Almost Another Month Gone

I'm working on a slide show for my presentation on the William Wade book on March 13.  Wade came west to the Missouri River country working as a bullwhacker on a Don Stevenson wagon train.  He joined up in Minnesota, so he more than likely traveled once, or maybe a few times, on one of the two routes between Fort Abercrombie and Fort Ransom.  The longer route called the highwater route followed the bend of the Sheyenne River whenever the river ran too high to ford.  The low water route followed a much straighter line between the two forts.  It was from that fact that Shenford Township earned its name, originally called Shinford when the water only came up to a man's shins.

I attended the annual meeting of the North Dakota Cowboy Hall of Fame on Saturday where among other things they voted on a slate of candidates for this year's inductees.  In the Great Westerner category William Wade got an official nomination along with Marquis de Mores.  Voting will take place over the next several weeks and the winners in all the divisions will be inducted at a ceremony in June in Medora.

It was easy to tell that this was a gathering of cowboys.  All four urinals in the men's restroom showed signs of snoose being spit into them.

The menu that night featured one mighty fine 8 oz top sirloin steak that could be cut with a butter knife.  The entertainer at the banquet was Monte "Hawkeye" Henson, a three-time world champion bareback bronc rider.  He sang and told jokes like this one: "Did you hear about the Indian orgy?  It was intense!"  I know, it took awhile for some in the audience to figure it out, too.

Before the entertainment began, the president of the group grabbed the microphone and said, "Folks, I want to call your attention over there to a Kodak moment."  There the three-time champ Henson stood visiting with a four-time champ, Brad Gjermundson.  I used to follow rodeo a bit, so I thought it was a big deal.

I donated two of the Wade books to place on their silent auction table.  I left early, but one of them had a $50 bid and the other $39.

***
The Bismarck Tribune sent me another book to review: Lady at the O.K. Corral - The True Story of Josephine Marcus Earp. Here is how I started it: "This reviewer recently visited Tombstone, Ariz. and suffered through frequent 'gun battles' on the streets and walked through Boothill Cemetery reading grave markers that told of violent deaths.  (Here lies Lester More.  Four slugs from a .44.  No Les, no More.")
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See you next week!

My Mother Still Tells Good Stories

This is a Christmas picture taken of my mother who resides in Lisbon, ND at the Parkside Lutheran Home.  Her 93rd birthday was last Sunday, the 17th, and we visited to celebrate.  Of course, my 71st occurred two days earlier on the 15th, so we reminisced over that.  I can't remember much about that day in 1942, but I asked her how the weather was.  She thought it was fine, but said she hadn't been feeling well for a couple days previous to that so she probably doesn't remember much either.  Dad took her to my birthplace in Enderlin, the house of a midwife.  ....  Enderlin celebrated a Diamond Jubilee in 1966 and published a history book.  This little snippet appeared in the history of the Opheim family.  "Caring for the sick has always been her greatest enjoyment and the doctors of the area relied on her for assistance when the stork was imminent.  She counts as 'her' babies 117 boys and girls now scattered all over the country,"  Mrs. Opheim's home hosted my birth.

***  ***   ***

She told us this story of how when she was born, she came to be named Maxine.  Her mother wanted to name her Lois, but a relative talked her out of it, saying that isn't a very good name.  It so happened that a few years later this relative had a girl, and guess what, she named her Lois.

***   ***   ***

The editor of the Bismarck Tribune sent another book for me to review: Lady at the O.K. Corral - The True Story of Josephine Marcus Earp.  Over the years, I have wondered, but only a bit, what the O.K. stands for.  With just a little bit of research I discovered the those initials came from the U.S. President Martin Van Buren who bore the nickname "Old Kinderhook."  Reading a bit more I found that is also where our term "okay" comes from.
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Here is how my review begins.  "This reviewer recently visited Tombstone, AZ and suffered through frequent "gun battles" on the streets and walked through Boothill Cemetery reading gravestones that told of violent deaths (Here lies Lester More.  Four slugs from a .44.  No Les, No More.")  The guide in the Birdcage Theater proudly pointed to bullet holes in the walls and the curtained cubicles where ladies plied their trade.  This city celebrates its lawless past.  The savvy undertaker even advertised, "Ask about our layaway plan."

