I got a call from Jose Jimenez on Saturday. "Hola, Tomas. I goin' back to workm but its not a good deal." He explained how we wouldn't be staying in a mancamp this season, but a hotel...
Not a good deal? I guess I could think of so many people that have not had a good deal. I myself have been down that road of not thinking I was having a good deal at the moment: fend for my own meals, more miles to drive. About that time I begin to think exactly how spoiled rotten I am and have been over the last few months and truly blessed. I think of all the people who have lived out West and not had such a good deal.
On Saturday I visitied Fort Buford and Fort Union near Williston, North Dakota. I attended these sites of historic profoundness in awe and wonder with my beautiful companion Brenda. She being more familiar with the area acted as my guide. At Ft. Union an old fashioned Rendezvouz was happening. Furs, old tools and dress, harsh living quarters, with a hint of Bourgoise presence and human refinedness made me reflect on this idea of human dignity in in the harshest primitive conditions in a time period when nothing was certain. I particulary let my ear wander to the sound of a a drum and a Lakota story-teller. The man spoke and sang in a small crowded room in the corner of the fort opposite the Bourgoise house. How fitting and contrasting the two ideas of richness. Yet I felt at ease in either setting.
After some time at Ft. Union, we moved down the road to Ft. Buford. More military than fur-trade historics, it hit me and I felt the presence of something much greater than the happenings of the Bakken. I imagined what it would have been like to be doing about my business one day when over the hill came a band of 168 Lakota people, warriors and families, hen hearing an order to disarm them and take their horses.
I imagined Sitting Bull the leader of these people handing his 5 year old son his rifle and explaining to the commander and the press that the buffalo were gone, the nomadic way of life was gone and it was the responsibility of people like the commander to teach this boy something, to educate him because as far as sitting Bull was concerned, he only knew one way to educate a child and from that day forward, it would be pointless to try and teach him the ways of survival in the new way. He only knew his way. On Saturday, June 15, 2013 I walked where Sitting Bull walked, and I sat in the room where he surrendered his rifle. I looked out the same window where Crows Foot gave the commander his father's rifle.
The Bakken, invaders, manifest destiny, imminent domain, mineral rights, land owner rights, expansion, progress, technology.... Change!
I wonder in great awesome thought, what has really changed over the last 130 years. Men all the time wonder what it is that they should educate their children in. It beguiles me to think of what an education is today and what it should be, what kind of society we are building for our children? Should it be the path of secular humanism, college, new age scientific dynamics? What path should I point them down. God knows how often I have stood where where the two roads diverge. Then as I reflect on the changes in my life it hits me so simple so precise. What if we just teach our children to walk, to walk where Jesus walks.
"I'll see you out there on the line my friend Jose, if not this one maybe the next one."
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Of Beavers and Wolves
In 1996, -97, and -98 I was living an outdoors-man's dream. A typical day I would wake up at the crack of dawn, and journey out to tend my muskrat and beaver sets. I would come home at dark and spend hours in a fur skinning shed. Once a week or sometimes more depending on my catch I would visit the fur man and get a nice check. I loved the smell of the swamp, the trees, the exhaust from a warm vehicle. I was subsidized by an unemployment check. My bills were paid, and I felt I had a purpose in life- to catch and kill and skin and stretch as much fur as a human could. By most trappers accounts, I was considered good. I took over 3500 muskrats and nearly a 600 beaver in those years. Foxes, coyotes, badgers, fishers, bobcats, and I even had a wolf in a trap one time, but got it loosed. I struggled over the idea of trying to smuggle the hide into Canada. But I turned him loose.
I remember picking up one of my children just born from the hospital in a pickup loaded with beavers in the round and some put up and hauling them and my family to the fur man Ordean Sunrud in Fosston, MN. My boys tasted a freshly cooked beaver there, and it was good.
