The Youngstock Barn

 

The Young Stock Barn

 

In the 1950s with the war over, the farm paid off and 4 boys (born 44,46,48 and 51) and Dad just turning 40, it was time to expand the farming operation.  First the barn got a new cinder block foundation and a Grade A milk house along with some inside improvements to house 24 cows and the horse barn attachment pulled down (it was in rough shape). 

Grade A regulations required that calves couldn’t be tied along the walkways behind the cows, so that meant a new building for calves.   As in all building projects on the farm, they started with identifying some trees suitable for sawing into lumber.  The cow pasture, ½ mile up the road had some American Elms and basswood big enough for boards, even though in 1949 Dad sawed out a few thousand feet of elm and basswood for the garage/granary. 

Although Grandpa Pearl Hanson had a two-man chainsaw co-owned with Earl McLean (I think), Dad didn’t have help so he cut them down himself.  Instead of the big old one-man cross-cut saw, he bought a “Swede Saw,”  a large bow saw with a thin blade that was much lighter, faster and although somewhat difficult on large trees, worked well.  

All winter, between morning and evening cow milking, barn cleaning, manure hauling and feeding silage, hay and grain to the cows and milk to the calves, getting firewood, and the usual farming chores, he would get away for an hour or two and drop trees, trim them with axe and saw, and cut to length for the lumber he needed for his barn.  At this time, Mom, with the 4 boys didn’t have much time to help in the barn and we were too young to do much more than feed calves or throw down silage or hay. 

Dad wanted a small haymow for 200 bales of hay (we hired a neighbor to bale our hay by then) to feed the young stock from Nov - April.  It needs two pens, one for 12 calves and another for 12 replacement heifers.  We sold the bull calves as soon as they were weaned at that time—a few years later, they bought another small farm with barn so we raised all the calves to 2 years old.

He figured about 20x32 would be right – with a 7 foot ceiling and room under the roof for hay.  A plain shed roof.  It would need a cement foundation and a cement floor for easy cleaning, and a large enough door to double as a garage if needed.

To get Lester Bergstrom in with his sawmill, Dad had to get enough logs to turn out 3000 board feet of lumber—more than he needed or wanted to get ready.  However, his father-in-law, Eugene Hanson, who lived nearby on the River Road farm, decided he would cut some logs out too and they would set the mill down on his farm. 

Dad didn’t have a tractor with a loader, so he decided to use the Super C in the spring to get the logs out of the woods pulling them with a chain to the field where he could get them loaded and hauled.  By spring he had enough but by the time he headed to the woods to drag them out, an early melt had filled the low lying lands where many of the logs were deep with water. 

The portable sawmill was scheduled in a few weeks, so Dad took the Super C into the knee deep water, hooked onto the logs and floated and drug them out.  The ground underneath the water was till frozen, and he actually had an easier time

Loading logs was not particularly hard by hand.  The hayrack was taken off the wagon and a couple of  bunks added.  Then with cant hooks, Dad and his brother, Chancey (Uncle Channy) rolled them up the wagon on a couple of poles used as ramps and chained them down and hauled them to the hillside near Wolf Creek on Grandpa’s farm. 

Grandpa bought the sand farm as he was moving into retirement age.  It was not a good farm, but the house was large, 240 acres of land and lots of wildlife and nature along with huge sand fields.  Since the sand never got muddy in the spring, it was an ideal place to have the portable sawmill setup.    

The sawing went well.  Dad, Grandpa and Uncle Lloyd and Uncle Chan all helped with the work and Dad got enough lumber to build his shed. 

When spring planting was done, and before haying began, Dad staked out the foundation for the new barn and we helped dig the trenches for the concrete.  He borrowed his dad’s motorized cement mixer, hauled many loads of gravel from the town pit just up the road on the corner of Gullickson’s farm, and bought the cement. 

Dad often hired his brothers to help with these projects.  As the youngest of 6 boys, Dad used the expertise of his older brothers to work on projects.  He always hired them or traded work with them.  Maurice, Lloyd, Chancey and Alvin lived in the area, and often would be available for a Saturday.  Later we 4 boys were more involved and Dad had his own crew.

American elm will dry crooked, so the strategy was to nail it down as soon as possible after sawing so it would dry held in place and stay straight.  Basswood didn’t warp, but shrunk while drying—not a problem for rough building projects.

The foundation was finished in a day with Mom making a big noon dinner and supper for the crew.  The foundation was studded with bolts, threads up, to bolt down the walls. 

A day for the concrete to dry, and Dad was busy building wall sections, standing them up and bolting them down to the foundation.  I think Uncle Maurice and Alvin helped with this.  The walls went up quickly—all rough 2x4s for frame and 1 inch boards nailed to them for the walls. 

The rafters for the peaked roof were also just 2x4s and roof boards home sawn lumber, all nailed together.  No power saws, just hand saws carefully sharpened by Uncle Maurice.  The building was framed and covered in a week.  So far the cost was for the sawmill, nails, and cement. 

Money was not easy to come by in the 1950s when milk prices stuck in the $2 per 100 lbs range and so when it came to roofing, Dad decided on mineral roll roofing – red color.  Cheap, fast and good for 15 years (later it got a tin roof).   The board sides had many gaps – rough lumber is that way, so it also got the same rolled roofing as the top.  Sixty years later it is showing some signs of wear and tear, but it was air tight and fast. 