In several Tombstone establishments hangs a picture of a beautiful young lady wearing only a filmy garment whom they claim depicts Josephine Marcus Earp.  Now, this lady has become the subject of an interesting biography, Lady at the O.K. Corral.  etc. etc."
***   ***   ***
I had a good laugh the other day when I watched a clip from the David Letterman show.  There stood President Obama playing golf and shooting a long putt which soon became obviously a miss.  There flew a drone overhead that shot a missile down to score a hit and blow a small hole in front of the ball.  Bingo.  Obama will always be remembered for shooting drone missiles, and the visual of it made me laugh.
***   ***   ***
I am scheduled to present a session at the Osher Institute on Wednesday, March 13.  The director told me that interest has outgrown the standard classrooms and that she has moved us to a larger room.  Therefore, anyone can come, not just registered Osher members.  So if anyone reads this, you are invited.  1:00-2:30.

A Bit About a Lot

On Sunday the plan was to go to Lisbon and do some birthday celebrating.  The boys and all were able to come then, too.  Then came a blizzard and we all stayed home.  Weather conditions were pretty good here so we decided to go to a movie that we'd been wanting to see since it came out: Les Miserables.  How long since we had attended a musical, neither of us could remember - maybe never as a married couple.  In this movie not a single spoken word was uttered; they were, in its entirety, sung.  The movie was well worth the price of admission; we both liked it.  The book on which the story was based was written by Victor Hugo sometime in the 19th century.  France experienced a good bit of political and social turmoil during this period and the movie did a good job portraying it.

***   ***   ***

Interesting items can always be found in the Heritage Center.  I returned again to the Baguhn papers.  He wrote some good stuff and here is one that I thought approached the Ole and Lena type, although it might be true.  An old timer in early settler days was a Norwegian named Henry Larson.  It was at Herman Schultz's place that he learned German thinking it was American.  Next he went to Dan Cornwall's, and there he tried to get Dan to understand when he spoke German. It didn't work.  Then he tried Norwegian.  He couldn't understand that either.  Then he said to Nicolai Arntson, working for Cornwall, also.  "What kind of an American is he?  He can't even speak English."  

Another example of failure to communicate is this one.  He wrote, "Some are living today (he meant the 1950's) who could neither read nor write in their youth.  Their state of being was much the same as the Indian, spoken of by Mrs. Cavalier in the long ago 1850's, who shook his head and was saddened to think that he could not talk with the paper as the white man could."

Wives must have been cheap to obtain.  Baguhn told a brief story of a trade made by a half-breed Indian named Joe Marlow who gave up a pony, a stack of hay and a winter's supply of flour for a fourteen year old girl.

For some years now I have been interested in the early freighters or bullwhackers who criss-crossed the countryside and learned a word that I will file away for future use - booja (bouillion) was cooked in their camps.  They knew the trails, were hardened to the long wearing and tiring walking beside their oxen.  The monotony of the trail was made less so by hunting for game to provide meat for the booja.  Around their campfire they could pass the liquor jug, smoke their pipes, and eat of the prepared booja.

He called the contents of the brown jug the conquering hero of those lonely, long, and dusty trails.  Its firewater subdued the Indian as nothing could.  In one case Indian used it against Indian.  Joe Marlow camped with some fellow half-breeds who were driving a herd of ponies taken from the Sioux.  He plied them with liquor until they passed out, and then drove some of the horses off for his own profit.

A Proposition in Old Tucson

This madame sang to me at a dance hall in Old Tucson.  At least I didn't have to go up on stage and dance with the younger dance hall girls like some of the audience did.
...   ...   ...
I ran into a quotation the other day that made me reminisce: "War is God's way of teaching Americans geography." by Ambrose Bierce.  The Korean War started when I was about 10 years of age, and I still remember wondering where in the world Korea was, enough so that I went to a world map to find out.  Iran, Iraq, and Afghanistan have become familiar in recent years.  Remember the line in a country song sung by Alan Jackson that he wrote and sung after 9-11, "And I can't tell the difference between Iran and Iraq."   A few days ago Timbuktu entered the news, but where is it?  Answer: Mali, North central Africa.

Now, it has so happened that our illustrious North Dakota legislature recently voted not to make World History a requirement for high school graduation.  Sure, it can be offered as an elective, but World History is a close cousin to World Geography in my estimation, and, given the widespread illiteracy among many citizens of world affairs, this class seems appropriate to have been made a requirement.  Oh, well...