Life moved on for me, I had a couple of career changes, markets dropped and I sold my traps and some supplies to another guy who wanted to make a go at it. I was raising turkeys. One night something got into my turkey shed and killed about 600 birds outright, while the rest piled up in the four corners of the shed. Tracks left in the mud led certain evidence plus the fact in my alfalfa field I had seen a pair of wolves earlier that summer. I was angry, financially devastated. I became consumed with the spirit of vengeance and within a couple days I had settled the score. I encouraged others to do the same , and got on the anti wolf bandwagon.
A couple years later after moving on from ranching and settling in to another chapter of my life, I was driving around one day. In a distant meadow I saw two wolves playing around a bale. My instinct was to grab the gun, but instead I grabbed the binoculars... it changed my heart and my life.
I saw that the pair were actually hunting mice. In the grass I could see smaller wolves, pups. The pair was teaching them how to hunt and feed. The pups would play and wrestle around. It reminded me of my boys. When the wrestling got a little rough, the mom would intervene and they would snap back and pay attention again. They were just doing what wolves do. They were being a family not much different than mine.
They were just being the way God created them. They play and sleep together, hunt together, they encourage each other to grow and become stronger. They keep each other in line so that their family can function together as a unit.
Same with the beaver, building a home together, gathering food. So it is then I realized that as we are brother and sisters in Christ, so too are we brothers and sisters to the furry four legs in Creation. I will not take any of my fur legged brothers or sisters nor teach the ways of it no more...forever. This does not mean that I will not hunt or trap again. It means doing only these things for me to provide a meal, or clothe myself. After all, who can turn down a plate of well prepared venison.
Who am I to judge one of God's families. It was on that day, and although possibly distorted at the time, I began my journey back on the Red Road. A road that has led me back to God's family, their have been struggles and victories. We are more alike than different.
Of wolves and beavers, I hold nothing against the man who takes the fur as a part of his journey of existence on his life. I hold nothing against the farmer protecting his crops and livestock. But I hold in the least regard for men who were takers as I once was "sportsmen" satisfying an ego, . Using greed as their creed and giving nothing back. I hold even less regard for a government or bureau profiting from the control of these creatures.
Worse are those who wantonly waste the creatures of Creation in the name of satisfying a void in their heart with the excitement of hearing the crack of a firearm and the satisfaction of an aimed shot. It matters not what others do though. And if because of my beliefs the retelling of these exploits brings joy to their hearts to see mine sad; then... Amen. I know that it is what they have to do as part of their journey to find their own center. I will pray to live in the spirit of forgiveness so that I may forgive.
Mitakuye Oyasin
I remember picking up one of my children just born from the hospital in a pickup loaded with beavers in the round and some put up and hauling them and my family to the fur man Ordean Sunrud in Fosston, MN. My boys tasted a freshly cooked beaver there, and it was good.
Life moved on for me, I had a couple of career changes, markets dropped and I sold my traps and some supplies to another guy who wanted to make a go at it. I was raising turkeys. One night something got into my turkey shed and killed about 600 birds outright, while the rest piled up in the four corners of the shed. Tracks left in the mud led certain evidence plus the fact in my alfalfa field I had seen a pair of wolves earlier that summer. I was angry, financially devastated. I became consumed with the spirit of vengeance and within a couple days I had settled the score. I encouraged others to do the same , and got on the anti wolf bandwagon.
A couple years later after moving on from ranching and settling in to another chapter of my life, I was driving around one day. In a distant meadow I saw two wolves playing around a bale. My instinct was to grab the gun, but instead I grabbed the binoculars... it changed my heart and my life.
I saw that the pair were actually hunting mice. In the grass I could see smaller wolves, pups. The pair was teaching them how to hunt and feed. The pups would play and wrestle around. It reminded me of my boys. When the wrestling got a little rough, the mom would intervene and they would snap back and pay attention again. They were just doing what wolves do. They were being a family not much different than mine.
They were just being the way God created them. They play and sleep together, hunt together, they encourage each other to grow and become stronger. They keep each other in line so that their family can function together as a unit.
Same with the beaver, building a home together, gathering food. So it is then I realized that as we are brother and sisters in Christ, so too are we brothers and sisters to the furry four legs in Creation. I will not take any of my fur legged brothers or sisters nor teach the ways of it no more...forever. This does not mean that I will not hunt or trap again. It means doing only these things for me to provide a meal, or clothe myself. After all, who can turn down a plate of well prepared venison.
