Monday, September 4, 2000
I’ve heard it again. ‘Oh, I’d love for you to see my garden, Virginia, but I’m so embarrassed because of all the weeds.’ Well who is missing out here, you or me? I’d love to see your garden, weeds and all. I love weed
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"Where Fillmore County News Comes First"
Online Edition
Wednesday, May 22nd, 2013
Volume ∞ Issue ∞
- 11:44:26, May 21st 2013 - airmaxs52274 - Have you ever thought about adding a little bit more than just your a ... [Read More]
- 5:56:33, May 18th 2013 - modgudur - I guess the child is anti-gun control since Obama went to all that trouble ... [Read More]
- 9:27:41, May 16th 2013 - caal girl - Nice outfit on you. I loved some of the dresses but am holding my breath ... [Read More]
- 2:03:34, May 14th 2013 - - Thanks for sharing the trip with us! ... [Read More]
- 4:12:01, May 9th 2013 - Amanda Ziebell - Wow! Thanks to the Fillmore County Journal for this kind story. For a ... [Read More]
- 11:47:30, May 7th 2013 - EW - ramble.....ramble.....ramble..... ... [Read More]
- 10:25:25, May 7th 2013 - Thunder6 - Great article! I love to see the Youth of Fillmore County receiveing acco ... [Read More]
- 6:52:10, May 6th 2013 - Jason Sethre, Publisher of Fillmore County Journal & Olmsted County Journal - Maryh, ... [Read More]
- 7:29:56, May 5th 2013 - maryh - Where are OCJ's available for pickup...other than at the new office? ... [Read More]
- 2:41:47, May 3rd 2013 - Remark1976 - Mrs. Buckbee, I just looked up Senate File 796 and in it there are said p ... [Read More]
29
How will you keep your kids busy this summer vacation?
First memories
Comments
Growing up in the 1930’sBy Neil HaugarudMonday, September 4, 2000
By Neil Haugerud
Some folks say they can remember as far back as when they were one year old. For me life memories begin on Good Friday, April 19th, 1935, I was four.
I like to tell people about the time I found a short row of fingers, about three inches tall, growing in a patch of oat stubble as if they had been sown with the oats. The sickle on the grain binder had cut just above them during harvest. The child-sized fingers were planted where an accident happened earlier in the year, on Good Friday, 1935.
It was rather cold that day, above freezing, but cold enough to be bundled up. My coat collar was turned up, the ear-lappers on my cap were turned down and I was wearing a pair of my older brother’s yellow work gloves. In wintertime we wore mittens because they kept your hands warm in the bitter cold when gloves just wouldn't do the job, but that spring day I was wearing cloth gloves, the kind that had a yellow covering, like fine wool, when they were new.
I had three brothers then, ages ten, seven and three. And three sisters ages nine, one and my youngest sister was three weeks old. We were all born in the downstairs bedroom at home on our farm near Harmony.
I'd ridden to the field with my Dad on the riding-board fixed to the back of the grain drill. It seems as if there were three horses pulling the drill, or seeder, as we kids called it. A three-horse hitch was highly unusual, but that's the way I remember it. The drill was eight foot wide. There were two wooden wheels with steel outer rims about five feet high on either end. Mesh gears, without protective shields linked the wheels with a power shaft, which drove a mechanism for metering the grain into flexible metal spouts, which in turn directed the grain to discs which opened the earth for seeding. Also near each end was a lever to disengage the power shaft, so the sowing of grain could be discontinued while turning around.
Dad was 35 at the time and a firm believer that youngsters should be kept busy. He told me I might as well be doing something as long as I was riding along.
"When we get to the end of the field flip that lever down," he said, pointing to the lever that disengaged the power.
After making the turn, he said, "Now flip it up," and we began seeding again. Things went quite well for several trips around the field and I felt .....
[Read the Rest]
By Neil Haugerud
Some folks say they can remember as far back as when they were one year old. For me life memories begin on Good Friday, April 19th, 1935, I was four.
I like to tell people about the time I found a short row of fingers, about three inches tall, growing in a patch of oat stubble as if they had been sown with the oats. The sickle on the grain binder had cut just above them during harvest. The child-sized fingers were planted where an accident happened earlier in the year, on Good Friday, 1935.
