Coop's Corner: More Of The Old

Saturday, March 6, 2021

More Of The Old

As many of you are already aware, I seem to have been on a history kick lately. In fact, I'm almost getting the impression back that there's some genuine concern...concern that I'm too close to possibly living in the past. Not to fear, I'm still a huge fan of my wonderfully modern Himalayan motorcycle and I do drive a minivan with power windows, automatic transmission too!

Not sure what it is, maybe I picked the wrong Major. Still, I'm calling it and will continue to call it an interest, a curiosity, a hobby. This paying attention to things I've been or been on the edge of being connected to is just incredibly satisfying, not sure what else I can say. I'm not a lumberjack but I'm still okay.

You know how it is, someone asks a question about a text you sent, a 'quick' online search ensues and the next thing you know, the dishes never even got started let alone finished. I've got to get my nose closer to a grindstone I guess.

If there's been a central theme, it's centered around our region, the Mississippi River and Wisconsin (this will likely reach a broader area in the next Post) and that would be only natural since this area is both what I know best and is the closest to my family history.

Horse-drawn Ferries across the Mississippi, replaced by a Spiral Bridge, replaced by a bridge named after our 34th President and now in 2020, an even newer bridge. This was one subject that took on some other legs of its own. Ike was there at the ceremony to christen the last new bridge and I knew a guy that while serving in the National Guard, was present that day performing crowd control.

Little humble Hillsdale, Wisconsin was the center of the next bunch of oldness. As I was going through an old scrapbook, I came upon a local newspaper story, featuring my grandmother's sharing thoughts on how times and the people that had lived through them had changed their little community.

Dad was 4 years old, helping HIS dad build a house...

One of the barn raisings....

The Busy Hour....

The Herman A. family, oldest 6 of 9 children. Looks like midwifing might have been an even better gig than modern day Influencers?

May 1914, last day of school. Grandpa's younger brother Lorence, just behind the center parasol girl.

Fourth of July festivities, 1912....

And later, dad and his little sister.... you can tell that she was quite comfortable on the 4-legged ones.

This exact moment may very well have been the deciding moment that turned dad away from the equines to his Cushman and soon thereafter, a '35 Harley Davidson.

I'd seen all of the above photos before and knew of their existence though maybe would not have been able to direct anyone to their exact location. It was this train photo however that sent me to the Internet to do a Blueberry Line search, the fry pan hadn't even been put in to soak yet at that point.

This book wasn't though it soon developed into what I was looking for. I remembered another local story about The Blueberry Line but the search led me to Arlyn's website and his wonderful books highlighting a number of abandoned central Wisconsin Railroads. I had to place an order before even getting up to go put the blue soap in the by then tepid water.

Correspondence back and forth followed and I learned not only about his other already published books but also about his current-in-process book, an abandoned line that ended just north of us in Ellsworth, WI (Cheese Curd Capitol of the World). So far, this one has only been thumbed through but Arlyn has done a fantastic job with it. I'm watching for his next one.

Wisconsin Railroad Books

Other than the history diversion I've been busy watching birds at the feeders. We're cognizant of our neighbors' needs and for that reason I put together a tray feeder that has a peanut butter trough ... no jelly. It appears to be a hit with at least some of the flyers. Four varieties of woodpeckers, the Nuthatches, now House Finches, the old standbys too. It's the weekend so once again a hike into the woods to exchange memory cards in the trail camera.

I had planned or soon will have, a Post highlighting the current status of our solar panels and output, another fun thing I've been watching. If not next, then soon. As of right now, there's a good chance the following Post will focus on some family history in far away central Montana. Hillsdale and Wisconsin in general was where Gramp's family came from, Gramma's family was from Oskaloosa before their move West.

Hope everyone's staying healthy and ready for some public, outside time soon!

P.S. Himalayan is off the lift....maybe the wheels will turn tomorrow.

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Others say....

"it was auspicious to approach any situation from a deferential, inquisitive place. Conceding that there is much to learn is the best blueprint for discovering something new." ----B. Fuller

The Man straightened stiffly above the block of salt fixed to the stake and looked at the young cattle ringed about him. The pasture was holding out well and the stock was looking good. This bunch would be ready to sell in another month, maybe sooner if the market was right.

