There are two television shows ….

There are two television shows I really like: The Price Is Right and Wheel of Fortune. It could easily be three by adding Jeopardy. The Price Is Right isn’t the same without Bob Barker and I keep telling myself the only reason I keep watching is I always think Bob will come back on. Fat chance, as he died this year at the age of 99. Television Monday morning was giving me the fits, as many of the regular morning shows weren’t on because it was Labor Day. When 10 o’clock came I hoped to see some more of The Price Is Right, what I called reruns as they were just repeats until the new season starts.

I turned it to CBS and was surprised to see a picture of Barker. Then I quickly decided it was a special show for his 99th year. It was special for sure – just clips of earlier shows with Bob and all where something went wrong during the show, like the time a new car was being pushed on stage and never stopped until it hit some of the staging. It sure did my body some good to laugh for a whole hour.

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It’s probably a sign I watch too much television, as I spotted something else over the weekend. All the football games shown were college games. It took awhile to remember the professional games hadn’t started yet. What stood out to me was the youthful-looking players. They were still in college, sophomores or juniors who still had to graduate and then go through the cycle of starting as rookies and adding some years of play.

Along the same line, I was watching a band called the Old Time Polka Band. The leader was introducing the band members who were all 16 and confessed he was only 15-and-a-half. But his sister was 17 and had been playing the fiddle for 10 years.

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Jackie does it right. Besides coming to see me, we go for rides. Last week, it was to Greenwood to see the new apartment buildings. Holy cow! When they get filled the population should really jump.

This week I asked her to drive north. We drove north of Highway 64, which put us in northern Wisconsin, someone figured out. Destination? Sackett Lake, where we once owned a cottage.

What changes have taken place! What was an old gravel road, is now blacktop. Red Rock Road is still there, but the red rock is pretty hidden by tall grass and brush. What had been our cottage is gone, but in its place is a fancier one. However, they did manage to use the patio we built and, in the front yard, two covers for the holding tanks we had installed.

The people we bought it from lived in the Milwaukee area and weren’t regular users like we were. Plus he did confess to going outside to pee if no one was around. It didn’t take long for pollution to show up and an understanding county official helped with the placement of the holding tanks.

The big drawing card to living on Sackett Lake was the Town of Molitor did not restrict any motorboats. The lake was only 32 acres, but it was interesting that as I sat at the table and looked out, it appeared there wasn’t anyone else on the lake. I was pointing this out to someone who was visiting us. He thought that was funny, as from where he sat, he could see several cabins across the bay.

Remember, Jackie was driving and went where I told her. We got back on Keyes Road and headed west. Remember me mentioning the new blacktop roads? Where Keyes Road crossed County Trunk E, there had been a so-called road which crossed a small creek and swampy area. Part of the time it was closed.

Now it has been upgraded to a nice bridge and the hill cut down. It was a piece of cake getting over, and heading west, we came to my final point of interest: the Town of Molitor Cemetery. I’d been there before, but it wasn’t that easy to find. The cemetery has lots of Higgins graves, which I assume were related to Red Higgins, who just got through playing at the End of Summer Fest in Greenwood. He also played at the Loyal Corn Festival.

OnthewayhomecomingdownCounty Road E, we came to the corner where you turn going to the High View Restaurant and Bar. On the corner is a combination gas station, bait shop and grocery store called Fuzzy’s. When I got home and read the Medford Star-News, there was a story that Fuzzy’s was for sale and planned to close by the end of the month after being in business 21 years. I remember driving by on the way to our cottage and Florence remarking, “That will never last,” when it first opened.

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I don’t know what Mark meant, but the other day he sent me a message with two words: “Wild rice.” I know nothing about wild rice, except I know there is such a thing.

Back in my grade school days, our two-room grade school was having enrollment problems. There weren’t enough students to hold the two-room statutes.

So the plan was to bring the Native Americans over who lived on the reservation on the far western edge of the township. The problem was how to get them there. There were only two roads across the township, the one at the northern edge that led to the Anderson Sugar Bush, and County Trunk G that ran west from the Pipe Lake Lutheran Church. The problem with that highway was it had some bad areas – bad enough that sometimes the road just disappeared. We called it the rice beds and today I see it is listed as the Rice Beds Creek State Wildlife Area.

That really didn’t create a problem, but on the western edge, there was a strip barely wide enough to gain some land that was farmed. There was some land not suited for farming or much of anything. Yes, but it could be used for a Native American reservation.

So those kids were brought over and solved the enrollment problem, except for a few weeks every fall when the kids stayed home to go pick wild rice. And that is all I know about wild rice.

There are a couple of stories I still remember. One boy by the name George Hart was in my grade. He had the most beautiful handwriting I’d ever seen. I had heard he might have been the chief’s boy and gotten some extra education.

The other student was a girl and I don’t recall her name. She had a habit of missing school every other day. She wouldn’t be there today and tomorrow wouldn’t know what the assignment was, so she couldn’t be prepared.