Monthly Archives: October 2009

A Halloween Poem

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Halloween arrived on time this date
No thanks to daylight savings, which I really hate.

The kids were out to simply have some fun
Halloween seems tame, next to H1N1

Santa delivers presents, and right on time
Sadly, Halloween candy arrives via Northwest Airlines.

Santa stays vigilant for his ride with reindeer.
While pilots, view laptops, from the course they’ll soon veer.

Sad children would receive only toothbrushes for treats
In the North, we expect candy or at least pickled meats.

It seemed, just then, Halloween would not be celebrated
Unseen, it would go straight to video, like a film not yet rated.

Just then an unidentified object appeared
End times had arrived, it was perfectly clear!

Some folks wondered and therefore would delve,
“Why are you here now, instead of 2012?”

A creature made slowly his way to the pack.
“I once phoned home, but now I am back.”

“Upon a time once, I loved Reese’s Pieces on the silver screen,”
“Now I’ve brought bags of them back to save Halloween.”

“Television ads no longer beckon chocolate to lip,
So this year’s Halloween has corporate sponsorship.”

“Spielberg stills has rights to my work as E.T.,
although I can still appear as a version of me.”

Our short hero dropped candy to all the young gents,
milk chocolate without milk for lactose intolerance.

Young ladies received treats with specific instruction,
“made safely in the rainforest without any destruction.”

A politically correct, squeaky-clean Halloween,
was what was perpetrated upon these pre-teens.

After all that exposure to the great outdoors,
It was anti-bacterial soap then non-hydrogenated s’mores.

A Halloween crisis was averted with sweets shaped quite pearly,
though not with sugarplums which arrived two holidays early.

A spaceman from beyond saved all hallow’s eve, though his film career was done, save for some indie’s.

It made him sad to leave the earth as his spacecraft reach take-off, “I’ll have no gas for a return trip, alas I invested with Madoff.”

Project Cat House

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(had computer problems yesterday so that is why this week’s column is late-GN)

 

I haven’t explained a building project for a bit and animals need shelter so this week’s column is obvious. We’re going to build a cat house.

First off, most of you will nod in agreement but to those who don’t, let me assure you of a fact; animals need shelter. There are some animals which tolerate cold better than others, however at some point they all will need shelter, food and water. The easier these necessities are to access then the more effective they will be in making your pet comfortable and healthy. I’ve told you this in the nicest way possible. The Bible states in Genesis that God put us in charge of the fish, birds and wild animals. Please do not be like the arrogant politician who believes that being in charge of something means others must answer to you. It means you must answer to others and carries great responsibility. You are in charge of your pet’s care.

Let’s build something, one of my favorite things to do. This project is a cat house but would serve a dog as well by increasing its size. I built our cat house for the strays who visit so it is located on our deck so we can easily feed them. The house is on caster wheels so that it may be rolled away to a shaded area in the summer. During the winter, I want as much sunshine as possible as the south facing wall of this house is Plexiglas. The sun shines through onto a small porch that is made of black padding to absorb as much heat as possible. The porch can then release heat into the house during the early evening. I built a small loft to take advantage of rising heat and to give our cats a place to perch. The main living room of the house is in the back and has an entry just large enough for cats to enter but small enough so that heat can exit only very slowly. The back room has a heated pad (which uses only 30 watts of electricity) and is insulated with foam board as is the ceiling throughout.

The outside of our cat house is made from recovered barn wood. I mercilessly caulked every seem to reduce drafts and covered the roof with old barn tin I’d recovered from the Viking Elevator before it was demolished. I found a roof cap under an old shed and used that too which kept my expenses to a minimum. Most of the materials for this project were sitting in or under a shed except for the Plexiglas and caulking. As in most cases, most of the benefits in comfort to our cats came from good ideas and good construction rather than money spent. One good idea is that there is only one entry door which is located opposite of the prevailing wind which seems to typically be from the northwest. This architectural element cost nothing but created much greater comfort.

There you have it, a good project that does good for others. I hope your pets spend their winter riding the couch like ours do, however good outdoor protection is a must for animals who spend time outdoors. It is your responsibility, it’s even in the Bible.
 

 

 

Letter to Dave

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Dear Dave,

I just got back from letting the cats outside. Twitch has a new trick, he leads the other cats right to the threshold of the door and allows them to cross first after which he turns back inside so he can have the house to himself. They really are the closest thing we have to children around here with the exception of some of my more immature moments.

