Winds Across the Northern Prairie

By Christian Wingire

The book, "Winds across the Northern Prairie," is a life story of one individual growing up on the Northern Prairies of North Dakota. This individual is only one of many thousands of individuals born on the Northern Prairie during this time frame from the mid-1940 to the mid-1960's. We were call Baby Boomers, and the towns we grew up in were at their peaks in population and the town businesses were thriving. Some people called these times as the good times. We learned to make our fun, as we did not have cell phones, computers, or even TV's at first. No one was there to help organize our baseball games or told us how to play kick-the-can game during the early evening hours. We kids gathered together and organized our own fun, learning how to negotiate our own rules. Living in a farming and ranching community, we also learned how to work hard and to play hard. We were told to address our seniors as Mr. and Mrs. with respect and to do what we were what we were told to do. Responsibility was learned early in life even if we did not know we were learning it. It was something we just grew up with. Weather on the Northern prairie was something we learned to accept. The Wind blew hard in every direction on compass. Some of the seasons were too long and others were too short. Sometimes, we just missed a whole season all together. Winters were long and cold and the cold winds made the snow go sideways into high drifts of solid hard snow. Living on the open prairie was a blessing for me. Learning the hunting sports with my Father gave me a whole different view of the wide-open prairies of the Missouri Coteau. Most people felt the prairies were a lot of wide-open spaces of nothing, but for me, I found beauty, serenity, and peace. Times were about to change, and did change, as we grew up. Due to draughts, reduced crop prices, increasing costs to operate, increase of land values, government programs paying farmers not to grow their crops, or just getting tired of working hard and not making a living were some of the reasons people started to move off the land. In small towns, the ripple effect caused businesses to start to close and the populations in these small towns started to decline rapidly. This is when the youth of North Dakota became the top export for our state. We were given the opportunity for a good education and taught to be dependable hard workers. Being considered responsible individuals made us a valued commodity to be hired for good paying jobs from businesses outside North Dakota. The memories I have are left to read in this book but as time goes by even these memories will be fading away for good. I hope as you read it will bring your own memories back to you. I hope those memories will make you smile of a time long ago.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Feb 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098353483

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© Christian Wingire 2021

ISBN: 978-1-09835-347-6

eBook ISBN: 978-1-09835-347-6

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Contents

Foreword

My First Memories

Life at the Age of Three

Years before School

My Early School Years

Moving to Medina

Start off the Fourth Grade

My First Business

Entering the Fifth Grade

Entering the Sixth Grade

Entering the Seventh Grade

Entering the Eighth Grade

My Freshman Year

My Sophomore Year

My Junior Year

My Senior Year

Foreword

The book, Winds across the Northern Prairie , is a life story of one individual growing up on the Northern prairies of North Dakota. This individual is only one of many thousands of individuals born on the Northern Prairie during this time frame from the mid-1940s to the mid-1960s. They were called Baby Boomers, and the small towns were at their peaks in population and the small town businesses were thriving. Some people called these times as the good times.

We learned to make our own fun, as we did not have cell phones, computers, or even TVs at first. No one was there to organize our baseball games or play kick-the-can during early evening hours. We kids gathered together and organized our own fun, learning how to negotiate our own rules. Living in a farming and ranching community, we also learned how to work hard and to play hard. We were told to address our seniors as Mr. and Mrs. with respect and to do what we were told to do. Responsibility was learned early in life even if we did not know we were learning it. It was something we just grew up with.

Weather was something we learned to accept. The wind blew hard in every direction on a compass. Some of the seasons were too long and others were too short. Sometimes, we just missed a whole season all together. Winters were long and cold and the cold winds made the snow go sideways into high drifts of solid snow. Many of our daily decisions were based on the weather for that day. There was a belief that the spelling of WIND actually meant Weather in North Dakota.

Living on the open prairie was a blessing for me. Learning the hunting sports with my father gave me a whole different view of the wide-open prairies of the Choteau Du Missouri. Most people felt the prairies were a lot of wide-open spaces of nothing, but for me, I found beauty, serenity, and peace there. I learned at an early age that if I see the waterfowl flying north, spring was just around the corner. Also, if the waterfowl were flying south, winter will be here or has arrived. Spending time with Father out on the prairie is where I really had the chance to know him, and that is where he became my trusted and respected friend.

Times were about to change, and did change, as we grew up on the Northern Prairie. Due to draughts, reduced crop prices, increasing costs to operate, increase of land values, government programs paying farmers not to grow their crops, or just getting tired of working hard and not making a living were some of the reasons people started to move off the land. In small towns, the ripple effect caused businesses to start to close and the populations in these small towns started to decline rapidly.

This is when the youth of North Dakota became the top export for our state of North Dakota. We were given the opportunity for a good education and taught to be dependable hard workers. Being considered responsible individuals made us a valued commodity to be hired for good paying jobs for businesses outside North Dakota. It took a long time before the state of North Dakota started to compete for the valuable laborers leaving the state for higher wedges. Over seventy-five per cent of the 1965 Medina High School graduating class left the state sometime after graduation. The population of Woodworth in 1950 was close to 300 people. Today, the county reports forty-eight individuals living in the city of Woodworth, but I’m sure that is an exaggerated figure. Medina’s population in 1957 was well over 550 individuals, but today Medina reports 295 people now living in Medina.

