Growing up

There came a time growing up when I thought life ended at age 45.  That was going to be in the year 2000. Imagining life after that never occurred to me.  It was like I'd fall off the earth after that, never to be seen or heard from again.  Fast-forward 24 years and now I'm 69 years old. So many things have happened since that January day in 1955 when Frowin & Cynthia Stoltz welcome their sixth child into the world.  

We remember where we were during those historic events in our lives.  Where were you and what were you doing on November 22, 1963 when President John F. Kennedy was assassinated?   Someone came to the door of our third grade classroom and told our teacher, Mrs. Hershey, who was visibly shaken by the news.  Then in 1986 I was working at the Fairfax (MN) Standard when the space shuttle Challenger exploded.  And on September 11, 2001, I was working in the U.S. Army Reserve Center in Sioux Falls SD when two airplanes flew into the World Trade Center in New York City.  Our lives were forever changed.

My 50-year high school class reunion last year drew about half of our graduating class.  Sadly, several of our classmates had passed away.  Others moved away and lost touch, but enough got together that we were able to sit atop a flat bed, toss a football back and forth and wave to the crowd -- some of whom knew us but many could only guess who we were.  That night, we read the "Class of '73" will and the class prophecy.  Many of those classmates I hadn't seen since the night we graduated.  We sat in the old Legion Hall for one more class photo.   Memories of events, teachers and one another were shared. Lookin' good, guys.  Lookin' good.

We grew up before cell phones, fax machines, laptop computers, artificial intelligence, microwave ovens, DVD players, video games.  Back then there were three television stations -- CBS, NBC and ABC.   And we kids were the "remotes," seated close enough to change the channel.  Oh, and black and white television shows too.  And TVs were not paper-thin as they are now. 

Growing up in the late '60s and early '70s were turbulent times.  The Vietnam War was raging, unrest on college campuses.  There was "flower power" and Woodstock.  And the music was the best.  The Beatles shook Ed Sullivan's show.  American Bandstand was on TV Saturday afternoons. Three Dog Night's music was piped into my taped college lectures during biology lab.  It was a great time to grow up.

Back then, burning leaves in town was common on cool autumn nights.  It's one of my favorite memories of growing up.  Driving up and down Main Street for hours on end was another.  "The loop" extended from the Methodist Church on the north end to the Cenex station on the south.  Three blocks to see and be seen.  There was no stop sign near the bank at that time to slow us down.  There were usually enough cars and people talking back and forth that traffic didn't move too swiftly.  Gotta see and be seen.  And if you paid attention you may just find out where the next party was.

A lot has happened since then.  Marriages, divorces, births, deaths, promotions, job changes.  The years go by faster and faster.  But even after 50 years, our classmates still know us best.  We attended Friday afternoon pep rallies together, stuffed freshmen into the study hall bathroom, sat through typing class with Mr. Bjerke or tried to outguess Mr. DeRoos with his next government test.  

"1973 Rules!" was scrawled on the back of the auditorium.  We always knew it did.  We didn't have to be told.

The winter of '68-69

 This is our second full winter in our house in Parkston.  We moved in in March 2021 and so we're coming up on two years here in this town of 1,500.  We moved away from South Dakota in 2011 when my federal employment took us to Millington TN (outside Memphis).  After nine months there, I was promoted to a new position with the U.S. Navy in Pascagoula MS, on the Gulf Coast.  After almost six years there I retired from the federal government, we moved to Ironton MO and managed a 30-room inn for 9 months, before departing for Lincoln NE.

We had our first taste (in several years) of a real Midwest winter in Lincoln in 2018-19 when that city received 55 inches of snow.  But we were renting an apartment so weren't bothered with clearing the snow ourselves.  Six months later we moved to Branson MO, only 10 miles from the Arkansas border, on the urging of Barbara's cousin.  Too many hills for us (the Ozarks).  We lived there about 18 months before deciding the Midwest was where we wanted to retire.

So early in 2021 we began searching for a suitable home in a small southeastern South Dakota town.  We really weren't particular which town.  We just liked the idea of small-town living in a state known for its conservative values.  Besides, I grew up in South Dakota and Barbara grew up in Nebraska.  After finding very little available in small towns, we saw a house listed in Parkston.  We immediately planned to visit, found it and the town to our liking, and bought our retirement home.

There's so much to like about living here.  We live right across the street from one of the city's parks, so it's fun to watch people walking their dogs or kids playing on the playground equipment there.  The city has a lot to offer for a very small town, and being only 21 miles from Mitchell (15,000) and 61 miles from Yankton (14,000), it seemed a good fit.