Today, I started the cleanup of that building by cutting the 30 year old box elder that grew against the foundation and dropped onto the roof.  The journey of a 1000 miles starts with the first step, as Chairman Mao used to tell me. 

      

 

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With January 23rd 2024 the beginning of a 10 day forecast of 30s and 40s daytimes highs, it gets us to thinking about 2012 when the maple syrup season was whole month early and we should have tapped in February instead of March. That got me to remembering the winter of 1877 where it was abnormally warm, farmers could plow ground all winter and one even planted his oats 2 months early in February rather than April.

I searched on newspapers.com to find information on the 1877 maple syrup season and found it to be poor, but also found this funny article about a beginner's maple tapping

From an April 1877 issue of the Lake Geneva Herald

Boring for Maple Sugar.

Mr. Sniffin relates his experience in boring for maple sugar as follows:

    When I bought my present place the former owner offered, as one of the inducements to purchase, the fact that there was a superb sugar maple tree, and I made up my mind that I would tap it to manufacture some sugar. However I never did so until this year.  But a few weeks ago I concluded to draw the sap and have what Mr Bangs calls "sugar bilin'." My wife's uncle was staying with us, and after inviting some friends to come and eat sugar, he and I got to work. We took the wash kettle down into the yard and pried some wood beneath it, and then he brought out a couple of buckets, to catch the sap, and the auger with which to bore a hole in the tree.

    My wife's uncle said the bucket ought to be set about three feet from the tree, as the sap would spurt out with a good deal of force, and it would be a pity to waste any of it.

Then he lighted the fire, while I bored the hole about four inches deep. When I took the augur out the sap did not follow, but my wife's uncle said what it wanted was a little time, and so while we waited he put a fresh armful of wood on the fire. We waited half an hour, and as the sap didn't come, I concluded that the hole wasn't deep enough, so I began boring again; but I bored too far, for the augur went clear through the tree and penetrating the back of my wife's uncle, who was leaning up against the trunk trying to light his pipe. He jumped nearly ten feet, and I had to mend him up with court-plaster.

   Then he said he thought the reason the sap didn't come was that there ought to be a kind of spigot in the hole so as to let it run off easily. We got the wooden spigot from the vinegar barrel in the cellar and inserted it. Then as the sap did not come, my wife's uncle said he thought the spigot must be jammed in so tight that it choked the flow; and while I tried to push it out, he fed the fire with some kindling wood. As the spigot could not be budged with a hammer, I concluded to bore it out with the augur, and meanwhile, my wife's uncle stirred the fire. Then the augur broke off short in the hole, and I had to go half a mile to get another one.

   Then I bored a fresh hole, and although the sap would not come, the company did, and they examined with much interest that kettle, which was now red hot, and which my wife's uncle was trying to lift off the fire with the hay fork. As the sap still refused to come, I went over for Bangs to tell me how to make that exasperating tree disgorge. When he arrived he looked at the hole, then at the spigot, then at the tree. Then turning to me with a mournful face, he said: 

“Suffia you have had a good deal of trouble in your life, and its done you good. It's made a man of you. This world is full of sorrow, but we must bear it without grumbling.  You know that, of course. Consequently, now that I've some bad news to break to you, I feel's if the shock won't knock you endways, but'll be received with patient resignation. I say I hope you won't break down an' give way to your feeling when I tell you that there tree is no sugar maple at all! Grasaus! why that's Dack hickory! It is indeed, and you might as well bore for maple sugar in the side of a telegraph pole."

Then the company went home, and my wife's uncle said he had an engagement with a man in Hathborough, which be must keep right off I took the kettle up to the house, but as it was burned out, I sold it the next day for fifteen cents for old iron; and bought a new one for five dollars.  I think now may be it's better to buy your own maple sugar.

Trumpeter Swans having a mild December

 

Wintering Trumpeter Swans

Russ Hanson

I counted 175 Trumpeter Swans, December 15^th on open water just north of Cushing in the middle of Bass Lake along with probably 500 Canada Geese.  During the cold spell a few weeks earlier, when all the local lakes froze over and ice fishing began, a small group of swans and geese paddled the center of the lake to keep an open spot, shrinking quite small before the milder recent weather let them open up maybe half of the lake and attract up to 1000 birds at a time.

The birds have excellent feed on the nearby corn and soybean stubble, where a dry year made the beans shorter and more prone to be missed by the combine as well as the corn ears with shorter ends also passed through the combine and littering the ground with high energy food.

My own story with Trumpeter Swans begin in 1989 when my brother, Everett, who worked for the DNR out of Grantsburg, began telling us about the re-introduction of swans to Wisconsin through Crex Meadows.  He described bringing in eggs from Alaska, hatching them and raising the young in pens at Crex to protect them from predators.  Crex employees dressed up like parent swans and shepherded the small flock of cygnets around the first year. 

Swans take 3 to 4 years before they nest.  1993 was exciting for us as one of the very first Crex raised swan pairs nested on Orr Lake, just off of Hwy 87 near the Polk Burnett county border, where we could see them from our lake cottage, high on the hillside overlooking the lake.  All spring we had been serenaded by the trumpeter swan, so named because their call is so loud that as they took their dawn flight around the lake honking to chase away geese, they woke the whole neighborhood.  Things quieted down for six weeks as we noted the swans built a nest along the north shore of the lake, pulling cattails and reeds to build a mound nearly 2 feet above the lake level. 