I hope when you read this book you will find it a fun reading and it brings a smile on your face. There have been so many changes in Woodworth and Medina, but one thing that has not changed is the cold windy weather during the winter months and the wide-open prairie with its abundance of wildlife still there to enjoy. Thank you for your interest in reading my book.

My First Memories

One of my earliest memories is waking up on cold winter mornings under layers of heavy blankets. I was warm and cozy with only my nose sticking out to breathe the cool air. I opened my eyes and looked to see if the door to my bedroom was open. It was and I could see the hallway light was on, which kept any demons away. I felt safe and I closed my eyes.

I could hear the wind blowing outside and my only window rattled with every gust. Wearing cowboy pajamas that covered my feet, I slid to the floor. My bed was almost too large for the small room and I wiggled between the bed and the window. It was January 1950 and the window was thick with frost. I scratched at it with my fingernails, making a small hole to see an orange glow to the east as the sun was coming up. A gusty wind blew through the leafless trees in our yard. The ground was white, with snow drifting like fingers across the road in front of our house. The roadsides were piled high with snow made by the town snowplow, pushing snow aside to keep the road open for driving. Next to the piles of snow, Dad’s pickup truck looked cold as it was also covered with white frost.

My bedroom was cold but I felt warm standing on the fancy steel grate on the floor between the wall and the bed, which brought warm air up from the first floor. I could hear Mother down in the kitchen and smell of breakfast she was making.

I grabbed a small baby blanket, my constant companion, left my room and went to the staircase that led to the ground floor. The steps were huge and I sat down working my way one by one to the bottom of the staircase. I remember it was scary going down those steps.

The staircase came into a narrow room used as an entrance and exit where we hung our coats and left our shoes and rubber boots. In the winter, I would spend a lot time in this room, putting on and taking off layers and layers of warm clothes.

When I entered the kitchen, Mother leaned over and hugged and kissed me. I loved it when Mother hugged me. I could smell the cooking food and the smell of cigarette smoke. Both Mother and Dad smoked, and the smell of cigarette smoke was always present in the house. I got used to it, but I never have cared for the smell of cigarettes.

I had a favorite place in the kitchen. It was on the floor between the refrigerator and the kitchen table, right by the heat vent coming up from the coal-burning furnace in the basement. It was warm there and this is where I would sit with my blanket.

Dad would come down from their bedroom upstairs and use the bathroom off the kitchen to wash up and shave. It was the only bathroom in the house and had no heat, so we had to keep the door open to the kitchen to keep it warm during the winter months. I would lie on the floor under the kitchen table, watching in fascination as Dad shaved.

I was the son of Charles W. and Jessie L. Wingire. I had an older sister, Mary. We lived in a house on top of a hill that looked down on the small town of Woodworth located in the south central plains of North Dakota. At the time, Woodworth had about 300 people living in and around the town. It was a great place to grow up in. My father owned the International Harvester Implement store, which was a fun place to play at. He also operated a cattle ranch and farm.

I was born on February 17th, 1947. Doctor Melzer, early that morning, walked to our house through high snowdrifts. The electricity was out due to a blizzard a few days earlier. Doctor Melzer pushed the dining room table up to the bay window on the south side of the house for additional light. He placed a few kerosene lamps around the room and that is where I was born.

I was told this story many times from Mother, Dad, and Grandma Wingire. Doctor Melzer told Dad there was nothing for him to do while Mother was in the process of delivering me. Dad went to his store downtown and would be waiting for a call from Doctor Melzer. My sister Mary was born in Long Beach, California. Dad and Mother had moved there for work during World War II. Mary had bright red hair. Both Mother and Dad had very dark brown hair. After I was delivered, Doctor Melzer called my Father and told him he was the father of a healthy boy. Father asked Doctor Melzer what the baby’s hair color was. Doctor Melzer said it was red and he asked Dad why he wanted to know the baby’s hair color. Dad said he felt better because he was sure that redheaded milkman from California did not follow him to North Dakota. The word got out about what Dad had said and the whole town of Woodworth was talking about it.

No modern-day child would believe in a stork bringing a baby, but Mary, a few months shy of 5 years, swallowed the story hook, line, and sinker. Mother and Grandma Lee had told Mary that she would be a big helper and they had Mary practice how she would run to the dresser, pull out a drawer and retrieve a diaper for the new baby. Mary went along with that idea just fine, but she was really more excited about seeing a stork big enough to carry a baby. The night before I was born, Dad woke Mary and took her to Aunt Charlotte’s house in Woodworth. Mary thought this was strange, but she was too sleepy to care much. When Dad came to pick her up in the morning, he announced that Mary had a new baby brother.

