Missing My Brother

   It was about this time seventeen years ago that my brother, Richard, then age 63, went out to shovel snow and died suddenly.  Four years older than I, he was always a huge presence in my life. A fascinating conversationalist he was always thinking about something and loved to discuss his thoughts while listening attentively to my opinions.
   Joanne, Lisa and I were in Hanoi, Vietnam when we received the news.  This was in the infancy of the internet and we were not then online.  We returned to our hotel after dinner and the proprietor broke the news to us...in a very gracious and caring manner.
   It is one of those griefs for which there is no "closure".  The best we can do is learn to live with it.
   Now he is being remembered with a memorial in the county  museum of the county where he was living at the time of his death.  The following article from The Volga Tribune attests to his unusual gifts of leadership.

"Don't Shoot" part 4

     The editorial in today's Minneapolis StarTibune was entitled 'LAW AND ORDER WITHOUT THE USE OF FORCE'.  The authors are Ian Ayres and Daniel Markovitse  who teach in the Yale Law School.  It made so much sense to me that I wished I would have thought of it.  With the country roiled in the fallout of police shootings. i.e., both doing the shooting and being shot, they propose a reasonable solution to much of the violence.
     They say "When the police arrest someone based on nothing more than possible cause of a minor crime, they can treat the wrongdoer more severely than the punishment that would be imposed by a court of law, even after a full trial.  We believe that the New York City Police Department violated current law when Officer Daniel Pantaleo placed Eric Garner in a chokehold.  But under current rules of engagement, Garner's saying "don't touch me" unquestionably authorized the police to initiate the use of force-nonlethal force, but still force-to subdue him.  That's wrong.  An arrest should not impose a greater burden than a conviction.  When it does, the arrest amounts to police oppression."
    They then contend that in many cases the police should just issue a ticket.  If it is necessary to bring someone to the station and the suspect resists they should be warned that their refusal to come peaceably constitutes a separate offense.
     Many years ago, when I lived in North Dakota, I had a chance to see how this might work.  Our country sheriff, Roman Shabel, was a small,,,perhaps 5'8" and slightly built...man.  I never saw him carry a gun.  When sent out to bring in a suspect he went unarmed.  If he was threatened he'd say "You can beat me up if you like but when it's all over you'll just be in more trouble."  Suspects would see the reason and come peaceably.  At the same time we had a big, burly town constable (here he'll be unnamed) who loved to confront suspects.  While we lived there he was involved in several violent confrontations with suspects.  Observing the difference between these two approaches makes me think that Ayres and Markovitse are on the right track.  Why should a man be hauled  to a station for selling cigarette's without a license?
   The article in its entirety is reprinted below.

• Article by: IAN AYRES and DANIEL MARKOVITSE 
• Updated: December 26, 2014 - 6:57 PM

Current practices invite police to initiate a physical detainment. The rules of engagement must be changed. Here’s how.

•  

Recent deaths at the hands of police in Ferguson, Mo., and on Staten Island in New York have rightly raised questions about illegal force and racial bias in law enforcement. But a more basic question also needs to be weighed: Should police be permitted to initiate force when confronting misdemeanors and other nonserious crimes? The answer should be no.

The existing rules of engagement for police in the United States invite violence, not just when officers act abusively but also when their conduct falls clearly within the limits of the law. There is no question that police in the United States can lawfully arrest anyone they see jaywalking or selling single cigarettes. And there is equally no question that any American who refuses a police order to come to the station can be forced by violence to comply.

But should police be permitted to initiate force in such cases?

Consider what arrests are for. An arrest is not punishment: After all, there has been no conviction at that point. The purpose of an arrest is to prevent crime and to aid in prosecution by establishing identity, gathering evidence and preventing flight. The steps taken to secure arrests therefore must, at every point, be proportional to the suspected crimes that underlie the arrests.

The current police rules of engagement violate these basic principles at every turn. Convictions for jaywalking and selling single cigarettes — the predicate offenses in Ferguson and Staten Island, respectively — effectively never carry jail sentences, and nobody thinks that they should. Fines are the proper punishments for these minor crimes.

But under current law, when the police arrest someone based on nothing more than probable cause of a minor crime, they can treat the wrongdoer more severely than the punishment that would ordinarily be imposed by a court of law, even after a full trial. We believe that the New York City Police Department violated current law when Officer Daniel Pantaleo placed Eric Garner in a chokehold. But under current rules of engagement, Garner’s saying “don’t touch me” unquestionably authorized the police to initiate the use of force — nonlethal force, but still force — to subdue him.

That’s wrong. An arrest should not impose a burden greater than a conviction. When it does, the arrest amounts to police oppression.

To fix the wrong, we should change the rules of engagement. A police officer confronting someone suspected of only a minor crime should not be permitted to arrest the suspect by force. In most cases, the police should simply issue a ticket. If the police wish to take someone into custody, they should not use force but instead issue a warning, like the Miranda warning, backed by a sanction. The text might say something like: “I am placing you under arrest. You must come with me to the station. If you don’t come, you’re committing a separate crime, for which you may be punished.” If the person complies upon hearing the warning, that ends the matter. If not, then the police can obtain a warrant from a judge and make a forcible arrest for both the old crime and the new. Similar rules of engagement should govern searches based on suspicion of petty crimes.

Such rules would not only protect the public’s rights but also promote law and order. Many critics rightly doubt that maximally aggressive “broken windows” public-order policing works. And other countries marry nonviolent rules of engagement with effective law enforcement; Germany, for example, imposes strict limits on the use of force to arrest petty offenders, and the entire German police, governing a population of 80 million, fired only 85 bullets in 2011. Moreover, nonviolent rules of engagement would also protect the police. Officers must of course retain the right to defend themselves when subject to attack. But by inviting police to initiate force, current practices require officers to control a naturally escalating dynamic that can quickly endanger all concerned.

Garner’s tragic death illustrates the drawbacks of policies that permit but seek to limit police use of force. In the heat of the moment, Officer Pantaleo violated the long-standing New York police policy against chokeholds. The current rules of engagement make such excesses inevitable. Once the police initiate force, limits on escalation stand in tension with the goal of convincing the subject that resistance is futile. A policy restricting when an officer may initiate force at all draws a coherent, bright line that is much more likely to be observed.

Finally, new rules of engagement would also promote racial equality. Outraged citizens properly emphasize that police disproportionately harm and kill black men. But these racial disparities are, once again, not simply products of illegal police conduct but rather are invited by the existing rules of engagement. Police discretion is greatest for minor offenses, and racial discrepancies follow discretion. By allowing the police forcibly to arrest people for these offenses, the current rules place communities of color at disproportionate risk of police violence. Reforms that aim merely to increase police compliance with existing rules of engagement cannot undo the disproportion.