Then one weekend in early June, Father and Mother Swans came floating by our lakeshore dock with five youngsters.  And all summer long we watched them grown and thrive. 

A young woman stopped at the cabin early June on a Saturday and asked to view the swans from our porch.  “Your brother Everett told me that you can see the swans from your home.”    We had been watching the five cygnets and parents floating around the lake for a few weeks.  “This is a wonderful place to watch the swans!” exclaimed Mary, who told us she was a college student hired for the summer to keep track of the nine nesting pairs of swans in the area – the first ever nesting since introduction.  We gave her the key and permission to do her weekly survey of the swans from our porch and we too were thrilled to see and hear the first swans nesting in Wisconsin for over a century, from the time they were hunted to Wisconsin extinction. 

Trumpeter Swans are well suited to stay in Northern Wisconsin all winter, and most do if they can find open water areas and a source of food.   Here and there even in the coldest part of winter there are streams, parts of the St Croix River and lake springs that keep areas open, and so they stay.  Early in the spring, before the ice melts, they pick a nesting ground on a pond, lake or beaver dam flowage, begin protecting the territory and in May nest with the likelihood of 4-7 youngsters growing to maturity from each pair – the reason why they have flourished. 

 For many years the swan pair stayed on Orr Lake and entertained us, having 4-6 cygnets each year,  then one spring one swan was missing.   She was found dead nearby, having swallowed a Dare-Devil snagged under the water from a fisherman.  Since then we have had other pairs on the lake and they have continued to thrive, although they do suffer from lead poisoning when they feed on the bottom of ponds where duck and goose hunters shoot and occasional fishing lure problems.

Originally all of the swans were tagged with neck bands easily readable from a distance.   With the program’s  success, an estimated 7000 WI birds in 2021, tagging has been stopped and swans are thriving.  When you see a tagged swan, like our local neighbor 86K, you can be sure it is an older one, who may be nearing the life span of 20-25 years. 

This December, living adjacent to Bass Lake, is quite wonderful, the night filled with the subdued gurgling conversations of 100s of geese and swans, reassuring themselves the family groups are nearby and enjoying a mild winter.  If you want to see them 10 am is a good time, north of Cushing on Hwy 87 about 3 miles.  Take Evergreen Avenue to get a better view.

 

 Chickens Gone Wild 

by Bert Brenizer as told to the Hanson boys in the 1950s

    “Wake up!” I heard Hattie calling to me through the fog of sleep.  It was 1923 and we were spending our first night in our brand new big farmhouse on Evergreen Avenue.   

    “What’s wrong?” 

    “Listen!  Something’s in the chicken coop scaring the chickens.” 

     Barely awake, I got out of bed wearing just my red flannel underwear, stumbled to the back porch, grabbed a match and lit the barn lantern, the familiar smell of kerosene fumes waking me up.  The lantern dimly lit the way.  The wet grass was cool on my bare feet.   

   As I reached small coop, I heard all forty chickens in a panic. Was it a rat, a weasel, a mink, fox, dog or bum? All at one time or other had designs on Hattie’s chickens.     

   I was not prepared at all, in my bare feet, without a club or gun, I cautiously opened the door and held the lantern inside and peered into a scene of chickens gone wild, flying and squawking in panic.    

   I saw and smelled it at the same time, a skunk, with its black and white glistening fur right in front of me inside the door greedily licking a broken egg.  It saw me and raised its tail only two feet away, aimed right at me.  Without thinking I reached out and grabbed the upraised tail, dimly remembering the old story skunks can’t squirt if held by the tail.  The skunk snarled and twisted wildly, dangling from his tail trying to bite me, but there was no spray! “Hah!  A skunk held by the tail really can’t spray,” I thought smugly. 

     The skunk wriggled violently, snarling and biting the air threatening to wriggle loose at any time, and even without spraying stunk something fierce.  

    “Hattie!  I got a skunk by the tail.  He’s getting away!  Bring me the stove poker!” I hollered as I headed to the house.  Hattie met me on the porch with the heavy iron rod.  I set the lantern on the kitchen table to strengthen my grip.  

    “I can’t let go or he will stink me up.”  He made a violent twist right then and I barely held on.  I grabbed the poker and hauled off and cracked him right on the head.  He immediately went limp and died. 

   “Get that thing out of here!” yelled Hattie gagging from the sudden blast of skunk spray spreading over me and her brand new kitchen.          

    ”Well, I found out something the hard way, a skunk don’t spray when you hold him by the tail and he is alive.  But when he dies something changes to let the stink shootout full blast!  Hattie moved back to the old log house for two months leaving me in the new house until we both aired out.  She barely talked to me the whole time!  Over here in the entryway 30 years later you can still smell it.”

Bert Brenizer and Hattie Noyes Brenizer

 This was published in the newsletter of the Wisconsin Alliance of Cemeteries in 2023

Put Your Cemetery Online – Free and Easy

Russ Hanson Sexton, Wolf Creek Cemetery, Polk County, WI. 

This is meant to be a highly interactive document, so click on the links as you read through it.  