Mary was shocked, asking Dad, Has the stork already come? Is it still here?

Dad said rather nonchalantly, No, it’s already gone. Mary felt a huge wave of disappointment and anger. Yelling at Dad, I wanted to see the stork! Mary gave Dad a piece of her mind, but Dad just laughed.

When Dad and Mary walked through the front door of our house, Mary saw Doctor Melzer standing at the door to the basement. He had a bunch of bloody newspapers in his hands. Mary thought that was strange and pretty yucky. I think now that wasn’t too far of course. Doctor Melzer was probably disposing of the afterbirth in our coal-burning furnace, which was in the basement and that was a normal procedure at that time.

Dad and Mary went into the dining room where Mother was in a bed and there was a bassinet. Dad was looking into the bassinet and said, I finally got my boy! Mary felt Dad added insult to injury! So big deal, Mary thought, Dad finally gets a boy. What does that make her? Not only was Mary mad about not seeing the stork, she was instantly jealous of this thing that has just bumped her into second place or worse in her Dad’s esteem. Mary told me she wanted to poke my eyes out, but she didn’t as I still have both of my eyes.

In fact, I was lucky to be alive. The story goes that Grandma lee had come to help Mother while she recovered from childbirth. When I was born, Mother put clean blankets in the basket and placed me into it as it made it easy for her to carry me around the house. Mother was doing something and put the basket down. Grandma was going around the house picking up dirty clothes and throwing them into what she thought was the dirty clothesbasket. Then, she took the basket out to the back porch. It was February, and the temperature was well below zero. I’m not sure how long it was before Mother began looking for the basket in which I was sleeping. When she couldn’t find it, Mother asked Grandma where the baby was. Grandma said she hadn’t seen me. Mother told Grandma she had put me in a clothesbasket. Grandma yelled, Oh no!" They ran to the back porch and found me sleeping under all the dirty clothes. Apparently, I was not frozen. This gave the townspeople even more to talk about.

To me, growing up on the northern plans was a wonderful place to start off on the travels of life. At this time, everything around me was new. To me, there was nothing bigger than looking out across the wide-open prairie dotted with grain fields as far as the eye could see. Bob Hope came to North Dakota once and said he has never been anywhere that he did not have to look up to see the sky. That is so true for North Dakota. Flat rolling hills, barren of any trees, and clear fresh air makes it seem as if the sky comes down to the horizon.

I learned the core values of life by growing up on the prairie. Life was hard but good. Weather was a major part of my life and I learned to enjoy all four seasons. At times fall, winter, and spring seemed like one season. The wind blowing from all the points on a compass touched my soul. Observing the abundant wildlife, especially the birds, around our small town was an everyday learning experience. Their migrations taught me when spring and winter was about to arrive. Woodworth is located in Strong Township in the northwest corner of Stutsman County, North Dakota. It was the only city in Strong Township and was incorporated on February 15, 1916. The land is rolling and hilly, with many rocks. There are potholes and low areas that fill with water during wet years. In the late 1800s, there was only prairie grass and few trees. Woodworth was also call the Cream City. The sale of cream and eggs was the main source of income for farmers in the area during the early years. It was common to see as many as a hundred ten gallon cream cans on the platform of the railroad station, ready to be shipped out. In the early 1950s, there always seemed to be many people and activities going on in town making for a great place to learn and grow up.

My Dad must have had much influence in naming my sister and me. My sister Mary was named after Grandma Wingire and I was named after Grandpa Wingire. Grandpa Wingire was born in 1877 in Waynesburg, Ohio. His parents emigrated to the U.S. from Switzerland. Grandma Wingire was born in Bern, Switzerland on February 7, 1880. Grandma’s family came to the U.S. when Grandma was a very young child. Her maiden name was Gehrig. I remember Grandma telling me that she was related to the famous baseball player, Lou Gehrig. I was always sad that I did not receive any genes from Grandma that would have made me great baseball player.

One of the many interesting stories Grandma Wingire told me was how she married Grandpa. In the late 1800s, Grandpa and his brother came to North Dakota. Grandpa was one of the first people moving into the Woodworth area. He and his brother built a place and hired my Grandma to work for them doing the cooking and household chores. After about a year, Grandma decided to go back to Ohio to help with her father’s family. She left Grandpa and rode a horse drawn buggy to the town of Carrington to catch a ride on the train back to Ohio. Grandpa must have thought about it and rode on his horse after Grandma and caught up to her before Grandma got on the train. When Grandpa found Grandma waiting for the train, he went up to her and asked her if she would marry him. They got married in Ohio.

I don’t know much about my mother’s side of the family. My mother said she hardly knew her father, as he died a few years after Mother was born during the influenza epidemic in 1919. His name was Albert Lee. He was a railroad engineer on the Northern Pacific Railroad. The only thing Mother said she could remember of him was that her father was a very tall, big man.

I only knew my grandma on my mother’s side as Grandma Jackle. After Mother’s father died, Grandma Lee remarried William Jackle. He was a big man and was always good to me. Mother said he had worked in the Sheriff’s Department for Stutsman County. I remember him always carrying a pistol.

