Tag Archives: family

Birthdays and spinnerbaits

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Imagine a future with more birthdays — a future without cancer.

It never hurts to dream big!

The American Cancer Society is celebrating its 100th birthday May 22 and, with it, the many milestones it has reached in the fight against cancer.

As Nobles County gears up for its 17th annual Relay for Life event June 21, in Worthington, 19 teams — 250 Relay members — are raising money to help in the fight against cancer locally, across the state and around the country. The money teams have raised over the past year, combined with those from luminaria contributions, donations and campsite sales at the Relay are used for cancer research, education, advocacy and service.

It isn’t too late to be a part of Relay and create or join a team. For more information, call Kim Lambert at 372-5305 or 360-6406, or email rflofnoblescounty@hotmail.com.

In recognition of its 100th birthday, the American Cancer Society is tooting its own horn, as well it should. For instance, did you know that two out of three people diagnosed with cancer today are surviving at least five years? ACS research has led to a 20 percent decline in cancer death rates in the U.S. since the early 1990s. In other words, the lives of nearly 1.2 million people have been saved in the last two decades.

So, happy birthday ACS! Wouldn’t it be great if, in the next 100 years, cancer could become a disease of the past?

Speaking of birthdays, I must say happy 19th birthday to my niece Jessie, along with her mom, Connie, who notches another “40-something” birthday.

With one mother-daughter birthday in the family, we’re all wondering if there might be another double birthday next month with nephew Matt and his wife expecting their second child. Matt’s already been told if they have a girl, he can expect Princess cakes for the next several years!

Matt, my fishing buddy ever since he was old enough to hold a rod and reel, took a couple hours out of his busy life to go fishing with me last Saturday night.

I still see him as the little boy who told me stories on the shoreline as we waited for bullheads to bite at Hawkinson Bridge, but thank goodness he grew up to learn fishing skills from more than just his “Aunt Juwee.”

I may have taught him how to bait a hook, but now he has taught me not just what a spinnerbait is, but how to use it. We weren’t successful in catching any bass the other night, but I did manage to catch my first northern pike of the season. (Matt even made me take it off the daredevil all by myself!) He had caught a much larger northern a few nights before my success, so I guess he has the bragging rights again this year.

The calm after the ice storm

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There were all sorts of blogs I wanted to write — things I wanted to say, people I wanted to recognize and little “did you see this” tidbits I wanted to share in the days immediately following the ice storm of a week ago. I just didn’t have time.

If you have ever heard the phrase, “You’re running around like a chicken with its head cut off!”, you will have a descent mental picture of how I felt last week, doing my part to ensure our newspaper had broad coverage of the spring ice storm.

Reporters scattered to cover so many different angles, and our rolling blackouts here at the newspaper office allowed us precious opportunities to regroup.

 As devastating as the ice was to our trees, to our beautiful surroundings here in southwest Minnesota and northwest Iowa, at least we had our buildings — our homes, our work spaces and our garages to protect our vehicles from falling icicles. Nearly everyone I interviewed in the last week said it could have been much worse. A tornado would have wiped out more than just the power. An ice storm in the middle of January would have made farm life even more miserable.

Still, Wednesday makes it Day 8 for some of our rural residents without power, my parents included. When you reach Day 8, it’s not fun anymore. Actually, it wasn’t any fun on Day 1, but by Day 8 it’s a long haul. My folks, though, are hanging in there, refusing to come and stay with me in town despite the offers. There’s no place like home, no matter how rough it gets.

My folks finally bought a generator on Friday — it’s operating their freezers and refrigerator, and occasionally the toaster when they decide they want toast for breakfast.

They call it a night by 9 p.m. or earlier because it’s dark in the house and they’re tired of the candlelight. The days of sunshine have helped take the chill from the house, but dressing in extra layers and covering up with blankets is a necessity.

I drove out to the farm on Sunday and it didn’t take long for me to gather a couple of blankets to cover up with. After less than three hours, however, there I sat with a cold nose and hands I couldn’t wash after scratching my puppy’s belly. As a chronic hand-washer, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was ready to go back home to hot running water and an operating furnace.

The power outages I remember as a kid growing up on the farm never lasted this long, although, I always thought it kind of exciting when the power went out. We’d get to light candles after dark, and in the daylight, we brought out board games and puzzles. Mom has already put two puzzles together, and probably has another one going right now.

Fortunately, my folks don’t have any livestock to tend to. I can’t imagine what it would have been like if this happened when I was raising goats and sheep on the farm. We likely would have attempted to crank the old pump in hopes of getting water, but with the ongoing drought, I’m not sure we’d get so much as a drop out of that spigot.

My folks, like many of the farmers I talked to on Monday, are certain their home will be one of the last to get power. That way of thinking isn’t all bad, I suppose. At least the end is in sight, and if our farmers get power before Friday, well, they will be extremely happy.

