Archives

Living off the Land

V-shaped notches were used here to tap sap from a pine tree.

A cool breeze entered the living room window and swirled through the room. It had stopped raining a short time ago, so the damp breeze carried the smell of the lilies blossoming in profusion just below the window. Looking up from the comic book I was reading, I reflected upon how cozy it felt to spend a Sunday afternoon with Mom and Daddy like this. My older brothers and sisters were in other parts of the house.

Mom, in her upholstered rocking chair, had one of her favorite woman’s magazines on her lap as she dozed. Daddy sat in the armchair reading the big family bible. Sitting on the linoleum living room floor next to where Daddy sat, I leaned against his legs. An incredible thought suddenly occurred to me: Mom and Daddy had once been children, too!

“Daddy?” I questioned. “What sort of things did you do when you were a little boy”?

Looking up from the bible, he thought for a moment before replying. Glancing down at my bare feet, he said, “I didn’t wear shoes all summer long.” I looked at his face to see if he was joking. I’d taken mine off after coming home from Mass this morning, surely, he wore shoes to attend church! As if reading my mind he explained, “I grew out of the shoes I wore to school during the winter and I didn’t get another pair until sometime after the weather got really cold during the following fall.”

Mom had once told me she and Daddy were in their middle forties when I was born. I counted on my fingers…that made him at least fifty-five years old! “What else do you remember?” I prompted, realizing that his childhood was such a very long time ago.

Continue reading

Pine Pitch Bandage

Although I was going downhill, I kept peddling my bike. Hot summer sunshine blazed in the afternoon sky as I sped down the road creating a breeze that fluttered through my uncombed hair. The sleeveless top I was wearing caught some air and billowed away from my sweaty back skin.

The center of the gravel road was hard like pavement, but loose gravel lined the sides of the road. The driveway to my family’s farmyard came up faster than I was ready for it. With all the confidence of a ten-year-old enjoying her summer vacation from school, I decided to keep peddling and just turn the wheel of my bike when I got there.

All the hay wagons that had come in and out of our yard that summer had made the driveway hard as pavement, but also covered it with a large amount of loose gravel.  My bike skidded and tipped over, but momentum kept me moving. Still clutching the bike handlebars, my right knee scraped across the hardened driveway made up of thousands of sharp granite crystals.

Coming to a stop, I sat up immediately and took stock of the situation. My right knee hurt. However, I figured it didn’t hurt bad enough to have a broken bone. My wound was covered with gritty dirt. It didn’t even immediately bleed. I stood up and walked my bike to the back door of our farmhouse, yelling for Mom. By the time, I reached the door, there was blood running down my leg.

It hurt to have a soapy washcloth rubbed over my knee, but I understood that the dirt had to be washed away. Some of the dirt refused to leave the wound. Mom said it was trapped under a flap of skin. Opening the medicine cabinet over the bathroom sink, she pulled out a small bottle of mercurochrome. With tears running down my cheeks, I cried, “No! Don’t put any of that on my knee! It burns and hurts too much. My knee already hurts more than I can stand.”

Continue reading

Groundhog Day

Again!

I pressed the fork down on a small red, buttered potato and it easily flattened, releasing a small puff of steam. Taking the lid off a skillet on the stove, revealed tender, browned chunks of chicken breast and nicely steamed broccoli. After sliding the contents of the pan onto the plate containing the potato, I walked into the dining room and sat down at the table.

The food before me was everything my high school home education teacher said was ideal for a meal. It was attractive and colorful. The browned meat, buttery red potato and bright green broccoli were pleasing to look at. I’ve read that colorful foods contain all sorts of vitamins and minerals that a body needs. Best of all, despite having butter on the potato and vegetable, my meal was low in calories.

I want to lose weight.  But I also don’t want to suffer to accomplish that by having to gnaw on dry rice cakes. Being mindful of how good my food tasted and chewing slowly and longer than usual, I practiced every diet tip I’ve ever heard about that is supposed to help dieters feel satiated. Half an hour later as I placed the empty plate next to the kitchen sink, I felt full and satisfied. Surely, after eating such a good supper, I wouldn’t want to eat again until tomorrow morning.

The minute I sank down into my favorite living room chair, I felt a familiar longing for a snack. Trying to ignore the growing desire, I found a channel playing the 1993 movie Groundhog Day with Bill Murray. Enjoying the familiar story, I tried settling down to watch it. I couldn’t concentrate because a bar of dark chocolate in the kitchen was calling my name. Finally, glancing at the clock on the wall, I decided that since it was just eight p.m., it was still early enough to eat one more thing, especially since my evening meal had been so low in calories.

Confident that dark chocolate was a healthy choice, I felt good about having some. Chocolate is filled with lots of rich antioxidants. However, one piece of the candy bar wasn’t enough. As I made another trip to the kitchen, I rationalized that chocolate was good for me and it would be alright to have more. On the television, Bill Murray’s character was waking up to the same Groundhog Day for the seventh time. He was trapped in a time loop!

