LDKBox

Kirk and Kellen  sat on the bench for long moment savoring the connection or bond that the two of them now shared.  The yoonger son is wondering what this will do and the older  man is wondering how he will do the things that will be necessary in the days, weeks, months and years ahead.

The connection between father’s and son’s of the Hage clan goes back centuries. IT is not known how it was accomplished but the Hage genes give the ability to silently communicate between father and son.  A feeling can become a request.  A willful thought can be curbed.  The father of Kellen has already had his day of connection.  He remembers the day that the connnection was made between Kirk and his grandfather Lloyd.

Kirk was about ten years old when the connection was made.  Kirk had been attending grade school and had been returned home by the local school bus.  The yellow 60 passenger school bus rumbled down the country roads bringing up dust each mile it travelled.   The dust softly settled down and blew away when the bus eased itself to a gentle stop to let the children off at their homes.  When Kirk step down onto the road after exiting the bus he waved to the students and to the driver as they left.

As Kirk turned to go towards the house he could see that his father’s yard was ripe with the activities of a corn harvest .  He could see the whole yard spread before him.  The house on the left was a large two story .  The top floor had a balcony on the south side and a sunporch on the North. The main floor had an entry balcony/covered porch on the south side that was little used.  On the east side  a new addition had been added to the Northeast corner of the building giving access to the addition with a nice concrete set of steps with wraught iron bar hand rail on each side.  The home was all covered with white aluminum siding that was still wearing strong.

In the middle of the yard was the light pole for night work.  On the pole were the power meters for the farm.  The shop was just north and slightly to the east of the house.  In it were all the tools that Kirk’s father had accumulated during his career as a farmer.  It was a simple shop as was his fathers mechanical ability but his efforts were always the subject of the neighbors since Lloyd seemed to never plant his crops the same way twice.

To the east of the house and the light pole were the  blue glass lined steel silos that A.O.Smith and Harvestor silos built the year that Kirk was born.  These silos held the food for the aninals that Lloyd purchased and raised for a living and a profit during the early 60′s.  Kirk could see the hired men moving tractors and wagon into position to attempt to blow the silage that had been chopped by the Gehl harvester being pulled through the field by a tractor with a wagon in tow.  One hired man was pulling away from the blower to return to the field to gather another load of silage from my father who was operating the forage harvester.

The second hired man was sitting on a 520 John Deere tractor when he motioned to the boy walking down the driveway after existing the bus from school.  Kirk meandered his way, Family Circus style, going from point to point as if each stop was something important and valuable at each turn.  The hired man finally motioned more frantically to the boy.   It wa determined then that Kirk better get his butt moving and see what the man wanted.

Dave,the hired man, was  35 years old.  He had dark hair that was mottled and thick.  H wore a cowboy hat which was unusual for our area.  He was a western South Dakota cowboy that had come to the big city of Sioux Falls, SD. to seek employment.  He had heard of the work on our farm through an advertisement that Kirk’s father had placed in the Sioux Falls Argus Leader.  At  five foot ten inches he was of average height but severely over weight.  He definitely has had one to many beers each night to acquire such a prominent beer belly. He really had a  big belly overhang. It was funny to watch him waddle with all the extra weight  while slipping between tractors, wagons, silage blower belt, pulley’s and pto shafts of all of the implement that were needed to blow the silage into the blue harvestor silo.

When Kirk approached the hired man it was Dave that started the conversation.  ”Hi there Kirk!  Glad to see you home from school.  Your Dad wanted me to get you to help me when you returned from school today.  I would like you to help me unload this wagon of silage so I will be able to go and feed the cattle.  Would you please  unload this load of silage for me.”

Kirk had unloaded silage on several occasions with his father but had never attempted to unload a wagon all by himself.  It made Kirk feel proud that his father trusted him enough to let him work like a man yet  still only a child.  That was often the way of it during those days.  Farm children worked and they usually worked hard.

“Sure Dave, I will do it for you. You go on.  I will finish this load up for you while your in the steer pen.” said Kirk as he looked at all the machinery .

Dave said, “I have everything set up and ready to go.  I will start the blower up.  You go to the back of the wagon and start raking silage into the hopper of the blower.”