Regarding Ambrose Bierce, he wrote a short story that really sticks with a reader.  Called "Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge," it features a convicted traitor being marched by Union soldiers to a gallows constructed on a bridge spanning Owl Creek.  The condemned man's mind conjures up pleasant scenes from his life, and makes the reader wonder just what is the outcome of this story.  It can be found online and is well worth a read.
...   ...   ...
A trip to the Heritage Center's archive library uncovered a couple interesting things.  the collected papers of an early historian Fred Baguhn contain these items:  Charley Banks was the leader of the Sheldon gang and it was tough on country boys.  His father later sent him to military school, and when he came home got him a Stanley Steamer.  With it he delighted in going down the farmers' corn rows and seeing the ears pop off.

And one more: James Holes said the country was entirely wild.  Countless millions of grasshoppers swarmed everywhere.  The woods were full of great owls and prairie wolves were sneaking around the prairies.  The hooting owls and the barking wolves broke the monotony of the nights.  The mosquitoes in summer and blizzards in winter did much to make life miserable, but notwithstanding we managed to get enough out of life so none of the first settlers committed suicide... 
 ...   ...   ...

Having been a blood donor several times in the past,  this story bearing the title "Blood Donor" caught my eye when it crossed my desk.  It seems an Arab sheik was admitted to a hospital in Fargo for heart surgery, but prior to the surgery the doctors needed to find a supply of his rare blood type in case the need arose.  However, it couldn't be found locally, so the call went out.  Finally, in the little town of Sheldon, a Norwegian was located who had the right blood type.  The Norwegian, whose name was Ole, willingly donated his blood for the Arab.

After the surgery, the Arab sent Ole, as appreciation for giving for giving his blood, a new Ford pickup, a  gold Rolex watch encrusted with diamonds, and a hundred thousand dollars.  

Many days later, the Arab once again had to go through some corrective surgery.  His doctor telephoned Ole who was more than happy to donate his blood again.  After this surgery, the Arab sheik sent Ole a thank-you card and five pounds of lutefisk.  Ole was quizzical that this time the Arab did not reciprocate with gifts similar to the first time.

He phoned the Arab and said, "I thought dat you vould be yenerous again, and dat you vould give me anudder bunch of nice things.  But you only gave me a tank-you card and some lutefisk!

To this the Arab replied, "Ya, but now I haf Norvegian blood in my veins so I gotta tink tvice before I spend my money."

Life, as usual

We've been home for a few days, and life slowly resumes as usual.  My old Lazyboy chair sure feels good.  When on the road a person cannot relax like he can with the favorite things of home.  I've sold quite a few books since the first of the year, three today alone.

It hasn't been hard to find old-timers who reminisce about the things they know that are included in the book.  One gentleman today spent most of his life farming in Emmons County.  On the phone I said Wm. Wade writes of Horse Head Bottoms in Emmons County.  Oh, yes, he knew all about it, in fact had farmed near there.  I promised to make a date with him to talk about his history and what he knows.  Among other things he had a relative murdered south of Linton.

I told another fellow today about the 1905 map I'd included in the book and that not many roads show on it.  He lived on the west side of the river and talked about how he remembered the road through there was nothing but a trail.  Of course, now it is a paved state highway.  He wants to talk more, too.

The picture of San Francisco shows how closely packed the buildings are in that city.  I remember some of the cop shows that used to take place there and how steep the streets were.  I thought as we drove on them how much fun it would be to start at the top of a hill and skateboard down; however, I don't think the cops there would think too highly of that.  I now wish we could have spent more time in the downtown and explored some of it, especially the bookstore established by Lawrence Ferlinghetti, City Lights. 

While the Memory's Fresh

The old Scottish poet Robert Burns wrote a poem he titled "To a Mouse, on Turning Her Up in Her Nest with a Plough."  In it he stated, "The best laid schemes of mice and men go often awry."  I guess I can claim that fate.  I took along this little netbook with the intention of blogging frequently on the road.  Then I came down with bronchitis and didn't have much energy to do anything.  The weather was cold and windy in Arizona, especially, and I believe it was there I caught the bug.  When we got to Las Vegas I succumbed and made up my mind to find a doctor and get some medication.  Because of that I missed going to Hoover Dam one afternoon and Disneyland one day.

