Wisconsin. The land where my existence began. The place my mother grew up. The state her side of the family calls home. For the first time since I was born, I would be spending a week there. And that week was one that would change my very young life.
Before I go further, I would like to establish the people you will possibly read about in this chapter or whenever I write anything about Wisconsin. First are my grandparents, Daniel & Lois. They were life-long farmers and still had the farm when we visited in 96. Then there was my aunt Linda, who is my mom's older sister and her then husband Duane. They have three boys who are my older cousins named Jeff, Mike, & Aaron. Next was my uncle Bob and his then wife Cecilia, first of my mom's three younger brothers. After him was my uncle John. The last of my mom's siblings and the youngest boy was my uncle Paul. Also living on the farm in a trailer house was my great Granny Sorensen (Daniel's mom). These are the most immediate family members. Of course there were other great aunts and uncles, second cousins, family friends, and they'll probably appear in other chapters. But for now, the above people are the ones who will appear frequently.
Let me now provide you with a description of what my grandparent's farm was like back in the 90s and through the eyes of a five year-old. First and foremost, they had a lot of land (as most farms did). I still to this day have not set foot on every acre. To get there, we drove down a two lane country road that wound through nothing but farmland as far as the eye could see. The lack of city pollution allowed for many a blue sky with fluffy white clouds that seemed to go on forever. Eventually, we would turn onto a dirt/gravel driveway, passing a large tree with a tire swing hung from it. Not far beyond that was a large tractor tire filled with sand which was a homemade sandbox. To the left of those stood a white farmhouse and a small trailer house where my grandparents lived and my great granny lived. As we passed all of these things, we would be hard pressed to miss the large red barn and silo towering above us. The dirt road we came in on continued to wind around the barn passing a handful of other buildings such as a small feed barn, a large storage shed, and a couple of tractor awnings. Just beyond those buildings came a site I didn't fully appreciate as a kid, but looking back I truly do now. My grandfather had a number of his old cars that didn't run anymore rusting in peace along this portion of the road. I'm a car person and one of my goals in life is to own a big enough piece of land where I can park my old cars once they've run their course. I'm pretty sure this goal came from my grandfather doing the same.
The trail continued to wind all through the property. It passed large fields filled with whatever crop rotation was planted that year, thick woods, and pastures where cows grazed. In the middle of one of these fields was a large hill that was deteriorated on on side, making a sand/dirt pit that we spent countless hours playing in. The coolest way to get to this hill was to walk through the cornfield growing in front of it. The last thing I want to mention is that when you stood in the yard by the house and the trailer, and faced West, there was another large hill that went into a big, green field. This field will come into play in the future.
By 1996, the farm wasn't operating at full capacity anymore. The cows in the field didn't belong to my grandparents. Instead they belonged to another farmer that my grandparents were renting the land to. The barn still had hay stored up in the loft, but part of it was used as storage. Other than the cows, the only other animals were dogs, cats, and some chickens. When I say dogs and cats, there were a lot. There was my grandparent's dog Fifi (a little scottie/terrier mix I believe), a boston terrier named Max (he loved to drool), Bob and Cici's big dog Mindy, their brand new puppy Griz, and a couple of beagles (one's name was Gus). There were also many cats and kittens running around, but for some reason I don't remember the names of the ones on the farm in 96. Growing up I never had pets as my parent's lease didn't allow it. So being able to play with this many animals was a real treat for me.
Unlike cats and dogs, the cows weren't really pets. But that didn't stop my cousin Aaron from treating them as such. One hot sunny day, him and I went over to the outdoor water trough by the barn where some of the cows were hydrating. We climbed the wooden fence and stood on the rungs looking like kids in a Country Magazine farm photo. Aaron then pointed to a particular cow and said "that's Bessy and she's my girlfriend." I looked at him like he was nuts. "Yeah right" I said. He grinned, hopped over the fence, walked up to the cow, and climbed on her back. She stood up and walked around slowly. I stood in shock as she didn't seem the least bit annoyed. Aaron patted her back and said "Good girl Bessy." And that's the first and last time I ever witnessed anyone ride a cow.
