Growing Up

In 1963 we moved into Humboldt and had a new house built. We lived in an old old house while the new one was built, which took about 6 months at that time. As we grew up, we always shared a bedroom with at least one other sibling, sometimes two. There were many little fights and arguments, but in the end you settled in and got to sleep, or got to visit with Dad about it. Some of those visits resulted in a sore hind end, but we clearly understood the rules and the consequences of not following them. I do not think I have been permanently scarred as a result of a spanking now and then either.

Those years growing up in Humboldt were filled with adventures. The only TV we had was one unit that was black and white with maybe two channels. We watched only at night after dinner and dishes, and then it was the news, Lawrence Welk once a week, rawhide or maybe Bonanza. I remember watching Neil Armstrong make his first step on the moon and listening to Walter Cronkite narrate on the news. That was pretty cool for a boy my age. I was going to be an astronaut, then become a priest. I had thought I might be the first priest to get to fly to the moon. I also remember when Hee Haw came onto TV the first time – I thought it was just hilarious. Anyway, our days and nights were not filled with TV and video games, so we made our own fun. We had a large concrete driveway with a basketball hoop on it. We played basketball almost nightly with a lot of guys from the town. We played pickup games, with call your own foul, or argue about it. We had some great outside shooters as well. Sometimes, as only brothers can attest to, I would argue enough with John that we had to step off the court and wrestle out a call before we could get back into the game. Poor John didn’t win many of those, or was it the other way around.

We would play Pee Wee baseball in season – everyone went out for baseball, everyone played, it was just what we did. I could not ever properly swing a bat or throw, but I had fun trying with my friends. Football season brought sandlot football – full contact, of course, and no pads. Winter time brought ice skating on a pond flooded and maintained by the City maintenance man. We even had a small hut with a wood stove to keep us warm. Lots of pick up homemade hockey stick games and skating at night.

Summertime meant freedom to ride bikes all over town, build forts on vacant lots, catch fresh water crawdads in a little creek for fishing bait, hunt night crawlers at night after or during a rainstorm, and fishing. We would fish at Beaver Lake, Lost Lake, or Lake Vermillion. We would catch bullheads by the five gallon pail, then clean them and eat fried bullheads. My sisters loved the fried tails – a taste I never did acquire.

There were times we convinced my dad to let us ride our bikes out to Lake Vermillion, pitch a little tarp tent, and stay overnight to fish. Real outdoorsmen – I remember getting stormed on one night, but dad drove out to rescue us and haul our stuff home.

There was a place on the river just north of the Lake called Shipoke Grove. We used to catch a lot of crappies and bluegills at the right time of year in that area. One night when I was a young high schooler, I was fishing for crappies, and a 6 pound northern hit my line. I ended up getting him landed, which was probably only because he didn’t fight the line too much. I was one excited young man, being used to catching crappies, bluegills, and bull heads. This was a true trophy to me. I proudly hauled him home and still can taste that fried northern pike. I always have liked the taste of northern, though today’s fishermen seldom seem to want to mess with the rather slimy predator fish. Fun to catch now, but mainly released right away.

I remember when I was in early high school we got a brand new John Deere snowmobile. All of us were lined up waiting to take it for the first ride. We had to take turns, and go in order of age. Charles rode away and came back okay. Cynthia had her friend with her, and took her turn. She didn’t come back and didn’t come back.  Finally, here she came, walking up the road. They had run through a fence behind the school, scratching the brand new machine, and breaking off the windshield. I suppose we should have been grateful she didn’t get hurt, but her brothers wanted to hurt her. We survived – it turns out a new snowmobile with a shorter windshield rides about as well as a brand new one.

I spent most of my summers from sixth grade to about freshman, mowing yards for people. Dad had also always had one or two John Deere garden tractors, so we went around the area and rotary tilled peoples gardens during the spring and fall. My mowing consisted of taking care of several older people’s yards in town. I would push the mower around town with a gas can and mow and trim yards all summer. $2.00 per cutting. I had a short paper route for a short time as well. I remember mowing for Leo Even, an older guy in town at the time. He almost always had to have a bottle of coke with me after I completed the job. “T” Even would have to cook me a hamburger or give me something when I mowed for her. Everybody knew everybody, and they were the nicest people you could hope to meet.