Mother was born in Jamestown, North Dakota. She loved to play and watch tennis. She attended high school and also received her RN Degree in nursing all in Jamestown. Mother met Dad while he was working for the Melland’s Implement Dealership in Jamestown. Mother and Dad were married in Jamestown and were married for 49 years until Mother passed away in 1987.

As far back as I can remember Dad was the person I idolized the most. Over time, Dad became my best friend. Although I did fear Dad at times, I really did not have any reason to fear him, as I do not remember him ever hitting me. Mother always told me when I was out of line, that she would tell Dad what I did that made her upset with me. This scared me as I thought Dad would not like me anymore. So, I would always apologize to Mother thinking she would not tell Dad and Dad would not be mad at me. Dad did scold me for doing many stupid things while growing up and sometimes I wished he had hit me because his words hurt me more than getting hit by him.

Mother was my angel. She gave me love through many praises, hugs, and kisses. Mother always seemed to say the right thing when I needed a pick-me-up. When I was sick, Mother always took care of me. Mother bought my clothing and made sure I wore the right clothing for the right event. Mother also harped at me about being clean and to be sure to wash behind my ears. She was always there for me.

I could not have been luckier to have such good parents. I didn’t always think that way, but after growing up, my parents were still there for me. I did not realize it at the time the values I have today I learned from my parents. Now that my parents have passed on, not a day goes by I don’t think about them. I truly miss them.

Life at the Age of Three

My third birthday was a learning experience. Mother organized a birthday party for me. At the time, I had no idea what a birthday party was. I remember I was playing on the floor with wooden blocks Dad had given me. They were the cut ends pieces left over from cutting boards used in making cattle feeders. I spent many hours piling these blocks on each other to make make-believe things that only a three-year old could think of. I was minding my own business when Mother picked me up and sat me in my highchair next to the dining room table. As I looked around the table, there were many people at the table I did not know. The only people I knew were Mary, my sister—she was always around—and my mother. Those strange people got my attention. All of a sudden, they all started to talk at the same time. I learned later that this was called singing.

These strange people were looking at me and singing Happy Birthday. I had no idea what was going on. I was scared and started to cry. Mother picked me up and I felt safe in her arms. While I was in Mothers arms, a strange lady came out from the kitchen with a round thing on a plate with three sticks that were burning on the top of the round thing. Everyone around the table said to blow out the candles. I had no idea what a candle was or what blowing meant. Mother said blow like this. Mother puckered up her lips and blew air out between her lips. I thought that look like fun thing to do. So, Mother put her head close to mine and we leaned toward those burning sticks and Mother said blow. We both blew and to my surprise, those burning sticks blew out. Everyone cheered. I thought that was fun.

Then, another strange thing happened. The lady who brought out the round thing with fire sticks that we just blew out had a knife. Now, I knew what a knife was as I was told those were very bad and I could not play with them. This got my attention. The strange lady started to cut the round thing into little pieces and put them on little plates for each person at the table. Today was a day for all kinds of new things. The people around the table started to eat those little pieces of the round thing. Mother took a piece of the round thing and said I should have a piece of cake, and then put it into my open mouth. My! That tasted good.

I learned many things that day. What a birthday meant, blowing out candles was fun to do, and that the round thing they called cake tasted really delicious. I never found out who all those strange people were. All this learning must have been hard for me; I fell fast asleep in my highchair.

Being three years old, I had to stay inside the house most of the time during the cold winter months. I did a lot of exploring in our big house where we lived. I learned the kitchen was the place where we ate and where all the new and good smells came from. I spent much time there with Mother. When Mother stopped what she was doing, she would pick me up and put me in my highchair next to the table. She would drink coffee and give me a cookie. Mother gave me a sip of coffee, but I did not like it at all. But when Mother dunked my cookie into her coffee it made the cookie taste even better.

During this time, Mother would talk to me and I started to learn what words meant. Every time we sat together eating cookies and Mother drinking her coffee, she would take a book out and show me a picture of an animal or different objects. Mother would say the word that represented what I was looking at. Then, Mother made me repeat it many times until I got it right. I thought this was fun. My attention span was short. After learning a few new words, I felt like doing something more interesting. Especially after I was finished eating my cookie. Mother then would take me out of the highchair and put me down on the floor. I then would go wandering around the house looking for exciting things to do.

Being three years old, I thought our house was huge. We had five rooms on the first floor and four bedrooms upstairs. The living room and dining room were separated by a large open walkway.

We had running water in the sinks, but for some reason, that water was not drinkable. We only drank water from two tall pails of water on the kitchen counter. This water came from the town well, located a block and half away.