As Kirk turned to the east he could see the Brown Swiss milk cows standing in the cow yard wishing,  for that moment at least,  that they were steers.  They knew that silage was soon to be feed the steers.  They always stood at the fence yearning for the fresh molasses spiked corn silage feed.  Mooing in an awful  mournful fashion.  He didn’t feel bad for the cows.  He knew that he would be feeding the cows ground corn and protein by hand when he went to the barn to milk the four cows later on that afternoon.

Where approaching  the end of the wagon,  Kirk picked up the the four pronged silage rake.  He began to move material into the hopper.  Once on the rubber tread mill like machine it headed toward the spinning hammers on the  blower and was soon out of sight and headed to the top of the silo.  As he worked on the load  from the Roorida silage wagon into the hopper Kirk’s little brother Karl came out of the house.

Karl, was four at the time.  Average height but slightly rollie-pollie.  He had blonde hair underneath an old baseball cap that had been worn by all the Hage boys of the family. It was weather worn but something that Karl was proud of since his Dad and brother all wore the same hat.   Karl like to wear his bib overall because his father wore them everyday.  This day wa no exception and his bibs were on and he was proud.  You could see it in the walk as he approached his brother Kirk standing on the ground at the end of the wagon dragging silage out of the wagon and into the hopper of the blower.  Karl said to Kirk. “What are you doing?  I don’t think Daddy would like it that you are unloading silage wagons.”

“It will be OK.”  Kirk said.  Dave needed to feed the cattle and still get back to the field to gather up another wagon for Dad.  It is safe enough if I keep my hands away from moving parts.  Why don’t you carefully go back to the tractor and sit on the seat until I finish unloading this wagon.   We can move the tractor and wagon together.”

“Ok, Kirk I will be careful.  Hurry up and finish.  I love driving the tractor.” Karl said as he smiled impishly and scurried off to the tractor seat to await his brother.

Upon finishing up the loaded wagon Kirk needed to shut down the blower tractor.  Normally he would walk towards the front end of the silage wagon tractor.  Keeping him away from all moving parts that could catch his pants or sleeves.  But today he was in a hurry.  Karl was anxious to drive the tractor.  So instead of going to the front end of the silage wagon tractor Kirk decided to cross over the PTO bar that drives the mechanism for the silage wagon. (it must be noted that the shear pin on this wagon was a 16 penny nail instead of a bolt and the shaft did not have a rolling shield which is the standard safe practice of industry these  days.)

Karl was attentive and watched as Kirk did his tasks.  When Kirk decided to cross over the PTO shaft of the silage wagon Karl released a hold of the steering wheel,  turned his body 180 degrees, and knelt on the John Deere tractor seat to gain better access to watchn  his older brother.  Kirk was smiling and acting like a self important ten year old kid showing off to his little brother.

Kirk turned and stepped on the left side from of the rear end of the tractor to gain a little height to cross over the spinning shaft of the silage wagon tractor.  Normally one would shut off the silage wagon tractor then jump down and turn off the blower tractor.  Then jump back down and return to the silage wagon tractor.  Then drive away.  Not this time.  Because Karl was in the seat of the silage wagon tractor Kirk did not want to bother Karl so he decided to cross over the turning PTO shaft that had a shear pin that had been replaced with a bent nail.

Kirk had taken all the steps to cross over the PTO shaft.  His left foot clear of any obstruction as he placed his  left foot on the transmission frame hooked to the rear end and the drawbar.  Lifting his right leg over the PTO shaft and placing his right foot on the frame of the tractor transmission on the right side.  Once in this position Karl and Kirk are face to face.  It was at this position that Kirk felt a tug at his right pants leg.  It did not hurt at that time but it was a persistent tug.  IT was happening all so quickly.  The tug. Then it was a slam.  Now the rubbing was beginning.  Kirk did not have time to react.  He was being pulled down by the action of the PTO shaft that had a nail for a shear pin.  The shear pin had caught the pant leg and was now pulling it and Kirk between the PTO shaft and the draw bar of the tractor.  This was a space of less than one foot.  Kirk knew that he was going down and could do nothing to stop it.  To late to do anything Kirk held firm in his position and Karl of a sudden turns and shuts the PTO shaft off in the nick of time.  Just as he shut off the PTO on the tractor the pants had finally been ripped off of Kirk’s body exposing the rub mark burn on his left leg where the shaft had been rotating under power of the tractor.

