How often does this happen? ….

How often does this happen? This paper is dated June 30, 2021. Then it is also the last day of the first six months of the year. You say it is all downhill from here as we are starting to lose sunlight in the morning and at sunset time. Not that you can notice, but in a month you begin to notice.

The flowers in the yard are beautiful. I’m just sorry I missed a three week stretch so did miss seeing a few in bloom.

ÓÓÓÓÓ

You never get so old you can’t learn anything new. I don’t know if those are the exact words, but close to it and I first heard them some 70 years ago. As you probably know, I was born and raised on a farm so I spent all my younger years working for room and board, as they say. Yes, I did work and got paid for it. My mother talked me into mowing the church cemetery after my brother was killed in December, 1943. So after we cleaned up around his grave the next spring she suggested I mow the whole cemetery. Which I did and she managed to talk the Ladies Aide into paying me. A whole five dollars for each summer’s work.

My summer allergies, especially farm dust, did limit what I did, but not haying. Every load we hauled to the barn I was the one who stayed on the hay rack and built the load. We used slings for unloading, so it meant stringing three sets of sling ropes on the hay rack and load as we went along. That made unloading a breeze as you just hooked the sling ropes to the carrier and with the horses hooked to the hay rope the load was quickly in the barn. In 1945, a tractor replaced the horses but everything else stayed the same.

So once I graduated from high school I was off to the big city and started working “off the farm”. My first job was at Swift & Company in South St. Paul where I earned the unheard of $1.07 per hour. My mother, when she heard that, said nobody was worth that kind of money.

By fall it seemed farmers had quit sending as many cows, pigs and sheep to the slaughter houses so I found myself being bumped to night hours and less desirable jobs.

So I was lucky. I found another job at Andersen’s Windows in Bayport, where I had hoped to work in the beginning. My uncle and brother Carl both worked there and while the pay dropped to 90 cents an hour I was still doing quite well, I thought. I even started putting money in the bank.

Then two problems popped up almost at the same time. I bought a car and the building industry went into their late winter, early spring slump. I got laid off.

Quickly I moved back home to get some free food and a place to sleep. It was almost the next week when the Turtle Lake Times newspaper arrived and in their help wanted ads was one looking for a printer, with the wording, will train.

Naturally I quickly applied, remembering an uncle who worked at the Cumberland newspaper and as my parents pointed out, never was laid off even in the worst of the depression years.

I considered myself pretty lucky as I not only was learning the printing trade, I got to run the linotype as well. There was a downside, as the pay dropped to 50 cents an hour. And it had its problems. The owner, Harold Lange, was a great guy but he had a couple of bad habits. One was to take some printing jobs on and then never get around to getting the finished work done when he promised. He also had a problem remembering when it was payday. It was supposed to be on Saturday, but he would say, “I’m a little short, but I’ll pay you Tuesday, which never seemed to come.

One day a tramp printer, as we called them, walked in looking for work. They were called “tramp” because they carried very few clothes and often only stayed a short time.

But he was a good printer and soon our number of job orders, waiting to be done, went down. Then it happened over a very simple job. A funeral card for one of the funeral homes. You probably remember them, just a simple card with the person’s name, date of birth and date of death.

Then a simple line that says, “interment”. The old printer was bound and determined it should read “internment”. It was one of the few things I ever saw Harold get so upset and angry over. When it was finally over and he used the dictionary to prove the right word, he spoke those words, “You are never too old to learn”.

And so it was with me and the therapy and I’m embarrassed to say, Meals on Wheels. For all the years I served on the County Board’s Community Department Board which oversees the Adult Development Services (ADS) in Greenwood as well as the Rehab and Living Center at Owen, I should have known and been eating the meals. So far they have been piping hot and no broccoli. That’s another story for another time.

ÓÓÓÓÓ

Like I said, a whole new life started on Monday. People from Home Care came to talk and ask questions. I don’t know how many times I had to tell someone I’m in no pain.

Getting around the house was no problem with most of the barriers gone. I actually found it pretty nice, as walking from one end of the house and back was no problem and sure made for one of the better exercise methods I could find.

Another walker arrived so I now have one in the house and another on the lower level, which is the garage or front walk. The one I had been using was called “Tommy” as the first day I used it was in Florida when we visited the Thomas Edison Museum.

I haven’t named the new one yet, but leaning toward “Whitey” as it is solid black.

Today is Friday and the first day no one has come for something. If it wasn’t home care it was someone to install First Alert. Nothing but the best the kids seem to think.

I did have another angel come. Her name is Savanna and one of my greatgrandchildren. She offered to pick up my mail as my regular chief assistant Jackie took off with Rupe to spend a few days visiting friends and one of Florence’s favorite nephews up in Little Falls, Minnesota. Which I used to think of as northern Minnesota, but turns out to be about half way.