The basement is where all the demons lived. Mother told me to never go to the basement. For some reason, and I don’t know why, I would always remember what I was not supposed to do. The tone of Mother’s voice was different and it would stop me in my tracks. One day, curiosity got to me. I had to know what was in the basement. I slowly opened the door that led to the basement. I opened it just wide enough for me to look in. It was very dark. It smelled of smoke. I also heard groaning and popping noises. Then, I knew for sure this is where the demons lived. I quickly shut the door. I never wanted to go there again, until my Dad took me there sometime later. When Dad opened the door to the basement, I ran from him. I did not want anything to do with the basement. Dad got me into his arms and told me there was nothing to be afraid of in the basement.

He carried me to the basement door and opened it. I just knew those demons were there and they were going to get me. Dad reached for a switch and the lights came on. I knew then that when the lights were on the demons would disappear. When we started down the stairs, I put my arms around Dad’s neck, closed my eyes, and held on tight. When we got to the basement floor, nothing happened. I opened one eye. We were in a big room with a large round thing that was hot. It was groaning and popping. Dad put me down, which I did not like at all. Those demons might be still around. Dad told me to stay put. Then, he told me that large round thing was a furnace. I stood there, not moving at all. He turned and opened a small door on the big round thing that was hot and making all kinds of noises. I could see fire through that little door. I just knew that this is where the demons lived. Dad turned and picked up a big over-sized spoon, which today, I call a shovel. Then, Dad scooped up some big black rocks from a small room and tossed them through the small door onto the fire. Sparks flew out and that was enough for me. I ran and grabbed Dad’s leg. Dad took my hand and we both looked through the little door at the fire burning inside the furnace. I did not see any demons, but I still thought they could be hiding somewhere in the furnace. After a few more shovels of those black rocks, which Dad called coal, he shut the small door to the furnace. He walked me around showing me all that was in the basement and told me there were no demons here.

At bedtime, however, I still had to have the light on in the hallway and the door open enough so I could see the light. After a while, the light in the hallway was turned off.

Mother would send Mary and me outside to play during the winter on good days when the wind was not blowing. Maybe Mother sent us outside just so she had some time for herself. Getting ready to go outside in the winter was a real ordeal. At the age of three, I couldn’t do much for myself, but I didn’t know it. I was learning how to dress for cold winter days. What I learned then, I still do today. This was a job for Mother. First, she would put a wool sweater on me. I remember it was itchy. Then, she would put a hat on me. Then, my legs went into a big fluffy snowsuit. Next, she would take a pair of extra big, thick gloves that were tied together by a long string. She would put the gloves through the armholes of my snowsuit. I guess I had a habit of losing my gloves. Then, my arms went in the armholes and Mom would pull my hood over my hat and tie my hood tight. Next, she put rubber boots on over my shoes and tied a scarf around my mouth and nose and again tied it tight around the back of my neck. The only part of my face exposed was my eyes. I must have looked like a ball with legs. By the time we went outdoors, I was sweating. Mary kept an eye on me when we were outdoors. At least that is what Mother told her to do.

Outdoors was a wonderful place. We had very high snowdrifts in our yard. To me, they looked like mountains. It was great fun climbing to the top of the snowdrifts and then sliding down on my bottom at great speed. It was hard standing up with all the clothes I had on. Mary would come by and pull me up. Then, I would run off to find a bigger drift. She was a good big sister. Seeing that I was the only one around, she taught me things I needed to know about being outside. She taught me to eat snow when I got thirsty. The snow was cold, but would melt in my mouth and the water from the melted snow tasted good. She also told me not to eat dirty snow or snow that looked yellow. The yellow snow is where cats, dogs, and other animals would pee. Mary never had to tell me that twice.

After some time, I could hear Mother calling for us to come in out of the cold. Today, when I’m outside during the winter months, I seem to always feel cold but when I was young, I do not remember ever being cold. Maybe I was just too busy to be cold.

Upon coming back into the house, Mother would be waiting to take all those clothes off me. She would place my snowsuit, scarf, and gloves on a hook in the entry room to our house. My boots went on the floor under my snowsuit. Then, Mother would wrap her arms around me and tell me she needed to warm me up. She would put her warm hands on my cheeks and say I had such rosy cheeks. Mom’s hands were always nice and warm.

Then, she would tell me it is time to take a nap.

Nap! I don’t need a nap, I’d say.

I would cry as Mother carried me up the stairs to my bedroom. She would put me on the bed and hand me the little baby blanket that I always needed when I went to sleep. She covered me with a heavy blanket saying, Sleep tight. When Mother walked out of my bedroom, she always left the door slightly open. I would lie there thinking naps were stupid. That was about all I could remember, as I quickly fell asleep.

I was told to take naps every day until I was old enough to go to school. I would argue with Mother when she told me to take a nap. But Mother’s word was the law and I never won any of those arguments. When I started school a couple of years later, Mother received a call from my first grade teacher complaining I was falling asleep at my desk in the afternoon. Then, Mother had to talk to me about not falling to sleep at school. It took almost my entire first grade to stop falling asleep during class in the afternoon.

I spent many days in our warm house during winter blizzards. I would sit in the bay window in the dining room looking out at the blowing snow. Our next-door neighbor Harry Scheider ran the Standard Oil Bulk business and delivered fuel to the local area. His big red fuel truck stood out against all the white snow.

