Soapweed
Well-known member
My journal entry for Friday, February 9, 1968
Mom tried unsuccessfully at 6:30 to get me up. The second attempt 15 minutes later got the job done. I rolled out and got dressed. After breakfast, Sandra and I headed for school and arrived shortly after 8:00—just as the band was "tuning up."
We slopped through a few marches that would make the composers shudder. Typing went by without mishap. Geography went along as usual, with Mr. Nelson throwing in a little humor and other interesting sidelights along the way. Mr. Card fixed us up with an easier Geometry assignment than usual. Biology class was devoted to working on Science projects.
Clockwork goes off every day at about two minutes until 12:00. All ten members of the sophomore class have some little chore to do—get a drink, go wash their hands, pick up a book, etc. We are then all primed and ready for when the dinner bell rings.
Boy, John has a very noticeable crush on Frances Oleske and vice-versa. I used to think their sitting beside each other was mere coincidence. After seeing the perfect timing and sly winks that went on today, I now know otherwise. P.S. I wonder how long this will last.
Cheese sandwiches, tomatoes, and peanut butter cookies were on the plates as we walked through the lunch line today. I doodled and goofed off until 1:00.
I went down to Grandma's and waited awhile. Dad came to town about 10 minutes after 1:00, bringing in my suit (Sunday duds). I changed, and then Uncle Stan, Dad, and I went to Gordon for John Kime's funeral.
When we arrived at the Methodist Church, we were ushered into the fellowship hall. We couldn't see the preacher or the singers, but a microphone system enabled us to hear what was going on. Harvey Gabel was the preacher. There was a big crowd in attendance with quite a percentage of the people being relatives.
Dad drove out to the cemetery, but we went a different way through town and got at the very end of the procession. This was the third funeral I've been to. Grandpa's (Jack Moreland) and Jay Cole's were the other two.
We came straight home from Gordon, as Dad had bull buyers waiting. We got back to Merriman at about 4:00. Sybil went home with Dad in the car, and I brought the new pickup home after stopping first to get some milk. Sandra stayed in town to go to a ball game at Central. [Central was a school northeast of Batesland, South Dakota.]
After arriving home, I hauled in some parcels and Dad introduced me to the bull buyers—Floyd and Cliff Ohlman from Crookston. I changed into my work clothes and went out to help Lloyd. He was nowhere in sight, so I moseyed down to the barn and admired Dad's latest addition to the saddle room. He made a gate with a good stout spring, between the horse barn and hay barn. It is durable as well as good looking.
I saddled up Penny and loped out to get in one of the three bulls the Ohlman brothers bought. They paid $450 apiece and added another $15 if Dad would deliver the other two. The bull was soon in and loaded onto Ohlmans' pickup.
Dad and Lloyd went down to the far end of the meadow about dark to get a load of rough hay. I did up chores—grained the two bunches of bulls, and fed the two "jingle horses" and a calf some hay. Then I ambled up to the house and listened to Sybil's tales of the way of life in the "big city." She had stayed all night (last night) with Ruthie Buckles, and got to lead the routine life of a "town kid" for one afternoon and evening. The funny thing about it was this was the first time she ever had the chance to try milking a cow. She had fun and a change of pace.
When I heard the tractor coming, I put on my coat, hat, and gloves, and went out to help Dad and Lloyd feed the cow bunch in the horse pasture. We got in for supper at 6:45.
Mom tried unsuccessfully at 6:30 to get me up. The second attempt 15 minutes later got the job done. I rolled out and got dressed. After breakfast, Sandra and I headed for school and arrived shortly after 8:00—just as the band was "tuning up."
We slopped through a few marches that would make the composers shudder. Typing went by without mishap. Geography went along as usual, with Mr. Nelson throwing in a little humor and other interesting sidelights along the way. Mr. Card fixed us up with an easier Geometry assignment than usual. Biology class was devoted to working on Science projects.
Clockwork goes off every day at about two minutes until 12:00. All ten members of the sophomore class have some little chore to do—get a drink, go wash their hands, pick up a book, etc. We are then all primed and ready for when the dinner bell rings.
Boy, John has a very noticeable crush on Frances Oleske and vice-versa. I used to think their sitting beside each other was mere coincidence. After seeing the perfect timing and sly winks that went on today, I now know otherwise. P.S. I wonder how long this will last.
Cheese sandwiches, tomatoes, and peanut butter cookies were on the plates as we walked through the lunch line today. I doodled and goofed off until 1:00.
I went down to Grandma's and waited awhile. Dad came to town about 10 minutes after 1:00, bringing in my suit (Sunday duds). I changed, and then Uncle Stan, Dad, and I went to Gordon for John Kime's funeral.
When we arrived at the Methodist Church, we were ushered into the fellowship hall. We couldn't see the preacher or the singers, but a microphone system enabled us to hear what was going on. Harvey Gabel was the preacher. There was a big crowd in attendance with quite a percentage of the people being relatives.
Dad drove out to the cemetery, but we went a different way through town and got at the very end of the procession. This was the third funeral I've been to. Grandpa's (Jack Moreland) and Jay Cole's were the other two.
We came straight home from Gordon, as Dad had bull buyers waiting. We got back to Merriman at about 4:00. Sybil went home with Dad in the car, and I brought the new pickup home after stopping first to get some milk. Sandra stayed in town to go to a ball game at Central. [Central was a school northeast of Batesland, South Dakota.]
After arriving home, I hauled in some parcels and Dad introduced me to the bull buyers—Floyd and Cliff Ohlman from Crookston. I changed into my work clothes and went out to help Lloyd. He was nowhere in sight, so I moseyed down to the barn and admired Dad's latest addition to the saddle room. He made a gate with a good stout spring, between the horse barn and hay barn. It is durable as well as good looking.
I saddled up Penny and loped out to get in one of the three bulls the Ohlman brothers bought. They paid $450 apiece and added another $15 if Dad would deliver the other two. The bull was soon in and loaded onto Ohlmans' pickup.
Dad and Lloyd went down to the far end of the meadow about dark to get a load of rough hay. I did up chores—grained the two bunches of bulls, and fed the two "jingle horses" and a calf some hay. Then I ambled up to the house and listened to Sybil's tales of the way of life in the "big city." She had stayed all night (last night) with Ruthie Buckles, and got to lead the routine life of a "town kid" for one afternoon and evening. The funny thing about it was this was the first time she ever had the chance to try milking a cow. She had fun and a change of pace.
When I heard the tractor coming, I put on my coat, hat, and gloves, and went out to help Dad and Lloyd feed the cow bunch in the horse pasture. We got in for supper at 6:45.