If the police in Ferguson or Staten Island had employed our rules, two men who are now dead might instead have been safely placed in voluntary custody, admitted their crimes and paid a small fine. At worst, they would now face an orderly and fair judicial process for defying the law.

In either event, rights would be respected, order maintained and justice served.

 Ian Ayres and Daniel Markovitse teach at Yale Law School.

Mai Drops Out Of School.

     Thailand's troubles (see a previous post) have hit their tourist industry hard.  Now Russia's troubles have compounded the problem.  Thailand was a a very popular vacation destinations for Russians. With the drastic devaluation of the Ruble, most Russians have cancelled their planned trips to Thailand.
    The situation has become so difficult for Gai and Mai, the Tuk-Tuk, drivers, that their 16 year old daughter,  also named Mai, has had to drop out of school and go to work.  When times were better Gai would accompany her husband Mai in the Tuk-Tuk.  Her English was better so she could  play host/interpreter.  She left the Tuk-Tuk work last spring to take another job to boost income.  But, even that has not been enough to enable daughter Mai to stay in school.
    The political situation will not be resolved soon and very likely will get worse before it gets better,

Mai, now working.

Mai and Gai with their Tuk-Tuk.

"Don't Shoot" part 3

    The local paper, The Minneapolis Star/Tribune, recently reported on shootings by police officers that resulted in fatalities.  The report stated that there had been 83 such fatalities in Minnesota in the last 10 years.  In 82 of the cases no charges were brought against the officer.
    This confirms my impression that officers were seldom charged.  I still have questions...only one out of 83?

Good Summary of Thailand's travails.

Thailand’s Twelve Turbulent Months

Democracy in Thailand took about 12 steps backwards in 2014.

By Mong Palatino

December 21, 2014

 298

 44

 0

 1

 

343 Shares

1 Comment

Thailand is coming to the end of very difficult year, which brought violent street protests, an election boycott, martial law, a coup, media censorship, the appointment of a new military-backed government, and a royal divorce. Here, we look back at what has transpired over the past 12 months.

January: Tens of thousands of protesters flood the major intersections of Bangkok as opposition groups intensify their bid to topple the government of then Prime Minister Yingluck Shinawatra. The protest, led by former lawmaker Suthep Thaugsuban, aims to “shut down“ Bangkok for several days or until Yingluck is removed from power. Despite the planned shutdown, Bangkok is not entirely paralyzed. But the protest loudly echoes the demands of the opposition to call of the February election and instead create a so-called People’s Council to replace the government.

February: Despite the anti-government rallies and the boycott campaign of the opposition, Thailand is able to hold a “peaceful” election. But many Thais are unable to vote or are prevented from approaching polling centers because of the protests. The number of disenfranchised voters is estimated at 12 million.

March: Thailand’s Constitutional Court annuls the February elections by declaring it unconstitutional because voting failed to take place on the same day around the country. Subsequently, the Election Commission announces that the next poll would be scheduled for July.

April: Street protests continue to call for the removal of the caretaker government headed by Yingluck. She will be eventually be forced to step down after the Court rules the following month that she abused her power in 2011 when she replaced the national security chief with one of her relatives.

May: Two days after declaring martial law and failing to mediate between rival political forces, the Royal Thai Army launches a coup on May 22, suspends the 2007 Constitution (except for the provisions on the monarchy), seizes control of major media stations, and imposes a nighttime curfew. This was Thailand’s 12th successful coup in the past century, although the number rises to more than 20 if unsuccessful coup attempts are counted.

June: One of the early directives of the coup regime is a ban on public gatherings of five or more people. Although this doesn’t stop anti-coup protesters from converging on various places, the army becomes increasingly intolerant of the protests by arresting those who defy this law. But protesters find creative ways to express their opposition – like adopting the three-finger salute from the Hollywood film “Hunger Games” to signify their yearning for “liberty, equality, and fraternity.”

July: The Junta issues a new order banning media from reporting news that is critical of the government. Media groups immediately express concern about the broad and vague provisions of the order. They also highlight the severe punishment – legal prosecution, censorship, and shutdown – for violating any part of the order.

August: The National Council for Peace and Order, the name of the junta government, enacts an interim constitution as part of the purported roadmap for democratic reforms in the country. But critics point out that the new charter is designed to perpetuate a military dictatorship. Using this constitution, General Prayuth Chan-ocha is selected by the National Legislative Assembly as Thailand’s 29th prime minister.

September: The murder of British backpackers Hannah Witheridge and David Miller in Koh Tao island beach resort embarrasses the military-backed government. The police are accused of bungling the investigation.

October: For months, students have been ordered to memorize Prayuth’s “12 Core Values,” which focus on discipline and respect for authority. Some students protest this and other curriculum changes which they argue were made without consulting the public. Another reform dubbed as teaching “correct democracy” constitutes a revision to history books, which have apparently already expunged the name of former Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra.

November: Additional troubling signs of censorship: The media is asked by Prayuth not to report the activities of Thaksin and Yingluck, a TV host is replaced because the junta doesn’t like her critical comments about the government, and the Hunger Games film was banned in some theaters and protesters are detained for performing the three-finger salute.

December: Crown Prince Maha Vajiralongkron divorces his third wife, Princess Srirasmi, sparking speculation about the royal succession and its impact on local politics.

When will Thailand’s military hand over power to a civilian government? Will it succeed in promoting reconciliation? Will there be an election soon? For how long will the government continue to impose strict media regulations? Will it finally allow protests to resume in the streets? And the most important question: Will democracy triumph in 2015?

Catching up on the classics.