Who am I to judge one of God's families. It was on that day, and although possibly distorted at the time, I began my journey back on the Red Road. A road that has led me back to God's family, their have been struggles and victories. We are more alike than different.
Of wolves and beavers, I hold nothing against the man who takes the fur as a part of his journey of existence on his life. I hold nothing against the farmer protecting his crops and livestock. But I hold in the least regard for men who were takers as I once was "sportsmen" satisfying an ego, . Using greed as their creed and giving nothing back. I hold even less regard for a government or bureau profiting from the control of these creatures.
Worse are those who wantonly waste the creatures of Creation in the name of satisfying a void in their heart with the excitement of hearing the crack of a firearm and the satisfaction of an aimed shot. It matters not what others do though. And if because of my beliefs the retelling of these exploits brings joy to their hearts to see mine sad; then... Amen. I know that it is what they have to do as part of their journey to find their own center. I will pray to live in the spirit of forgiveness so that I may forgive.
Mitakuye Oyasin
Saturday, June 1, 2013
The Human Story
My favorite stories are aliens from outer space.
Extraterrestrials have their place,
And I have met a few.
But you don't have to leave this planet
To tell a good story.
I would say
You
Are fearless.
Imagination...
The most powerful force ever
Made available
To human
Kind.
Extraterrestrials have their place,
And I have met a few.
But you don't have to leave this planet
To tell a good story.
I would say
You
Are fearless.
Imagination...
The most powerful force ever
Made available
To human
Kind.
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Planting Time
God grants me the serenity to accept the things that I cannot change, gives me the courage to change the things I can and gives me wisdom to know the difference. I struggle with three simple words. What. When. Where.
I am glad that i do not depend on farming for a living anymore. Instead I put in a little seed for the wildlife. A couple years ago, my cousins Bradley and Ryan and I just up and figured it was time that we get with the times and start putting in food plots. Ryan has a little land up north of town in a swamp. I remember planting trees with his dad Eddie up on that farm. I don't know how it all happened, but we worked up a little one year and scattered a little soybeans by hand. While they were growing we got this bright idea to work up a little more for the following year, so we resurrected a few old implements, gave Eddie's WD45 Allis Chalmers a little TLC and went to work. The next year came and we got a hold of an old corn planter, we worked up a little more. Now we have about 15 acres to plant, and our conversations each spring are debates and debacles about what to plant, where to plant it, and when. As of today before this last rain shower we have about 3 acres of corn and 4-5 acres of soybeans.
So the debate and questions sometimes seem rhetorical for the sake of hearing the answers and opinions of the what, where, when to plant. Many frustrations and feelings occur arise out of those questions. Sometimes tiffs or arguements. The Bonds of men through hunting and family ties must be considered. Ryan and his sister own the land and a tractor. Bunky has the planter. Bradley has a sprayer. We all come up with some seed. it seems. Little chess games need to be played until someone finally goes out and just starts putting seed in the ground. It's not anything close to precision farming and by today's standards of auto steer and satellite technology, we are lucky to stay straight for fifty feet in a row (depending on who is driving). The actual money farmers don't get a vote on whether the crop is good or bad. Only the benefits of wildlife and hunter's that share the benefits of being in our gang share the satisfaction of coming to hunting ground that has been enhanced for the enjoyment of living an outdoor lifestyle that has been handed down to its benefactors for 5 generations.
I didn't get to plant last year. Didn't get to watch the plot grow. To top it off, I didn't get to hunt. " How unfair," I thought. But little did I know that this was the least of my problems. They did get worse. Life as it would have it moved from the recreational wa waaas of bickering kids in a sandbox to things that people in a free God loving society shouldn't have to go through. Many stories of women from the Bible come to mind Eve Deborah Delilah Jezebel. The reader should get the picture and I choose not to tell thier stories. My story is of the aftermath and I am a guy. It reminded me of the Story of Jacob with his dysfunctional family problems; more so, his son Joseph. Such is life when times when life doesn't treat a person fair. Gen 37:23-24, "So when Joseph arrived, his brothers ripped off the beautiful robe he was wearing. Then they grabbed him and through him into the cistern..." It got worse for Joseph. He was thrown in prison, made a slave, but he made his best to serve the Lord. And in the end things turned out for all around him.
