Moon River: The Impossible Dream

By Douglas Reiter

My book is a story about an Iowa farm boy growing up in the sixties on the family farm. I just wanted to be a simple man, get married young, and raise a family. Instead, the farm was sold three days before my eighteenth birthday. From that moment on, my life would be something filled with captivating, intriguing, and sometimes tragic events. This is a great book that will keep you on the edge of your seat wondering what could happen to this Iowa farm boy. My life would take many sudden turns, leaving me to wonder when this impossible dream will ever end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9781638606741

Book preview

Title Page

Copyright © 2021 Douglas Reiter

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books, Inc.

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2021

ISBN 978-1-63860-673-4 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63860-674-1 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Chapter 1: Here Comes the Clown

Chapter 2: Farming in Muddy Boots

Chapter 3: A Rose That Blooms in June

Chapter 4: Sweeping America

Chapter 5: The Coke Whore of the Springs

Chapter 6: Freedom: Man’s Best Friend

Chapter 7: Noah’s Story

Chapter 8: The Black Widow of Anvil Rock

Chapter 9: The Recovery

Chapter 10: Mr. Bojangles Dance

About the Author

Chapter 1

Here Comes the Clown

March 3, 1956

Moon River was born in a small town in Northeast Iowa known as Muddy Boots. He was the fourth of five children to Edna and Carl River. I was the third boy in a row with the oldest being my sister, Nancy, then brothers Laredo and Cody—seven, six, and five years apart. Then the fifth and final child was Pickle, my daddy’s little girl, who he desperately wanted; then he had me to take care of them when they got older. Before I was born, my grandma Rose moved in with us on our 460-acre Black Angus beef cow farm. It was a very scenic farm with a creek running through the middle of it surrounded with about 150 beef cows and calves. We grew corn, hay, and oats with about 150 acres of pasture and woods. My parents were very fair to me and my siblings. One thing you learned at a very early age was to work and work hard.

My grandmother Rose more or less raised me. We had a huge garden that I worked with Rose. Rose was a tremendous hard worker, and to her, I wish to devote this book. If there ever was a person to show more courage and dedication, well, it was her. She taught me at an early age how to love and care and be one with nature. Grandma Rose was a second mother to me.

I remember as a little kid the cinnamon rolls and donuts she made every Saturday morning. I always tried to eat a lot of the dough, then my stomach would get sick, and she would take care of me. She did most of the cooking, housekeeping, gardening, knitting rugs, and was truly wonderful. I remember as a young kid working with her in the garden, a half-acre garden filled with strawberries, melons, berries, pumpkins, squash, potatoes, tomatoes, cucumbers, etc. You name it, we grew it.

When the day was done and night fell, we would go down in the basement where Rose did her rugs. I would strip the old wool coats and shirts. Then she would knit and knit in her free time. She would draw her own designs of flowers and different things. My favorite was the runners she did for the steps to the upstairs bedrooms in our massive four-story brick farmhouse.

At this time, I was five years old, and I grew my first load of pumpkins. They were giant jack-o’-lanterns. My older brothers Laredo and Cody helped me load them on a wagon with a tractor loader. I will never forget the sight of three tons of pumpkins on the long terrace in front of our house. Some went as big as two hundred to three hundred pounds, but what do you do with all them pumpkins? My dad told me to sell them, so I did. The whole semi load for $350, a lot of money for a five-year-old. So I bought a couple of cows, as did my brothers Laredo and Cody, which would grow the cow herd, and it was starting.

At age six, I saw my first cow give birth to a bull calf, and the cow herd began to grow. In the spring of 1962, it was discovered that I had terrible allergies. Most of my summer nights were spent coughing, wheezing, and keeping my four siblings, my parents, and Grandma Rose up. We were one of the first families to get an air-conditioner. It helped some but did not relieve the problem. A lot of days were spent going to the doctor and running constant tests to see what I was allergic to. It took five years to discover I was allergic to ragweed, which was bad considering I spent most of the summer baling hay, and I was up in the hay mound a lot, which was just miserable.

I’ll never forget the first time I was just seven and my brothers would take me out to the fields. The first time I drove, they put me on this massive Harry Ferguson tractor to rake hay, and around and around the field I would go. Once I had all the hay raked, my brothers would come out to the field and put the clutch in to stop the tractor. I had a pillow on top of my seat so I would reach the steering wheel. Shortly before that, I learned to ride a bicycle. My brother would take me up between the silo and the barn. It was a steep hill as I would get on the bike, Cody would give me a push, and down the hill I would go. The first two times, I would fall and skin my knees and arms, but not one to quit, the third time, I made it down to the house. I was so proud of myself. Now I could ride my bike back to the woods where I had my garden.

November 22, 1963 Death of JFK

As a seven-year-old kid, I was dazed and confused by what had happened. My grandma Rose explained that these little kids my age had lost their father—the president of the US, John F. Kennedy. I remember distinctly watching the funeral with Rose. The big limousine and the hearse. It was a day all America stood still. It really was my first glimpse of tragedy with more to come. Rose was very sympathetic toward the Kennedys. I was also. Tears flowed through my eyes knowing we had lost our leader. My dad was less sympathetic being a staunch Republican. He could really have cared less. He would keep this feeling along with his own prejudices to the end. But on this day in 1963, my little heart and Rose’s heart went out to the Kennedys. I was in second grade. We watched on our big black-and-white TV. We were allowed to watch two shows: Gunsmoke on Monday night after chores and the Green Bay Packers on Sunday afternoon. Those were the good old days. The Packers won championships in 1962 and 1963. They would also win in 1965, 1966, and 1967. The latter two were the first two Super Bowls under Vince Lombardi. It was at seven I would pretend to be Bart Starr. I would throw the football and catch it myself, of course, winning another game for the Packers.