We have joined together for the world’s most intense harvest once again. The best truck drivers, the best harvester operators and some guys who no longer have a valid driver’s license to act as roto-beater operators (kidding guys-go back to sleep) have found their way to R and R Farms near Warren. We began with conditions that were just a bit dry and made fantastic progress; however in the Red River Valley, all you need do is dump out your water thermos to make conditions too slippery to harvest. We are soon through and I am waiting for a phone call to go back to work as I write this letter. My right shoulder does not ache as I no longer shift my truck because it has an Allison automatic transmission. I love my new truck and my only complaint is that the actual shifter is just a button. Larry Pederson and I both drive similar trucks and as such are suffering advanced arthritis in our index (I.e. button pushing) fingers which is known as George Jetson disease; thank goodness for worker’s compensation.

Dave, we are a family that likes a good project so I guess that makes us…projectionists? Anyway, I will soon finish my last task which will fulfill my obligations to the EQIP program through the Natural Resources Conservation Service. The final project is an armored lane which will allow the cattle passage from yard to pasture in even the worst conditions to graze more often, which is the point of the program. Ray Kuznia was also out here last week and we pulled the pump house I built last winter out of the garage and place it on the concrete slab. Ray is Polish and I an Bohemian and, all ancestral stereotypes aside, I figured we didn’t stand a chance with this project. It went off without a hitch however, and Ray’s experience building houses made all the difference. I could have just watched from the house like when I was a little kid. I plan to go into greater detail about both of these projects in later columns which should create a boredom storm of biblical proportions amongst my readers, so stay tuned.

Dad said he talked to you last week and that farmers out in Carrington still have harvest left to complete. Just like us, lots of beans left and snow on the way. It looks like we’ll get a little heat this week-end so maybe that will open the harvest window a bit more. I’m sure you’re at work most of the time putting out the mechanical fires that occur when farm machinery has to prove itself in poor conditions. I hope the wife and kinder are doing well and that, with winter’s arrival, you will soon have more time for home and less for work.

You’re little bro’

All over but the chisel plowing

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(Another column from the past (2005) about the sugar beet campaign-GN)

 

I thought before I wrote this column that perhaps I’d already done it once and should perhaps move on. I don’t believe the average person can understand what beet harvest means to me. I use up most of my vacation time to attend the beet campaign so it’s similar to my one big vacation each year. Although I make several enjoyable new acquaintances each year, I have made solid friendships from the harvest.

After the harvest, we all met back at the R and R farms shop near Warren, Mn to talk. It’s more than a job when people don’t want it to end and we were prolonging what we’d just done by talking about. Instinctively, we all formed a little circle and took turns giving our opinions. It was a safe harvest, something we all agreed on. Everyone who walked in with two arms and two legs left with the same. No accidents on the road either. My motto is “I make my time in the field and not on the road.” What that means is I try and be efficient in the field by accomplishing my tasks in the fewest steps instead of speeding on the road. It’s about work ethic and not just mashing down on the accelerator. I think one of the best examples of this is Larry Lacoursiere from Warren, Minnesota. Larry isn’t real tall but he’s real tough. He started out driving milk truck when that meant hoisting eighty-five pound milk cans up to about chest height. He hustles like he’s in his twenties. I guess making sure he works fast in the field seems pretty easy when he compares it to lifting those milk cans.

I almost got the last load this season. It’s kind of an honor to haul in the last load of the season but was more than happy to see Larry Lacoursiere get the nod. My last shift ran a little long so honestly I was glad we’d finally found that last beet. I took one last look at the field before I left. It was bare and all the mystery was gone. You could now clearly see the little gully and the place where the jackrabbit had been hiding. I was glad it was done but it’s always just a little sad. I got home by six that night and slept from six-thirty until the next morning at five.

Harvest was done for another year. The work we’d done will now spread money throughout the area and fill our own pockets as well. The fields are bare and the memories join those from years past. All there’s left is to chisel plow it all up, maybe next year we can do it again.
 

Midnight in the sugar beet patch

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(this is an old column  from 2003 or so-GN)

 

 

It’s Midnight as I leave the house. I’ve had my nap, kissed my wife and have taken one last look at my warm bed. It is time to hop in a truck and haul sugarbeets.

It all started a couple of days ago. The first morning started like every beet season begins. All the veterans and a few new guys gathered in a circle in front of the shop at R and R farms near Warren, Minn in Polk county. Swearing and lies are usually what punctuate the early morning conversation as we all ready ourselves for another campaign. This year’s little meeting was different this year. I thought to myself that except for the modern equipment, the lack of bib overalls and the abundance of callous-free hands this could have been an old-time threshing bee crew preparing for the day. We were all there for one purpose-a little money, however I think most of us enjoy being drawn together each Fall to see if anyone has died or if anyone has actually come up with a new story to tell. In the last ten years I can only remember the sad passing of Vic Rehder who was a real gentleman and sorely missed. Unfortunately new stories have been even more scarce.