   It was a was a sweet walk with Trygve, my five year old Springer, who's now in his prime.  Perhaps that was the real reason I was out.  It's a shame that the bird population is in the depths when he's so ready.  Kjell, age 12, has retired with back problems so it's all up to Trygve now.
   First we hunted Mary's ditch and it wasn't cold for December, about 30 degrees.  The tire tracks from my truck came in handy...just after the field was tilled I drove the edges of cover,  The wind, 15-20 mph out of the NW  was raw.  Trygve did the hard work in the heavy cover as I walked the edge.  There is little snow cover left and we didn't see a bird...that is until we got back to the road and were walking the quarter mile back to the truck.
  Off to the west in Hellickson's field the birds began to fly.  An entire flock including many hens.  It was strangely comforting to see all those birds.  Though it was land I could not hunt I was pleased to see that there were a number of birds.
   Next we walked Happy Home in the tall Switch Grass and the standing corn planted as a wildlife winter food plot.  Here we flushed many hens, off limits for hunting, but encouraging for the future.  By now the cold wind had worn me down and Trygve had had a good run.
   Repairing to the Little House on the Prairie I looked on the bookshelf for a small book to read.  I'm expecting  delivery of a long biography of Andrew Jackson so wanted one I could finish  quickly. What did I find but Thornton Wilder's THE BRIDGE OF SAN LUIS REY?   Wilder received one of three Pulitzer prizes for the book copyrighted in 1927.  Because I'd never read it I dove into it.
  What a delight.   Five people die when the old Inca Bridge of San Luis Rey, Peru, collapses in 1714. The book, a novel, tells the story of those five.  The elderly Abbess of the Convent in San Luis Rey, who did not die on the bridge says when she learns some of the story of one who did die "Now learn," she commanded herself , "learn at last that anywhere you may expect grace."  Well said Abbess!
   The books ends with this reflection by the Abbess on those who died and those who remember them.
     "'Even now,' she thought, 'almost no one remembers Esteban and Pepita, but myself.  Camila alone remembers her Uncle Pio and her son; this woman her mother.  But soon we shall die and all memory of these five will have left the earth, and we ourselves shall be loved for a while and forgotten.  But the love will will have been enough; all those impulses of love return to the the love that made them. Even memory is not necessary for love.  There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.'"

Al & Trygve on the prairie.

The Little House On the Prairie.

Don't Shoot Part 2

     In my post Don't Shoot  I referenced a quote from A. Scalia  of the U.S. Supreme court.   The quote is contained in this article THINK PROGRESS  by Judd Legum.
"On Monday, Prosecutor Bob McCulloch announced that a grand jury had decided not to indict Darren Wilson, the officer who killed Michael Brown. But that decision was the result of a process that turned the purpose of a grand jury on its head.

Justice Antonin Scalia, in the 1992 Supreme Court case of United States v. Williams, explained what the role of a grand jury has been for hundreds of years."

It is the grand jury’s function not ‘to enquire … upon what foundation [the charge may be] denied,’ or otherwise to try the suspect’s defenses, but only to examine ‘upon what foundation [the charge] is made’ by the prosecutor. Respublica v. Shaffer, 1 Dall. 236 (O. T. Phila. 1788); see also F. Wharton, Criminal Pleading and Practice § 360, pp. 248-249 (8th ed. 1880). As a consequence, neither in this country nor in England has the suspect under investigation by the grand jury ever been thought to have a right to testify or to have exculpatory evidence presented.

 This passage was first highlighted by attorney Ian Samuel, a former clerk to Justice Scalia.

In contrast, McCulloch allowed Wilson to testify for hours before the grand jury and presented them with every scrap of exculpatory evidence available. In his press conference, McCulloch said that the grand jury did not indict because eyewitness testimony that established Wilson was acting in self-defense was contradicted by other exculpatory evidence. What McCulloch didn’t say is that he was under no obligation to present such evidence to the grand jury. The only reason one would present such evidence is to reduce the chances that the grand jury would indict Darren Wilson.

Compare Justice Scalia’s description of the role of the grand jury to what the prosecutors told the Ferguson grand jury before they started their deliberations:

And you must find probable cause to believe that Darren Wilson did not act in lawful self-defense and you must find probable cause to believe that Darren Wilson did not use lawful force in making an arrest. If you find those things, which is kind of like finding a negative, you cannot return an indictment on anything or true bill unless you find both of those things. Because both are complete defenses to any offense and they both have been raised in his, in the evidence.

As Justice Scalia explained the evidence to support these “complete defenses,” including Wilson’s testimony, was only included by McCulloch by ignoring how grand juries historically work.

There were several eyewitness accounts that strongly suggested Wilson did not act in self-defense. McCulloch could have, and his critics say should have, presented that evidence to the grand jury and likely returned an indictment in days, not months. It’s a low bar, which is why virtually all grand juries return indictments.

But McCulloch chose a different path."

"Don't Shoot!"

   The death of Michael Brown in Ferguson, MO and the exoneration of the police officer who shot him has been much in the news.   For a number of years I've read with interest the reports of police officer fatal shootings reported in our local paper.  The same scenario plays out.  The officer is placed on paid leave, there is an internal investigation and eventually the announcement is made that the officer is exonerated.
   The question on my mind is "Isn't the officer ever in the wrong?"   Yes, yes...it's a dangerous job and the officer has to make split second decisions.  And, yes, officers do get killed in the line of duty but the question remains "Isn't the officer ever wrong?"   I'd be of  a different mind about this if, at least occasionally an officer was found to be in the wrong.
   Surfing through Facebook I came on this post from Ron Letnes.

"A friend alerted me to a piece in THE ECONOMIST. It reported on deaths from police shootings in different countries (last available year stats): USA (2013) 409; Germany (2012) 3; Great Britain (2013) O; Japan (2013) O. Granted, there is a back story to all stats which can be debated. Yet, the stats are also revealing and beg questions as well as demand answers. We need to be honest about the numbers, because the numbers represent people."

  It would be very interesting to know the racial composition of those 409 fatalities in America.  What was the race of the officer and the race of the person killed.  My hope is that out of all this turmoil change will come in race relations and police use of deadly force.

Musings on the Eve of Thanksgiving

   It always seems difficult to for me to say anything profound or inspiring about Thanksgiving.  Why should that be?  Gratitude is a wonderful thing and to live gratefully is superb.  But what to say?   To be honest much for which we are often thankful comes at the expense of others; laborers exploited, native resources stolen, and others who have lost out, due to circumstances of birth and location.
   Gratitude cannot be demanded...so admonitions to be grateful are not helpful.  Much writing about thanksgiving slips into "should" talk.  True we should be grateful but it doesn't help anyone to tell them that.
   Perhaps the best we can do is humbly acknowledge our dependence.  That dependence is on those whose labor and resources makes our lives possible.  It is also dependence on our inheritance; genetics, nurture, and opportunity provided by those who have gone before us. Perhaps that is what we should encourage...humility that recognizes our true dependence.

A day in the life...........

    D.M., L.N. and I were driving back from the sale where I almost bought a tractor...glad I didn't...and as we drove through Volga past the old hospital I said "I spent a night there."  L.N. said "what was that about?"  "It was the time I got hit by a car on the highway.........."
    Alonzo Peeke, MD, was the local doctor. He lived in a mansion across the street from the little hospital.  His office/clinic was in the ground floor of his mansion.  He thought I should be hospitalized for observation after I was hit...my first stay in a hospital.
    It was a Sunday afternoon and I was with my best buddy, R.H,, we were seniors in high school.  We were driving my '48 Pontiac west on Highway 14, just west of Brookings when I had a flat tire...left rear.  R.H. and I were in the process of changing the tire, I was bent over starting the lug nuts when I glanced up in time see a car coming at me, quite slowly.  Standing up quickly just before I was hit I was rolled between the cars like one might roll putty in one's hands.  Nothing obviously broken, no cuts or lacerations, I confronted the driver who had stopped.  He claimed he didn't know he'd hit me.
   We drove  the 3 miles to Volga and went to the emergency? room...or at least we found the doctor who put me in the hospital overnight.  He also called the sheriff who showed up in my room.  His name was Clauson and he always wore a 10 gallon cowboy hat.  He quickly identified the driver, A.D., who had a record of driving drunk.  The sheriff told me later that when he went to A,D.'s house A.D. had confessed and, if my memory serves me correctly, he even did a little jail time for it.  I got out of the hospital the next day, stiff and sore, but with no serious injury.