Every year, we would get a brand-new Pontiac Bonneville, and Mom would drop me off at school. I would always feel embarrassed because a lot of kids’ parents didn’t have much, and we were so well off. This was also the time the war in Vietnam was exploding. Even as a little kid, I never understood the gravity of war. My dad was a World War II veteran in the first cavalry. They were the first to invade Japan after the atom bombs were dropped in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Dad was a cook in the Army and told the stories of how him and a couple of buddies captured the emperor of Japan’s horse his sergeant pulled rank on him and brought the horse back to the States and made a fortune showing him around, so swede says.

May 1965

Our family would take a trip to Minnesota fishing. It would be the first of six times that it would come close to being over for me. My allergies were so bad as even nothing seemed to work. The land of ten thousand lakes also is the land of billions of mosquitos. I would get bitten time after time. My whole body was covered with welts. I was very envious of my brothers and dad going out fishing every day. They always came back with a bunch of walleye, bass, perch, northern pike, and bullheads. So on this particular May day, I followed them out to the end of the dock and watched as they would leave. That day, my brother Laredo caught a huge seven-pound walleye. I really wish I could have been along, but only three were allowed in the boat. So the next day, I went back to the end of the dock as they pulled out once again without me. This time, I accidently went too far and fell off the dock. The water was about twenty feet deep at that point and being the spring, quite cold. The ice had just come off the lake. I was scheduled to take swimming lessons that summer, but at the time, I did not know how to swim. Down I went and noticed all these minnows everywhere. Up I came grasping for air and I screamed. My grandma Rose was a good one hundred yards away at the cabin with my little sister, Pickle. She heard me and came running down but also did not know how to swim. Fortunately, I was close enough to the dock that she was able to pull me out by my hair saving my life. A minute later, I would have been gone. What I had fallen into was a minnow net, which didn’t allow me to sink to the bottom with Rose saving my life that faithful day.

Chapter 2

Farming in Muddy Boots

It was when I turned ten in 1966 that I decided I wanted to farm on this beautiful, picturesque 460-acre place that had about 150 acres of pasture with 40 acres of timber that had everything from walnut trees, beautiful maple, elm with many varieties of berry bushes, and my favorite wild morel mushrooms. They were very edible and delicious. It was a very scenic farm with a creek flowing through the middle. It was surrounded by 150 Black Angus beef cows, calves, corn, hay, oats, and a beautiful three-story brick home.

My parents were very fair to me, and the one thing you learned at an early age was to get up at 5:00 a.m. and out to do your chores. My grandmother Rose more or less raised me. About two months before I was born, her husband, Grandpa Ed, had died. I was his replacement. Rose was a tremendous hardworking, caring, giving, and loving woman. She taught me at an early age how to love, care, and be one with nature. I learned everything from her from growing gigantic pumpkins to picking mushrooms and berries. I learned to pull a calf and nursing it back to life after its mother died. Farming is what I loved and was born to do.

My dad wasn’t really into farming. He wanted to be a doctor. His dad, my other grandpa Ed, would have nothing to do with this. He was a very successful farmer, owning over three thousand acres of prime Iowa farmland. Ed would give each of his five sons some land. Farming was hard work but what I loved doing and continued to do for quite some time and was rewarding.

We started going to Canada instead of Minnesota fishing. We always went in May when the ice was off Gull Rock Lake and before hay season was done. In 1968, we went with my brother Laredo and a friend of his named Gopher. All this time, the Vietnam War was escalating. I remember sitting and watching the news with my dad. They would always give the casualties. It was horrible. My brother had just turned eighteen but had a deferment for veterinarian school. Good thing he drew number ten according to his birthday.

It was when we were up in Canada that there was another assassination. This time, it was Robert Kennedy, younger brother of JFK. By this time, I had just turned twelve and was learning a lot of history and understanding more of what was going on. Robert was a lot like Grandma Rose—very caring, loving, and understanding human being. He did a lot as attorney general for the poor and disabled. It was truly another terrible tragedy. There was a musician traveling with Robert on the road named John Stewart. The last campaign trilogy.

It was more than Indiana. It was more than South Dakota. It was more than California. It was more than Oregon. It was always on our minds, and he died on the road. Shoot all the wild horses, and how will we ride?

It was a very traumatic time with Vietnam going on and my two brothers that were primed for Vietnam. We caught a ton of fish and brought them back to Iowa on dry ice. The year 1968 was once again a time of grieving and hard work. The cow herd would continue to grow, and I started 4-H showing calves at the Dubuque County Fair. I had one favorite. He was a sweetheart on parade. The finest calf the good Lord ever made. I named him Nobey, and he wore a hat. Nobey was a lean calf that nobody wanted but me. As the fair approached, Dad realized he had grown into a champion. So with the help of our hired hand, Pinky, they switched the tags so my oldest brother, Laredo, could show him being his last year and all. I was devastated since he was my calf, and it was really wrong to do that. Laredo showed him and won reserve grand champion and actually brought more at the auction than the grand champion. He was bought by the circle at night club in east