Google your cemetery, i.e  Pleasant Valley Cemetery Polk County WI  and see what comes up.  If you are like many small cemeteries all you will see is a Find A Grave link, possibly one from a genealogical site and maybe a Google map showing the location.  And that is all!   Google a large cemetery Evergreen Cemetery Menomonie WI and you get a very nice website with just about everything you ever dreamed.    

You think wow, that sure is nice, but we don’t have that kind of money to spend on a website and think about the $1000s of dollars and a person hired to keep it updated.  And so you say maybe someday…

Well, I am here to tell you how to do it yourself if you have some simple computer skills, or if not, you can borrow a high school kid to do it for you – and FREE  (although I recommend a McDonalds Gift card reward for the kid). 

I am the volunteer sexton for the Wolf Creek Cemetery, in NW Polk County, 10 miles north of St Croix Falls.  We are a small cemetery, 6 acres, and about 15 burials per year and maybe 15 grave purchases per year.  As we have been around since 1857 and we have thousands existing burials.  We do not have any paid staff, contracting for mowing, digging etc and doing lots of volunteer work to serve the local community’s needs.  

At a cemetery board meeting a few years ago, we decided the cemetery needed a web presence. And I said “I will see what we can do for free.” And the rest of this is the rationale and how we did it free. You should stop now and look at our Wolf Creek Cemetery site to be properly motivated. Be sure to click on the tabs at the top right to go to the various pages of information.   Note: Our site is pretty new and we are still thinking about what we might want to add to it. 

You might ask “Why should we have a web presence?”  The primary reason we think is to make it easy for folks to find out information about the cemetery without bothering us with phone calls!  Rules, costs and contacts are most often asked for burials and gravestones.  Genealogical questions are quite common. Rather than a person on the phone or in person, the information can be by email, website, and events from our calendar or posted on our social media page.  Along with the savings in time and effort, we have had more grave sales as folks find us through our online presence.

Google Map Location. If you search for your cemetery and it doesn’t show up on a Google map when you search on its name, then you should add that as a location.  I never expect to remember how to do that, or for that matter most internet stuff,  so I just do a Google search How do I add my cemetery to Google locations?  Asking questions in normal language works fine.  We have the Google Street View of our cemetery along with the map location from an internet search. 

An email address.  The best I have found is to create an account using Google’s Gmail.   Wolfcreekcemetery@gmail.com  not only gave us free email, but opened up 15gb of free cloud file storage, allows for free website creation as well as many other quite wonderful tools –FREE.  Post your email address on a sign at the cemetery along with your rules.  I set up the Gmail account to forward emails to my own email account so I don’t have to log in and check the cemetery one. An email contact is vastly nicer than a phone call as I have time to do thoughtfully answer the question rather than try to wing it on the phone. If you don’t have one, just go to mail.google.com and sign up your cemetery. 

A Facebook Business Page.  Start on your own Facebook page and click on the little orange pages flag on the far left of the screen to get into the create a page setup. It is easy and you can be share the editor role with others so several folks can post information.  Ours is WC Facebook   We try to post something weekly to keep folks interested not only events, but obituary links, historical notes, interesting graves etc.  If you are not clear on how to do this, search YouTube videos on how do I set up a Facebook business page for beginners? It is completely FREE!

A Website.    Having gotten your email address and Facebook business page, you are likely feeling quite accomplished and are ready to create a website using Google’s absolutely free and easy hosting.   Before starting, try finding a few cemetery websites and choose a pattern from one you like – maybe Forest Home in Milwaukee.  We don’t expect ours to be quite so fancy, but we can do a very good one easily.   

A new website can begin with just a single page with the core information.  A photo of the cemetery is nice, two better. A map of our location would be nice or at least the street address.  Our contact email address and if we have a regular mail address or phone contact. Maybe a couple of the most commonly asked questions on that first page (i.e. costs). And a link to our Facebook page, and a link to our rules and regulations would be nice, although they can be on another page as we get things developed.  This is the place where if you feel lost, you find that high school kid who likes computers. 

To build the site yourself, log in on a computer using the cemetery Gmail account.  That switches you from yourself to the cemetery account. Go to   sites.google.com.  There you have various templates to create a new website, with sort of a fill in the blanks approach.    The website building is easy and high level, much like using a word processor where you insert photos, text boxes, photo carousels, the Google calendar, and more. The site is not visible to the public until you click the PUBLISH button, then as if by magic, it is live and the world can see you!

Website addresses (URLs) are free if you use the sites.google.com preface for your cemetery as we did with https://sites.google.com/view/wolf-creek-cemetery/home   However if you want something like  WolfCreekCemeteryWI.com or WolfCreekCemetery.org, then you have to go to a domain service and pay for it yearly, maybe about $13/year and take a couple of simple steps to make that work.  We wanted to be free, so didn’t buy one.  The URL works fine and if you do a Google search to find Wolf Creek Cemetery Polk Wisconsin our link pops up in the first three results with the Findagrave and Facebook for our cemetery. Having wolfcreekcemetery.org would be like frosting on the cake, but we are happy with the free link. 

