"Hi-yo, Silver! Away!"

He stepped into the house hunched over with sweat dripping off his brows and seemingly out of breath. His aging body posture seemed startling as his daughter inlaw arose from her chair and asked him if everything was ok. He attempted to talk however his face was directed at the floor and his volume was at a level to be unheard from the human ear. Panic set into his daughter inlaw as the words were repeated questioning his status. The gray haired man sheepishly raised his head and asked louder while directing his words towards his 7-year old grandson "I got stuck in the pond with the lawn mower; can you pull me out?"

Laughter, from all, opened up in the living room as the grandson slipped into his shoes while simultaneously asking his dad where the tow strap was located. With anticipation the grandson idled his newly acquired shiny red 12hp Sears tractor, something his family deemed appropriate for gathering firewood.

Following his grandfather through the path in the woods towards the pond where his grandfather's lawn mower was stuck, you could see the seriousness in the grandson's face. This was an opportunity to give back assistant where so much had been earned and everybody knew this.

The tow strap was attached to the mud sunken tractor and the grandson was coached by his father who gave advice on the combination of which gear to use and the recommended engine rpm setting. With one attempt the grandson jerked his grandfathers stuck machine up out of the mud and continued to pull the machine up and out of the pond. The grandfather thanked his grandson and commented on his Sears tractor for "pulling him out so easily".

The grandfather returned to tell his story and indulge in blackened coffee, a Finnish heritage he enjoys. His story was inadvertently interrupted by his two young grandchildren who were spatting with each other over a reason unknown to the adults.

The grandfather laughed and recalled a memory from his own youth. His younger brother had a toy which he wanted. Being the older and tougher sibling at the time the grandfather being about 8 years old used these advantages to their "difference of opinion". Nearly upon getting his way his younger brother smacked him in the nose with a 16" cow bone. Needless to say, the grandfather changed his mind about the need for that certain toy. The grandfather sat on the couch telling his story and he recalled the pain that cow bone caused, then he laughed and shook his head while leaving his hand cupped around the bridge of his nose displaying a reenactment of the situation.

As the grandchildren listened the grandfather went on to tell a story about the toys he played with when he was a child. He and his brothers would take a chicken breast bone and pound it on a board with nails. They would attach toy wheels to the board and make "plows" for their toy tractors. They would spend hours playing with these chicken bones, plowing up the sand in their pit behind the barn.

He also preferred to use blackened poplar trees to whittle airplanes. The grandfather remembered there being about 100 airplanes laying about the farm that he and his younger brothers carved from wood with their pocket knifes. He thought they were realistic, but then figured it could have been just the memory of them being hand crafted and carved with such exact precision.

They would run around the farm holding an airplane in their right hand above head level making a sound similar to a high performance engine. Complete with nose dives and near crashes, the grandfather and brother ran around the farm with their supreme imagination levels at work and yelling "Captain Midnight!".

The grandfather went on to speak to the attentive family about the radio shows his family would listen to during the late 1930's. They would gather around the small black radio and listen to the radio show, Captain Midnight, a World War I pilot who was sent on high risk missions. The grandfathers story went on to other radio shows, such as The Lone Ranger and how he would say "Hi-yo, Silver! Away!"

The grandfather finished his thick coffee and rode off to the West into the setting sun on a mud stained lawn mower leaving some of his personal memories of generations ago. "Hi-yo, Silver! Away!"

The Peculiar Child

I miss the days when I was home with the kid’s full time. From 2004 to 2006 I volunteered, if it could be called that, to be “Mr. Mom” while Kari took a job in Minneapolis. Those days were some of the best in my life. The comedy central, in our own minds, was our everyday activity. During those two years I changed. Changing a dirty diaper is really no big deal, and yes, I can change one without even removing the snowsuit (on a kid; not myself).

I also learned to be interactive with children. I won’t hesitate to bring my kids, and others kids, to places such as Fawn-Doe-Rosa, Duluth Zoo, and the Aquarium. Normally those kinds of activities were well outside of my comfort, but raising Becca and Justin I adapted to these changes well.

