Planting time

Barb, Marilyn and I finished getting the potatoes and garden planted and other things necessary to get ready for the summer.  There are 4 pumpkins hills just north of the potatoes.

Norb Cast Stories

Mariann - The story behind this picture:

Den wrote about the garage that still stands at our place. Laabs Cheese had a factory in Phillips. Dad drove the 1950 red Ford truck (later a logging truck) and hauled milk for Laabs. 

The truck stood outside. The winters up there got very cold. Thirty degrees below zero and colder. It was a challenge to start that truck to haul milk. Laabs hired a carpenter from Greenwood, Wisconsin, to build a garage so that the milk truck would start in the winter.  Notice the big garage door the next time you drive by. 

Anyway, Norb was a toddler: the garage must have been built the summer of 1946. The construction took the entire summer.   First, a concrete floor was poured and to pour it, gravel was hauled in to level the site. Stakes were pounded into the gavel and binder twine was stretched between the stakes. That way, when concrete was poured, the floor would be level. 

Toddler Norbert, running around the construction site, tripped on the taut twine and he broke his arm. He was such a cute toddler. It was diagnosed a green twig bend. His arm was placed in a plaster cast for about six weeks.   Norb still sat in a high chair. Mom and Dad took him to Phillips to have the cast removed after six weeks and brought him back to the old place where the garage was being built. They must have gotten back around dinner time. They put Norb in his high chair to give him supper.   He cried. He wouldn’t eat. Then Mom retrieved the plaster cast that had been removed earlier. She slipped it back on Norb’s arm. Talk about a happy camper. He ate.   Isn’t it amazing that that tiny cast is now about 70 years old? Mom didn’t throw much away. 

Kristin - Is the next one going to be Mariann’s braids? Because I’ve already seen them.

Alisa - It looks like plaster - like the remnants of someone's cast. Only too clean to be a cast that was worn in accordance with a doctor's recommendations, so I'm going to make up a story: Someone broke a bone or got badly injured and went to the hospital, was treated and the bones were set and cast, and then when the injured person got home they immediately cut off part of their own cast because they didn't like the way it restricted their mobility and/or it prevented them from completing a necessary task.  Like if you broke your ankle and the cast prevented you from comfortably bending your knee, you would immediately carve it down a little so you could sit comfortably in your favorite chair, right? At least that is what I would do, so I think that's completely reasonable. -

Dennis - I found the cast cleaning out the bench area by the furnace.  I don't remember ever seeing it before.  Mariann's story is quite accurate.  I remember running through the garage with Norb, I think I had his hand, so was probably the cause of the accident.  I don't remember the high chair incident but I do remember being in the reception area when Norb walked out of the doctor’s office and the people in there reacting to this little guy with the cast on his arm.  The only other corrections to the story is the truck that Dad had at the time.  It couldn't be a 1950 for because they were not made in 1948.  It must have been another truck but I don't remember what it looked like.  The carpenter's name was Gus Lindberg, and I remember him being from Loyal, Wisconsin.

Peter and Sylvia Tennessen Scholarship award winners and more

Since our mother passed away in 1996 the Tennessens have awarded a scholarship (at least one) to a deserving Phillips High School graduate.

Every spring since then, one of us has presented the scholarships at a Phillips High School honors awards convocation. This May, due to the corona virus, Phillips High School will present the awards virtually. An administrator will do the presentation. At the request of the high school, the following information has been sent to Kay Sue Belan, Administrative Assistant at Phillips Middle School and Phillips High School:

"Our parents farmed on County J, Town of Harmony, until 1978. Peter Tennessen, our father, passed away in 1982 and our mother, Sylvia Tennessen, passed away in 1996. After her death, my brothers, sister, and I decided to offer a scholarship in my mother’s name to a woman Phillips High School graduating senior who wanted to pursue a higher education.

A few years later, a similar scholarship was offered to a male high school graduate who wished to pursue a higher education.

These scholarships commemorate Peter and Sylvia Tennessen. Our parents valued higher education even though Peter quit school after the third grade and Sylvia was unable to go to high school after she finished the 8th grade at Martins Mill School.

When Sylvia graduated from the 8th grade, there was no bussing. She would have had to rent an apartment in Phillips to attend high school. One of her biggest regrets was that she did not have a high school education.

Today, the Tennessen family is proud to present a Sylvia Tennessen scholarship and a Peter Tennessen Scholarship.

The Peter Tennessen Scholarship ($1,000) today is presented to a young man who has worked since he was 12 years old. He now has his own logging business. It’s appropriate for this young man to receive the Peter Tennessen scholarship because our dad also worked hard as a logger. He plans to become a lawyer.

The Peter Tennessen scholarship is awarded to Trey Tingo.

The Sylvia Tennessen scholarship ($1,000) is awarded to a young woman who plans to become an RN. During this pandemic, her goals to become an RN would earn our mother’s support. She would be very pleased with this young woman’s focus, persistence, and dedication.

The Sylvia Tennessen scholarship is awarded to Destinee Kleinschmidt."