Continue reading

Up At Bat

Equipped with a towel, I stalked the little brown bat. When it flapped up the stairwell, my cat Jerry chased after. Sighing, I slowly trudged up the steps, hoping the wee creature didn’t decide to come back down to fly a few more rounds in the dining and living room.

In the upstairs hallway, I found Jerry leaping at the flying rodent as it looped back and forth overhead. Prepared to swat it out of the air as it flew past me, I readied the towel in hand. I swung too soon, and the towel barely touched the bat. It fluttered close to the floor but quickly recovered.

I grumbled, “It’s been such a long time since I last had a bat in my house. I’m losing my touch!” When I swung the towel the second time, I knew I had once again jumped the gun. To make up for my haste, I lunged forward and knocked the bat to the floor.

The minute I lunged forward, I knew my body was not prepared to make that type of movement. Searing pain in both of my calves made me gasp. Despite the pain, I had a mission to complete. The stunned bat lay on the carpet in front of me. The creature still needed to be put outside. I picked it up using the towel like a potholder. Recovering his senses, the little beastie inside the folds of fabric chattered and hissed angerly.

Continue reading

I Should Have Said

Is she really asleep this time?

The evening passed quickly. Before I knew it, the living room clock chimed midnight. Resisting the temptation to put off bedtime, I picked up the cat sleeping on my lap and carried him to the dining room door. Having retired to her sleep nest in the entryway earlier in the evening, Sadie, the girl cat met us at the door. Jerry leapt from my arms to join her.         

I turned out the living room lamps and took a glass of water with me upstairs. After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I snuggled down into my cozy bed. I expected to fall asleep quickly because I was so tired.

A cool breeze made the window curtain gently flutter. It felt good, but I was happy for the light comforter covering me. I could see a large moon in the dark night sky. There were faint, soothing outdoor night sounds. However, my brain refused to relax. It began to flash memories of the day across my mental screen. A thorn had been placed in my psyche earlier in the day and the harder I tried to go to sleep, the bigger the thorn began to grow.

As I tossed and turned, I ruminated on what had happened and what I had said and done. Embarrassed and frustrated, I mulled the experience over and over, wishing for a ‘do-over’.

Continue reading

Vicarious Adventures

We enjoyed trying to take funny pictures, but some times we took funny pictures without intending to. What sort of dog is my sister holding? Its front half doesn’t look like its back half!

I crept up the stairway. My sister Mary was in her bedroom practicing her forensics speech, and I wanted to listen without her knowing. Just as I slithered quietly across the hardwood floor to the room’s doorway, I heard Mary begin speaking. In dignified tones, she spoke of the life and values of a UN General Secretary named Dag Hammarskjold. I pictured myself in her place getting up to speak to an audience and receiving applause when I was finished. My sister’s speech made me sad. The man she spoke of as being so special died in a suspicious airplane accident.

All my older siblings did interesting things. Instead of playing by myself, I often tagged along with them and enjoyed their amazing adventures. I didn’t envy what they were doing because in my mind, I was participating in the adventure along with them.

I never knew what sort of things would happen when following my brothers. Whatever they did, it was always sure to be a lot of fun. On a summer afternoon one of them bought a half a dozen small firecrackers while in town. Just setting them off one after the other didn’t sound like fun. Everyone did that. All six would be used up too quickly. They decided to light a firecracker and put it under an empty soup can: to see how high the explosive would blow it off the ground, and what damage it would do to the can.

Standing far away from the test site, I screamed with excitement when the can rocketed into the air, shooting almost as high as the highline wires. Finding where it landed in tall grass, I crowded in beside my brothers to examine the blackened, bent metal can.

Continue reading

Family Events

My phone pinged, and I looked to see who messaged. Niki, my daughter, had texted, “I’ll be driving into Marshfield this afternoon with a trailer to get woodchips for my flowerbeds.” A second message from her followed. “I have an errand to do in Marshfield, so I will stop by at your place on my way there to drop something off for you.”

Tammie, my youngest daughter, was home visiting for the weekend. She saw her sister’s message and quickly texted back, “It you are getting woodchips from Resource Recovery, we should meet there to sample some wine. Have you ever gone into their gift store or event barn?”

Texting back immediately, Niki answered, “No, I’ve only ever stopped there to buy soil or woodchips. I’d love to join you to check out the place.”

Resource Recovery LLC is a family business started in 2002 by Bernie and Jen Wenzel, who are from the Stratford area. They sell a variety of woodchips made from recycled wood and topsoil. The business is located between Stratford and Marshfield along highway 97 in a farmyard once owned by the Hoefs family.

I like supporting local businesses, and this enterprise is more local to me than the average area business. I grew up less than three miles from this farmyard and now still live only four miles from it. Members of my family and the Wenzel’s have been friendly acquaintances In Stratford for more than one hundred years. In fact, family stories recount how our families emigrated from Germany around the same time to central Wisconsin.

Continue reading

Empty Nest Flight

My husband Arnie sat down at the dining room table and announced, “I want to see mountains when we vacation this summer. Mount Rainier is on the top of my list!”