Google Drive.  We have taken our internet use a step more.  We have scanned all of our cemetery records and put them on our free 15gb of Google cloud drive as pictures of the pages, cards or receipts and forms.   Google does an amazing thing with the images of our records – it automatically turns them into searchable text, even the handwritten ones (if they are at least moderately readable) and so we can search all of our cloud drive files for Mariette and up pops the image of the 1912 map where some Mariette family are buried and the name is written in the map.  That is absolutely wonderful to make old records useful.   It makes my sexton job vastly easier, especially with the genealogy queries.  And we can choose to share an old record with a single person via Gmail, or we can share a photo or a folder of photos with everyone in the world, or maybe with just our board members.  Here is a page from the Town records with a meeting minute involving the cemetery perpetual care funds 1938 Record. 

Note- to fit our records into the free 15gb, we compressed the scans.  You can buy more storage space but we were aiming to be FREE!

If you have questions, you can send them to wolfcreekcemetery@gmail.com  and they will be forwarded to Russ Hanson who believes you too should have an online presence for your cemetery.   And if you want to get even fancier, try a QR code FREE too at this link.

 

The Reverend Jerry  (Feb 18, 2011) 

My next door neighbor at the state park in central Louisiana had a fire burning and was visiting with another RV’r, their southern accents prominent and friendly, so I stepped over and introduced myself and commented about the weather.  One was doing most of the talking.        

“I’m Reverend Jerry and this here is Bill,” said the talkative man pointing to his friend, a slim weather beaten older man sitting back in a camp chair sipping a Pepsi.  “Supposed to be back in the 60s and 70s all next week.  We have been here a few weeks.  Last Friday it rained than dropped down in the 20s and iced up the trees pretty thick.  These branches, (he pointed to pine branches piled here and there) came down with the ice.  Been a cool stay, but we are headed out Friday,” he continued.  

After exchanging the usual weather comparisons of Cushing and Louisiana, I asked him about being a minister.  

“I’m a revivalist, a preacher who goes on the road holding revival meetings across the country.  Since December, my wife and two sons, and I, have been pretty much just out on Saturdays and Sundays, but we start full time this coming weekend.  We are booked full for months in advance across the south doing revival meetings.” 

The Reverend Jerry was short, well rounded, a vigorous looking man with graying hair, mid 50ish, a very open and friendly man with a well modulated voice and a familiar southern accent.  “You sound just like President Clinton,” I told him.   

“Funny you would say that.  I grew up in Hope Arkansas, same place as President Clinton—but he left before I was there, although I have met him.  Other than his personal failing with that woman, I think he was a pretty good president, for helping people.  We revival preachers are used to sinners; we all sin; sinners are the people want to reach.  You know, if we were powerful or rich, we might get temptations we couldn’t handle either.  You remember Matthew says in chapter 9, verse 13 ‘For I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.’”

He had a large older motorized RV with a 5-year old Chevy minvan setup to tow behind.  “I’ve been here for a few weeks.  This park has the lake area closed; they charge half price, only $8 per night.  The bathrooms are brand new with 6 separate rooms, shower, toilet and lots of room and privacy, pretty nice for a state park—a good place for home base for awhile” he added.    

 “My great grandpa and family got converted about 1900 at a big revival tent meeting.  Do you do that kind of services?” I asked, wondering what a revivalist’s life was like and wanting to draw him out, without getting a sermon.  

“Yes, once in a while during the summer we might go to a church where they have a tent rented and set up, but mostly we are invited to churches to hold a day to a week’s worth of services, preaching the gospel of salvation.  We provide the music, the preaching and the church makes an effort to get people to come.  We have a few baseball stadiums lined up, some hotel meeting rooms, big and small.  We are scheduled out full time way into the summer, with more calls coming all the time.  Right now is our break time”

“I preach about getting to heaven and staying out of hell and don’t get mired in the controversies that split churches.  I stay out of any politics.  I think Christians spend too much time worrying things that really don’t matter and not enough time loving their neighbors.   I try to get people saved and delivered to a local church for safekeeping.  If you think of the Billy Graham crusades, and you shrink it down a whole lot, you got my kind of work.  We’ve been on the road 25 years now.  Don’t know how much longer God wants me at it.”

“I play the piano, now it is an electronic one, and sing along with my wife and two sons.  My boys (25 and 28) both have Downs Syndrome and have always lived with us.  They sing with us and are part of the service.”

“We go in where we are invited.  We get a share of the collection with a guarantee of enough to cover our costs.  By living in an RV and trying to be careful with our money, we get by.  In my business, you have to trust in God that He will look out for you.  If He doesn’t, then we would know it is time to quit!”

“When we had our first boy 28 years ago, the doctor thought we should sign away our rights and let him be brought up in an institution so he wouldn’t wreck our lives.  He and the nurse insisted that was the best thing to do.  They pushed me hard.  I got angry and slapped him and told him to wrap up the baby and we left and went home right away.  He has been a blessing to us,” he said.   (I didn’t get this statement exactly as he said it, but as he told it you could tell it was a regular part of a sermon, said with a controlled, practiced, emphasized voice that gave you a feeling he would be a dynamic speaker).   

“When my wife got pregnant the second time, the doctor did an amniocentesis that said this boy would be normal.  When he was born, the doctor told me he was normal.  I took a first look at him, in my arms before the cord was cut, told the doctor ‘this boy has Downs too.’  They did the test and sure enough, he had it too.”

“The boys do fine with us.  They spend a lot of time watching their favorite DVDs and that is fine.  They pretty much can take care of themselves and help out some.  They are adults in size, but really just children.   They need us to guide them.  We believe that everything that happens is part of God’s plan for us, so we just enjoy them and do the best we can for them.”

