the present operators, have strung miles of six-strand barbed wire around the ranch, "buffalo fence" he called it, to hold their large herd of buffaloes.

Over the years, the Cannonball River has flooded and changed course because of spring thaws and heavy flooding.  The pickup slowly descended one dry bank of its old riverbed and strained to climb the opposite bank as we rolled slowly on the rough ground toward sites he wanted to show us.  He laughed as he told us how Wade's daughter placed a sandstone marker inscribed "Wade" on a steep hilltop.  She wanted to accommodate Duane and be sure the spot she chose did not interfere with his haying equipment.  For sure, it seemed like the pickup had all it could do to find traction to climb up there.  The marker, carved by an early craftsman, was used as the cornerstone of the old farmhouse and salvaged when that house was moved to a new location.  

He told us of another marker on the ranch and took us to it.  One of Wade's daughters wanted her ashes spread from a hilltop where the wind would carry them across her old home.  He said on the day of the memorial service he counted cars from thirteen states that had parked at the base of the  hill.  Inscribed simply, "Georgia 1914-1995," it is there to last the ages.  Duane said as the ashes were poured from the urn, a southerly wind took them straight-away from the hill and spread them across the prairie and the river.  I can only imagine this is just the way she wanted them to spread, and it seemed to me a beautiful way to spend eternity.

Many times yesterday I wished I would have had my recorder along because of the richness of the stories he told.  I told Duane he has a book inside him, too.  I hope we can do it someday soon.  The cattle drive he and his family made stands along as a story.

The Chautauqua Was in Town

The North Dakota Humanities Council sponsored another round of Chautauqua programs.  It's been a few years since last they did.  This series came under the general title of "The Civil War: Conflicts Across the Country," and runs four days.  The Episcopal church is Bismarck hosted the evening performances.  One unique feature about the church: its beautiful colored glass windows feature elements from churches destroyed in England during bombing raids in WWII.  In the blue glass borders surrounding the main design of the windows fragments of a head here, a foot there, an arm over there, etc., just bits and pieces of shattered glass that someone thought to preserve in this manner.  Very unique.  The colored glass came from English churches dating as far back as the 1400's. 

The first night's actor impersonated Little Crow, leader of the Minnesota band of Indians, during the 1862 Minnesota Dakota conflict.  The main circumstance of the Dakota uprising resulted from the fact that supplemental food, clothing, and money stopped because the Civil War started and Washington could not see to these treaty obligations.  The Indians became very frustrated and one hunting party of Dakota decided to attack a settlement.  Fort Abercrombie in North Dakota came under siege at this time.

 I enjoyed the portrayal of General Ely Parker on the second night.  He was a Seneca Indian, baptized with a Christian name, and wanted an education.  He studied law, but because he was an Indian was denied entrance into the New York bar.  He worked as a civil engineer at the Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, and when the Civil War broke out, he tried to enlist but was denied because he was an Indian.  Somewhere along the line he and Ulysses S. Grant had become friends who did not hesitate to commission him as a captain in the army.  His promotions ended with a Brigadier General rank.  His language skills enabled him to accomplish one last honor.  Grant chose him to write the surrender document that Robert E. Lee signed at Appomattox.

Frederick Douglass took the stage on the third evening.  As a slave he was fortunate to be given an elementary education by his master's wife and received lent books from other white folks who saw in him one worthy of advancement.  He went on to become famous in his abolitionist efforts.

I'll go to the Chautauqua every time it is held.  They are well worth the time.
...   ...   ...
I've been pushing my book and have made several contacts in organizations where I think I can sell more.  Monday night I'll be doing a short presentation at the Westerners Corral meeting.  The president told me to bring some books along.  He's bought one already, so maybe he'll put in a good word.  Different ones have asked where the book was published; they've liked the way it came out.  I'm well pleased with the product.  If anyone is interested, it was printed by 48hrbooks.com in Akron, Ohio.  If I get another book together (which is the plan) I will use their services again.
...   ...   ...
Wednesday afternoon Mary and I plan to go to the ranch that William V. Wade established on the Cannonball River and tour it with the present owner.  I'll make sure to have my camera batteries charged up.
...   ...   ...
Too much going on nowadays, and something has to give so that I can move forward with my story writing.  This blog, if it's to be worthwhile for me to write and readers to read, takes time and mental energy which I don't want to give right now.  So with that I'm changing from a  three-a-week format to once a week.  Sometime in the middle of the week I'll post.  However, this week it will be Friday before I'm here again with something, I hope, worthwhile.