Here is a scanty outline of the trip.  Day 1 - travel until we pulled in for the night at Lusk, WY.  Day 2 - drove in strong wind until we arrived in Las Vegas, NM for the night.  I've encountered strong winds like that before in the Cheyenne area.  Day 3 - Roswell, NM.  We toured the museum of the reported alien crash landing.  It could have happened, I don't know for sure.  This is for sure: Roswell has made lots of money from tourists.  From here we drove to White's City and entered Carlsbad Caverns.  This is quite a site.  It's one big hole in the ground!  I left a few bucks in a gift shop after buying a fancy bolo tie.  I blew my spending money for the trip on that one.

Day 4 - Drove past El Paso, TX and then across the dry Rio Grande River, just a few puddles here. 
Tombstone, AZ and a terrible motel experience awaited us.  Day 5 - A tour of Tombstone took us through Boothill Theater, the Birdcage Theater, and the OK Corral.  Spent the night in Tucson.  Day 6 - An interesting old mission church - Mission San Xavier Del Bac - took a couple of hours.  We headed for the AZ Sonora Desert Museum, 40 or so acres of desert plants.  Then to Old Tucson, a movie set where John Wayne and some of the other western stars made movies.  Day 7 - Biosphere, a couple acre site under glass where all kinds of experiments have take place, including a few people who lived inside its confines for two years in self-sustaining conditions.  Apparently, at the end of two years, they all went their separate ways, couldn't stand to look at each other anymore.  Day 8 - Mesa, AZ city tour for the day in and around the area, then supper at Organ Stop Pizza.  This organ can play one mess of sound effects, only one of its type in the world.

Day 9 - Sedona, Red Rock State Park and the Grand Canyon.  Mary's first time to see it.  Day 10 - Las Vegas, NV.  Here's where I found a doctor; the group toured Hoover Dam.  I don't think I left a dime in that town.  Hey, big spender!  Day 11 - Hollywood, CA and Universal Studio tour.  Arrived Anaheim.  Day 12 - Disneyland.  Here's where I was a party pooper and stayed in the motel.  Day 13 - Drove all day and arrived at San Francisco.  Day 14 - City tour and ferry ride over to Alcatraz.  What a hilly city!  What a dreary hell the prison was!  Stayed in Sacramento that night.

Day 15 - Crossed Donner Pass, drove all day to a smelly casino at Wendover, NV.  Gawd, the cigarette smoke reeked in everything, even the so-called no smoking rooms.  Day 16 - Drove all day to Casper, WY.  Day 17 - Toured a planetarium in Casper run by the school district.  I guess I slept part of the time.  Those chairs were sure comfortable.  Drove to Deadwood.  Day 18 - Arrived in Bismarck about 4:00.

The bus driver said we drove over 5,000 miles.  The most interesting part for me was watching the landscape change.  Cactus country is interesting; some of them really get big.  The bus was full - 54 paying passengers plus a driver and an escort.  With that trip we have taken all the big 18 day trips that the Farmers Union offers and consequently have travelled all the continental states except Delaware.  Last year we even went to Hawaii with them.  So that's about all I've got to say about the Southwest Tour of 2013.

On the Road - 4

Disneyland, 83 degrees outside, and I didn't even go across the street to Disneyland.  I went to the doctor yesterday in Las Vegas, diagnosed with bronchitis, given four prescriptions, told to stay away from smoky rooms (therefore, no casino time for me.)  I had big plans to write blogs every day but the bug didn't allow that.  Tomorrow we head for San Francisco.  I knew I was in California when the waiter at the next door Denny's called me "Amigo."

On the Road - 3

Tucson, AZ   January 12, 2013

It seems like we brought winter along with us; we've been wearing our heaviest coats.  Other than that the trip has been enjoyable.  Today many sagauro cacti filled our view.  I never knew those cylinders with arms climbed the foothills and took root at the top of some of the mountain peaks.  It's hard to get to the computer and post these, so I'm a bit behind.  After leaving Carlsbad Caverns area on Thursday morning we drove to El Paso and later that day arrived in Tombstone, AZ where among all the motels I've stayed in the Tombstone Motel certainly was one of them.  I don't think there was a satisfied soul with that place and more nightmares occurred the next morning at breakfast.  We did enjoy touring the city on Friday, including Boothill Cemetery, the Birdcage Theater, roaming around town, and then leaving for Tucson.

