St Croix River Road Ramblings

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Wednesday, October 31, 2018

Allen Swenson -- A Sterling Original

Sterling 150th:  Allen Swenson –A Sterling Original (2006)


  “Well Russ, if you want to see a pitcher plant, you have to go out in the marsh where  they are” said my late friend Allen Swenson 4 years ago. I had admired one of his beautiful nature photos of the rarely seen plant that traps insects.  That was Allen’s gentle way of telling me that you have to make the effort to explore nature to see all of the wonderful things in your own neighborhood.  He had made the trip out into the big swamps near old family homestead on the corner of B and 87 to see what was actually there. I had whizzed past by them slightly over the speed limit.
  I knew Allen for most of my life, but at a distance whizzing by. In his last four years, our common interest in local history brought us together.  His reverence for the past and his vast local knowledge from 80 years of living on the corner started my visits. He lived only a mile from the cabin, so after he came to a few or our early history meetings, I began to stop by every month or so for an afternoon visit. We both enjoyed each the visits being in many ways alike yet having chosen lives of opposite direction.
   When I was growing up, Dad used to take our old tube radios to him for repair.  Whatever was wrong cost 50 cents or a dollar to repair using parts scrounged from the dump or old radios given to him.  Later he and Dad served on the town board together for many years. Dad thought very highly of Allen as an intelligent, honest, and competent town clerk and an neighbor.  Allen was hard for people to classify as he really one one of a kind.
    Allen was valedictorian of his Luck High School class of 1937.  He nephew Larry writes “Allen was an avid gardener, canning and freezing his own produce.  He belonged to the local gun club and loaded his own shotgun shells. Allen enjoyed hunting and fishing.  His photography was a vision into how he saw the world; his photographs were of nature and life around him on the farm.  He enjoyed working on electronic equipment and was a ham radio operator. He was a self taught man who enjoyed learning all of his life.”  When he died 3 years ago in April he was learning how to use a computer and scanner.
    Allen had his own telescope, his own photo darkroom, read widely, was well versed on the latest news and science and at the same time skeptical of politicians, religion, superstition, quackery and such.  I never knew anyone who could intelligently converse on such a wide range of issues, ideas and who had carefully thought them out. He was one of those rare natural geniuses who could do whatever he chose.  He was interested in everything and even in his 80s undiminished in mind, curiosity and memory. When someone gave him a camera lens that didn’t fit his camera he built a tiny turning lathe, cut a ring from a piece of metal tubing, turned it down and then turned two sets of tiny precise threads as an adaptor that of course worked perfectly.   
    Allan chose to live a life that allowed him as much time to read, explore nature and his interests as was possible.  He lived with his parents on the home farm. His father died when he was about 22 and he took over the farm work. His mother died many decades later and from then he lived by himself on the farm.  He did just enough farming just well enough to pay his expenses. By the standards of the community he would have probably been thought to be a poor farmer.
   I think his neighbors thought of him as Thoreau said  “he marched to the beat of a different drummer.” Robert Frost said about his own decision to become a poet rather than take a normal occupation “Two roads lay ahead.  I chose the one less traveled“ I think Allen decided that if he lived frugally and simply he could have the time to find the elusive pitcher plant; to know the stars as friends; to know each tree, grass, flower, stone, bird and animal; to understand glaciers, rivers, lakes and swamps; to really know where he lived.

    Allen and I made different choices how to live our lives. My life has passed to age 58 without having seen the pitcher plant.  Allen’s gentle reminder started me on the search. I hope to meet you there; where wet feet are to be enjoyed.

The Swenson Sawmill setup near Trade River