I placed bread and butter on the table, settled into my chair, and pointedly commented, “Seattle, Washington, is a long drive from here. In fact, to visit any decent mountain would be a long drive for us since we live in Wisconsin. I hate spending most of my vacation in a car! What fun is that?”

Starting when our daughters were six and ten years of age, I occasionally took them on camping weekend vacations during the summer months. Then, as they grew older, Arnie began taking the whole family on late summer vacations to places like Mount Rushmore, Kentucky, and to Canada for a sightseeing train ride and to visit Sauté Saint Marie. These vacations were always taken by car and at times I suffered motion sickness.

I asked, “Didn’t you get your fill of mountains when we visited Mount Rushmore?”

Arnie exclaimed, “But that was ten years ago! I want to see the mountains again!”

Our eighteen-year-old daughter, who was at the table with us eagerly suggested, “We could fly! Do you want me to use the computer to find the cost of the tickets and other attractions we could see while in Seattle?”

Having found an ally in Tammie, my husband smiled broadly as he ordered, “Find whatever information you can for us. This’ll be a special vacation because you’re leaving home this fall.”

At that time, Arnie and I were far from comfortable navigating the cyber world in a computer. I didn’t even know that a computer could be used for comparing prices and buying tickets, organizing places to stay, and signing up for tours.

Continue reading

Hooked and Cooked

Once supper was over, I washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. My husband Arnie left the house once he finished eating. From the window over the sink, I spotted him walking into the shed where he kept his boat. Golden evening sunshine streaming into the dining room and living room windows made me feel happy and content. I loved the longer, warmer days of spring. I was reaching into one of the cabinets to put away kettles when I heard the back door slam. Arnie walked into the living room.

Having finished my evening chores, I strolled through the dining room, sniffing appreciatively. The scent of our delicious supper still lingered in the air. We’d had one of Arnie’s favorite meals; potatoes, pan fried in my trusty old cast iron skillet, kielbasa, and Van Camps pork n’ beans. I came to a sudden halt when I reached the living room. My husband was sitting on the sofa. He had his fishing tackle box on a small tv table in front of him and was sorting through the fishing supplies.

 I exclaimed, “Arnie, what in the world are you doing? And why would you do that in the living room?”

My husband defensively replied, “I’m going fishing on Saturday, and my tackle box needs to be cleaned and put in order. I thought I’d do the job here so I can watch television as I work.”

Dropping into a chair across from the sofa, I warned, “You’re going to be in big trouble if you drop a fishhook in the carpet and I end up stepping on it.”

Arnie promised, “I’ll be careful.”

The next day I cleaned the house and vacuumed the living room in preparation for having my daughter Tammie home from college for the weekend. Figuring she’d arrive late Friday afternoon since she was hitching a ride with a friend, I decided to run a few errands after work before going home.

I heard Tammie screaming the minute I unlocked the back door. Rushing into the living room, I found her laying on her belly in the middle of the carpet. “Help me!” she demanded. My mouth dropped open in amazement. A fishhook from Arnie’s tackle box was tangled in the carpeting. Its sharply hooked end had completely gone through one of my daughter’s finger pads, effectively preventing her from being able to get up to call for help.

Continue reading

Learning to let Go

I thought, “I’m going to do it. It’s dangerous, but I probably won’t die… Probably? Anyway, I hope I don’t die.” Pulling myself up out of the sandy bottomed shore water, I slowly followed my brother Billy to the other side of the park picnic area. I felt like I was carelessly stepping out onto a wobbly, dangerous ledge.

Being the coddled youngest child of our family, I felt fearful to try new things. At seventeen years of age, I became fully aware that in one short year I’d graduate from high school and would need to find a job. I recognized that my fears and inhibitions could prevent me from living a normal, functional life if I allowed them to. I resolved to grow up brave and strong because the one thing I desperately wanted was to experience being independent, to get married, and to have children.

After Mass earlier in the day, Mom made lunch for a Sunday picnic at the Eau Pleine park. Using her old crank grinder, she ground a large chunk of bologna and several of her dill pickles into a mixing bowl. Then, after stirring a large dollop of Miracle Whip into this mixture, she generously spread it on slices of bread for sandwiches. Cookies made yesterday were packed in the cooler, along with potato chips, a watermelon, several bottles of Marshfield brewery beer and a jug of green Kool-Aid.

            After enjoying our meal together at a park table, several of my siblings went boating and water skiing. Mom and Daddy sat under the shade trees to visit with other folks their age. I put on a life jacket and wandered to the beach. I knew there was a sudden drop-off further out in the water but wasn’t sure where it was. Earlier in the summer I had taught myself to dog paddle, but I wasn’t sure that I could do it well enough to save my life if I got in too deep.

Playing in the cool water felt wonderful. Confident that the life jacket would hold me up, I practiced different swim strokes. When I was tired, I sat in waist deep water to rest. That was when my brother Billy came to the beach and yelled, “Kathy, come on! You’ve got to try getting up on water skis!”

Continue reading