This has been a strange harvest so far. I have been more concerned with swatting mosquitoes than trying to stay warm or awake. The one comforting aspect of the whole process is my own incredible skill at creating embarrassing situations for myself. I was driving back from the beet dump one day when I noticed the semi losing
power. I suspected the fuel filter needed to be changed but also checked the fuel tank for diesel when I got to the field. The phrase “running on empty” gained near clarity in my mind as mere fumes rose from the opened fuel tank. I just made it back to the yard and soon was filling the starving truck full with number two. The fuel tank pump finally stopped at 166 gallons. To give you a little perspective, this semi held 169 gallons so that’s a little like running your average car down to about a thimble-full of gas. The other problem is that you have to prime a diesel engine before you can start if it’s run dry. I guess I dodge the bullet on that one. As my co-worker Alden told me “you can’t trust any fuel guage in this part of the country.” Alden’s great for these little gems of wisdom. It’s really a wonder that he hasn’t ran for high office or something that rewards this type of home-spun wisdom. I’ve done fine other than this little episode and as I look into the night I can only think of what adventure lies ahead and hope that we all stay safe.

The backbone of this area is agriculture. Although I like to use a little humor when I describe what I do I also realize how important the next few weeks are to many people, including farmers and the industries that support them. It’s Midnight as I leave the house. I’ve had my nap, kissed my wife and have taken one last look at my warm bed. It is time to hop in a truck and haul sugar beets.
 

A Special Report from the Harvest

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(this is another old column about the Red River Valley sugar beet harvest. It is from 2004.-GN)

 

 

“This is a special report on the Crystal Sugar beet harvest.” This time of year, I live for these reports on local radio stations. I am writing this column on Wednesday night and we are at the halfway point of the harvest but in the middle of a heat shutdown. During the sugarbeet harvest, when the beets reach a temperature greater than 55 degrees they begin to break down and don’t store well so they are left in the ground. We do the same thing when the crop begins to freeze. I am now in an imaginary world called “off-shift” awaiting my chance to mount my semi and haul in the harvest.

It’s been a good harvest. We had some rain during pre-pile but beet ground is funny. If I had an inch of rain at my place, my tractor would get stuck on bare soil. In the valley, you don’t really get stuck-you just lose traction. The ground is so heavy that you rarely bury a truck to the axle. A little wind, a little sun and pre-pile was back on the road. Harvest has moved along quickly and although we are tired, we are now salty and ready to take on any field or cross the worst washboard County 67 or the Boxville road has to offer and still come back for more.

It’s been a notable year. I feel we have a rising star on our crew of harvesters. Dean Danielski has long worked for R and R farms near Warren, Minnesota but in recent years has jumped from trucking to harvester operator. When you see a truckload of beets you see one of two things; a nice smooth profile of beets piled above the edge of the box or you get several untidy little hills. Dean fills our trucks with such artistry that the first time I stopped to check my trucks’ profile I was so moved I nearly cried. More seriously, we are missing a driver this year. Neil Dahlman has driven the beet harvest since the early sixties. If there is a hierarchy among driver’s, he sits on the top row. Neil started Dahlman trucking in Warren, Minnesota in 1946 with three hundred dollars his Uncle Teddy borrowed to him so he could purchased a 1936 Dodge. It was money well spent as it started a three-generation business that has built more than roads in their hometown and abroad. I like it when Neil works because you really have someone to look up to and ask questions. He has a dry sense of humor used regularly to outwit a certain fellow employee which causes me no end of joy. Neil is now 79 and isn’t feeling well this year but we will all “sound the air horn” when we pass by his place on our way to the beet dump.

This has been a special report on the 2004 Sugarbeet harvest, now back to regular programming. Please drive carefully.

A Harvest in Five Acts

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I have explained the basics of the sugar beet harvest many times of the last few years. I’m sure you get it: dig out the beet, place it in truck, transport to piler and repeat. I thought this year, I would just hit the highlights and organize them into five acts.

Act I; A Harvest of Irony

We are so fortunate this year to be using trucks with automatic transmissions. I was cooing about this fact on the radio when fellow employee Gary Jenkins grumbled about there being no need for this little convenience. Today, I heard Mike Rosendahl tell Gary that he would enter Global Positional Satellite coordinates into the tractor Gary uses to chisel plow. What this means is that Gary will not have to pick a course for his tractor, that his tractor would now steer itself and Gary need only concern himself with a favorite magazine while this modern convenience performs much of the work. Now, we mainly harvest sugar beets during this time of the year, but apparently, there is always time to harvest a little irony.

Act II; Is that a Girl?