The next day, we talked some more.  “Did you hear me yell an hour ago?  No?  Well, I was so excited I let out a holler.  We got a deal to buy a bigger RV.  The new one will have four bump-outs (versus one on the old one), separate bedrooms, and lots more space.  It has a 500 Cummings diesel and 8 back wheels, two sets of duals.  It will make things much more comfortable with extra room and more private space for each of us.     We don’t have another home, just live in the RV year around.   You know, those big rigs can cost up around $500-750 thousand.  Got a good deal and it’s in good shape.  It will make a difference for the boys to have more private room.”

“I already have a post office box in Montana, the state we claim for residency, and am going to license it there.  Montana doesn’t have state income taxes and has some other advantages for transients like us.  You gotta watch your money when you don’t have much of it!”

“Sometimes we would like to have a home and roots; but with this kind of life, we travel all across the country and having the RV works fine for now.  We stay in state parks sometimes and other times in church parking lots or other places where we can get water and electricity.  Someday we will settle down, but for now our calling is as traveling revivalists.” 

I wanted to talk more to him, but they left sooner than expected to hold several days of services a few hundred miles away.  Some folks have much more interesting lives than those of us who go to the office or milk the cows every day.  However, my other neighbor, Bill, who had been quiet the while the Reverend Jerry talked sat down with me another afternoon and reminisced a little.  I guessed him to be a spry mid 80s.  He was a Louisianan, raised, and worked all his life in a nearby small town.    

“Back in the 30s to 50s, I remember some summers when a few local churches, usually the fundamentalist ones like mine, Freewill Baptist, would get together and invite a revivalist in for meetings.  The most interesting were the tent meetings.  I’m old enough to remember a few of them. Ain’t the same nowadays as in the old days!”  

“They’d setup a big tent that would hold a hundred or more people somewhere near a church or park, mostly on a bayou. Wooden planks for pews and a stage with a pulpit.  Always in the dog days of August; hot, humid and buggy.  The tent gave shade and rain protection.  The walls were open to let air through and to give mosquitoes a clear shot at sinners, but could be dropped if it cooled down or stormed.  When the Baptists ran the show, it was always by a lake or river for dunk’n baptisms on the last meeting.”

“The goal was to get different folks to come and get saved and join the church, but most of ‘em were regular church folks out for rejuvenation; you remember when you took your old black and white TV into the repair shop where they gave it a jolt of electricity to bring back the fading picture another year?”  

“Each evening people gathered, the farmers coming in about 7 pm, others earlier.  There was good music; a local choir and the family of the revivalist.  He had to sing; his wife had to sing and any children had to join them.  The elders supervised moving the piano and pump organ from the church to the tent for the week.  The local choir and the congregation sang the old favorites; “The Old Rugged Cross,” “Til We Meet,” “Bringing in the Sheaves,” “Onward Christian Soldiers.”  

“A good preacher got your emotions worked up; first he got you scared of eternal hellfire, burning and pain, and then described how wonderful heaven would be. You know, I remember the descriptions of hell, but I couldn’t ever picture heaven very good.  I sort of  figured it must be a place where our best times on earth would be happening all the time—even better, and we wouldn’t feel guilty about having a good time!”

“You know, I hear the Muslims promise seven virgins for those martyred for their faith.  That is pretty concrete what heaven is like for them.  Me, I got me one virgin and trained her and lived with her for 57 years now.   Seems to me havin to do it 7 times ain’t no great reward,” he added with a grin.  

“We already-saved folks tried not to feel prideful when we saw our more sinful neighbors show up for the meetings.  There was food, lots of music and singing, and if the preacher was good, a real lively sermon each night for the week.  If you was smart, you sat in the third row from the back on the inside aisle so the mosquitoes got fed on the edge people.  Made it easy to have a coughing spell and duck out with the men going to the bushes for a nature call, cigarette and maybe a nip of moon.”  

“You ducked back in, hoping your seat was available for the alter call.  The preacher would have wound up and would be winding down, begging you to come forward and get saved.  The choir sang something like “just as I am without one plea…” Elders went round the sinners and whispered encouragement to go forward and get saved.   Usually, a few regulars started it off, those who felt like it didn’t stick last time, or had gotten so emotionally worked up they had to go to the front whatever the reason.  Then a few drunks, already loaded, crying their way forward when the preacher said ‘Remember you saintly old mother and praying at her knee; she wants you to come forward.. do it for her.’  You might get a few regular people come too—that’s the kind that you wanted most.  They all went to the front and knelt and repeated a prayer.”

“I wonder if the Reverend Jerry does that kind of revival meeting?” I asked after he finished. “ Did you get saved at a revival meeting?”  

“I got saved when I was so little that I crawled to the altar in church.  I got saved and toilet trained all at the same time!” laughed Bill.  “I liked the tent meetings; they did rejuvenated me each summer.  They were great entertainment; a week-long summer picnic where we took a break from farm work; had fresh made ice cream and pie every night and watched folks come together, and if we were lucky, listened to great preacher who could run your emotions up and down like a squirrel climbing a ‘simmon tree.  I'm gonna find out where Reverend Jerry is headed next.” 

   2020 was a year of potatoes here on the Farm.  With the Covid-19 pandemic threatening the food supplies this spring, we decided to garden more seriously this year and freeze and can more of our own produce.  

