Thankful for farmers

For the residents of southwest Minnesota and northwest Iowa who are familiar with local celebrations, Turkey Day has completely different connotations.

There’s the Turkey Day in September, when Worthington’s wildly popular bird, Paycheck, races against Ruby Begonia of Cuero, Texas, down a two-block stretch of 10th Street; and then there’s the Turkey Day feast of Thanksgiving, which is just a couple of days away.

On one day we celebrate the fastest dumbest bird and, on the other, we celebrate all that we can be thankful for (like Paycheck’s wins in both Worthington and Cuero this year!)

All kidding aside, at the Buntjer family gathering this year, we can be thankful that we have a turkey on the table, and a farmer somewhere in this country (perhaps from Minnesota) who raised it.

The turkey was secured on Sunday after church. (This after Mom had a nightmare that it was noon on Thanksgiving Day and the bird was still frozen!)

While I’m thankful for having a turkey, and the farmer who raised it, I’m also thankful for a mom who can cook it. I’ve never attempted to cook the big bird — I’m more comfortable focusing on a side dish, like the green bean casserole. Actually, I think this year I’m also going to attempt to make the sweet potatoes in a crock pot. I can be thankful for the farmers that grew the sweet potatoes too!

All of this talk about being thankful for farmers was just one of the discussions generated during the Minnesota Farm Bureau Federation’s annual meeting last week in the Twin Cities. On Friday, rather than working behind my desk at the office, I was in the classroom, learning how to teach people about agriculture.

As a farm girl — and a farm reporter — I tend to take for granted how little people really know about agriculture. Even with my own disconnect to the farm, there are things I don’t know. I’ve never milked a cow using a milking machine; I don’t know what a yield monitor looks like in a combine; and I wouldn’t have any idea how to operate an auto-steer tractor.

Still, I know the difference between corn, soybeans, alfalfa and sugarbeets. Many of you farmers may laugh at the obvious differences in those crops, but it’s apparent more and more people in our society don’t know one crop from the other. With each generation, people have fewer and fewer connections to farmers.

Their connection to agriculture, however, is as close as their Thanksgiving dinner.

Agriculture is all around us, from the food on our table to the clothes on our back and the shoes on our feet. It’s the American farmer who raised that turkey, grew those potatoes, harvested the corn and the wheat that were processed into flours that went into the bread for your stuffing, and milked the cows so you could enjoy a glass of milk.

I’m sure we all have plenty we can find to be thankful for this Thanksgiving Day, but I don’t know of anything or anyone more important to our Thanksgiving feast than the American farmer.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Spread a little cheer to the troops

As people gather in schools throughout southwest Minnesota today to honor our veterans of all wars, I’d like to ask you to hit the stores afterward and buy some requested supplies for our soldiers serving in Afghanistan and Iraq.

They weren’t able to be here, in our communities, to join in celebration and honor of our heroes. Most of them won’t be here this Thanksgiving, sitting around the table and feasting on turkey and the trimmings. And, they will miss out on Christmas too — the feasting, family togetherness and the snow.

I know several churches are compiling care packages for the troops, as well as the AmericInn in Worthington.

On Monday night, from 5 to 7 p.m., the community is encouraged to stop by the AmericInn in Worthington to assemble care packages. If you know of a soldier presently serving in Iraq or Afghanistan, bring their name and address too — the AmericInn will make sure they get a package.

An article about the AmericInn Cares program was published in the Daily Globe last week. While numerous monetary donations were dropped off at the local motel, they haven’t received too many donations for the care packages. AmericInn is working with Minnesota’s Blue Star Mothers to send the packages out in time for Christmas.

I thought perhaps a complete list of items being sought might help you, our readers, develop a shopping list.