Oh those brothers of Joseph. Oh those kids, wives, cousins, friends.... If they....
Joseph was granted courage to change the things he could. Serenity? How could he have that all the time. We need serenity to accept the things we can not change. First I cannot change other people's attitudes or their actions. I have to accept the consequences of my own actions and take responsibility for my past failures. 1 Sam 15: 11 ," 'I am sorry that I ever made Saul king, for he has not been loyal to me and has refused to obey my command.' Samuel was so deeply moved when he heard this that he cried out to the Lord all night." I can only look at the decisions that I have made, look at the seed I have sown and say yes. That was me. I did these things. This is my part. These are rows that I planted and the seed I used for the ground I put them in. Try to make them right.
Wisdom! What is the difference in knowing between the things I cannot change and having courage to change the things in which I can? Well for me the answer is prayer and scripture. I must pray for God's will to be shown to me and to make me willing to live in the spirit of obedience. My father a fellow hunter isn't here to hold my hand any more and my children are old enough that their grip in times of need seem less firm. Others express their opinions on my future decisions. But ultimately they don't get a vote. Just as when those questions arise of what where and when to plant in a simple little food plot for wildlife; it is not much different in the question of human life. The question ,"If" is in the middle of the word L"if"E. It always seems that I find the answers in the Words from the Bible. Living obedient to those words where I hadn't before is the only wisdom I have found to make a difference. Praying for God to show me His will and to give me the right seed to plant in others. I must live in a spirit of gratitude for the lessons and tests in life. Be where I can live and act in a spirit of obedience and guard it all the time.
For those who Believe, Jesus also struggled, but accepted, In Luke 22:42-53 Jesus is met by his betrayer, neither panics nor is frantic ...simply offers a simple question," Judas, did you come to betray me with a kiss?" Then he healed again a slave who has his ear cut off. Jesus first asked ," if you are willing, remove this cup from me." Likewise serenity is not simply detachment – distancing ourselves from our dreams and desires. Rather, what we see in Jesus is a continuance of his mission…with hope! It is a trust that God is good and out to do good to us always.
As Paul wrote, “God works for the good in everything with those who love him and are called according to his purpose.”
I have planted my seeds now as straight and true as I can in the best places and most ready where God has shown me to plant in this time between the rains. God has shown me many ways in which he wants me to trust Him. I will continue to plant each year straighter rows with better seed suitable for the right purpose . I will watch for the plants to flourish , grow and hopefully mature. And I will travel back to the plots to see where my Faith is good, my Trust is reaffirmed. And continue to see the good in where my failures of tests have lead me. And fear not- knowing that in the journey I am doing the best I can. My Peace.
I am glad that i do not depend on farming for a living anymore. Instead I put in a little seed for the wildlife. A couple years ago, my cousins Bradley and Ryan and I just up and figured it was time that we get with the times and start putting in food plots. Ryan has a little land up north of town in a swamp. I remember planting trees with his dad Eddie up on that farm. I don't know how it all happened, but we worked up a little one year and scattered a little soybeans by hand. While they were growing we got this bright idea to work up a little more for the following year, so we resurrected a few old implements, gave Eddie's WD45 Allis Chalmers a little TLC and went to work. The next year came and we got a hold of an old corn planter, we worked up a little more. Now we have about 15 acres to plant, and our conversations each spring are debates and debacles about what to plant, where to plant it, and when. As of today before this last rain shower we have about 3 acres of corn and 4-5 acres of soybeans.