I mentioned in previously that a number of firsts happened during this trip. The one I'm about to tell you nearly gave my mom a heart attack. Aaron was a teenager and his family owned a 4-wheeler. He was old enough and responsible enough to drive it. His family lived not far down the street at the time, so he would ride it down to the farm most days. One cool evening after dinner, he asked me if I wanted to drive it. Heck yeah I did. He put me on the front and then climbed on behind me. I put my hands on the handles preparing to drive, and he followed suit. Suddenly, the 4-wheeler started to go. I thought I was in control the whole time, but in reality, Aaron was the one with his thumb on the throttle and controlling all of the steering. We drove around the yard quite a few times and I remember my mom looking out the window and her face in shock seeing me on the front of the 4-Wheeler. But everything was fine as Aaron was in total control and didn't make it go fast enough to be a danger. But I was on top of the world "driving" a 4-wheeler for the first time in my life.
Another first is one that had a profound impact on my life. My grandfather did something for me that I plan on doing for my kids and hopefully grandkids one day. One morning he presented me with a bright yellow Snoopy fishing pole and some rubber baits. I was floored. It's my opinion that every child's first pole should be a Snoopy pole. I had and used that thing for years until I needed a new one. Before we could go fishing, we needed some live bait as well. So Grandpa and I went over to a soft patch of dirt by the barn and dug up a bunch of worms. I had no problem with this as I was fascinated by bugs, worms, and creepy crawlies as a kid. Once we had enough worms, Grandpa drove Aaron and I to one of Wisconsin's many lakes. He took his time showing me how to properly put a worm on the hook, how to hold the rod, how to cast it, and how to reel it. The most exciting part for me was the bobber. I watched it fly through the air as I made the cast and then land with a satisfying "plop" as it hit the water. It wasn't long before it started to dip below the surface. I got excited and wanted to reel it in, but my grandfather in all his wisdom, told me to wait until it was fully submerged. Once it did, he told me to give it a little jerk and start reeling. I could feel the extra weight of whatever I had hooked fighting back, but I wasn't going to let my first fish be the one that got away. I managed to reel it all the way into shore and was going bananas as I had landed a "big" fish, which in reality was a 5-7 inch sunfish but to me it was huge. It was right there in that moment that my love for fishing began, all thanks to Grandpa. I do also remember a very brief moment later in the week where someone caught a bunch of sunfish and we were going to eat them. My grandfather was going to fillet them and asked if I wanted to watch. Being curious, I said yes. He took the bucket of fish down to the musty, slightly dark basement. He pulled one out and set it on the table down he had down there. Then he took out the fillet knife. The moment he started cutting into that first fish, I bolted. My stomach was not prepared for that and I don't know why my mind thought cutting into fish wasn't going to make me squeamish. Needless to say, I've fished for many years since and keeping fish is part of the hobby. This means filleting them. So even though I chickened out watching fish being filleted at five years old, I've carved my fair share since then.
As kids, we were raised drinking milk. Something I strongly recommend lifelong as it provides calcium to the bones and is the reason I attribute to not ever having broken or fractured a single bone in my body to this day (I came close many times). But I experienced milk in a different way during this trip. I was given the chance to try unpasteurized milk and all you had to do to drink it was scoop the cream off the top. It was delicious and 100% better tasting than the pasteurized stuff. After a week of drinking it, pasteurized milk tasted like water from an unrinsed milk glass. And no it's not dangerous as I'm living proof of that as is my mom and her family who grew up drinking it like that.
One last memory I'll share with you from this trip was the family gatherings. Every time we go to Wisconsin, we have a big cook-out at either my grandparents farm or at Aunt Linda's house. Because we don't see them often, a lot of people show up. Aunts, uncles, great aunts and uncles, first cousins, second cousins, and even many family friends. It's basically a mini reunion. There's always tons of food, kids running everywhere, and people enjoying being with each other. It's always a highlight of each adventure here.
Eventually, the days flashed by and we had to return home. It would be four long years until we returned and I couldn't wait. I gained a lot from this trip alone, as it made numerous impacts on my young life. Little did I know then that more learning experiences were yet to come.
No comments:
Post a Comment