Recommended Reading

    Shadow Tag, Louise Erdrich, 2010...I didn't even think I  liked it and then I finished it and realized that, once again, Erdrich had worked her magic.  "When Irene America discovers her artist husband, Gil, has been reading her diary, she begins a secret Blue Notebook, stashed securely in a safe-deposit box. There she records the truth about her life and marriage, while tuning her Red Diary--hidden where Gil will find it--into a manipulative charade...." quoted from the back cover.
   Perhaps I will not read it three times like I did her Plague of Doves but I certainly will think about it.  I highly recommend it for anyone serious about relationships.

"Thank You For Your Service"

     E.C.V. called me yesterday, Nov. 10, to wish a Happy Birthday, as he does every year.  Perceptive readers of this blog may wonder about that since I was born Oct. 28.  Being a good Catholic, E.C.V. is probably not thinking of Martin Luther who was born on Nov. 10.  No, Nov. 10, is the birthday of the Marine Corps and under the rubric of "once a Marine, always a Marine" he calls me unfailingly every Nov. 10.
    Volunteering in a 5th grade classroom at Noble Academy today, the teacher asked how many years since my discharge?  I said "I was discharged in 1962."  She immediately made it a math problem for the class "How many years since his discharge?"  They quickly answered "52".  The students weren't much impressed...hard for them to visualize anything much beyond 15...but the teacher was wide eyed.  She's about 26 so 5 decades plus impressed her.
   In the first 40 years or more after discharge I never remember being thanked for my service.  After the poor reception many returning Vietnam Vets. received there was a backlash.  With the Gulf War and Iraq/Afghanistan wars it became popular to be visibly supportive of veterans.  "Thank you for your service."  Signs "WE SUPPORT OUR TROOPS"  sprang up in many places.
   Personally I think we owe it to our combat veterans who served honorably, many of whom were killed or wounded, to be a bit discriminating.  Using a "broad brush" thanking everyone who was in one of the military branches diminishes the true homage due to those who faced combat.  
   Why did I enlist?   Was I infused with patriotic fervor and love of my country?  Not really.  It was the 1950s and America still had the draft.  I'd been deferred for 2 years to attend college.  After 2 years it became clear to me that with my lack of academic focus I needed time to grow up. Therefore, I chose to enlist...3 years will give me time to gain some clarity and have a bit of adventure.
   It worked perfectly for me.  Prior to enlistment my world was very, very small...an insulated farming community in South Dakota.  Boot Camp was in San Diego, CA, and flying there was my first airplane ride.  There I met E.C.V. my buddy for  life. Subsequent assignment to Camp Pendleton, CA continued my exposure to young men from all walks of life.  A year's assignment in Asia continued to broaden my horizons.  While in Asia I gained clarity about my career path after discharge and I returned to college with the focus I'd previously not had.
   Given this experience, when people thank me for my service, it feels like I might feel if someone thanked me for driving on the right side of the road.  It would be very different had my service been in combat.
   Yet, there is another issue that should be considered.  Not everyone who received an honorable discharge served honorably.  All branches of the service have their share of crooks and sociopaths.  I saw my share of them, and,  this was in peace time.  The chaos of war brings out both the best and the worst in people.  Some people in the military do terrible things for which they are never held accountable.  Therefore, blanket accolades make me uncomfortable.
  One day I was wearing my "Marines" cap when a woman came up to me, shook my hand and said "Thank you for your service."  Being in one of my curmudgeonly moods I said "How do you know that I wasn't a crook?"   I doubt anyone had ever raised that possibility with her before.  The look she gave me was priceless.
   So, all honor and respect for all who served honorably in combat.  Some honor for those who served honorably in peacetime.  No respect for those who served with dishonor.

1956 Allis Chalmers WD-45

     It wasn't starting. so R.M., who was helping me, pulled off a plug wire while I cranked the engine...one spark then nothing.  We cleaned the points, still no spark.  At the Car Quest store in River Falls the 20 somethings said "1956 tractor, ooooooooooooo that's not in the computer, it's in this catalog and no one has showed us how to use it."  "Mind if I look" I said.  He pushed the catalog to me.  "The points are number_____, the condenser number is ______, and the coil number is_______."  Looking on her computer she said "they're all in stock."
   After purchasing a feeler gauge, flashlight, small screw driver and the parts we headed back to the tractor.  Installing the condenser and points first, we still had no spark.  We removed the old coil and discovered it was 6 volt and looked as if it was the original from 1956.  The battery is 12 volt so we'd purchased a 12 volt coil.  Because it was what we had we installed it.  As soon as we hit the starter the engine started. Lift off!

   With the engine running it was time to mount the loader.  Looking around the pole shed we found the long hydraulic cylinders.  We attached them and used the hydraulic hoses that ran to the drawbar. When we engaged the hydraulic control one piston moved but the other one didn't.  We added hydraulic fluid, and, bingo...both pistons worked.
    Now it was time to attach the arms and bucket.  The right side fit in easily but the loader was sitting on a side hill and slightly sprung so the left side need persuasion.  Some adept work by R.M. with a jack, and 2X6 for prying, and attachment was soon accomplished.
   It is the Curmudgeonette's new tractor.  The loader will be useful in loading on the trailer all the neat attachments that came with the tractor.  In addition to the genuine Allis Chalmers loader there are two other Allis Chalmers machines; a three bottom mounted plow and a mounted back blade.  A Woods Rotary Mower was also part of the deal,  Can you imagine how much fun she'll have farming with these machines?
 

File photo (the tractor looks like this)

Recommended Reading

  "A majestic and brave new novel...both intimate and enormous."  is what the New Your Times Book Review said about Barbara Kingsolver's recent novel Flight Behavior.  It is not about airplanes but about the migration of Monarch Butterflies, those interesting insects, some of whom winter in Mexico.
   Mixed in with the story of the Monarchs is a fascinating story of family dynamics.  Set in the mountains of Tennessee the locals who are quite impoverished,  get caught up in the unusual behavior of the Monarchs. Their interactions with those who come to study the butterflies is revealing.
   Of particular interest to me is the clash and misunderstanding between the locals and the scientists. Kingsolver's delineation of  the gap between scientist and non-scientist on the subject of climate change is particularly astute.  Her perception of the failure of scientists to effectively communicate seems spot on to me.
   Our book club read it and it led to a scintillating discussion.  If you've read it I'd like to know what you think.  If you haven't read it I think you'll find it worthwhile.