Model T's and such...

I spotted a little mention of a big sale scheduled in Spearfish, SD.  A man named Les Schuchardt is selling his collection of old cars, he says while he's still around to watch them get sold.  To take a look at some of the treasures, do a google search by typing in Schuchardt car auction and it should get an interested looker to the auction bill.  I just finished watching the show American Pickers where it's entertaining to watch the two pickers start going through some people's junk collections.  It reminds me a lot of my dad.  Well, anyway Les Schuchardt did the same, only specializing in old cars.  This sale should bring a lot of  money.  The auctioneer said, "There is so much history that this man has.  That's why the national magazines are coming - it's a significant collection."
...   ...   ...
I read with sadness about Minnesota's worst air disaster when a Cessna152, a small two-seater plane, crashed into a Norwegian cemetery early this morning.  Ole and Sven, working in search and rescue, have recovered 123 bodies so far, and expect that number to climb as digging continues into the night.
...   ...   ...
In the Different Strokes for Different Folks Dept we have a situation where national champion NDSU isn't disciplining football players who passed a petition under fraudulent conditions causing the sec'y of state to disqualify two ballot measures in our upcoming state election.  They're going to let the legal system take its course first.  Supporters of the two disqualified measures probably don't care much about champions this morning.  In the meantime, onward to another championship.

Labor Day, 2012

The Department of Labor states Labor Day "is a creation of the labor movement and is dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American workers.  It constitutes a yearly national tribute to the contributions workers have made to the strength, prosperity, and well-being of our country."
...   ...   ...
We traveled to Lisbon again yesterday to visit my mother.  While we sat there the RFD network played on her TV a program featuring a man in a wheelchair who was a horse-whisperer.  He was working with a two-year old stallion and got some amazing desired reactions from the horse.   When the program finished I asked Ma if she ever rode horse.  "Oh, yes, herding cows.  We had a pony named Tommy.  That's all I did in the summer, herd cows and watch kids."  She was the oldest girl in the family and baby-sitting duties passed to her while Grandma worked at other chores.
...   ...   ...
A good TV show ran last night: A Steven Spielberg production of Into the West on the AMC channel. It was the first of a six-part series.  I couldn't help finding myself in the past with one scene in the Indian camp.  As I watched I thought, I, too, have washed myself in the smoke of a smudge pot and smoked the pipe as it passed around the circle.  It seems so long ago.
...   ...   ...
A good response of orders for my book Paha Sapa Tawoyake: Wade's Stories came in this past week.  That was the easy part.  Now I have to get out and push, but I have contacts with several organizations and think many more will sell.  To repeat the ordering information - the book costs $10 plus .60 sales tax for in-state residents and $3 shipping.  My phone 701-667-1071; my address 1404 12th Ave SE, Mandan, ND 58554; my email lynnbueling@bis.midco.net.

Taking Book Orders

A UPS shipment of books from my publisher has arrived and orders are now being taken.  The book costs $10.00 + $3.00 postage + .60 sales tax for North Dakota residents.  Depending on what state you order from it will cost either $13.00 or $13.60.  Kindly drop me an email: lynnbueling@bis.midco.net if you'd like one, and I will promptly send a copy (or several if you wish.)

The title of the book is Paha Sapa Tawoyake: Wade's Stories.  I visited with a couple  employees at United Tribes Technical College one day last week to establish the Lakota meaning of the title.  To the English language it translates Finder of the Black Hills.  This does not mean William V. Wade discovered the Black Hills, but on one occasion he accompanied a party of Lakota Indians who were riding to that area to attend a meeting with Washington bureaucrats.  One day he was riding on ahead and spotted the Black Hills in the distance and shouted the news back to his companions.  Knowing a bit about Indian humor, I'm sure they conferred the title in good-natured fashion.