It was this event that first introduced the boys to the trait that is inherent in all the Hage men.  Voices of the father communicated that date to two brothers and one Grandfather.  No one heard a thing.  It was felt.  Karl received a feeling. It was the thing to do.   Shut off the PTO drive.  Do it now.  Kirk felt it but ddi not say it.  Karl felt it and acted on that feeling.  Kirk was saved by a grandfather helping his grandchild.  The guiding angel that only communicates through feelings.  The special trait or bond of the Hage clan has been introduced to the two brothers but they will not actually know about the trait till many years later.  Never the less the bond has been made with the grandfather and two grand kids.  That is the way of the Hage clan.  They feel without knowing and understand without question.  Between the two of them they know.  It is a special trait.

Comments (0) Nov 02 2011

It was the start of October on a typical fall afternoon in Iowa.  Many days of similar feel have been experienced by the 600 residents of the little farm town in Northwest Lyon county over the years.  The wind is constantly changing in speed and direction.  The sun is glowing warm .  Temperatures resting the high 60′s with the afternoon settling into a warm and glorious day.  Which is typical for this little town.

Sitting in front of the post office is a little bench.  On this bench a person can view the main street of Inwood.  To the south is the business district with fifty businesses.  The bank has a new building to serve the people.  There is a bar and a restaurant.  A True Value Hardware store, a four lane bowling alley, two grocery stores, several feed mills for livestock, service stations and repair shops, hairdressers and blacksmith shop.  There is a dentist and a doctor office on each side of main street.  A weekly newspaper, boarding house, a plumbing contractors office, and a used car lot.

To the north is the residential section.  Streets lined with oak, ash and walnut trees.  Everyone had at least one evergreen and some had hedges surrounding the garden that had vegetables and fruits, surrounded by a green lawn.  Iowa soil will always produce something if given any water at all.  Such wonderful soil.  The soil is not black and it is not yellow but an earthy grey brown tone that allows the rain  water to filter through the soil to reach all the roots of the beans and corn of the surrounding area. The water is held for later use by the clay that is underneath all the topsoil.

Farming is the life blood of the area.  The post office is the central place that everyone comes to meet and greet.  The conversations could get  a little heated in this friendly little spot.   Everyone was equal at the post office.  Everyone was there for the same thing.  Word from the outside.  You know places like Des Moines, Sioux Falls, Minneapolis, and Omaha.  The big towns of the midwest.  The bench in front of the post office was the scene of many of these converstations.

Sitting on the bench on this fall day is Inwood resident Kirk Hage.  Although born in the area,  he is one of the many that left seeking what ever it is that people go out and look for then return later in life only to realize that it was all right in front of them.  He comes everyday to the post office.  He checks his mail each time and has many conversations with the locals but he has other  motives for securing his seat in front of the post office.  Not only does he get to meet and greet locals he is able to observe the coming and going of the children as they pass from school classes  to the gym which is on the corner directly east of the post office bench.  He sits,waits, and watches for the son that came late into his life.  The son that attends the school across the street from the post office bench where Kirk is sitting.  It is here at this bench that Kirk is going to see his life in a different way.

IT has been his habit for years to dress in working attire consisting of khaki shirt and pants with white white socks and brown Romeo fisherman slip-on shoes.  The clothes fit well on the six foot two inch frame.  His body still stands erect and walks true.  The years of wear and tear show in the etching of the furrowed brow. His hazel colored eyes have a light that truly only shines when he sees his son.  To others the light cannot be seen.  His voice is like a screeching horned owl.  The after effects of treatment for tongue cancer years earlier. His hand are thick, broad, and strong from his work as a construction worker now retired.  No longer callused and cut from years of disuse.  The scars still show the wear that the the years have wrecked up them.  Battered but not broken his hand reaches out to anyone.  When you get finished shaking hands with Kirk you know your hand has been shook.

The activity  on the street is starting to build since school is soon to be dismissed.  It is a normal activity for the town residents to meet and greet each day around the time of school dismissal.  Kirk always arrives early to sit and enjoy the beautiful weather, the fall foliage, and flowers while waiting for his son.  It is funny how Kirk sits and waits for his son and the Anderson’s, Bahnson’s, Johnson’s, Jenson’s and Knudson all were waiting for their sons as well.  It always brought a chuckle to Kirk when he thought about all of the sons in Inwood.  Some how he was glad that his name was Hage and not Lloydson or Kirkson.  It could have been his name if his family had used an old tradition of adding “son” to the end of the first name of the father.