Sometimes, especially bad blizzards created whiteout conditions where we could not see the neighbor’s house or even the trees next to our house. The wind would howl and I felt the house shake and the windows rattle. When the temperatures were especially cold, the house frame would contract making a loud banging noise. It was common to lose electricity and Mother would bring out kerosene lanterns to light the house. I remember smelling the kerosene smoke throughout the house when the lanterns were in use. On blizzard days, Dad would walk to work and back home. When he came into the house, he’d be covered with snow. On bad weather days, when we had to stay in the house, Mother made cookies and special treats for Mary and me.

On bad blizzard days, Mother would sit me down and tell me firmly to never leave the house. I wondered why she even thought I would want to go outside when the wind was blowing snow so very hard and cold. That would be no fun. Much later, I realized in whiteout conditions, it would be possible to lose sight of the house and not find your way back. In the intense cold, it would not take long to freeze to death.

We had no TV in those days. To pass the time, we learned to entertain ourselves. Mary would read comic books or she would be reading a real book. I could not read at the age of three, but I found it interesting to look at the pictures in the comic books. Sometimes, Mary would read me a comic book and I could follow the pictures as she read. She had little toy horses to play with. Of course, I had the wood blocks Dad gave me and I would play with them for hours. I do not remember ever being bored at the age of three. Everything in the house could be explored. I would play with all the shoes and boots neatly lined up in the hallway. I would pull Dad’s coats down from their hangers and put them on. Later, Mother would be upset when she found Dad’s coat lying on the floor where I left it when I lost interest in wearing it.

Mother had a bowl of brightly colored plastic fruits on the dining room hutch, which I found especially interesting. At one point, I pulled a chair over to the hutch and climbed my way up for a better look. I grabbed a bright orange round object out of the bowl. Wow, I thought, this will be a great plaything. Suddenly, Mother picked me off the chair and sat me down on the floor. She pointed her finger at me and in a loud commanding voice, told me never touch those fruits again. She scared the hell out of me. I started to cry. The thought of touching those plastic fruits never came into my mind again, even after I grew older.

At the age of three years, time never meant much to me, but I started to notice the sun stayed up longer. Since I was told to go to bed when the sun was going down, my days seemed longer. I just could not figure this out. I also noticed the weather outside was warmer and there was water standing everywhere. The snowdrifts seemed to be going away.

One bright sunny day, Mother said, We are going outside. To my surprise, I did not have to wear my snowsuit. Mother still put that itchy sweater on me along with a little jacket. She also pulled a pair of rubber boots on over my shoes. When Mother and I stepped outside, it wasn’t cold at all. Mother sat on the porch step. The first thing I had to do was to check out all the water standing in our yard. I walked up to a puddle of water, leaned over, and touched it. Oh, it was cold. Wow! I thought. This is really exciting. I started to walk in the water. Every step took me a little deeper. This was so much fun, I started to run. All of a sudden, I was falling and I hit the water with a splash. My God, was that water cold! I started to scream. Mother picked me up by the back of my jacket and carried me to the porch. I was dripping wet. Mother took off all my clothes off, picked me up and ran into the kitchen. She put me in the kitchen sink and turned on the warm water. Oh, that warm water felt good. Mother washed me until I was clean. I learned another lesson. Puddle water was wet, cold, and dirty, and I shouldn’t run in it.

When late spring and summer arrived, I spent all the time I could outside, except when it rained. Mother walked me around the yard and showed me the boundaries and explained I was never to go beyond them. If I did, she would tell Dad. That was all she had to say. As I grew older, those boundaries were expanded outward beyond the yard and into the town. It seemed my parents never worried about where I roamed around the house or in the town of Woodworth, unlike today when it is seems necessary for an adult to supervise children as they play outside.

The yard was my first playground with much to explore. The north side of our property had several kinds of tall trees with leaves of different shades of green. Wind blowing through the trees made a rushing sound as the leaves fluttered. We also had many Lilac bushes, which bloomed in the spring, filling the whole yard with a wonderful smell. The grass in the yard was thick, green and soft, a great place to lie down. Toward the back of the yard, there was a small building that had once been a chicken coop. Next to the chicken coop, there was an outhouse, which I got to know very well growing up.

Next to the house, we had a box-like thing Dad called a cistern for our water. I was not allowed to play on it and I was told to never open the small door on top of the cistern. It had a lock on it. There was another small door at the base of the house where coal could be shoveled into to the basement for the furnace. It had a neat slide. One day, I couldn’t resist. I opened the door and slid down that slide. When I came in into the house, Mother yelled at me. I did not realize I was covered from head to toe with coal dust. She gave me a bath after a good scolding. She also told Dad, and to say the least, I never went by the coal door again.

One early warm spring day, I sat on the back porch watching many large flocks of birds flying by. Dad told me they were ducks. There were days when flock after flock of ducks flew by migrating northward. Later in my life, I learned to know what kind of ducks they were by just watching how each kind of duck flew. I can still do that today.