So the debate and questions sometimes seem rhetorical for the sake of hearing the answers and opinions of the what, where, when to plant. Many frustrations and feelings occur arise out of those questions. Sometimes tiffs or arguements. The Bonds of men through hunting and family ties must be considered. Ryan and his sister own the land and a tractor. Bunky has the planter. Bradley has a sprayer. We all come up with some seed. it seems. Little chess games need to be played until someone finally goes out and just starts putting seed in the ground. It's not anything close to precision farming and by today's standards of auto steer and satellite technology, we are lucky to stay straight for fifty feet in a row (depending on who is driving). The actual money farmers don't get a vote on whether the crop is good or bad. Only the benefits of wildlife and hunter's that share the benefits of being in our gang share the satisfaction of coming to hunting ground that has been enhanced for the enjoyment of living an outdoor lifestyle that has been handed down to its benefactors for 5 generations.
I didn't get to plant last year. Didn't get to watch the plot grow. To top it off, I didn't get to hunt. " How unfair," I thought. But little did I know that this was the least of my problems. They did get worse. Life as it would have it moved from the recreational wa waaas of bickering kids in a sandbox to things that people in a free God loving society shouldn't have to go through. Many stories of women from the Bible come to mind Eve Deborah Delilah Jezebel. The reader should get the picture and I choose not to tell thier stories. My story is of the aftermath and I am a guy. It reminded me of the Story of Jacob with his dysfunctional family problems; more so, his son Joseph. Such is life when times when life doesn't treat a person fair. Gen 37:23-24, "So when Joseph arrived, his brothers ripped off the beautiful robe he was wearing. Then they grabbed him and through him into the cistern..." It got worse for Joseph. He was thrown in prison, made a slave, but he made his best to serve the Lord. And in the end things turned out for all around him.
Oh those brothers of Joseph. Oh those kids, wives, cousins, friends.... If they....
Joseph was granted courage to change the things he could. Serenity? How could he have that all the time. We need serenity to accept the things we can not change. First I cannot change other people's attitudes or their actions. I have to accept the consequences of my own actions and take responsibility for my past failures. 1 Sam 15: 11 ," 'I am sorry that I ever made Saul king, for he has not been loyal to me and has refused to obey my command.' Samuel was so deeply moved when he heard this that he cried out to the Lord all night." I can only look at the decisions that I have made, look at the seed I have sown and say yes. That was me. I did these things. This is my part. These are rows that I planted and the seed I used for the ground I put them in. Try to make them right.
Wisdom! What is the difference in knowing between the things I cannot change and having courage to change the things in which I can? Well for me the answer is prayer and scripture. I must pray for God's will to be shown to me and to make me willing to live in the spirit of obedience. My father a fellow hunter isn't here to hold my hand any more and my children are old enough that their grip in times of need seem less firm. Others express their opinions on my future decisions. But ultimately they don't get a vote. Just as when those questions arise of what where and when to plant in a simple little food plot for wildlife; it is not much different in the question of human life. The question ,"If" is in the middle of the word L"if"E. It always seems that I find the answers in the Words from the Bible. Living obedient to those words where I hadn't before is the only wisdom I have found to make a difference. Praying for God to show me His will and to give me the right seed to plant in others. I must live in a spirit of gratitude for the lessons and tests in life. Be where I can live and act in a spirit of obedience and guard it all the time.
For those who Believe, Jesus also struggled, but accepted, In Luke 22:42-53 Jesus is met by his betrayer, neither panics nor is frantic ...simply offers a simple question," Judas, did you come to betray me with a kiss?" Then he healed again a slave who has his ear cut off. Jesus first asked ," if you are willing, remove this cup from me." Likewise serenity is not simply detachment – distancing ourselves from our dreams and desires. Rather, what we see in Jesus is a continuance of his mission…with hope! It is a trust that God is good and out to do good to us always.
As Paul wrote, “God works for the good in everything with those who love him and are called according to his purpose.”
I have planted my seeds now as straight and true as I can in the best places and most ready where God has shown me to plant in this time between the rains. God has shown me many ways in which he wants me to trust Him. I will continue to plant each year straighter rows with better seed suitable for the right purpose . I will watch for the plants to flourish , grow and hopefully mature. And I will travel back to the plots to see where my Faith is good, my Trust is reaffirmed. And continue to see the good in where my failures of tests have lead me. And fear not- knowing that in the journey I am doing the best I can. My Peace.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Another note from Jose
Hola Tomas, Buenos Dias and all that stuff. You know what I mean Amigo.