Thailand Update

   Several months ago the army in Thailand staged a coup, overthrowing the  elected government.  For the past several national elections a populist party has had resounding wins.  The poorer north part of Thailand has, by dint of numbers, been in control.  Thai democracy has always been rather fragile and there have been frequent army coups. The army's attempts to run the country have never gone very well and elections are held and for the last several years the populists have won.
   This coup, coming on the heels of months of major protests and disruptions by the opposition party, is different.  Apparently backed by the king the army is rewriting the constitution with the intent of restoring the power to the elite saying poor people don't know enough to vote.  This is complicated by the extreme "lese mageste`" law, i.e., it is a crime to criticize the king or anything royal.
   Since the coup there is no right of free expression, assembly or dissent.  Professors cannot discuss politics in class, if you are caught reading Orwell's 1984, or giving the Hunger Games salute you will be arrested. Trial is in a military court without legal representation or any outside observers. Civilian courts are bypassed and freedom of the press non-existent.
   The coup, coupled with some murders in the beach areas followed by badly bungled police investigations, has hit the tourist industry hard.  Tourism is already down 19% this year and the bad news keeps coming.
   Now the situation is calm.  However, when the army promulgates a new, biased constitution, or when the king dies...he's very frail spending most of his time in a hospital...there will almost certainly be conflict.
  "My people" are suffering.  "When the elephants fight the ants suffer."  Much of their livelihood is related to tourism.  I do what I can to help. My next trip will be in February when I'll return to Ayutthaya to teach school.
   Want to know more?  This is very brief summary.   I  would love to talk with you about the situation.

Cut and Paste

     Yesterday I did my first stint as a classroom volunteer in my granddaughter's kindergarten classroom at Seward School.  While I never attended kindergarten, it hadn't been invented yet :), my assigned job reminded me of my feelings of inadequacy from early elementary school, Starting first grade at age 5, I was able to walk the mile so school (uphill both ways) with no trouble.  However, coloring in the lines, cutting and pasting were never my best skills.
    So my first task in the classroom?  Supervising three students at a time cutting and pasting the names of the continents on a map.  Putting old feelings aside I soldiered on.
    Gwen, the teacher, introduced me to the class as "Mr. Al, Mai-Evy's grandpa".  One little boy leaped up excitedly announcing that his grandpa was also named Al.  My name was quickly forgotten as the students all referred to me as "grandpa".  I'm looking forward to being "grandpa" to 28 kindergarten students.

Leslie's Tractors

   There's a vague recollection back in the recesses of my mind that Leslie, or his father, Sam, once had an old Case tractor, maybe even a crossmotor. More certain is that he had a F-20 Farmall and I have a faint memory of that.  In 1938 my father bought a new 22" IHC threshing machine.  When it was not in use it was stored in a lean-to shed next to an old granary.  To get it into the shed the feeder was removed.  Then a front wheel of the machine was raised and the tongue was pivoted from protruding from the front under the wheel so it was 180 degrees reversed and under the thresher. Long chains were attached to the machine through a little trap door and it was pulled backwards into the lean-to.  I have vague memory of the F-20 being used to pull the thresher in this operation.
   Sometime before WW II the F-20 was traded for an IHC M.  (See the last post about the M and a mounted corn picker.)  When tractors became generally available after the war, Leslie had a farm deferment, he traded the M for a new IHC MD.  The D stands for diesel and he was the first one in the community to have one.  Those IHC diesels started on gasoline and after a brief warm up were switched over to diesel.  There was an internal mechanism in the engine that close off the spark plugs and increased the compression so it could run as a diesel.
  At some time Leslie bought an IHC WD-6.  This had the same  engine as the MD but was not a row crop tractor as was the MD.  The WD-6 was called a "Standard" and often referred to as a "Wheatland."   The front tires were spaced widely apart, the same distance as the rear wheels, which, unlike the row crop tractors, could not be adjusted.  As with the MD he was the first one in the community to have a WD-6.
   Leslie owned two other tractors that I remember.  Departing the long line of IHC tractors he bought a VAC Case which was a  small row crop type, less that half the horse power of the MD.  Most farm tractors regulate engine speed with a hand operated throttle.  The VAC had such a throttle but it also had a foot operated accelerator similar to what is used in an automobile.  I thought that made it fun to drive.
   He was also the first person in the community to buy an IHC C, which was just slightly larger than the VAC,  It, too, was a row crop design and was so modern that it had "live hydraulics" , i.e., the hydraulic lift would would work even when the clutch was depressed.  In contrast my father's '41 IHC B had no hydraulics so when dad was cultivating he'd have to manually raise the cultivator.
   I don't remember which of the tractors he still owned when he had his machinery auction before moving to Washington.  The auction was on a school day so I was not allowed to attend.  Leslie did tell me that, during the war, he was offered the chance to buy the Nordby Place, where Dennis Miller just built a new house.  It was 3 quarters of land, 480 acres, and he wished he would have done it but the debt seemed to high so he turned it down.

F-20 Farmall

B Farmall

M Farmall

WD-6 would look like this but smaller.

Remembering Leslie

     My father was a horse man.  Some where there's a picture of him in front of our barn with 24 horses.  Grandpa Lars, Dad and Uncle Sam farmed 480 acres with those horses,  That was a lot of land to work with horse power.
   Finally, in 1941, Dad bought a tractor...a '41 B Farmall, 17 horsepower, it was designed for small truck farms.  By the time he realized that he needed more power WW II made it almost impossible to buy a tractor.  He could have gone to the black market but his scruples prevented that.  It wasn't until 1947 or 1948 that he was able to buy a new Farmall H.
   Leslie was different.  His father, Sam, was mechanically inclined and in the '30's Leslie bought an F-20 Farmall and before the war a Farmall M.  The M was the largest row crop tractor that International Harvester Co.made for many years.  Leslie's tractors set him apart, might that be where I get my fascination with tractors?
   With a two row mounted corn picker on that M Leslie was busy all fall picking corn.  My friend and classmate, Lloyd, remembers Leslie coming to his farm to "open the fields."  The two row mounted picker could start at any place in a field without running over unpicked corn.  Then, the farmer, with a pull type picker, would be able to drive down the picked rows pulling his picker off to the side.
   Considered "very" modern that M was equipped with 6 volt electric lights.  Pretty dim by today's standards but that was enough light so that Leslie would pick night and day.  Leslie told me that he was once picking at night on the Teller farm.  The corn was badly lodged from a strong wind.  Picking through the middle of the field he found that when he reached the other side he was six rows away from the rows on which he started.
   The old mounted pickers were very heavy...so heavy that once the rear axle on the tractor broke.  I can only imagine how difficult it was to remove the picker with the rear of the tractor on the ground, replace the axle in the field and remount the picker.  Contrast that with my neighbor's recent experience.  His tractor wouldn't run and he called the dealer who sent a repair technician from Omaha, NB., 150 miles away.  The technician parked his van next to the tractor, worked for two hours, said "the tractor's fixed now" and never touched the tractor.
  In a subsequent blog I'll write about other tractors that Leslie owned.