During the winter months, there were no birds at all around our house. In the spring, summer, and most of the fall, there were many kinds of birds everywhere. On days the wind did not blow, I could hear many different birdcalls especially, in early morning and late evening.

On warm summer evenings, Mother, Mary, and I would sit on the front porch watching storm clouds off into the distance. We called them Thunderheads. They would build up higher and higher in the sky, tumbling, rolling, and turning into all kinds of shapes. As the thunderheads grew, our imaginations went wild. We thought we could see faces of people, horse heads, cow heads, and anything our imaginations would create. When it grew dark, we watched lighting brighten the night skies. The lighting would streak across the sky followed by a distant rumble. Mother Nature provided a show that I have always remembered and enjoyed watching.

I do not remember when Mary got her Schwinn bicycle, but at three years old, I was amazed at how she could ride that thing. Just two wheels and she would hop up on and drive away in a flash so fast I could feel the breeze when she passed.

About that same time, a tricycle showed up for me. I cannot remember getting it, but all of a sudden it was a big part of my life. Oh, what a beauty that tricycle was! It was red with tassels at the ends of the handlebars. It greatly improved my mobility and I would ride my tricycle everywhere I could. We had a short driveway from our one-car garage to the street in front of our house. The street was smooth gravel and I drove my tricycle back and forth on the driveway. I learned not to drive in the yard as it was much harder to make my tricycle move over grass and I tired out too quickly.

Later that summer, I had the first major tragedy in my short life. I was allowed to drive my tricycle on the large driveway between Scheider’s house and our house. I was having the time of my life pretending the tricycle was a big truck. I would make sounds like I had a huge V-8 engine. We had a man staying in the fourth bedroom in our house, who worked for Dad. His name was Wallie. I do remember I had a hard time saying his name and I always called him Wawa. Wallie drove into the area where I was riding my tricycle. Of course, at that time, I was impressed with any car or truck and the person who drove them. Wallie got out and went into the house. Later, Mother called me in to eat. I yelled at Mother, I would be right there. I wanted to be like Wallie, so I pulled up behind his truck and parked my tricycle. I stayed in the house after eating and eventually went to bed. The next morning, I went out to ride my tri-cycle and it was gone! I did not speak to anyone all morning about not finding my tricycle. Later that afternoon, Dad called me outside. This seemed strange since he was usually at work in the afternoon. I ran over to Dad and he grabbed my hand and we walked out to the front porch. There was my new tricycle crushed flat! I was shocked and silent.

Dad knelt down and put his hands on both of my arms and said, Do you know what you did wrong?

I was scared and said nothing. After a moment of silence, Dad said, You were told to always put your things away at night in the garage. Is that true?

Again, I said nothing. Dad said that he was not going to get me another tricycle, as I did not follow instructions. I remember I started to cry. Then, he told me to go to my room and stay there for the rest of the day. I was crushed. Dad was mad at me. I had let him down and now I was being punished. I cried all the way to my room and I jumped into my bed. I knew I was in deep trouble and wondered if I was ever going to get outside again. Then, I fell asleep as it was close to my naptime anyway.

Later that afternoon, Mother came into my room with crackers and milk. She asked me if I knew what I did wrong. I could not look at her, but I said yes. Then Mother asked, Do you know you are not getting another tricycle?

Again, I said yes. I knew down deep it was going to be hard to grow up without my tricycle. I felt so ashamed. Then Mother told me Dad still loves me and he also felt very badly that I was not going to get another tricycle. I had a hopeful thought that if Dad and Mom got me a new tricycle then both Dad and I would be happy again. Well, that never happened. I learned that I needed to do what I was told. How I wished I had put that tricycle in the garage instead of leaving it behind Wallie’s truck!

During the summer months, when Mother would send us outside to play, she would tell Mary to watch over me. I knew Mary did not like that idea. She was five years older than I was and much more worldly. When Mary got together with the neighbor kids, I knew I slowed her down. She had to come up with ideas to get me out of her way for a while so she could have quality time with her friends. One of her tricks was to tell me to go and get something from the garage. Of course, I was very obedient and ran off to retrieve whatever Mary told me to get. Most of the time, it was something that was not in the garage at all. This would give Mary more time without my presence as I could rarely find what I was told to get in the garage. Another one of her tricks was to tell me to run into the house and ask Mother what time it was. I would run into the house, ask Mother, then run back looking for Mary. There were two things that normally happened—either I would forget what time it was and have to go back to the house again, or Mary and her friends would move somewhere else to play and I had to walk around for a long time looking for them. It took a few years before I realized what Mary was doing.

When I was outside playing, there were times when I needed to urinate. I would always think I could hold it for a while longer. When it was really time to go, I would run as fast as I could to the house. More often than not, I did not make it in time. After several times when I showed up with wet pants, Mother told Dad to have a talk with me. So Dad talked to me and gave me a tin can to carry and use it in an emergency. A few days later, I ran to the house and gave my mother the tin can full of urine. I was puzzled why she was laughing so much. I did just what Dad had told me to do! It was not long before I got tired of carrying a tin can all over the place, so when I felt the need I went much sooner and faster to the bathroom or to the outhouse. It took me another few years to learn that I could just urinate outside when no one was looking.