Just wondering what you been up to my friend. Things got warm here in Racine, then they got cold , then they got wet again. Went and seen my dad in New Mexico. He just got back from Antarctica, its gonna get cold down there. He says the penguins are doing good, seems that when all is said and done the global warming is doing them good after all. It seems that the warmer waters has heated up reproductive activities, and more fish seem to be coming their way, especially the mackerel.
Talked to the boss he thinks maybe the end of next week we go back to work. Like you say where you come from... Uff Da!
Hope to see you soon.
Your friend,
Jose Jimenez
P.S. Hey AMIGO can you bring the potato tortillas that you put butter and sugar on then roll it all up? leftovers or something you called it. It was good.
Dear Jose,
Good to hear from you. It sounds like you have the same weather there as we do here. I may or may not be on your crew, they sent me to the training center to learn how to dig alongside the bomb. It's a good thing to know yoga when you dig along side of pipe. But maybe I will get sent back out west. Hoping to get close to Williston or Watford City. Do you remeber that lady from church?
Well she is becoming more special in my life, and she is even coming to visit Middle River again. Seems as though she sort of likes the swamp and welcomes the look of leaves contrary to sage brush.
It's a good thing to have her as a friend. Hmmmm.!? I often wonder and hope for a brighter bigger picture with her.
It sounds like Hunter and Gracei had a good Spring season of ball. Hunter and Gracei are both learning the fine art of throwing a pitch. Although Hunter appeared to get a good talking to about control issues and beaning other opponents.
Going to pick some mushrooms tomorrow, so I have yo go to bed.
Buenos Noches My Friend
Tom
Just wondering what you been up to my friend. Things got warm here in Racine, then they got cold , then they got wet again. Went and seen my dad in New Mexico. He just got back from Antarctica, its gonna get cold down there. He says the penguins are doing good, seems that when all is said and done the global warming is doing them good after all. It seems that the warmer waters has heated up reproductive activities, and more fish seem to be coming their way, especially the mackerel.
Talked to the boss he thinks maybe the end of next week we go back to work. Like you say where you come from... Uff Da!
Hope to see you soon.
Your friend,
Jose Jimenez
P.S. Hey AMIGO can you bring the potato tortillas that you put butter and sugar on then roll it all up? leftovers or something you called it. It was good.
Dear Jose,
Good to hear from you. It sounds like you have the same weather there as we do here. I may or may not be on your crew, they sent me to the training center to learn how to dig alongside the bomb. It's a good thing to know yoga when you dig along side of pipe. But maybe I will get sent back out west. Hoping to get close to Williston or Watford City. Do you remeber that lady from church?
Well she is becoming more special in my life, and she is even coming to visit Middle River again. Seems as though she sort of likes the swamp and welcomes the look of leaves contrary to sage brush.
It's a good thing to have her as a friend. Hmmmm.!? I often wonder and hope for a brighter bigger picture with her.
It sounds like Hunter and Gracei had a good Spring season of ball. Hunter and Gracei are both learning the fine art of throwing a pitch. Although Hunter appeared to get a good talking to about control issues and beaning other opponents.
Going to pick some mushrooms tomorrow, so I have yo go to bed.
Buenos Noches My Friend
Tom
Friday, May 3, 2013
The Magic of Rainbows Present
I was watching the birds in the yard yesterday. I have quite a variety of birds visiting lately: blue jays, 2-3 different sparrows, dark eyed juncos, robins, flickers, woodpeckers, and a strange small red bird that i have not yet identified. But the strangest thing I saw was when I was watching a deer sneaking in to the yard cautious and skittish as if it were being followed.
I got my camera ready just in case something wonderful and amazing would appear, but just as fast as the deer appeared out of the brush, it got scared and ran off. I stood and watched in anticipation. I could just sense that something amazing and wonderful would happen. Maybe a coyote would come running. Maybe a bobcat or mountain lion would be on the prowl. Perhaps a timber-wolf or a bear was out cruising. Nothing appeared. I put the camera down and continued to do my daily chores. It began to sprinkle.
