Joanne Elizabeth (Hanson) Negstad; April 1, 1936-April 12, 2018

     While milestones. like Joanne's birthday, always come with some grief, grief ameliorates over time. Memories of her last birthday celebration are forefront. Joanne loved birthdays and in 2018, April 1, was Easter Sunday. That leads to the story I've often told. At the Easter Service, our congregation, sang happy birthday to her. Seeing the video of the congregation singing she remarked, "I never knew dying could be so glorious." Twelve days later she died. 

   It was on that day, Easter and birthday, she ate at table, for the last time. Subsequently, she was too weak to come to the table. What little she ate, she ate in her hospital bed.

  To a friend's query, "Does it feel like eight years?"  I responded, "I don't know what it feels like." At some point being single began to feel normal. Given her medical difficulties, aside from the fatal cancer, she would have struggled to live alone. Both physically and psychologically, introvert you know, I was better equipped to live alone.

   Every day I miss her and I talk to her pictures around the apratment. Grief is most poignant for me seeing our granddaughters grow and mature, knowing what she's missing. She took total delight in them. Many times, putting them to bed, I'd read to Evy and she to Sella. "Grandma I want seven books."

  She was wonderful wife, mother and grandmother. She accomplished much in her professional career. Rest in peace, good and faithful servant.

Takk for alt,

Al

April 1, 2018, the family at the Easter/birthday dinner, Joanne's last meal at the table/

An Exception!

      Writing about Dad's camera I said he's not on the group pictures because he always took the pictures. In those childhood years I don't remember any of my uncles having a camera. Even my cousin, Leslie, my cousin who was old enough to be father, didn't even had one. Dad's camera model was sold between 1912-1915, so he was an earlier purchaser. 

     There is one photo of dad with his four children. Mother must have been the photographer. It's taken outside and it looks like we've brought dad a lunch in the field. He's eating a sandwich and, because there are trees in the picture, my guess is he was mowing.  The picture is below.

Takk for alt,

Al

Behind Dad from the viewers left, and I'm guessing at ages; Allan 3, David 5, Lucille 9 and Richard 7.

An Old Book!

    To A God Unknown, John Steinbeck was given to me by Peter. Lars' fascination with Steinbeck, in an earlier phase of his life, means that there's almost a complete library of  Steinbeck's books in The Little House. Familiar with his better know books; Grapes of Wrath, East of Eden, Of Mice And Men...Unknown was unknown to me. It's one of his earlies, published in 1935.

    Perhaps the best part of the book was his colorful, imaginative descriptions of the natural features of a California valley. Joseph, the protagonist was either mystically able to influence nature or psychotic...take your pick. Druid's would love the book and its revolution around an iconic oak tree. Steinbeck weaves in Indian and Mexican lore with sympathy.

  It was worth reading and I look forward to discussing it with Peter tomorrow. It also suggests that I should read some of those Steinbeck books reposing in The Little House.

Takk for alt,

Al

Barn Cats!

      The farm of my childhood usually had a contingent of barn cats. They lived in the barn because Dad would not tolerate them in the vicinity of the house. For the most part they were quite tame. They'd quickly adapt if we squirted milk at them while we were milking the cows.  They'd open their mouths and lap the milk. After separating the cream from the milk we'd give them some milk. There was a small room that held the cream separator and there was space under it that they occupied. In the coldest days of winter the milk cows were left inside overnight. Their body heat was sufficient to keep the temperature in the barn above freezing. 

   Once a disease decimated the cat population and they all died; distemper maybe. When the cats were gone mice appeared. Mice were seen throughout the barn. When the cats are gone the mice will play. This was a revelation, we'd never realized the role the cats played in managing the rodents.

   One summer night I decided to sleep in the haymow. Sleeping on the new hay was very comfortable and I slept well, until.....  Until, early in the morning cats chased grasshoppers over me. No need for an alarm clock. Dad went to the haymow early one morning a found a man sleeping there. He'd wandered up from U.S. Highway 81, that ran just below our place.

   Then, there's the well travelled cat. Uncle Henry and Aunt Inga lived across the road from us. Uncle Alfred and Aunt Ragna lived twelve miles away. Ragna needed a cat so Inga gave her one. Alfred put the cat in a burlap bag and placed the bag in the trunk of their car for the ride to Ragna's place. It disappeared from Ragna's in a day or two. Two weeks later it arrived back at Inga's. There it stayed.

Takk for alt,

Al

Negstad cousins, children and spouses in front of our farm house.

Farm Accident!

       The farm on which I grew up wasn't very mechanized. There was a tractor on it and eventually two. These were used, almost exclusively, for pulling. Neither was equipped with a loader. This meant that much of haying required manual labor. Mowing was done with a tractor mower, once the second tractor arrived to replace the horse mower. After the mown hay had cured it was raked into piles using a horse rake modified to be pulled by a tractor. It was a two person job, one driving the tractor and the other riding the rake to operate it. Then the fun began!