As in many small South Dakota towns, the people are warm and friendly.  As Barbara was vacuuming the carpet in our new home shortly after we moved in, the daughter of the previous owner stopped in, thinking we were the cleaning crew.  She struck up a conversation with Barbara, and today they are best friends.  And our first night in our new home, our neighbor came to our door with a pizza, and later her daughter brought us cupcakes!  What's not to like about all that!

We've spent thousands of dollars updating our house -- new light fixtures, moving appliances upstairs, improving the lighting, new flooring and carpeting, enclosing the entry... too many improvements to list them all.  Moving so late in the winter, we didn't experience much bitter weather that first month.  And our first full winter here turned out to be quite mild in comparison.

Nothing quite prepared us for the blast we've received in the winter of 2022-23!  We've received approximately 50 inches of snow already this winter, and unlike some places we've lived before, once the snow falls here it doesn't melt (much) until spring!  And as I write this, spring is still 6 weeks away, with most of February ahead, March is usually a snowy month, and snow in April is not uncommon.  

After last year's mild winter, we elected not to get a snow blower.  Our driveway isn't very long and neither is our sidewalk.  But this year's snowfall -- approximately 25 inches in just one January storm -- was too much for most snowblowers.  But nearby "angels" have several times come to dig us out with their tractors.  What a blessing to have such good friends!  

It reminds me of the winter of 1968-69, when as I recall we missed 19 days of school, almost all after the Christmas vacation.  The snow around our house in Alexandria was so high that we could only enter and exit through a side door off the driveway.  The snow was so high we walked from the snowbank on to the roof of the nearby Sunset Motel.  I have a picture of me standing on a snowbank with my mom's clothesline at my feet.  What memories!

The snow is piled so high outside our front window now that we can barely see the park across the street.  A dear friend shoveled 2-3 feet of snow off our roof a couple weeks ago, and we have been so blessed with these acts of kindness.   Good friends add such warmth to a cold, cold winter.  

Spring will come eventually, and it will bring a new set of problems but, as is often the case, the moisture is badly needed for crops, gardens, lawns, recreation, etc.  We take the bad with the good.  At least I can wait a while before sharpening the lawn mower's blades.  :-)

The newspaper business 6-21-2021

 

The newspaper business -- 6-21-2021

 From the time I was a little kid, I enjoyed writing, particularly about sports.  I would often play imaginary baseball, football or basketball games and then write up short summaries about them.  In fact, when I was in high school I wanted to be a sports writer.

My love for journalism continued, and in the high school years I wrote for "The Beaver Chatter" (our high school newspaper) and then was co-editor of the yearbook my junior and senior years.  Journalism was my obvious career choice, and South Dakota State University was where I wanted to go to learn about it.  The old saying is to "Do something you love and you'll never work a day in your life."  Well, I felt that way.  I loved the journalism curriculum at SDSU, and was guided by some great instructors, including DJ Cline -- my favorite instructor in all my school years.  DJ was my freshman and sophomore advisor, and she took a real interest in her students.  I think that her passion for teaching and her caring helped fuel my interest in journalism as well. In my senior year I even had an article published in the Brookings Daily Register about the exodus of faculty from SDSU.

A four-year Army commitment delayed my entry into the journalism profession.  I attended SDSU on a four-year ROTC scholarship, and so the Army took precedence.  But after those four years I went looking for journalism jobs.  I preferred writing for weeklies, and my first job was as a general assignment writer for The Redfield (SD) Press.  I can only describe Redfield as kind of a desolate place, not close to any big town (between Huron on the south and Aberdeen on the north).  But I got to do mostly general news reporting and photography.

My first boss was Roger Matz.  Roger was a good editor and I learned a lot of journalistic tips from him.  But, as a person, I didn't like him.  I thought he was kind of a jerk.  I only stayed at the Press for about a year and then accepted a job as editor of The Stewart (MN) Tribune.  Stewart is a small town (about 600 population) about 2 hours southwest of the Twin Cities.  The paper was under the ownership of the bank, so my boss was John Lipke.  John didn't know much about the newspaper business but just wanted to keep the newspaper afloat, so I had pretty much free reign to run it as I saw fit.  I had one staff writer (Julie) and a bookkeeper, so I got to cover all sorts of general news, features and sports events.  Lots of photography and dark room work, taking the papers to print (in Hutchinson, where Kristina and Andrea were born), and mailing them.  I loved the work.

But the newspaper was eventually sold about a year later, and I found a job writing for The Fairfax (MN) Standard.  Again, I got to cover news, sports, etc., help lay out the newspaper, take it to print (also in Hutchinson) and then deliver it to the post office.  I worked with Steve Palmer, just a year older than me and also a great journalist.  The Standard won several awards at the annual Minnesota Newspaper Association contest.  I won one award for a column entitled "Building a Better Mouse Trap."  We got to attend a ceremony in the Twin Cities for that one.