My wife was born and raised on a ranch immediately adjacent to Wade's ranch south of Raleigh, ND.  The North Dakota Cowboy Hall of Fame just a few years ago inducted this ranch, The Anchor Ranch, into the hall of fame in the "historic ranch" category.  I have owned an original copy of the book for several years that Wade wrote and began wondering if it shouldn't be republished.  I took on the task (with the blessings of a couple of his descendants) and added my own introduction plus an addenda of additional articles of historical significance.

I wrote this comment on the back cover of the book:  William V. Wade lived a life of adventure along the MIssouri River when it was still wild country.  He knew and interacted with frontiersmen before they became the stereotyped characters we recognize in today's literature.  Wade tells stories of Custer, Sitting Bull, Gall, Liver Eatin' Johnson, and others as only one who personally knew them can tell.  After marrying and starting a family, he settled down to life as a cattle rancher on the nearby Cannonball River and wrote these accounts near the end of his life.

I am satisfied, even proud of the book's appearance after working with a publishing company that turned out a very professional looking volume and cover design. 

Monday Morning Musing

Quite a few sights caught my camera's eye the evening we attended the Westerners Corral meeting at the railroad museum.  I remember the "speeder" that ran up and down the NP tracks and the section crew that rode it.  I can't remember if it looked exactly like this model, but that is what this is.  They have a couple of the little flatbed cars that hooked behind this, too.

...

The CBS Sunday Morning show featured Glen Campbell on his last concert tour.  It's his last because, if nobody has heard, he started developing Alzheimer's Disease a few years ago and it has progressed far enough along that he and his handlers think it's time to quit.  He is still quite conversant and plays and sings fairly well.  He seems to be resigned to his fate and on stage he made some little flub, then said, "If you do things perfect, they expect it that way all the time."  Good philosophy, I'd say.  Campbell always was a favorite entertainer of mine.  Between him and John Denver, I don't know which I like the better.

...

Neil Armstrong, the first moonwalker, passed away a few days ago.  He was a well respected man and was said never to have taken advantage of his celebrity by earning "hero" money from it.  Besides, he refused to sign autographs if he thought others were going to profit from it.  He remained a professional working man all his life.  He said something to the effect, "I guess we'd all like to be remembered, not just for the fireworks, but for the ledger of our work."  Rest in peace.

...

I visited the archive library in the Heritage Center again last week to look for a factoid from the 1923 Sheldon newspaper.  On the page I located it on, there were a few examples of the kind of jokes the paper saw fit to print at that time:  The average man can stretch his arms about five and one-half feet.  Nature provides for everything.  That is ample to illustrate the size of the average fish we catch ....... Nephew - What I want to get into, uncle, is some line where one can make a quick turnover.  Uncle - Well, you might get a job frying griddle cakes .......

My Baby!

My publishing company sure moves fast!  I asked for and paid extra for a printed draft copy of my book.  On Tuesday afternoon I gave preliminary approval after viewing the draft on my computer.  It arrived UPS overnight delivery from Akron, Ohio the next morning, Wednesday at 10:30 AM.  It boggles the mind.  

I told my wife I feel like I just gave birth.  "NO!  No! That's nothing like giving birth!"  Leave it to the wife to set me straight.

On the back cover I've placed this statement: "William V. Wade lived a life of adventure along the Missouri River when it was still wild country.  He knew and interacted with frontiersmen before they became the stereotyped characters we recognize in today's literature.  Wade tells stories of Custer, Sitting Bull, Gall, Liver Eatin' Johnson, and others as only one who personally knew them can tell.  After marrying and starting a family, he settled down to life as a cattle rancher on the nearby Cannonball River and wrote these accounts near the end of his life."

Some might wonder why the interest in this fellow.  This is what I wrote in part in the introduction: "Wade's stories have gathered dust on my shelves for these many years until recently when my wife and I read them through again, the upshot being her reminding me of her knowledge of the Wade family.  You see, William V. Wade established the large Anchor Ranch on the Cannonball River, and it was there on the opposite north bank of the river that my wife was born and raised on the ranch her parents owned south of Raleigh, ND."  Besides that, this is good history.  I found a good deal of supporting material to include in an Addenda.

