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So with me at the helm and Ruth navigating, we arrived in Ludington, Michigan at the dock. It was kinda like crossing the border into Canada or Mexico...ya just can't drive up and pull onto the ferry. There were two check stations to encounter before you drove onto the ferry and parked your vehicle. There was quite a line of vehicles to board, so after perhaps 10-15 minutes we drove up to check station #1. An official Border Patrol type uniformed gal walks outta the little shed, approaches the w...
For Dave who inspired me to share this tale. For Ruth who made it happen. A number of years ago while in Michigan I received a call from a dear friend Ruth. It seems Ruth who owns a family farm had located a very hard item she needed for the farm. The item was located in N. Wisconsin. The issue was that Ruth hates driving long distances and asked if I would accompany her and do the driving. "Sure," I said, "Whatta we going to get?" "Oh, I found a Duck Plukker up there on Craigslist. I want to ta...
This poem came about last year after my big wreck on Woodrow, who in the poem is called Biscuit. Waxes more poetic to me. After I healed from my last wreck I brought ol' Biscuit out to the arena and saddled him up. All went perfectly well. As I mounted and threw my right leg over the ol' highback saddle, all strength left and it fell on his rump...which as you know is a signal to move ahead, which he did. Before I could get my leg over he was at a walk, takin' my left leg with my foot in the...
I don't hear as good as I used to. It's really no big deal since most of the fellas I associate with can hear even less then I can. My hearing is failing for a number of reasons, one of which is a story in itself. The main reason for this article is I guess my age. But when ya take your coffee with fellas even older than me... well it takes on a whole new dimension. A few weeks ago I was takin' my mornin' coffee with Gene, Jim, John and Virgil. Now the only one who can really hear is Gene. John...
You remember Del my old neighbor that had borrowed my mules during his fight with cancer. As I mentioned he was old school and really mistreated this little team. I went to see 'em. Thru no provocation or fault of my own, that little John Mule, as I approached, swung around, showed me his butt and kicked me with, of course, both feet. I knew what he intended to do as soon as he swung around so I turned to make my escape but was...too late. I was paralyzed from the waist down, or at least my...
In those days, I was quite the trader. I remember at one time in the front of the Parsonage where I lived were parked three, count 'em, freight wagons. And one was a mint Studebaker. Oddly enuf, I have no recollection of whatever happened to any of 'em but I'm sure I must have traded them away. I was always trading with the farmers in those days. To them most of what I wanted was junk to them although if I still had that Studebaker freight wagon I'd be wearin' a nicer hat today. Even tho' I...
Back in those times, early 70s, we lived in a small rural village somewhat akin to Ovando. We lived in town in the old parsonage. That didn't stop me from bringing home mules, cattle, horses and of course turkeys. Along with my full time work at the mill, I thought if I raised some turkey poults I might make some extra cash. I did this for many years until it dawned on me it was not the money makin' venture I envisioned and yes sometimes I am a slow learner. So it was that mornin', as I fed the...
I’m changing this up a bit from my usual dribble. I spent a little over 40 years in the feed and grain business along with milking cows. In 1971, I walked by the Ypsilanti Farm Bureau in Ypsilanti, Michigan. It was a full time feed and grain co-op. It was massive and from my apartment I could hear the grain dryers running or the feed grinders grindin’. I was looking for a job and, being from a very rural background in Ohio, I spent some time in a small feed mill. I thought, hmmm, maybe I should ask for a job. The big retail store was on one...