Thanks to all of the line crews who are working so hard day and night, through all of the weather conditions we’ve faced, to get power restored across rural Nobles County. Thanks also to the community groups and organizations who have come together to prepare food for the linemen. It’s wonderful to hear that through such adversity, people can still muster up some Minnesota Nice.

Don’t say ‘I told you so!’

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While most of the blogs I write these days also appear in the Daily Globe newspaper, this isn’t one of them you’ll be seeing in print.

Why?

I don’t want my dad to read it. Actually, I don’t want him to read it and then say, “I told you so!”

(I’m sure you all can relate to that phrase!)

I drove out to the farm after work last night to find the four-wheeler beckoning. Well, alright, it didn’t say, “Come on, let’s go tear around on the snow and ice,” but it tempted me none-the-less.

I hopped on with my thin jacket, sans scarf, hat, mittens — those things a father tells his daughter (and sons and grandkids) that one shouldn’t be caught without during a Minnesota winter.

The ride wasn’t really that bad — at least not until I drove out beyond the grove and ran smack into the westerly winds.

I’d crossed the hay field before having fleeting thoughts of turning around, but gee, I’d come so far. (Truthfully, I wasn’t even to the half-way point of my destination, but that’s beside the point.)

Peterson Slough, as seen from the pasture on the Buntjer family farm.

Thinking that if I pressed my thumb a little harder on the gas lever, I’d endure the pain of the biting air for a shorter duration didn’t work either. It just made me colder, faster.

Finally, I reached the top of the pasture overlooking Peterson Slough.

This is one of my favorite places to be, regardless of the season.

I pulled the camera out of my pocket and snapped some pictures — proof the badly needed moisture that finally arrived over the weekend has brought water to our creeks, sloughs and lakes.

The breeze atop the hill was minimal. In fact, it felt quite balmy compared to the freezing winds I encountered on the drive.

Still, I didn’t stay in my favorite spot for longer than a couple of minutes. I turned the ATV around, traversed the slippery slope of ice as I steered toward the waterway and punched the gas lever to get me back home.

At one point, I looked down at my thumb to make sure it was still there. I couldn’t move it — I couldn’t feel it. (My other hand had long been stuffed into a pocket by then, but I needed my right hand on the handlebar and my right thumb on the gas lever if I intended to get back to the farm house.)

I stepped into the house and heard Mom say, “Cold?”

My answer was a rather meek “Yeeeaaah,” as I put my right hand to my face and tried to thaw it out with puffs of warm air.

I knew my answer wasn’t loud enough for Dad to hear from the living room, but he had a response for me, none-the-less — something about “You’re going to catch a good cold going out there without a hat on!”

Water has reached the Lake Bella well field.

I hid in the bathroom, running warm water over my hands. The redness extended from the tips of my fingers to almost midway up the palm of my right hand. The warm water felt good — and so did the towel I wrapped around it.

My fingers hadn’t yet had a chance to thaw completely when my dog, Molly, and I got in the car and went for a little drive down to the Bella well fields. I figured if there was water in Peterson Slough, and water in the Ocheyedan Creek that runs behind our farm, through the land in front of our farm and into Lake Bella, there must be some water in Bella.

There was, and I took pictures of the wonderful sight.

These eight deer were some of the more than 40 deer I counted on a hillside between Lake Ocheda and Lake Bella Monday evening.

I also snapped a photo of the eight deer that had crossed onto the neighbor’s farm, although my apologies for it being a little blurry. I can’t do much without my right hand, and since it was still in the process of thawing out, my guess is I didn’t hold the camera quite steady enough.

Anyway, enjoy the pictures and laugh at the story behind them if you must. Next time, I’ll be sure to wear my mittens!

The intricacies of Hide-and-Seek

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I sat at the farm table on a recent Sunday morning, listening to Nephew Reece count to 20 as the rest of the kids scrambled around the basement, trying to find just the right hiding spot where they could never, ever be found.

It’s the classic Hide-and-Seek in the house game because it’s too cold, too snowy, too icy and all-around too icky to play such a game outdoors for any length of time during the winter.

What’s comical about Hide-and-Seek in the farm house, though, is that the kids — at least those ages seven and younger — are afraid to hide by themselves in the basement. (I believe it may have something to do with those Texas Longhorns hanging on the wall.)

Because of those fears, the whole act of “seeking” is really quite simple. All Reece had to do was find one group of four kids hiding somewhere in the basement. Add to the mix a five-year-old who hasn’t yet learned the meaning of being quiet and, well, you can imagine how quickly the seeker finds success.

I would guess it took Reece all of five seconds to find them, and immediately his older brother started calling him a cheater.

“How did he cheat?” I asked, after they stampeded up the staircase.

Nephew Blake rolled his eyes and smirked — the truth was, he was just upset Reece found them too soon.

Back when I was a kid, a quick discovery simply meant you’d better find a more obscure hiding spot next time or you’d be spending “all day long” as the seeker!