So, here it is, in its entirety:

 Beef jerky

Beef summer sausage

Ramen noodles

Easy Mac

Pop-top ravioli/stew

Pop-top tuna/chicken

Breakfast/Power bars

Granola bars

Instant oatmeal packets

Pudding cups

Fruit cups

Fruit snacks

Trail mix

Sunflower seeds

Nuts

Cookies

Little Debbie snacks

Pop Tarts

Chips, pretzels (single serve packs)

Microwave popcorn

Chocolate candy

Individually wrapped mints

Hot chocolate/apple cider mix

Drink boxes

Gatoraid (single serve size)

Crystal Light (single serve packets)

Tea/coffee (single serve)

Gum/hard candy/licorice

Band-Aids, Q-Tips

Magazines

Deodorant (men and women)

Shampoo/conditioner

Unscented wipes (small pack)

Baby wipes (small pack)

Individual Kleenex packs

Ziploc bags (snack/sandwich size)

Notepads

Envelopes, cards

Pens/mechanical pencils

Small paint brushes

Small hand sanitizer

Foot powder

Cough drops

Fingernail clippers

Devotional books

Small sports balls

Playing cards/dice

Please drop all your donations off at the AmericInn in Worthington by 5 p.m. Monday.

A handshake at the lake

I’ve often heard that a bad day fishing beats a good day at work, but a good day fishing, well, that beats pretty much everything.

And I had a good day fishing — a great day fishing, in fact.

I may as well come right out and say it … I caught a walleye!

Oh, I’m not gloating or anything like that. My walleye certainly wasn’t large enough to hang proudly on a wall. My walleye didn’t put up a laborious fight when I reeled it in, and it wasn’t even worthy enough to have its photo taken (although I did it anyway — for proof, at the very least!)

The first time I ever caught a walleye was the summer of 2005. That, sadly, was also the last time I caught a walleye.

It hasn’t been for a lack of trying on my part — my tackle box is filled with gadgets and gizmos to lure in a mightyMinnesotawalleye. I just chalked up all of those unsuccessful fishing adventures to not using the right bait, jig or Rapala.

Or maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have the right fishing buddy by my side.

For years, I was too busy teaching the nieces and nephews how to rig a line, bait a hook, cast and take a fish off the hook. In reality, I should have spent a little more time being a student.

I tried to do that a few times this summer — going fishing with a few friends who all happen to be involved in the local Pheasants Forever chapter.

Outing No. 1 was filled with great conversation … but no fish.

Outing No. 2 was filled with plate-sized panfish that were biting so fast there was little time for chatter (and little time to fish due to my work obligations).

And outing No. 3, just a couple of weeks ago, was filled with lots of stories, an entire day without any work interruptions and a few fair- to fine-looking fish.

Herman Hinders was my fishing buddy for this third and, most likely final, fishing excursion of the season. I met Herman at the Pheasants Forever banquet two years ago — and it happened to be about a month before he, a World War II veteran, and I, the reporter, were to depart on the inaugural journey of Honor Flight Southwest Minnesota. We became instant friends, and I think of him as the grandfather I never knew.

(I met a veteran on the fourth and final Honor Flight last month who actually knew my Grandpa Kohls, and I learned something about the guy who died when I was in third grade. It seems my Grandpa helped found the Sportsman’s Club inDanube. If one can inherit an interest in a particular subject from our relatives, I’m pretty sure my love of the outdoors and fishing stems from Grandpa Kohls.)

Anyway, I asked Herman earlier this year to go fishing and decided if I was going to learn how to catch a walleye, he and I needed to hit the lake.

First things first, though. Herman gave me an assignment.

I needed to learn how to tie up a Lindy rig (that’s what I call it, but that isn’t what Herman called it). So, the night before our fishing expedition, I was looking through YouTube videos on the Internet to learn how to put one together. (I had Lindy rigs in my tackle box, but they were still in their unopened packages.)

When I picked Herman up the following morning, he inspected my work and made me do it over — the line was too long below the moving sinker and the hook was too small.

The teaching didn’t end there. The next stop was the bait shop, and then the lakes.

We visited three lakes that day and fished about five hours, excluding drive time and sack lunch time.

I not only watched and learned, but I listened to Herman share story after story about growing up inIowa. I’m rather amazed he ever survived childhood after hearing the daring stunts he pulled.

I’m glad he did though, and I’m glad he agreed to go fishing with me. I caught a walleye (can you tell I’m still excited about it?) and Herman reached out and shook my hand.

Then, he proceeded to catch a bigger walleye.

Oh, what a good day it was.