I listened to the rain for awhile, and during the rain times my thoughts seem to drift back to people and places I remember. It just so happened that that one Beatles song came on the little radio in my kitchen, "In My Life." As soon as the song was over and a little tear ran down my cheek, the sun came out and to the east across the the willow bog I saw a bent rainbow, faded and colorful, not too far away, and far enough to know that I could not walk there. Underneath this magnificent spectacle I thought what I saw in the grass evidence of stirring critters.
I paid no attention to the long canary grass matted down at first. Curiosity stirred the hunter and trapper in me. Perhaps I would see a glimpse of a predator, maybe a baby predator. Skunk? Raccoon? I began to study and focus all my attention and senses underneath the rainbow. The shifting in the grass was moving toward the yard. Soon I knew with all the confidence in my heart that this great stirring underneath the grass was what caused the deer to leave. I just knew it.
A snowbank still exists in a little band of trees between my yard and the willow swamp. The life in the grass slowly was working its way to this snowbank. I for sure would get a god glimpse of the creature as soon as he got on the bank. I grabbed my camera. quietly exited my house, posted up for a good shot, and was truly astonished when the creatures appeared on the snowbank. Click! I got it.
Immediately I broke down into tears of joy and laughter. Three winters ago when I moved back to my dad's farm, his penguins had disappeared. I put an advertisement in the local paper, but no one responded. "Lost: two breeding pair of penguins last seen heading north toward Middle River." It was the last time I had seen or heard of dad's penguins since he built the great fence for them. Yet from underneath the rainbow two baby penguins appeared as if to tell me in person, "We are alright. Today everything is all right."
They left, and immediately I wrote a letter to my friend Jose Jimenez. I told of my kids ball games and how we are finally getting some green grass, and how we would soon be back to work. I sent him the picture to share with his dad in Antarctica. I named the two penguins Bobby and Tommy. The picture should explain why; two buddies traveling along, taking a break on their journey and talking it out whatever matters are on their hearts, wondering which way to go next.
Hopefully the two babies will get along with the geese that are making my pond home.
Friday, April 19, 2013
Hillbilly Recipe
It's been real nice lately being around a kid, not just any ordinary kid, but an onry 15 year old active boy. One night at supper, he was quite critical and animate about the table venue. Myself, being perhaps just as onry at times, decided that he could cook his own supper from now on. I, being a little more accustomed to palatable table fare, allowed only one evening of chef boy-ar- Hunter with plenty of ketchup. That isn't working very well either. Perhaps it was a guilt complex that maybe I wasn't giving my best, or that maybe a thought came I should get out of the box of hillbilly cooking methods and try make something more delictable to the customs of a hungry growing teen. Nevertheless, I found myself looking for a cookbook. I thought maybe one night tater tot-hot dish would suffice.
I went through a change of life recently, and for the love of all good things i will not expound on the details of searching high and low in my kitchen, through boxes in the house, through crevasses of the mind and soul, but I could not find a cookbook on my property to say politely as trying not to offend light eared readers, and not to revert to character defects of an untamed tongue and the mind of a uncouth hillbilly; but, I could not locate a cookbook to save my part of the body that cushions a seated pose. I was explaining this to a friend of mine in frustration and laughter of the details of missing cookbooks from my home. We decided that cookbooks do not belong to hillbillies. And either a hillbilly can get by without one, or if he can not then he must lose a degree of status among the uncultured and unkempt life of fellow hillbillies. After all, it would be poor to admit that we might actually use a written recipe or need one sometimes.