It was rather cold that day, above freezing, but cold enough to be bundled up. My coat collar was turned up, the ear-lappers on my cap were turned down and I was wearing a pair of my older brother’s yellow work gloves. In wintertime we wore mittens because they kept your hands warm in the bitter cold when gloves just wouldn't do the job, but that spring day I was wearing cloth gloves, the kind that had a yellow covering, like fine wool, when they were new.
I had three brothers then, ages ten, seven and three. And three sisters ages nine, one and my youngest sister was three weeks old. We were all born in the downstairs bedroom at home on our farm near Harmony.
I'd ridden to the field with my Dad on the riding-board fixed to the back of the grain drill. It seems as if there were three horses pulling the drill, or seeder, as we kids called it. A three-horse hitch was highly unusual, but that's the way I remember it. The drill was eight foot wide. There were two wooden wheels with steel outer rims about five feet high on either end. Mesh gears, without protective shields linked the wheels with a power shaft, which drove a mechanism for metering the grain into flexible metal spouts, which in turn directed the grain to discs which opened the earth for seeding. Also near each end was a lever to disengage the power shaft, so the sowing of grain could be discontinued while turning around.
Dad was 35 at the time and a firm believer that youngsters should be kept busy. He told me I might as well be doing something as long as I was riding along.
"When we get to the end of the field flip that lever down," he said, pointing to the lever that disengaged the power.
After making the turn, he said, "Now flip it up," and we began seeding again. Things went quite well for several trips around the field and I felt .....
[Read the Rest]
This work is not for the birds
Monday, September 4, 2000
I stand on the roof of our workshop holding the end of a rope. My husband has tied the opposite end around his waist so he doesn't slip as he hammers nails into our new metal roofing. Although I am alert to the danger .....
[Read the Rest]
I stand on the roof of our workshop holding the end of a rope. My husband has tied the opposite end around his waist so he doesn't slip as he hammers nails into our new metal roofing. Although I am alert to the danger .....
[Read the Rest]
"Please Don’t Touch the Rattlesnakes!"By John LevellMonday, August 21, 2000
Rattlesnake! The single word most likely to elicit a response from those who live or play along the Root River State Trail, especially during these more temperate, ple .....
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Rattlesnake! The single word most likely to elicit a response from those who live or play along the Root River State Trail, especially during these more temperate, ple .....
[Read the Rest]
An afternoon in La Crosse
Monday, September 4, 2000
We were wandering around downtown historic La Crosse last weekend, which, I couldn’t help but notice, in places, looks a bit like downtown historic Lanesboro. The secret is out, if you want your town to be economicall .....
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We were wandering around downtown historic La Crosse last weekend, which, I couldn’t help but notice, in places, looks a bit like downtown historic Lanesboro. The secret is out, if you want your town to be economicall .....
[Read the Rest]
Lord of the Dance
Monday, August 28, 2000
My wife told me that I had won first prize and was chosen to be her escort for her all-school reunion last weekend. I actually looked forward to the event, especially when it was her reunion and not mine. It was unlikel .....
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My wife told me that I had won first prize and was chosen to be her escort for her all-school reunion last weekend. I actually looked forward to the event, especially when it was her reunion and not mine. It was unlikel .....
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Survivors
Monday, August 28, 2000
This is a story about survivors.
No, it is not about the gameshow/psychodrama that was recently portrayed on CBS, where neurosis is a developmental skill highly valued by artificially created tribal groups.
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This is a story about survivors.
No, it is not about the gameshow/psychodrama that was recently portrayed on CBS, where neurosis is a developmental skill highly valued by artificially created tribal groups.
[Read the Rest]
The dark at the bottom of the stairway
My wife drove into town to look for some material for a chair that she is going to re-upholster and would be gone for an hour or two and as she was leaving, suggested that I find something useful to do. I sat at my desk and gave the matter some thoug
.....
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Journal Profile # 78
Name: Tyler Benson
Home: Rushford
Age: 15
Profession: I am a ninth grade student at Rushford-Peterson
Family: Dad, Mom, & Sister
Hero: My Mom, Dad and Uncle Ron
Hobby: I like goi .....
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Home: Rushford
Age: 15
Profession: I am a ninth grade student at Rushford-Peterson
Family: Dad, Mom, & Sister
Hero: My Mom, Dad and Uncle Ron
Hobby: I like goi .....
[Read the Rest]