     The hay, alfalfa, was destined for the haymow in the barn. Here there was a modicum of mechanization. A sling, consisting of 2"X 2" boards, almost as wide as the hayrack. and connected by ropes, was laid on the floor of the hayrack. The ropes came together at the ends of the hayrack ending in a metal ring. Hay was loaded into the hayrack via men or boys using pitch forks. Once the hay on the sling was about three feet deep, a second sling was lad over it and the pitching continued.

   A full hayrack was pulled next to the barn and below the big open barn door. The tractor was unhitched from the hayrack and connected to the hay rope, This was a large rope that ran over a series of pulleys to the far end of the barn and back to the big door. It was then fastened to the top sling. When the tractor pulled the rope the sling bunched up lifting the hay that had been placed upon it. It climbed to the peak of the barn. At the peak it engaged a metal trolley that was on a track just below the roof. When the sling reached that trolley a mechanism in it released and allowed the sling, filled with hay, to move into the barn. At a place determined by someone in the barn he pulled a trip rope and the sling split in two and the hay spilled out. The empty sling was pulled back through the barn door, the trolley tripped a mechanism and the sling descended to the hayrack, put aside and the second sling put in the barn.

    One day Dad and I were haying alone. Being the nimble one I was in charge of the process with the slings. Dad drove the tractor attached to the hay rope. In my adolescent wisdom I decided that if I stood on the threshold of the open hay door I could both, signal Dad, and drop the hay where I wanted in the haymow. That meant less forking the hay to get it where it was wanted.

   Standing in the barn door I signaled Dad to stop and gave the trip rope a good pull. The rope broke and I fell backwards out the door and down, landing on the side of the hayrack. Perhaps it was a good thing that the top slat of the hayrack broke as I was only scratched and bruised. The slat was a 1"X 6" board.

Takk for alt,

Al

Notice the horses hooked to the hayrack and the woman driving mules to lift the hay. This barn has an elevated hayloft, i.e., on the second floor. Our barn was not that style. The haymow was on the ground level, with the horse barn on one side and the cow barn on the other. Therefore, the door, from which I feel was lower than the one pictured.

Using this rake the first task was to rake the hay into long windrows. When the rider approached the windrow, with hay in the rake, he'd kick a lever. That activated a lifting mechanism in the wheels that the tines raking the hay would life allowing the hay to remain, then the tines would return to the ground to continue raking. After raking the field into long windrows then the rake was pulled down those rows to bunch the hay. When the hay was being pitched into the wagon the wagon would stop by the bunch, haycock, to facilitate pitching it into the wagon.

No good deed goes unpunished!

    Here's what's on the internet about the saying about punishing good deeds.

"No good deed goes unpunished" is a cynical idiom likely originating from 12th-century Latin writings, though frequently misattributed to Oscar Wilde. It implies that acts of kindness often lead to negative consequences for the doer, popularized in the 20th century by figures like Clare Boothe Luce."

    When the new educational wing was added to the last church I served the lawn needed reconstruction. It needed several yards of black dirt. The property committee located a source of black dirt about twenty miles west of the church, through Crystal, New Hope, Plymouth and beyond. With my dump truck in town I volunteered to haul the dirt. 

     After delivering several loads and driving through Plymouth I was pulled over by a state trooper. Turns out I wasn't quite legal. The dirt was heaped above the box, courtesy of the driver of the front end loader at the dirt pile. There should have been a tarp over the load. The trooper said he was doing me a favor by charging me under state law. Had he used the federal statute the fine would have been much higher. If memory serves me right the fine was about $135.00 but don't hold me to that.

   Perhaps the church council might reimburse me. After all I was using my truck and my gas for the church, but they declined. No good deed goes unpunished, after all.

Takk for alt,

A

The "new" addition is the octagon building nearest.

Church Humor!

      Once upon a time I was at a church that had four pastors. One a Sunday morning, the senior pastor was greeting parishioners at the door as they left church after the morning service. Busily shaking hands and conversing a woman approached, took his hand and said "Don't you remember me? You visited me in the hospital." The pastor blurted out "Oh, I didn't recognize you with your clothes on!"

    The last congregation of my ministry had an annual lutefisk dinner. It was a huge deal serving 100s. When diners arrived they were given a number and waited their turn upstairs until their number was called to go downstairs to the dining room for dinner. While they waited they sat in the sanctuary where a band was playing. In the library an artist was demonstrating rosemaling painting. At a table in the narthex pickled herring was on sale.

   My role was general host, meeting and greeting, ushering and helping out where needed. Much of the time I was at the front door to meet guests and direct them as appropriate. While at the door one night I greeted a woman whom I knew, though she was not a member of the congregation. She seemed unsettled so I asked if she was okay. She replied, "Oh, I'm really frazzled. My husband just died an hour ago."  Perhaps she just didn't want the tickets, purchased in advance, to go to waste.

Takk for alt,

Al

Joanne with her friend, Niki, at a lutefisk dinner. Niki was trying lutefisk for the first time. Joanne loved lutefisk but I'm not allowed to eat it.