originally published in the Goering Gazette, July 1989
A special time was when one day we were packed into the Nash and we were on our way to a picnic. It seemed like a long way at that time and we were concerned that the car was not going to make it up the long hill. The destination? Twin Hills west of Roxbury. Driving through that area more recently, I have difficulty imagining the grandeur of that earlier visit.
Dad took us on a field trip to Wichita where we visited, among other, the stockyards and a packing house, Steffens Dairy, and the zoo. It was a thrill to drive on the super highway 81 and go over the railroad tracks on the overpass just north of Wichita.
Grasshoppers were becoming a serious problem on year. This was just a few years after we moved to Canton. So- early one morning Dad rousted me up to drive the team or tractor (I’m not sure which). I drove and Dad shoveled from the rack some wetted down bran laced with lead arsonate or some similar poison along the hedgerow from the alfalfa field moving east. I don’t know why he chose me, maybe I won the lottery!
Canton seniors of 1945 had as their sneak day a trip to Wichita. Big Deal! This was during travel restrictions imposed by wartime conditions. Anyway, I volunteered (or was drafted) to take a car for that wonderful trip. The only problem was that Dad had to go along as a chaperone — at least so he thought. I protested very strenously by sulking, threatening not to go, or whatever, but to no avail. Yes, we went to the packing plant, slaughter house, etc. Steffens dairy, movies, and an arcade. That must have been a horribly boring day for Dad. We drove home that night in a very heavy rainstorm, so maybe it was just as well that Dad was there.
Getting a new milk truck (van) was a special event for us. It was about too good for hauling milk — but I helped to take care of some of that. One early evening, Dad and I were on our way, I think to deliver some milk, and I was driving. After about a quater mile down the blacktop toward Canton, the smell of burnt rubber was getting to be unbearable! After I released the emergency brakes we go out to take a look underneath. I’m not sure if we saw flames, but we probably did because Dad sent me quickly to get some loose dirt from the field across the ditch to throw on the brakes. I was really scard and apologetic! Surprisingly, he not severely upbraid me for that.
Silo filling was always a big event. There were jobs for about everyone. As kids we got to tramp around inside as it was being filled to pack it down. Those a little older, had to soak the doors in the stocktank to swell them and then we had to get some clay dirt to mud the doors to seal them as the silo was being filled. Of course to set iip up in the first place, someone had to go to the top and secure the pulley and manage it from there as the pipe was being lifted. I remember Herb doing that a few times, and I think I did it sometimes, too. Of course, in earlier years, others had to do that. When those rods at the top gave inward as you hung onto them, it gave you an uneasy feeling. Then the older kids and adults had the thrill of getting the bundles of fodder and pitching them into the cutter.
It was at one of those jobs that I stepped into a hole in the rack and fell off the rack and hit my head. It must have affected me more than usual. Among other things, I started to “reminisce” about a football game we had not yet played! That evening, Dad took me to a chiropactor in McPherson and got my neck (head) set straight.