   And so I took over one whole garden plot for potatoes.  Many years ago I bought some Yukon Gold (I think) potato pieces from the store to start growing them.  Probably close to 15 years ago.  And I save some each year to replant.  

  Last year I saved all of the small ones out separately to see if I could use them for seed this spring.  Unlike most folks who save seed from the best of the plants, mine were any small potatoes. 

  And so I had about 50 still OK this spring.  I planted about 30 hills and most of them grew.   From planting to digging I documented this and stuck the videos on my youtube channel.  

  This week I harvested them, digging up probably 200 lbs of potatoes, enough to far more than supply the winter's need. 

  The story of 2020 potatoes was on my Facebook page too.  

  

  This link is a search of my youtube channel for potato videos.  More than I remember!

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=RiverRoadRambler+potatoes

 

Picked the popcorn yesterday and have it out to dry now.  I had planned to do this much later, but a deer got in that garden and went down the whole row biting the end of each ear off and knocking over many of the stalks.  I had let the electric fence get grounded by grass overnight and the deer took advantage of it.  

 I think there will be enough for winter as Scott and Margo are not popcorn eaters unless it is at a movie at $5 a bucket.  At home where it is free, they don't seem to care for it. But I like it!

   

Dad was the popcorn fan when we were kids, coming in about 9 pm after the evening milking and taking out a cob or two of popcorn, dried upstairs in an onion bag, shelling it, blowing off the chaff, then taking the steel skillet and covering the bottom with kernels.    He shook it, sliding it back and forth on the electric stove burner with no oil in it, just rolling the kernels back and forth.  The kernels swelled up, started browning, and then a few popped onto the stove before he put on the lid, turned the burner down, and shook it until every kernel popped and the skillet was filled with fresh, crispy, Japanese Hull-less white fluffs.  

 

Then he dumped it into the deep aluminum kettle that was used for the drop-burner on the stove and if we boys were awake, popped a second batch before melting a generous slice of butter off the whole pound block, melting it in the still-hot skillet and then pouring it over the popcorn, adding salt and stirring it all up.  

  

He put his own helping right in the buttery skillet and ate it while reading the local newspaper or the Reader's Digest.  You could see his fingerprints in what he read.  

   

Of course, we always grew our own popcorn.  It had to dry until nearly Christmas before the new year batch was ready and so some years we went without for a few months, making the first batch of the new crop exciting!

   

When it was dry, we shelled it, the pointed hard kernels rubbing our hands raw.  The shelled popcorn was full of chaff, and so we took it outside to let the wind winnow it. And at just the right moisture content so every kernel popped, we sealed it in fruit jars for the coming year.  We boys shelled grandpa and grandma's popcorn for them too.  I still remember the raw hands afterward -- as both families had many ears and long rows in the garden or on the field edge rows.  Grandma made popcorn balls for Halloween and Christmas and used popcorn and thread to make Christmas tree strings. 

   

For Halloween, we stopped at our much older neighbors, Bert and Hattie Brenizer, and they never had candy on hand for us, but said --" wait a little and we will pop some corn for you."  Bert had the old kitchen wood stove cherry red using some coal with his wood as he told us that his grandpa had a coal mine out east once upon a time and he liked that for heat.  He popped it in a popcorn shaker, a rectangular metal pan with a screen top and when done, put it in a grocery brown bag, poured in melted lard and sugar and shook it up.   

"When we were kids," he told us, "all butter was sold to the store to make money, so we used lard and added sugar to make it better."  It was good, the brown paper bag stained with lard and our hands and soon our pants greased up too.

  

We usually got a few stories along with the popcorn and as we only had a few stops in walking distance of our house, it was special to stay and listen to Hattie tell us about walking to school on the barrens holding on to the big dog so the wolves wouldn't come close.

How Do You Make 1700 Apple Pies?

 How do you make 1700 Apple Pies?

The answer, according to the Cushing Lutheran Apple Pie Crew, is to make 170 pies on 10 different days in August and September.  After 25 years of making pies by the bushels, they have it down to a science as well as an art.  

The pies will be on sale, September 26th 9--5 at the Cushing Brenholt Park, a stop on the 15th Annual River Road - Hwy 87 Ramble. It is also their traditional Fall Bazaar sale with crafts, baked goods, lunch and garage sale items.  The sale is spread out widely in the park shelters with mask wearing recommended.  The park is where the church has been holding Sunday services this summer, a lovely place to worship God in His grand outdoors. 

Driving by the church last week, we saw the parking lot filled with cars on a Monday morning and in Cushing, we satisfy our curiosity by barging right in and finding out what is going on with our neighbors and making the folks feel guilty for not inviting us too. 

Walking into the church basement, the first impression was of a party -- folks laughing, visiting and enjoying themselves immensely.   The fragrance was of fresh apples.   Everyone was busy, wearing masks or staying apart with Covid-19 awareness and in a vast assembly line turning out delicious apple pies. 

One way to judge if a church is healthy is to look at what goes on in the church basement.  If it is a busy and joyous place, likely the church is thriving.  One barely noticed the basement itself with the usual big open area, supporting posts and end kitchen as it was fully occu-pied with bustling folks. 