I wasn’t one to “not work”, so I started my own business as a hunting guide. I ran 28 bait stations and most everyday in the Fall I worked these stations with the little tykes along my side. They helped me peel thousands of Little Debbies out of wrappers, which we used for our primary bait. In fact, one day my sister was shopping and Becca saw her pick out a package of Little Debbies and eat one. Becca was horrified that “Auntie Pam eats bear bait!”

Kids are a lot of work; I was bound to learn this sooner or later. It’s tough for me to be house bound so most of our activities were outside. Becca attended a preschool where she started her book learnin’ activities and I often wondered what all those Mom’s thought when they would see me getting out of the bear baiting truck toting Justin in my wood chip dusty cap and Becca leading the way into school with what appeared to be "big bear baiting strides", but really were only about 16" strides with her little chubby legs.

As Justin became potty trained we received the news that another baby was on the way. I didn’t think I could handle another baby, another year of house bonding. Plus our pocket book was getting pretty slim because guiding hunters is not exactly a quick money making scheme. I went to college and started a career in engineering.

I often wonder how it would have turned out for me to raise Julia. I talk about “raising” these kids…don’t get me wrong. Kari truly had her part in raising these kids. I attempt at taking no credit away from all her hard work in college, working full time, raising three kids, and taking care of ME! It’s really a family thing, my point being I was at home with the kids trying my best to make a couple of kids turn out to be as normal as possible while keeping some old fashioned values.

Last week Justin came home with a flu. He complained about his head aching. Kari spent numerous minutes, maybe even hours, massaging his little over-heated forehead. Justin is a complainer when he is not feeling well, so am I. He doesn’t like being uncomfortable even though he has the guts to take about anything that’s dealt to him, so do I. For 3 days Kari gave him medicine to help his fever and tried to get him to eat without letting him forget to take in fluids. He vomited several times. Julia, being the type of person she is, thought it was gross and she made a pretty big deal out of “Justin puking”. While we ate supper one evening she even asked Kari “Did Justin puke?” Kari's response was “No, why do you keep asking?” Julia replied, “I like to watch”.

Justin got over his flu as quick as it came. Within hours on day 4, he was his normal self, jibber jabbering about everything that was on his mind. This was the day of the Kanabec County Fair and we wanted to have a junk food supper of pork chops and cheese curds at the fair. I noticed Julia’s eyes looked feverish. She refused to admit she was sick. Both Kari and I asked her multiple times until she became noticeably disgusted with us asking. She insisted she was fine. We arrived at the fair and made it to our 1st stop, the pork chops stand! Here, Julia vomited. Kari quickly brought her around back of the tents and let her finish her duties of unloading her stomach contents. Only then, and only then, Julia told Kari “I think I am a little bit sick”. For 2 days, Julia refused to admit she wasn't feeling well. That is one example of just how stubborn she is.

Becca came up with the flu also, but her flu was minor and it only lasted 2 days. She was a real trooper and Becca is the type to soak up all the attention. She complained more than what was necessary, Kari also gave her more attention than what was needed. I believe Kari knew if she didn’t that she would get the ol’ “You massaged Justin’s head all day!” comment so Kari applied the “fair” treatment to all her kids that week.

Our home was a facility of fluids. Our refrigerator had various contents from 7-Up to Gatorade and water. We don’t normally buy Gatorade, but Kari must have figured it was needed this week to replenish the kid’s electrolytes. I came home from work and there were Gatorades all over the tabletops. Julia picked her bottle up and showed me the bright red fluid inside, “see” she said. “Jesus’ Blood” as she indulged in a mouth widening gulp of Jesus’ Blood. I looked at Kari and she shrugged her shoulders and held them shrugged for some amount of time. I turned my head towards the wall, smiled, and contemplated what I had missed the past few years had I been Mr. Mom with this peculiar child.