Summer was ending and I noticed the days getting shorter and cooler. The leaves on the trees were changing to yellow and orange and when the wind blew, they fell and drifted in long piles.

That fall, I noticed Mary was gone all day. She would leave early in the morning and not come home until late in the afternoon. I asked Mother where she went. Mom told me Mary was at school. I asked, What is school?

Mother went to the cookie jar, pulled out a cookie and handed it to me. She got the milk out of the refrigerator and poured me a glass. Then, she explained that school is a place where you learn how to read, write, and do arithmetic.

"What is arithmetic? I asked.

Mother replied that is the science of numbers. She told me I would be starting school in another few years. I thought that seemed like a long time away. This was the first year I could remember anything and it seemed like a lifetime. Then, Mother really confused me by saying, when I completed grade school and high school, I would be going to college. I had no idea what she was talking about. So, I asked her for another cookie.

One fall day, Dad drove up to our house in his pickup. I was playing in the front yard when he called me over to see what he had in the back of the pickup. He dropped the tailgate and lifted me up to the truck bed. I was looking down at a pile of dead birds, most with bright green heads. Dad told me these were ducks he had shot that morning. I was amazed. He picked up a duck for a closer look. He said these were Mallard ducks. The ones with green heads were the male ducks and the brown ones were females. I carefully touched the duck with my extended fingers. The duck felt soft. I asked Dad how he had caught the ducks. Dad replied that he had shot them with a shotgun. He picked up this long thing and told me it was a shotgun. I was really interested and Dad knew it. He told me right away to never touch the shotgun or to play with it. He said when I get older he would teach me how to hunt. I was impressed. This was the first time I ever heard about hunting. When I grew older, my father and I hunted together many times. Hunting became a life-long passion.

I was three years old when our family went to Aunt Ruth and Uncle Vestal’s house for Thanksgiving dinner. Mother dressed me in my best clothes and Dad put Mary and me in the back seat of his Packard car. I knew he really liked that car. It was cold and we had snow on the ground. I was too small to see out the windows, so I had no idea where we were going. The car was just getting warm when we stopped. Mother picked me up and carried me up the steps to this white house. There were very few trees and I could see a long way across the prairie. Everything was white with snow. When we went through the door, I saw steps going down stairs and steps going up into the house. The entranceway to the house was dark and smelled funny. A couple of years later, I figured out what the smell was. It was animal manure on the rubber boots setting in the entranceway. Mother said it was farm smell. I guess that was a polite way of saying animal manure smell.

Dad opened the door and Mother pulled me up the last two steps into the house. It was really warm and there were many people in the house. Mother took my coat off and this big strange lady picked me. She gave me a hug and bounced me around, which I thought was fun. She was my Dad’s sister, Aunt Ruth. I liked her.

Aunt Ruth put me down on the floor and told me to go in with the men. I went into a room where several men were sitting around, including my father. Everyone was looking at me. I felt so shy, I couldn’t move. Dad came over, picked me up and sat down with me in his lap. Still, everyone was staring. A stern-looking, wrinkled man in a rocking chair said, Come here.

I could not move. Dad put me down on the floor and told me Go over to your Uncle Vestal. I was really scared. Dad pushed me and shyly I went to the man. He picked me up and put me on his lap. He smelled of cigarette smoke and talked very loud. After many years, I learned to like him.

As I sat in Uncle Vestal’s lap, I noticed all the men were in the room and all the ladies were in the kitchen. Mary was talking to a girl about her own age, our Cousin Vicky.

All of Aunt’s Ruth’s children, David, Frances, Lynne, and Vicky, were gathered for Thanksgiving dinner, except for Bob, who was serving in the Army in Korea. I grew up with many fine memories of all these cousins.

Aunt Ruth said dinner was ready. All the men got up and went to the kitchen and sat at a huge round table. The ladies served the men, as there wasn’t room at the table for everybody. Portable tables were set up in the living room, where we kids ate our Thanksgiving dinner. Everything tasted great. When I was eating, Grandma Wingire came around to my table. She put her hand on my cheek and told me I was getting so big. I loved Grandma Wingire, and when I grew older, I spent a lot of time with her. She was a great lady and taught me so much. I was always scared of Grandpa Wingire. He paid very little attention to me and when I went to him he normally ignored me.

After they finished eating, all the men went back to the living room and the ladies ate their dinner at the big round table. After eating, the women started to clean up the dirty dishes. To me, it was boring. All the men were talking about things I couldn’t understand. I ate too much and fell asleep in Dad’s lap. Mother woke me up in Aunt Ruth’s bed and got me ready to go home. It was just about dark and it felt cold sitting in the car. Growing up, I went to many family dinners,