Relying on NATO.

   Visiting the Baltic countries via a cruise this summer brought us to Russia and several countries that border Russia.  At each stop we took guided shore excursions which were very informative. Soviet occupation and the aftermath were frequent topics of discussion.
  I enjoyed talking to our tour guides when they were not actively engaged in managing the tour.  We had a particularly good tour guide in Latvia.(pictured below) When the opportunity arose I asked her what Latvians thought of the events in Ukraine.  She expressed concern about the violence and how people are suffering.   Then I asked her if her people were worried about Russia.  She replied "No, we do not worry about Russia because Latvia is a member of NATO"

Tour guide in Riga, Latvia

Riga, Latvia

Leslie Negstad 4/717-10/13/14

   He was more like an uncle to me than a cousin.  Twenty one years older than me, my father married very late, he lived on an adjoining farm until I was an early teen. Leslie would take my two brothers and me fishing.  I remember catching my first fish with him, a bluegill at Lake Goldsmith. Sometimes we would go ice fishing and in the summer he'd use his small fiberglass boat powered with a two and half horse Johnson motor.  It was the same motor he used to take Ed and me fishing for salmon in the Straits of  Juan de  Fuca in 1962.
  Leslie, son of Sam, my father's younger brother, also persuaded his father to lend me his shotgun for duck season one year before I got my fist shotgun.  It was a 16ga. Winchester model 12.  It was the gun with which I shot my first duck, aiming at the first one in a line of 6 or 8, and killing the last one in line.
  Leslie died Monday in Salem, OR., far from the SD farms where I knew him best. I believe the last of my Negstad cousins.  In the early '50s he and another man from the community, Earl, sold their machinery, invested in a new pulpwood plant in the state of Washington and moved their families west and settled in new houses.  They were not only investors in the plant they were also to be employees.  After moving to Washington they showed up for work on the first day and found the plant shuttered.  The plant's financial officer had embezzled the money and Leslie and Earl lost all of their investment and their houses.
   Years later Earl's son told me that with that loss they moved into a garage and Earl spent his weeks selling Bibles door to door. The son said he didn't know how poor they were until he asked his dad for a penny for a piece of candy and Earl started to cry because he didn't have one.
   Leslie moved to Anecortes, and then Port Angeles, where they ran a motel and were living when he took me salmon fishing.  In Port Angeles they ran a motel.  Later they moved to Soap Lake in eastern Washington.  His wife, Esther, had rheumatoid arthritis so the climate there was better for her. Sometime after Esther died Leslie moved to Salem, OR to be near his son, Paul, which is where he was when he died.  
   As I grieve for Leslie and Esther I also grieve for what was lost when they moved to far away.  How different might have been some of my early experiences had they still been across the road?  I've had so little time with Leslie's children who are only a little younger than me.   That would have been much different had they remained in the community.  God bless the memory of Leslie Negstad.

The Pins are Out.

    Taking the pins out of the Curmudgeonette's arm required  2 little incisions each one closed up with  one stitch. The plate remains as a permanent emplacement.  A slightly larger incision below her wrist relieved the carpal tunnel pressure on the nerves to her fingers.  She reports that the numbness in her fingers is gradually dissipating and she is encouraged as the feeling returns.  The current splint she is wearing will remain until she see the surgeon a week after surgery. There has been very little pain associated with this surgery.

For-Profit Colleges.

  "If you hope for a more equitable society, one with broader opportunities, then there's hardly a more important topic than job training.  So it's especially distressing that so many disadvantaged young people--people who believe they're doing the smart thing by enrolling in for-profit colleges to train for careers in medical technology, criminal justice and other fields--are ending up disillusioned, in debt and without the careers they'd counted on.
   "Evidence increasingly suggest that some segments of the for-profit college industry are taking students--and taxpayers--for a ride.  Drawing up to 90 per cent of their revenue from various government programs intended to help low-income students pay tuition. some of these schools deliver questionable degrees suffer extraordinarily high dropout rates and loan-default rates and charge tuitions that are far higher than those at public community colleges."  quoted from an editorial in the October 9, 21014, STAR TRIBUNE.
   If you haven't read it go online and look it up.  The editors argue for accountability and comparability with other institutions.  They point out that the average annual tuition at a for-profit is $15,130. while a public four college it is $8,893.  They also point out that accessing higher education is difficult for many and for-profits can provide access.

Revisiting a book,

    "Memories--they are all the aged have.  The young have their hopes and dreams, while the old hold the remains of them in their hands and wonder what happened to their lives."  p. 11, The Gift of Rain, Tan Twan Eng.   I've read the book three times; when The Curmudgeonette gave it to me in 2008, again when a friend was reading it and again before our book club discussion.  Now I'm reviewing it again before a discussion with a book club member who missed the meeting.

   The book is set in Penang, Malaysia and some of my memories of Penang from when I visited a few years ago is the rain.  It poured rain one afternoon when I was there.  When the rain stopped I ventured out of my hotel...room for $10. but if I wanted single occupancy it was $20. :)...for dinner at a local restaurant I found it flooded.  No problem, though the water on the floor was about six inches deep, many people were seated at the tables eating while the wait staff sloshed through the water.

   Eng has a phenomenal gift of description and reading his prose is akin to hearing a great symphony orchestra. His descriptions are far superior to a photograph.   But, he also has an incisive  mind and imagination that allows illustration of  the terrible ironies and decisions that life forces on us made even more poignant by the exigencies of war. 

   Eagerly I anticipate the discussion with KDS and dabbling in the book again makes me think I just may re-read it soon...4th time!

Meditation on an Umbrella.