As the big bell rings on the south side exterior wall of the big red brick school house Kirk notices his son is first to get out out the door.  He is easily seen.  His thick raven black hair  is a striking contrast to all the blonde headed kids that were surrounding him as he exited the building and walked toward his father sitting at the bench beside the post office.  As was his custom Kirk did not rise when Kellen approached the bench.  He merely said, “Hey buddy!  How are you doing?”  As Kellen would lean down,  give his dad a hug,  then sit beside him at the bench and say, “Hi Dad, boy it was a tough day.”

“Why is that?” Kirk asked.

“I don’t know Dad?  It is hard to learn all of this stuff that the teacher try to teach me.” he said as he looked at the other kids getting into cars and busses heading home for the day.  ”I think it is hard to get along with kids in school and at recess.  They call me names and make fun of me because I cannot run very fast.”

What do you do about it, Kellen?  his father asked

His face lit up when I asked that question.  It was very apparent that Kellen liked to see interest in the eyes of his father because of his question.  ”I try to throw them off with something witty.  A laugh always seem to throw them off guard so they leave me alone as long as I keep them laughing.   I am always picked last because I am so slow.” he said as he bowed his head in embarrassment.

His father said, “Do you want to talk about it, Kellen?”

“No Daddy, I don’t think you can understand my problem?” Kellen answered.

” You think that because I am old I would not understand about how it is to be a kid?  Kirk said as he looked hard at the boy with the cherub face with worldly thoughts in a childish fashion.  Typical kid of the day.  High tech but not much interest in the rural industry of farming and the physical work that it takes to be a farmer.  ”Do you have time to listen to a story befoer we get into the pick up to go home?”

Kellen picked up his head and a smile came upon his face when his eyes refocused onto his father and said, “Daddy, now is not the time for one of your stories.”

Kirk had heard this before from his son.  This was a game that we had played since he was born. It is part of their humor to say things that are really outrageous.  It is outrageous of Kellen to say to his Father that now is not have the time to listen.  We always have time to listen if we choose.  Underneath it all Kellen really wants to hear the story.  Many times through the years he had been told as he  headed out the door that there would be a call to the neighbors that he was going to visit to make sure that he did not have any fun while he was out playing.  Between the two of us he knows that I will never call to check on him for not having fun.  He knows that the intent of his father is for him to have as much fun as possible.    So his answer was typical of their interaction .

“Well,  we will just will have to make time, Kellen.  Now won’t we?”  Kirk said as they both smiled and settled into the bench in front of the post office after a long day at school.

“You know Kellen,  hard as it is to believe , I was once a young man just like yourself.  I went to the same school that you are attending.  I can remember the day in fifth grade When Mr. Johnson lined us all up in PE class to do the first presidential fitness test enacted by  President Kennedy.  It was an exciting day for all of the kids to have a class where all we had to do was exercise and have fun.  Kind of like a recess but with a teacher.  Or so we thought?   After our warm up of jumping jacks , sit ups, push ups and stretching we stood in line waiting as each kid was timed and counted.  Every one picked a partner.  While one partner was doing sit ups the other partner would hold their feet down.   Then they would count the sit-ups while Mr. Johnson would man the stop watch to time each exercise.  When it came time for the 50 yard sprint it was abundantly clear that I was the slowest in the classes because Mr Johnson  announced the time of each contestant as they crossed the line.  So everyone not only heard the results announced by Mr.Johnson they could see that I was more  than a second and a half slower than the fellow I raced against who happened to be the fastest guy in the class.  I will never forget Mr Johson announcing the results. The fastest runner was Don Metzger and the slowest runner was me.  I do not know why Mr. Johnson found it necessary to announce the slowest runner in the class.  Everyone got a good laugh out of it.  It is the first time that I remember being embarrassed in public.  So I think I understand how you feel Kellen.”