When I was about a sophomore, I did not have any prospects of summer employment beyond the mowing, and dad and I had decided it was time for me to branch out to something bigger. We had some friends over one night to visit, and the topic was brought up. Well, their brother-in-law had a farm west of Oldham and was looking for a farm helper for the summer. A call or two was made, and I had a job. We drove up to Oldham, went 10 miles west, and met Don and Donna Neises. They had five girls and two boys, and I was to become the live-in farm helper-family member for the summer. I remember a feeling of dread and apprehension, but they welcomed me into their family right away like I was one of their own, and I had a great time. Poor Don had a farm helper who did not know how to drive anything with a clutch nor anything about working on a farm. The man had the patience of Job, and I liked him right away. I had a great summer event though I had to ride in humility behind a girl driving the tractors for the first few weeks until I learned a few things. We milked cows, fed pigs, fed feeder cattle, put up hay, picked rocks, pulled weeds, sprayed for weeds, and windrowed hay for silage to feed the dairy cattle. The summer flew by, and I adapted to the Neises family pretty well. I even was offered the same position for the next summer! I spent that summer up there as well, and a few times I had also gone up and worked for them after that. They are a great family, and I still have fond memories of those summers.

Some time before that junior year, I decided that I was now man of means and should have my own car. I mentioned this to dad one morning at our family breakfast, and he said he would look into it. That night at supper he announced that he had found a car for me that would fit my budget and work well for what I needed.  It was 1966 Nash Rambler with 99,000.00 miles on it for sale for $99.00. The deal was made and I had a car. Not too fancy, not too fast, and not up to my sleek and speedy image, but I had plans for that. I decided we needed to paint the car from its light tan to a new color. Dad said he could do that in his back garage, so all I needed to do was pick a paint color and prep the car. I selected a bright Ford blue for my ’66 Rambler, trying to stay as original as possible of course. We sanded and taped and prepped for a few days and nights, and she was ready to spray. Dad had a paint sprayer, so away we went, and the Rambler turned bright blue, just like that. I do not remember too much about any clear coating or any such other coatings, but the car was blue. We had prepped everything but I had not done anything to cover the tires so we could paint the rims. Dad said he would handle it, and I got blue rims with blue-wall tires in just a few minutes. The only thing that would have been cooler is if the tires had said “No Hunting” on them. I drove that blue tired car until I got through one year of college. We made many adventures together, I caught no small amount of crap about the blue tires and rims, but she got me where I had to go. Six cylinder, three on the tree transmission, and she was a beast. It would get hot in the summer time, and I would have to pull over to top off the radiator once in a while. Many a jack rabbit fell prey to my travels to Oldham and back and along country roads in the spring of that year. A box of 22 shells, and a pump remington 22 rifle and I laid to rest a lot of bunnies, gophers, and jack rabbits in those hunts. Of course, I never shot from the vehicle or from a public right of way. I was a rule follower. In my spare time on the farm, I shot bunnies along the shelter belt. One of my buddies had a farm along Beaver Lake, and we spent many an hour stalking and hunting around that area.

It was a great way to grow up in South Dakota, and I do treasure those years of care-free adventure. I still love to just drive through the country side and take in the beauty of South Dakota, both the prairie and the hills. I love a new lake or a small stream. I had many duck hunts jumping stock dams, shot a few geese, hunted lots of pheasants, and got to go on great deer hunts since I was eighteen. Fishing has always been fun, and I did a fair amount of that as well. Once we were married and had children, of course, priorities change, and I had to stop playing so much and raise a family.

God has Blessed me in many ways, and I think where I was born and my family and friends are some of those greatest blessings. I would not have traded it for the world. Make it a great week, and remember to thank God every day for His love for all of us!