Here we toured the Mission San Xavier Del Bac which has a long history with quite ancient beginnings.  The AZ Sonora Desert Museum proved quite a treat, and Mary walked around the grounds snapping many pictures with her new camera.  Then off we went to Old Tucson.  It has been the site of about 300 movies and tv productions over the years.  We watched three movie stuntmen go through their paces, staging fist fights, shootings, falling off buildings, riding a ladder pushed backward off a high place, etc.  A movie dedicated to John Wayne and how well liked he was in Tucson, followed by some dancehall girls entertaining us rounded out a good experience.  That's enough for today.  I stayed back from supper because I'm not feeling so good with a cold coming on so will close for now.

On the Road - 2

White's City, New Mexico - January 1, 2012

All day driving through this part of the country we thought how dry the landscape appeared.  Well, tonight at supper it started raining, and quite hard.  Maybe we should take credit!  Our first stop was at Roswell, NM to tour through the UFO museum.  It was nothing fancy: a few dummies to look like aliens, lots of photos and written documents, newspaper clippings, etc.  Am I a believer?  Myresponse is, it might be true.  This is a mighty big universe and with some of the scientific theories floating around like quantum mechanics and string theory, I believe there is potential. A Mexican restaurant beckoned to most of our group at noon.  The food was good (and reasonably priced).  Next door to it was a Mexican bakery that smelled so good when you stepped inside.

Carlsbad Caverns was next on our itinerary.  Those caves really make a person feel small since they are huge.  Great experience, and now I can chalk that one up.

On the Road

Las Vegas, New Mexico,  January 8, 2013

We've driven a solid two days to get to this point.  Last evening we stayed in Lusk, Wyo.  Tomorrow we travel on to Roswell, NM for a tour of the UFO museum and on to the Carlsbad Caverns Nat'l Park.  I always enjoy the drive along the front range of the Rocky Mts. past Fort Collins, Denver, Colorado Springs, etc.  This evening I watched out the window at the settling dusk with the mesa tops outlined against the sky.  Beautiful.  High winds, over 50 mph around the Cheyenne area (as usual) made for some poor fuel mileage with the bus, so much so that the fuel gauge was low, low.  The cities along the front range are growing together so that they'll be one continuous city before long.  A sign seen along the way: United we squabble, divided we wobble.

A New Year

 

And I hope it is a happy one!  The Congressional gang in Washington probably isn't too happy about now, sitting in the capital when they could have been home celebrating.  And you'd think they'd learn; they did it to themselves, leaving things go until the last minute.  Listening to all the "going over the cliff" talk had me a bit concerned.  Would walls crumble?  Would people fall into crevasses?  Would the wind blow it all down?  Then it came out that whatever deal the gang comes up with can be made retroactive to the first of the year, so what's the problem?  Suffer on, you saps.
***
Should I make a New Year's resolution?  I never think too hard on it, but if I were to make one it would be to learn something new.  It still stands strong in my memory how I had never learned to write the English language until I began studying the German language.  Now the active voice, the passive voice, subjects, predicates, gerunds, infinitives, what have you, pose no obstacle.  This year I learned something about publishing a book.  Now I'm in the middle of learning something about promotions; that's where the workout comes.  I learned how easy it is to become a book reviewer, and now the books arrive regularly.  I'll have to buy more bookshelves!  I learned I'm not getting any younger as evidenced by new aches and pains that pop up.
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Losing weight ranks high on resolutions.  For a lot of people, they know it's time to lose weight when they step on a talking scale and it says, "One at a time, please."
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Lutefisk by the barrel gets feasted on this time of year.  Check out our Norwegian friends -- 

Ole, Sven and Lars die in a tragic Lutefisk accident. They are met by God on the stairway to heaven.

God says, "There are 3,000 steps to heaven. It's very serious up there. I'll tell you a joke on each 1,000th step you reach. If you laugh you go to hell."

So they start walking and reach to the first 1,000th step. God tells a joke, Lars laughs out loud and goes straight to hell. Ole and Sven look at each other nervously.

On the 2,000th step God tells another joke, Sven tries his best but laughs and goes to straight to hell.

On the 3,000th step God tells the last and best joke, Ole doesn't laugh and proceeds to the gate.

Suddenly, Ole bursts out laughing hysterically. God asks, "What are you laughing about?".

Ole replies, "Oh dat's funny. I yust got da first yoke!".
***
Obviously, I haven't learned much since the last blog was posted.   Trust me, next week will be very different.

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.

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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.

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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.

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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. 

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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.

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- 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.

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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.
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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.
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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

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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.