A stir among the cattle down near the river brought him round to face the swinging bridge he'd built years before. Someone was coming toward him from the bridge. Someone in breeches, but it didn't look like a man, somehow. What was a woman doing in his pasture this time of night?

He bent over the salt again; maybe if he paid her no heed she'd go on past and let him mind his own business. He heard her footsteps come nearer and stop. "Good evening," she said.

Her voice was smooth with book learning but friendlier than most, and somehow almost shy. When he made no answer she went on, "I've been sitting on your swinging bridge....I thought I'd like to say thank-you...." Her voice stumbled a little, then she tried once more.

"You are Mr. ____". His name sounded strange in her voice, but she went on to tell her own.

"That's what they've called me the last sixty-eight years," he said, looking past her face to the hills fast darkening under a single star. "I reckon the woods are free for those that like to walk there."

The unfamiliar voice laughed a little. "That's what Emerson said: the grove belongs to the man who walks in it with an open heart....On that basis I guess I've owned part of your woods for a good many years.....". She made a final effort. "I've always wanted to thank you....."

Something deeply hidden stirred in him. "There's a stump up there, in the notch of the woods", he said slowly, "that before the timber grew so tall you could stand on it and see all over this country."

He kept still a minute, remembering, then, "I used to stand up there an' look at things, an' wonder how they come to be like they was, an' how the hills was created, an' all the things in Nature.... I told my wife I guessed all the religion I ever had I got standin' on that old stump, a-wonderin'..." He turned his face away from her.

She helped him out. "I know about that, a little. This afternoon I saw......." Her account of a thing she had really taken time to look at eased him, and he answered with telling of the badger den at the foot of the swinging bridge.

When she had gone, he turned to watch her. After a moment she stood clear and unmoving against the sky. You could hear the sounds of the river where she stood. She was one that could stand still long enough, he thought, really to hear what a body was saying, or a river.

Then she walked down the farther side of the slope and was gone. ------Margaret Snyder from A Chosen Valley

Fall was the end of harvest, end of the growing season, a burst of color and sun-warmth before killing frost turned the land gray and cold. Fall was a moody time, full of both life and death, a time when we were reminded of the power outside of us, reminded that the seasons happen to us. We do not invite the change to come.-------Ben Logan, from The Land Remembers

When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold onto them. They are the lifeboats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely elusive. So the question becomes or should have been all along, what would you do if you knew you only had one day, or one week, or one month to live. What lifeboat would you grab onto? What secret would you tell? What band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee? What book would you write? ------- Ben Tyler

We were also cautioned about journeying far from home. As an example of the dangers, the town had a badly crippled lady named Lucy, who as a girl had traveled to New York City. As she traveled along a sidewalk, sightseeing, she was struck by the outstretched hand of a suicide who had leapt from high above. Her spine had been shattered and for the rest of her life, she was to walk bent forward at the waist, tapping the sidewalk with two black canes. Whenever the subject of travel to a big city was raised, someone would say, "Just remember what happened to Miss Tripp." ---- Ted Kooser, from Local Wonders

"Steamboats are like wedding cakes without the complications...." ----Mark Twain

"It's not about having lots of money, it's about having lots of options......." -----Chris Rock

As the very proud father of three former ponytail wearers, hopefully I can get away with this....."For the past few years it's been fashionable for young women to wear ball caps and to snap the strap on the back under their ponytails. I like the looks of that, their shiny ponytails jauntily swinging, but it's hard not to think of the rear ends of horses. There's a piece of harness called the crupper that goes just under a horse's tail to keep its nose down. If the horse lifts its head to look for a way out of whatever predicament it's in, the crupper tightens and hurts the horse. But it's foolish for parents to think that a ball cap might keep a young woman from running away. Anybody can see they're made for running." ------Ted Kooser, Local Wonders

"I tell the guy's girlfriend that the only difference between the book's main character Phaedrus and myself is that I am neither brilliant, tortured or insane, she looks at my bike and there is an uncomfortable silence." --------ahendepe (a.k.a. Vermin)