The two sat  on the bench in front of the post office that afternoon as the school was dismissed with a smile on their faces, a glow in their hearts, and lost in the moment .  Each into their own thoughts.   Kellen dreaming of his future world through his Father’s eyes.  His father reliving his past world through his sons eyes.  Time has stopped for the two of them.  Each is living a dream.  Different dreams but the same trait.  It is this trait that keeps them coupled.  Secure in the fact that only the two of them can share this feeling.  It was instilled in Kirk by his father who had recieved it from his father.  It has now officially been handed down to Kirk’s son.  They see each others visions with out even being aware.   It is this connection that all Fathers in the Hage line share.

Comments (0) Nov 01 2011

I had a great day on Friday so I went to bed with a smile on my face.  I was tired and I knew why I was tired.  I am old, tired and out of shape.  But I had accomplished something.  Hence the smile on my face.  Oh, we are not even counting the time that I picked up all the tools that I had used for a previous wood project.  Nor are we counting the efforts of moving machinery around the shop to better facilitate a better working environment.  Those things in addition to mowing the lawn(riding lawn mower no trimming needed), carrying water for morning coffee(my shop has yet to be fully plumbed.  I have a well hydrant valve near the road), general dusting(in a wood shop…? now that is funny!!), and leveling the area behind the shop where several hundred yards of material were placed by the water line installation crew that has been installing water lines throughout the neighborhood all summer.  I scored a bigtime with the material for the property.  It cost nothing yet added value to an unusable space.  I got the pleasure of operating my tractor to make it all look pretty(Well, it may not be pretty but to the eye of this beholder it does).  Luckily when the tractor tasks were completed  it rained 4.5 inches.   So I managed to get the material settled and compacted all in one felt swoop.  It is all draining away from the building and did not wash away from the gully washer that we did get .  Oh I forgot I was not counting this stuff.

I remember  now what it was that made me so sleepy on Friday night after all of those tasks that I described and they were not the reasons why I was tired and sleepy?  It was camping gear.  Yes one wouldn’t think that camping gear would make a body tired but this old soak sure gets tired of camping gear.  You know… camping gear is only good when you are camping.  Did you ever notice that?  Boy of late I sure have.  I have camp gear to keep a body warm, dry, and as comfortable as one can be when one lies on the ground in a tent with a sleeping bag 0n an air-mattress.  Then I have to have the stove, the grill,the cooler, the pans, the coffee pot, camp cups, knives, forks, and spoons.  Then there is the fire starter, fire wood, fire pit, fire pit ring, fire grate, fire shovel, and fire extinguisher.  All of these items take up a rather large space when being used.  No problem when you are camping because you are at the campground.  Picture this…all of these items are laying on the shop floor in piles.  Sorted by size,  shape,  and gender(yes my wife has attended camping weekends).  Each pile takes up more space than is needed since it was put away improperly because of the wet dew from the morning pack up from the latest boy Scout camp out almost three weeks ago.  In that time each pile now has a nice layer of sawdust and good old dirt mixed in with the dew that was brought in from the early morning pack up.  Situation clean up is about to take a good turn.

I had finally had had enough of those messy piles(that… and the fact that Kellen has a Boy Scout outing Halloween weekend). The camp gear had been hastily packed up.  Now one must take the time to make the necessary adjustment(clean it up) to get it back into to camp out shape.  Because the tent is so big I needed more space on the shop floor.  Which necessitated the cleaning up of more shop floor area.(which is a good thing albeit more work)  This took quite a long time.  I have been letting things pile up so what should have been a few minutes to an hour show turned into the morning play time for me.  The extra work paid dividends when it came time to pack up all the mess that needed to be cleaned.  The all in one tent was erected with easy.  I was able to get a vacuum and a broom inside the tent to get all the dirt and bugs that the boys left from the last camp out.  Then it was breakdown time for all of the camp gear.   It was great to have all items back into rolls,bags, and chests  that will fit in the back of the pickup.  Now that it is all packed away it is awaiting the call of the Boy Scout weekend.

It was nice to see a clean shop as I left on Friday morning.  I went to sleep very tired that night dreaming of what could be constructed in my clean shop with enough tools to build a space ship to the moon with all left handed threads with my son, Kellen, if I choose to embark on such a mission.  I sure love the dreams that a man cave can produce.  Been a long time since I remembered a dream.  Could it be that this dream is not?  It would appear I am living it?

Comments (0) Oct 22 2011