Ordering info will appear next week; the shipment is due on Wednesday.  Then I'll be able to start on another batch of stories set in and around Ransom County.

(I don't know what happened to the picture I posted but won't take the time to figure it out)

I've been busy

This is the cover design of the book I have been working on.  I am scheduled to get an overnight ups delivery this morning of a printed exam copy (which I paid $40 for) and then I presume I will get the books next week.  Ordering information will be posted on this site soon.

State Train Museum

Happy Birthday, Mary Lou !!!
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On Monday evening we attended the local Westerners Corral supper meeting at the state train museum.  The picture is of the depot the musuem had moved in from Steele.  It has been a few years since last we visited and it was good to see they have added more exhibits to the grounds.

An interesting story one of their board members told dealt with the steam engine in Enderlin.  They have been wanting to add an old time engine to their collection and tried to go after that one.  They thought they had the deal made, as he said, "They were just one day away from closing the deal."  At the last minute, someone in Enderlin vetoed the idea, so that was the end of it.

As he told his tale, I couldn't help but remember all the railroad activity in Enderlin.  I'll never forget the smoke and steam spewing out of those engines as when they pulled a fully loaded freight headed southeast from town where it had to climb an incline to get rolling.  Often times another engine was pushing and smoking and steaming on the rear end to give it a boost.  Such a sight!

...   ...   ...
Ole, Lena, and Little Ole went to the big city for the first time.  They were walking down the street and looking in the windows of the big stores.  Little Ole spotted something that caught his eye and ran into a building.  Big Ole and Lena followed him.  They all stood in front of a shiny door.  A chubby, elderly, gray haired lady walked up and pushed a button by the door.  It opened and she walked into a little room.  The door closed and the numbers above the door went up, and soon came down again.  The doors opened and a beautiful well-built girl walked out.  Little Ole asked, "What kind of machine is dat, Dad?"  Big Ole said, "I don't know, but push dat button and shove your mom in."

  

Lotza Odds & Ends

Home builders in Bismarck-Mandan aren't afraid to build on hilly terrain.  This picture taken from the deck of Mary's sister and husband looks north to neighboring houses.  I've always thought the rock-walled terraces were attractive but miserable to mow.  They are both.

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My dear wife came into the bathroom this morning as I was shaving and proudly displayed our rain gauge; it showed yesterday's rainfall measuring a bit over two inches.  Things will sure freshen up now.

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 An article in the Sunday paper printed some man-camp numbers. An outfit named Target Logistics runs an operation at eleven locations with 4,390 beds.  A smaller company, Capitol Lodge, lists 560 beds.  I know there are other facilities in and around the oil patch, so I don't know the total number they can accommodate,  but whatever, the numbers are high enough to boggle the old North Dakota mind.

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Speaking of the oil patch, we have signed up for a guided day trip later in September with the Osher Institute.  We've been wanting a first hand look at the area, and now I don't have to drive a car in it.

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Lloyd Omdahl's Sunday column bore this headline: Can North Dakota handle being rich?  He reports that, heck, we're not just going to have a two billion dollar state surplus, but a four billion dollar surplus.  (That's with a "B")  I liked his reference to our "mattress-stuffing legislature," in other words, let's spend some money on us common folks.

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I had a chance meeting in our Target store a few days ago with the man who lives on the historic Anchor Ranch adjacent to the south side of the Cannonball River.  I told him I was about to publish a book about the man who established the ranch - William V. Wade.  Wife Mary was born and raised on the north side of the Cannonball.  Wade wrote a very interesting book about his experiences up and down the Missouri River, and after contacting his descendents who liked the idea, I've decided to re-publish it with additions of my own. I'm hearing lots of interest in the project.  Ordering information will be posted here soon.

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The Missouri River claims one or two people every year.  She just got one again a few days ago.  A man jumped off the railroad bridge for sport.  The first time he came up.  The second time he didn't.  They are still looking for him.