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.