After the cheater claims were nixed, Nephew Reece returned to his counting spot as the group hid a second time. This time, they opted to gather behind the closed door of the main floor mud room — but not for long.

Reece had only counted to about 10 when Nephew Blake came out of the hiding spot to ask Reece what was taking so long.

Seriously?

“It’s no wonder he finds you so quickly,” I said, resulting in yet another smirk from Blake. “Get back in your hiding spot and he’ll come when he’s done counting.”

This time, Reece (likely knowing full-well where the group was hiding because of the close proximity of Niece Alayna’s talking) opted to check out the opposite end of the house. He took his time and enjoyed the somewhat quiet house, perhaps.

Well, as you can imagine, the delays didn’t suit Blake. He came out of the hiding spot again, wondering where Reece was and why he wasn’t coming to find them. Reece stepped out of the back bedroom just as Blake stood in the middle of the dining room.

“Found you!” Reece shouted.

Blake was just about to open his mouth, but an I-told-you-so look from this Aunt Julie was all that was needed for him to shut it again.

I’ve found myself wondering if we played like that when we were kids. Well familiar with “cheater” accusations, I’m sure we probably did. In fact, I kind of remember games of Hide-and-Seek where it took so long to be found that I’d forgotten I was playing a game.

Perhaps I can teach the kiddos a thing or two in a good ol’ fashioned game of Hide-and-Seek when the sun comes out and the ground dries up. Oh, what fun that will be!

The Rabbits and the Panthers

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There were all sorts of reasons why I accepted a reporting position at the Daily Globe more than nine years ago, but one of the lesser-known rationales was the dilemma I knew I’d face in my allegiance to certain high school sports teams.

I was the editor of the Wabasso Standard for four years prior to coming to Worthington. In that time, I followed the Rabbits during regular season games, through section championships and state title berths.

At a small town newspaper, with just a part-time reporter and some sports stringers, I was often the one with the camera dangling from my neck at those sporting events. I did my best to capture kids making baskets, pinning opponents, smacking balls to the outfield, slapping balls over the net and putting golf balls into holes.

While standing on the sidelines, I’ve been hit with basketballs, volleyballs, a football and even wrestling head-gear. So, when I’m sitting at Target Field and Joe Mauer comes on the big screen to ask us to keep an eye on the game, I do. The one time I didn’t, my oldest brother nearly ended up in my lap trying to catch a homerun ball.

I was never more thankful when, moving to Worthington, I learned I wouldn’t need to shoot another sporting event in my life — at least not for the newspaper!

Anyway, getting back to sports team allegiances…

It was about year three into my stint at Wabasso when the Wabasso Rabbits and the Ellsworth Panthers boys’ basketball teams faced off for a sub-section game in Marshall. By then, my older brother’s kids were students at Ellsworth, and the whole family came to the game. They sat on the Ellsworth side; I sat on the Wabasso side, and while I can’t remember who won, I remember my nephew stomping on a stuffed rabbit belonging to one of the Wabasso fans at the end of the game.

I was a bit mortified, and certainly hesitant to introduce him as my wonderful nephew — my fishing buddy as most Wabasso newspaper readers knew him through my weekly columns. Visions of Nephew Matt playing on that Ellsworth team in a few years made me realize right then and there that I couldn’t stay where I was. I couldn’t be hoping the Rabbits would head to state while watching Nephew Matt want the same for his team.

Since coming to Worthington, my allegiance has clearly been to the Panthers, even when they play my alma mater, the Trojans of WHS. Yet, without any niece or nephew currently playing at the high school level for Ellsworth — and an invite from the Wabasso statistician to meet up at last Saturday’s Wabasso-Ellsworth girls’ basketball game in the WHS gym — I found myself wondering who I should root for.

I recognized certain names from both teams, I recognized parents and grandparents from both teams in the stands; I even wore maroon — you can’t go wrong when the school colors of both Wabasso and Ellsworth are maroon and gold!

And, while I sat on the Ellsworth side of the gym, I chose a spot just a couple of rows behind the Wabasso team. I silently cheered for both teams, because cheering loudly for both would have been a bit confusing to everyone around me.

There’s nothing wrong with cheering for both teams. In fact, it takes some of the stress out of those high school allegiances we hold so deep in our hearts. (Someone may need to remind me of this when I have nephews and nieces playing baseball, basketball, volleyball and hockey games for Ellsworth and Fairmont in a few years!)

The Wabasso girls came out on top in Saturday’s match-up and will return to the WHS gym tonight to take on the Fulda Raiders. Meanwhile, the Wabasso Rabbits and the Ellsworth Panthers boys’ basketball teams will face off Thursday night in Ellsworth for the first round of tournament play. I can’t make it to either game, so I guess my allegiances won’t have to be tested again this week.

I’ll just say good luck to all of the teams.