Making 170 pies in a day starts with the apple picking crew, a half dozen folks, headed out to find apple trees enough to pick apples to fill  each pie with 5 ½ cups of peeled, diced apples.  Eight medium sized apples will do, but in 2020, the apple crop is smaller sized and so closer to 10 apples are needed per pie.  That means 1700 apples need to be picked on 10 different days.  And as the Lutherans are generous folks, their pies are piled high like Mount Ararat using at least twice the apples of a store bought pie.  

Where do the apples come from?  Folks all around Cushing who have an apple tree or two in their yard donate their extras. Of course the apples have to be worm free and at the right stage to be pie-able.  So the search for good apples is ongoing and intense. The apple crew meets at the church at 8 am, heads out with ladders, apple pickers, and enthusiasm, swarms into the orchard and soon has bushels of apples loaded.  They are ready for the next day when fresh apples become pies. 

At 7:30 am, on apple pie day, two dozen volunteers are at the Cushing Lutheran basement setting up the Stations of the Pie.  Four men man the machines that peel, core and slice an apple in 10 -20 seconds each. Half a dozen folks sit at tables with paring knives cutting them into small pieces and immediately soaking them in salt water so they don’t turn brown.  Quality control is done all along the way so any flaw in the apple is tossed in with the peelings and headed either the compost pile or maybe a hog pen or chicken yard. 

After a good soak the apples are collected in huge trays and moved to the pie filling station. 

In parallel with the apple disassembly line, we have the pie crust crew.  That starts with the unthawing and unpackaging of frozen purchased dough that is kneaded into two generous clumps of exactly the size needed for a 9 inch pie shell. 

The dough clumps are brought to the pressing station where a brand new 2020 machine takes the place of previous 24 years of pie making by hand rolling the dough.  The pie is put in an aluminum pie shell, covered with a thin wax paper sheet, placed in the press and the dough ball flattened to exactly fit the pie tin in a smooth single motion.  The press can mold them into the pie tin or flatten them for the top crust. Fast, efficient and no danger of rolling pins used in disagreements over doctrine. 

The crust filled tin is then filled as high it can be heaped with 5.5 cups of nearly white apples.  The pre-mixed sugar, flour, cinnamon, salt and secret Lutheran very mild spices are added to the top of the heap and the top crust carefully draped over, like the snow on Mount Sinai where Moses came down with the original recipe carved in stone. 

To crimp the edges and make a fancy pattern on them also takes a machine.  The pie goes in a wooden ring and another wooden ring gets pressed down and seals the edges and imprints a twining pattern.  A little excess dough squeezes out and is trimmed with the trimmings going back into a future crust.  We suggested a Bible verse pressed into the design, or maybe an advertisement for Lutheran Brotherhood Insurance.  

Next the pies are sealed in a zip lock bag with the ingredients list and the cooking instructions before heading to the church garage where 10 large freezers stand.  The pies are carefully separated into layers so they don’t touch each other and frozen for 48 hours before the Lutherans will sell them to you or me.  No pies are sold fresh, as freezing is part of the process to get the right texture. 

Why do they make them?   Since the serpent tempted Eve with an apple, men and women have had to work hard for their living.  And that includes maintaining their churches, and through the churches their goals as Lutherans.  So not only has the income from pies paid for repairs to the church and improvements, but to the mission of the church itself to help do God’s work in the world.  “We believe that we are freed in Christ to serve and love our neighbors” is stated on the ELCA church website.    Can you think of a sweeter way to love your neighbor than with a homemade apple pie?

The crew this year ranged from several folks in their 80s to youngsters in their 60s.  And they all got along, no people were injured, everyone knew their job and everyone one was accepted, from the slow but perfectionist apple slicing of the former banker to the whiz bang speed of the retired farmer across the table.  Each according to his or her abilities working together for the common good.  

Want an apple pie?  $8 each pre-order through the church for pickup.  Or better yet, buy one at the 15th Annual River Road Ramble in Cushing, September 26th.    The Ramble is bigger and better than ever as not only is it Covid-19 socially distanced, being spread out from Grantsburg to St Croix Falls, but a chance to get out and see fall color, buy some garden and orchard produce, find some local crafts, or antiques, and look for bargains at a garage sale.  The map and events will be online soon on the River Road Ramble Facebook page and at our website.  https://tinyurl.com/2020RRR.  Want to be a Ramble stop?  Call 715 488 2416 or email selhscushing@gmail.com  by September 10th.  Sponsored by Sterling Eureka and Laketown Historical Society

For a video of the pie making in action, check out the Youtube video at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TgmAq5uq2q8   

Photos and captions

We won’t identify the folks in the photos as Lutherans are self-effacing folks who would feel terrible if they were singled out for recognition above others.  

A pie of many colors suitable for Joseph himself. 

 

  Domed pies filled to overflowing with apples won’t stack so they have to be frozen in layers separated by frames to prevent crushing. 

How do you store 1700 pies?  A dozen freezers that run for a few months each year as well as selling them to early customers right now. If an emergency storm shuts off the electricity all of Cushing will eat pies for breakfast, dinner and supper until they are gone.  

Peeling, slicing, and coring in a 15 seconds. 

Two rings are used to press the crusts together and leave a pattern in the crimp. 

No stinting on apples here!

Pie Crusts get flattened with a new pie press that makes top and pie-pan in a single step

 

The pies get a final trim, are packaged and frozen.