   It's an attractive blue and white umbrella purchased many years ago while visiting Bergen, Norway, which has a climate much like Seattle.  Memory doesn't work tell how it came back to America. Carrying it in the rain while I walked the best dog in the world, Trygve, got me reflecting on my life with, but particularly without, umbrellas.
   Growing up as I did on a small farm in South Dakota in the 40s and 50s there were very many things we did NOT have.  Umbrellas were only known to me from magazine pictures including a Norman Rockwell painting.  In addition to the frugal way we lived perhaps there were other reasons for being umbrella less.
   Average annual  rainfall in eastern South Dakota was 18 inches in the 40s.  It just didn't rain very often and when it did it was typically a violent thunderstorm with much lightening and gusty winds. We just did our best to be under a roof until the storm passed,  (A small digression: Dad told of standing in the house looking across the yard and seeing lightening strike the shed attached to the granary.  He went to investigate and found that the bolt of lightening had shattered a two by four rafter and started a small fire in the roof which he was able to extinguish.  I suspect that this incident was before the farm was electrified in 1941.)
   Umbrellas don't like wind that may be another reason for our lack of umbrellas.  South Dakota is mid-continent and that geographical fact means almost constant wind.  During childhood I'd see in disbelief pictures of New England snow scenes with snow piled on fence posts.  "Snow always comes sideways" I thought, based on my experience.   I do remember one snowfall of about a foot that came without wind when I was a senior in high school.  The memory lingers because it was so out of the ordinary.

Pheasant Propects

   I didn't see a pheasant.  Discing  a track through the middle of the cornfield did not flush a pheasant.  Neither did driving through the CRP grass to pull an errant Russian Olive Tree scare up a single bird.  Granted pheasants are less likely to fly from a tractor than from a person on foot but still I would expect to see some flush.  Season opens Oct. 18,...????????

A Third Opinion

    Back in Minnesota after our Baltic cruise the Curmudgeonette scheduled an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon who ordered x-rays of the arm and thumb she broke aboard ship.  The x-rays showed that the cast on her arm, which was done in Russia, had not held the bones in place.  He said "we never rely on a cast for such a break but always use a surgically implanted plate."  Surgery was scheduled, completed with a plate and two pins, and she was sent home with a brace.
  Next week the pins will be removed and carpal tunnel surgery done to restore the feeling in her finger tips.  She has gained both strength and mobility through extensive physical therapy.  My stint as personal care attendant is about over for this time or as I chose to re-frame it "my opportunity to serve."
  The right thumb healed quickly and she only needed to wear a splint for a couple of weeks.

St. Petersburg by Ambulance

    It was no easy matter getting back into the city for medical care.  Flying to connect with the cruise line (Oceania) we went through customs in Amsterdam on our way to Stockholm where the cruise began.  All of the Baltic countries we visited, except Russia, accepted the visa we were given in Amsterdam.  But, in Russia we had a provisional visa under the auspices of the tour company only good  when we were them.  So, when we needed to go to a medical clinic in St. Petersburg, we were assigned a port authority employee who stayed with us until we were back aboard ship.
   A car and driver drove us to the medical clinic.  An "English Speaking Clinic" meant that there was an interpreter assigned to us.  The clinic was in the process of remodeling so the x-ray equipment was inoperative.  The Curmudgeonette was bundled into an ambulance for a ride to a hospital for x-rays. The x-rays confirmed those that were taken aboard ship.  So back in the ambulance she went for the ride back to the clinic.
   At the clinic two doctors set her arm by each pulling in an opposite direction.  Satisfied that the bones were in place they cast her arm (left) and right thumb.  (More about this later.)
   It was 4:30 when we finished at the clinic.  In the parking lot of the clinic the woman from the port authority said "It's rush hour and it will take two hours to get back to the ship by car so we're taking you by ambulance."  Into the back of the ambulance we loaded and we were off to the races.
   Lights. sirens and a grand Prix driver who was not afraid to use them and we whipped through rush our traffic...left lane, right lane, through red lights...whatever it took and we were back at the ship in 30 minutes.
   Back at the ship we reported back to the medical clinic.  When I asked the ship's doctor about paying he said "The ship is paying because it happened aboard ship."  OK, that's OK with me as I thought about our decision to decline the medical insurance offered as part of our cruise package.
  (In a subsequent post you can read about her medical follow-up at home.)

The Curmudgeonette is Recovering.

   Three days into our Baltic Cruise, which was the final phase of celebrating our 50th wedding anniversary, we had a first day tour of St. Petersburg, Russia.   The tour included a comprehensive drive in the city.  We saw many of the famous churches and sites even stopping for a free sample of vodka, which the Curmudgeonette refused,...so vodka is not to blame.  The walk to see the graves of Peter the Great and Catherine the Great was over very rough cobblestone in a light rain.  Fixing me with a death grip she negotiated the terrain with neither a slip nor a stumble.
   Back aboard ship after the tour we had a delightful meal and enjoyable conversation processing what we'd seen on the tour.  Departing the cafeteria after lunch the Curmudgeonette tripped on a quarter-inch-high threshold going through a door.  Falling forward she did what physical therapists call a "swoosh" when a person instinctively throws arms forward to break a fall.  Subsequent x-rays, aboard ship, revealed a broken left arm and right thumb.  The ship's doctor, who was from Poland, said "maritime rules mandate a second opinion so tomorrow we'll send you to an English speaking medical clinic in St. Petersburg".
  In the next installment you'll learn of how that led to three ambulance rides.

Recommended Reading

   Don't read this if you're into "shoot um up" type thrillers but Elizabeth Stroud's The Burgess Boys is fascinating if you're interested in relationships.  Perhaps if I were teaching a class on Family Systems I'd assign this as a reading.  It would be fun to discuss in a class setting.
   Of particular interest is the clear illustration of the power of secrets in family life and the effect of secrets exposed.  The younger boy, Bob, has to re-imagine his entire life is response to a secret revealed.  Family System's theory has much to say about the toxicity of secrets in families.  I'd welcome conversation with any who may of read this book.

I Love Auctions

  It was a perfect day for an auction.  72 degrees, sunny with only a light breeze.  It was an auction of my niece' husband's family estate.  His mother lived on a 5 acre site and kept horses and goats.  There were many interesting tools and animal husbandry equipment in addition to house hold items.
  Of particular interest to me was the tractor.  It was an IHC M with an older Farmhand loader.  The tractor was in good shape with a Schwartz wide front (much better than the factory IHC wide front) and power steering.  Wide fronts are preferable to the tricycle fronts on many tractor.  The tires were in good shape which is important because one new rear tire costs $500.
   Lisa and Derek were with me at the sale and I told them I'd bid to $2000.  Kirk, my niece' husband told me that the  man who had sold it to them was there to bid on it. I though "he's not going to get it cheaply."
  Sales at auctions begin with the smallest items and work up to the most expensive.  The tractor was the second to the last item sold.  Bidding quickly moved to $2500. and I had not yet bid.  It seemed that would be the final bid until I bid $2550.  The lone other bidder (the one who had originally sold the tractor)  thought a long time before bidding $2600. and I stopped so it was his tractor.
  It was mostly relief I felt when it was finished.  I already have two IHC Ms, one of which I have for sale. The appeal of this one was the wide front, power steering and loader.  At $2000. it would have been a bargain but $2600. was it's full value.  Visiting with the winning bidder he told me  "that was my final bid."   Sometimes it's better to bid and lose than to bid and win.