I must share with the reader our next conversation of oral proportions. I must also confess that men, especially hillbilly men actually share recipes. Yes, ladies do not monopolize the recipe sharing world. Single guys need to eat something different every so often and we do enjoy eating and eating well and we must share something with our fellow hillbilly buddies so that they should not suffer of get bored with with singleness of purpose food. So my friend shared with me his recipe in hillbilly dialect his version of potato soup:
"You take a kettle like this one (grabbing a 4 quart sacepan). You fill it about up to here( pointing about 2/3 toward the top) with potatoes and onions. You can add some gralic if you have some around. Cover with water and boil a long time. After you boil it a long time, you can add some meat: bacon, ham or sausage. Summer sasusage even works. Turn the heat way down(simmer). Then you add a good goober(1/3 to a1/2) of sour cream or chip dip if you got it. Add a smaller goober(1/4 to 1/3 cup) of ranch dressing. Add cream to thicken it up, and milk to get it to the consistency that you want. Do not boil! jus let it simmer. When the meat and everything is good and hot, add a good handful of grated cheese(any kind) on top. Do not stir. As soon as that is melted, dish it up."
Be it male understanding, or hillbilly bonding, this recipe made very good sense to me. I take no offense to one who whose noggin is baffled or perplexed. Perhaps the reader is not hillbilly enough to comprehend simple explanations and may require a more scientific standard written down recipe. And that is ok. I personally extend my condolences.
As for supper tonight I can cook using wither the hillbilly method, or a traditional recipe card method. Either one will get my tater-tot hotdish in the oven. As long as I mix in a dash of understanding, and a few shakes of respect, a goober and a half of compassion and a few sprigs of tolerance, a bunch of love and a teaspoon of patience, dinner will go just fine as it normally does. I have to admit that it would be nice if having a kid in the house came with a recipe that turned out every time. Bless my table Lord and we thank Thee for Thy gifts.
I went through a change of life recently, and for the love of all good things i will not expound on the details of searching high and low in my kitchen, through boxes in the house, through crevasses of the mind and soul, but I could not find a cookbook on my property to say politely as trying not to offend light eared readers, and not to revert to character defects of an untamed tongue and the mind of a uncouth hillbilly; but, I could not locate a cookbook to save my part of the body that cushions a seated pose. I was explaining this to a friend of mine in frustration and laughter of the details of missing cookbooks from my home. We decided that cookbooks do not belong to hillbillies. And either a hillbilly can get by without one, or if he can not then he must lose a degree of status among the uncultured and unkempt life of fellow hillbillies. After all, it would be poor to admit that we might actually use a written recipe or need one sometimes.
I must share with the reader our next conversation of oral proportions. I must also confess that men, especially hillbilly men actually share recipes. Yes, ladies do not monopolize the recipe sharing world. Single guys need to eat something different every so often and we do enjoy eating and eating well and we must share something with our fellow hillbilly buddies so that they should not suffer of get bored with with singleness of purpose food. So my friend shared with me his recipe in hillbilly dialect his version of potato soup:
"You take a kettle like this one (grabbing a 4 quart sacepan). You fill it about up to here( pointing about 2/3 toward the top) with potatoes and onions. You can add some gralic if you have some around. Cover with water and boil a long time. After you boil it a long time, you can add some meat: bacon, ham or sausage. Summer sasusage even works. Turn the heat way down(simmer). Then you add a good goober(1/3 to a1/2) of sour cream or chip dip if you got it. Add a smaller goober(1/4 to 1/3 cup) of ranch dressing. Add cream to thicken it up, and milk to get it to the consistency that you want. Do not boil! jus let it simmer. When the meat and everything is good and hot, add a good handful of grated cheese(any kind) on top. Do not stir. As soon as that is melted, dish it up."
Be it male understanding, or hillbilly bonding, this recipe made very good sense to me. I take no offense to one who whose noggin is baffled or perplexed. Perhaps the reader is not hillbilly enough to comprehend simple explanations and may require a more scientific standard written down recipe. And that is ok. I personally extend my condolences.
As for supper tonight I can cook using wither the hillbilly method, or a traditional recipe card method. Either one will get my tater-tot hotdish in the oven. As long as I mix in a dash of understanding, and a few shakes of respect, a goober and a half of compassion and a few sprigs of tolerance, a bunch of love and a teaspoon of patience, dinner will go just fine as it normally does. I have to admit that it would be nice if having a kid in the house came with a recipe that turned out every time. Bless my table Lord and we thank Thee for Thy gifts.
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