Day 4 – Hay Hook

My story – I am reminded how important it was when hauling bales of the bailer to be well positioned before-hand. Once when going down a steep hill at Percy Rolls farm – Percy was driving the tractor [I’m not sure but he may have ridden bucking broncos at rodeos as least he drove a tractor as if he were riding a horse or longhorn steer]. Anyway, just as I speared the next bail using this bale hook and hauling it onto the wagon Percy stopped ever so suddenly. Inertia had set in and I went flying all the way over the bailer and landed between the tractor and the bailer straddling the power take off unit. OSHA police would have shut us down. Not here though. I walked back, jumped back on the wagon and we were on our way as if nothing had happened. Technically nothing did happen. Praise God! Norb    

A cow’s dental flosser - Ann

Hay, I used these bale hooks in high school to feed the cows! - Marilyn

Our neighbor, Clifford Palmer, passed away in 1948. Dad and mom wanted to buy his farm and the Palmer family did not want to sell. It was disappointing for mom and dad. If they had been able to buy that farm right next to our land, they would have been able to milk more cows and invest in more of the latest farming tools. – Mariann

I remember a story Dad used to tell. We were on the farm and Uncle Pete mentioned Palmer.  Dad asked who Palmer was and Douglas, who was around 4 at the time, told dad that he was “ the guy what fixes the water pipes.”  - Cindy

Wooden Pulley

I remember once there was a snake stuck in the hay, and Uncle Pete wouldn’t undo the load to let it out. The snake got a free ride into the hay mound. - Steve  

The story I offer to this one is that when Dad gave the signal to Barb or whoever was at the corner of the barn to signal the person driving the John Deere, on rare occasion Dad would get the sling wrapped around the hayrack and before we knew it, we were lifting the entire hayrack off the wagon. That was like a train wreck [Dave would have a different two-word statement for this] before the tractor driver got word this was happening – because not possible to see what was happening.   Words were said…normally in good taste but to the effect the tractor driver had done something wrong. Norb

OIL SPOUT STORIES

A spout for oil cans that has most likely been obsoleted when metal oil cans were replace by plastic bottles. I suspect that the old metal cans were far more environmentally friendly. Norb

Spout for a can of oil—you would push it into the top of the can. -Dee 

Spout for a can of motor oil. Definitely not OSHA approved.  - Lou

That’s a push in spout for a can of oil – Cindy

Norb and I punched a lot of holes in oil cans working at Frank Dusek's gas station.  It was an all-night station and during the summer when all the tourists were coming up north from Chicago and Milwaukee it could be a zoo.  It probably was the only station open within a 100 miles.  On a holiday weekend there could be 6 or 8 cars parked to get gas and others waiting.  There was no self-service so each had to be filled up by an attendant.  In addition, the windshield had to be cleaned (the bugs on them were numerous) and the oil had to be checked.  Frank wanted us to sell windshield wipers and oil so you would point out to the driver their wipers were getting bad, and their oil was a little low.  The secret to selling oil was to put your finger between the top of the dip stick and the tube that the stick went into.  It would show to be 1/2-quart low, so you may get a sale.  In addition to all that, you had to collect cash or run their credit card through a machine.  You placed a three sheet paper ticket on top of the card in the device, and manually draw a roller (part of the machine) over the ticket.  There were three copies, one for the buyer, one of the station owner, and one the was sent to the credit card company (Standard Oil in this case).  I remember one night I collected $1300 in cash and a bunch more in credit cards.  I think gas was 32 cents per gallon so that was a lot of gas.  Norb can probably add more to this story.

Yes to Dennis’s invitation to add to the story pumping gas at the Standard Oil station in Phillips. First, we worked 12 hour days 7 days a week for $1 per hour. Times would shift from busyness to quiet and nothingness in the dead of night. On one of these nights a family of 5 or 6 limped in at about 2am. I think it was a ’56 Buick with something seriously wrong with the left front wheel, the tire had been reduced to shreds and the wheel was wobbling.  The father did not talk but aside from that he perfectly normal. He really didn’t need to use sign language. It was obvious things were seriously wrong. I do not remember how they were actually able to pull in to our station in the first place. 

I removed the wheel and hub to find the wheel bearing was totally shot. The roller bearings were gone. All that remained was the bearing shaft that was as much as welded to the shaft. Try as I did I could not get it off. I had to use the acetylene torch to cut it off. Only problem with that I had never been trained in on using the torch. But the guy watching me work did not know that. I figured it out, got the bearing shaft off, installed a new bearing, mounted a new tire and had them on their way a couple of hours later.

Then one night when all was quiet, from a distance I heard what sounded like a chain being dragged over the pavement. It was scary and I hoped the noise would go away but it kept getting closer. My mind started racing. Could it be the devil himself?  The noise got closer and closer and it came right through the front door.  A black lab that had pulled one of those metal mounting posts out of the ground and just wanted to stop in for a visit. I tied him up, he made himself comfortable and slept through the night. Norb