Reading Recommendation

    Moloka'i, Alan Brennert 2003, is not a new book but well worth reading.  An historical novel about the Leper colony in Hawaii by the same name, the narrative begins in 1891 and continues into  the 1970s.  Brennert relied heavily on historical records while he wrote what is a fictional account focused on primarily on one character.   He writes so well that I was captivated emotionally with the fortunes of the characters.  It was the choice of our book club at our last gathering and was universally appreciated.

Too Much of a Good Thing

  Perhaps I'm the only farmer(?) who cultivated a corn field to kill corn.  Last year there was such a bumper crop of corn that the pheasants, of which there were very few, and the deer, not many of them either, didn't eat it all over winter.  This spring when I chopped the stalks before plowing, the ground was yellow with corn kernels.  I should have done a light discing and let the corn germinate before plowing.  But I was anxious to get the corn planted so skipped that step.  The result is a field so thick with corn that I can hardly pick out the rows that were planted.
   The problem with such a thick stand is that corn resents being crowded.  In it's resentment the corn refuses to grow very well.  When the corn was between 4 and 6 inches tall it would have been a good time to cultivate.  At that time, however, the Curmudgeonette had me on a Baltic Cruise to celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary.  I did cultivate after I got back but by that time the corn was almost two feet tall and harder to kill.  It's helpful that the field is far from the road so real farmers can't see it.  I do hope there will be enough to feed the critters this winter.

Remembering Steve

    Steve, my first cousin once removed, who died in a plane crash a week ago was my "Thailand buddy."  Our relationship began 6 years ago at a Bergh family (my maternal relatives) reunion at my cousin Millie's place near Engelvale, ND.  I'd known Steve since he was born July 5, 1963 but I hadn't known him very well.  He grew up on the parental farm west of Canby, MN and eventually left farming and ended up in the Twin Cities.
   Steve was manning the grill at the reunion in ND cooking hamburgers and brats.  Some one told me that he's been in Thailand so I went over to chat with him.  We shared stories and compared notes of our travels in SE Asia and Thailand in particular. That was the beginning of a special friendship.
We didn't see each other so often but we'd make a point of connecting especially when one of us was recently back from a trip.  That was a time to share stories and pictures over lunch.  My adventures pale in comparison to Steve's.
  His favorite method of seeing a country was via motorcycle.  He'd ridden extensively in Thailand and Laos visiting Thailand 20 times.  Many of his rides were in the back country on barely visible trails along the borders.  He was often stopped by the army in Thailand along the border with Burma. They'd check his papers and let him go again.  He rode all the way north through Laos to the border with China.
  Indonesian and The Philippines were other countries he explored by motorcycle. The traffic was the worst in Indonesia.  It was in The Philippines that he hit a water buffalo while riding a motorcycle. Neither he nor the buffalo were hurt.  Perhaps his riskiest ride was doing much of northern Mexico on a dirt bike.
  His death came later on the same day the last Bergh reunion ended...this one was at Joy Ranch, Watertown, SD.  It was wonderful to spend time with him at the reunion.  He showed me pictures of his last trip to Asia which was just last June. He took his significant other and her family to Laos and Thailand. The Tiger Temple enthralled him and he planned to swim with the tigers on his next trip. Steve was very interested in hearing of my experience in Kunming, China because he was thinking of traveling there.
   We always had a lot to talk about.  He showed me pictures of  the ultra-light airplane in which he and mark died.  One of the pictures was a movie of Mark flying the ultra-light.  I wondered if he really wanted to fly in plane powered by a lawn mower engine. Twice during the reunion in response to people remarking on his risky adventures he said "I don't plan to get out of this alive."
  My heart aches when I think about Steve and Mark...Steve my Thailand buddy and his best friend and brother, Mark.

In Memorium

Viewer's left to right: Schultz siblings Dawn, Steven, Mark & Shari.

   The descendants of Olai & Minnie Bergh, my maternal grandparents, gathered for a family reunion at Joy Ranch, Watertown, SD. September 5-7.  Ten grandchildren survive, my brother and I, plus 8 cousins the oldest of whom is 98.  There were approximately 90 persons in attendance. It was a joyous event in a great facility with perfect weather.  About noon on Sunday the 7th we said our goodbye's and headed home in the glow of time with a large and loving family.

  Mark and Steve, sons of my cousin Helen and her husband Orville, stopped at Montevideo, MN to fly their ultra light plane. Shortly after take off the plane crashed into a soybean field and both Mark and Steve were killed instantly,  Their funeral will be at Our Savior's Lutheran Church, Canby, MN Saturday, September 13. 

   

2014 PHEASANT OUTLOOK FOR SD

2014 PHEASANT OUTLOOK

2014 PHEASANT BROOD SURVEY RESULTS BY AREA

	Pheasants Per Mile (PPM)			Change From
Local Area	2014 Survey	2013 Survey	10 yr. ave.	2013 Survey	10 yr. ave.
Chamberlain	6.55	2.66	14.38	147%	-54%
Winner	3.78	2.00	7.33	89%	-48%
Pierre	5.20	2.15	9.16	142%	-43%
Mobridge	3.59	2.12	6.88	70%	-48%
Aberdeen	2.74	1.70	6.11	61%	-55%
Huron	2.92	2.04	7.32	43%	-60%
Mitchell	3.04	2.00	5.97	52%	-49%
Yankton	1.36	0.68	1.40	95%	-3%
Sioux Falls	1.06	0.90	2.14	18%	-50%
Brookings	1.16	0.77	3.89	50%	-70%
Watertown	1.21	0.77	4.63	56%	-74%
Sisseton	0.77	0.56	1.94	38%	-60%
Western SD	1.53	1.01	2.68	51%	-43%
STATEWIDE	2.68	1.52	5.75	76%	-53%

- See more at: http://www.gfp.sd.gov/hunting/small-game/pheasant-outlook.aspx#sthash.u0wzikt3.dpuf


   Every year counters drive the same route early in the morning to count pheasant broods on the roads.   This provides a fairly accurate estimate of the year's pheasant hatch,  Brookings encompasses the primary area in which I hunt.  The survey shows a 50% increase over last year but it is still 70% below the 10 year average.  Last year was a poor nesting season following a difficult winter.  This year the winter was better and the nesting season was more favorable.  The other negative feature for nesting success is the continued loss of habitat due to farming practices.