Sugar beet harvest is pretty much a men’s club, without the more sordid features of such a club. This year, R and R Farms counts among it’s employ one female employee. Now let’s get this straight, Casey Francis drives truck. She’s not running around in shorts delivering parts or getting lunch (Ed Rosendahl does that,) rather she is driving a huge quad-axle truck and doing great. It’s no surprise, I’ve seen several women do very well in the field and they seem to break less equipment. Perhaps it’s because they more closely listen to the equipment they use and work within its limits. Anyway, Casey’s a nice lady and I’ve heard she makes good brownies, however the only one who can attest to this fact is Sam, Joe Pierces’ dog. Sam regularly patrols the shop which is where baked goods are stored and he is a little more aggressive at the trough than his human counterparts.

Act III; Sewing Circle

This year has been muddy. Red River Valley mud presents itself in a semi-cement form that adheres well to harvest equipment. Removing the mud is hard work but I like to pretend to help because we talk and it’s a little like sewing circle. We all work around a central point and converse while we chip the mud from the harvester. We curse at the mud during our sewing circle, and spit, sometimes. You know, it really isn’t like sewing circle; however we do talk.

Act IV; Look, an Illusion!

Waiting in line with the other trucks to dump your beets is boring. Like dehydrated men see water in the desert, men bored may see action in a desert of inactivity. Last week, someone saw a bear sitting out in a field about one-half mile away from the piler station near Warren, Minnesota. Actually, it was a large garbage bag posing as a bear but no one knew that at the time. Truckers stood outside their vehicles and snapped pictures with the cellular phone cameras and sent them out to friends. I keep expecting to receive one such picture in my email complete with exciting tale while I surf the internet. The afternoon of the bear, as it will surely be known, was finally brought to a climax when piler-boss, Tom Yutrzenka, formed a safari to either give death or courageously receive it. It was during this excursion that it was discovered that the bear was only an imposter and that bored truck drivers will believe almost anything.

Act V; Final

I broke my truck today. I felt like an idiot and that I’d let down the friends for whom I work. Ed Rosendahl should have been upset but instead saw how upset I was and-hugged me. Yeah, he hugged me. I later tried to apologize to Joe Pierce who told me “no bodily harm, no foul.” I work for good people. Finally, I want you to know that we are being careful on the roads and in the fields as no amount of sugar is worth a life. Please give the trucks a little extra room and stay away from the piler station unless you have business to do. It’s crowded and busy there and onlookers only serve to make it more so. I have to work at three this morning, so this will be the final act.

Talkin’ Sugar Beets

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(This is a column from several years ago, however it still fits-GN)

 

 

Each year during the Red River valley sugar beet harvest, I try to make the experience a little more real for my readers. I’ve tried pictures and recording my thoughts during the harvest then writing afterwards. This year, I’m writing my sugar beet column directly after returning home. To add reality, I’ve left my harvest clothes on and I still haven’t slept. If you’d really like to join me during this column, go put on something from the clothes hamper then stay awake for a day-that should do it.

This year’s harvest has been a bit unusual for the lack of radio chatter between the truckers and tractor drivers. Three in the morning has always been a time for lively conversation but the first few days of harvest were strangely silent. I even complained to my wife that the lack of conversation was indicative of workers at work instead of at play. The next morning my fears were soothed by a “wall of sound” on the business band. More baloney, lies and trucker humor than you could shake a stick at-I almost wish we could go back the more introspective radio silence.

Last week’s column was read by the masterminds behind the “Beet Beat” on KROX radio in Crookston, Minnesota. The “Beet Beat” is a show that’s unleashed only during the sugar beet harvest and only very late at night. I arrived in the field at three o’clock Tuesday morning to the news that my column and I had been a topic of conversation during the prior hour of broadcast. The announcers couldn’t decide if I liked the “Beet Beat” or not-probably was keeping them up nights. I called and told them I was a fan and that although I had used “inappropriate” only to describe their irreverent and rebellious humor and song selection. I mean where else can you hear Danzig, Mac Davis, Quiet Riot and the Beet Boys all on one radio station and in the same hour?

Harvest conditions have been wet and I am now so used to a tractor pulling my truck without my input that I can barely stand the responsibility of driving my car home after work. Our truck puller is called “the Chicken hawk” because it’s always circling, waiting for one of the trucks to go down in the mud do it can swoop down on it’s prey. Ed Rosendahl has driven the ‘Hawk during my shift and is in charge of starting conversations/trouble on the radio. Eddie reminds me of that nice kid from the neighborhood who you find out years later enjoyed his evenings by starting fires. He’s likes to instigate conversations between two people on the radio then sit back and listen, I guess he‘s still starting fires.

We’re out there and we’re getting it done. It’s too dark to know what the other person is doing but you can bet they’re doing their part to harvest the Valley’s sugar beets. Next time you sweeten your coffee, just think of the R and R farm crew and all the others like us. On second thought-forget it, just drink your coffee.