Then in 1987 I bought the Alexandria Herald and Emery Enterprise.  This was my life's dream -- to own and operate my own newspapers.  It was truly a labor of love as I got to do it all with only a staff of three.  I wrote the articles (news, features and sports), edited submitted copy, set type, proofread, took photos, developed film and printed pictures, laid out the pages, wrote headlines, boxed up the proofs and took them to print at the Madison Daily Leader, supervised as the newspapers were printed, and then hauled them back to the post offices for delivery.  I also sold ads, occasionally designed an ad and addressed subscription cards.  

Weeks were a continuous cycle that began on Thursday, which was pretty slow and mostly going through mail and some typesetting after the papers had been printed on Wednesday for Thursday distribution.  Fridays picked up with ad calls -- usually in and around Alex and Emery, and Mitchell as well.  I had a few faithful advertisers in Mitchell who saw the value of advertising in small, area newspapers.  Saturdays were usually half-days, with typesetting and working around the office.  Sunday was a day of rest, and then Monday on the road between Emery and Alex, finalizing stories, attending meetings, developing film and printing pictures.  Tuesday was the day it all came together.  The morning was spent finishing typesetting and proofreading, and afternoon was laying out the newspapers.  It got to be quite stressful at times, sometimes lasting from late afternoon to almost midnight.  Poor Millie (Wenande), who helped with the typesetting, proofreading and layout.  She went through many stressful Tuesdays with me, putting everything together.  Wednesday morning it was time to load up the proofs, drive to Madison and then supervise as the newspapers were printed.  That was usually about a three-hour process.  Then back home to take the newspapers to the post office.

Although I owned and operated the newspapers, Millie was truly the face of the Herald.  She had worked for Bob and Ginger Braden long before I purchased them, and people would come in to ask for Millie to handle their news.  Kathy Hoffman did the bookkeeping, and Kariena did the job printing.  The job printing was really the money maker as the newspapers hardly broke even.  If it weren't for the legal advertising received from both cities and Hanson County, we wouldn't have been able to make it.

My marriage fell apart during these years, and so the newspapers were sold in 1987.  It was a huge blessing that I fell right into a job working as a unit administrator for my Army Reserve unit.  That started my new career in the federal government.

Life with COVID-19

This is week three or four of "social distancing" or "self-quarantine" from the Coronavirus.  Time has lost some of its meaning when days turn into weeks with little change in routine.  Today is Friday, I believe.  This morning I got my second haircut from my new barber (Barbara).  A couple months ago who would've thought something half a world away would change our lives so completely?  From how we shop to where we eat to even getting a haircut?  Did you ever worry before 2020 where your next roll of toilet paper was going to come from? I'm reminded of the Seinfeld episode where Elaine asks her neighbor in the next stall whether she can "spare a square."  Light humor then.  We can all relate now.
Certainly COVID-19 has changed our lives completely -- turned them upside down.  Schools closed, graduations and weddings cancelled, funerals limited to only close family members.  Businesses closed, people out of work, rainy-day savings accounts depleted.  Stay at home or limit your trips to authorized stores for essential items.  Get what you need and then get home.  And if you're lucky enough to have the disinfectants that kill COVID-19, you can spray or wipe down all those groceries.
Families are finding out what "togetherness" really means, and whether they can tolerate it.  In some cases, there are even good things that can come out of a bad situation.  For instance, my daughter Kristina gave birth to her daughter, Emersyn Rea, on Feb. 29.  Shortly after, schools were closed, so Emersyn's big sister and two big brothers have a golden opportunity to build a lifelong bond with their little sister.  I've read that pet adoptions are also way up with some shelters even being empty for the first time ever.
And what better time to work on those projects you've been putting off?  Our lawn is mowed and fertilized, flowers planted and mulch laid down.  It looks better but there are more projects planned.  Our other sanity-saving routines are going for walks or driving down Hwy. 76, which is eerily empty of traffic.  For this time of year, Branson would normally be ramping up for the tourist season and we would be using the backroads to avoid the traffic crush.  Not necessary now.  Parking lots and shopping centers are deserted.
When this is all over, and our lives regain some manner of normalcy, what will that be like?  Going into a restaurant to eat will be like a new experience.  (Maybe finding a restaurant we patronized before all of this will be a challenge?) Socializing with friends we haven't seen for weeks, or months.  Standing next to someone in Walmart without worrying about catching or spreading anything.
What will the new normal look like?

To RV or not to RV...

Since we married in 2007 we've become "vagabonds."  We've moved from Sioux Falls SD to Millington TN, to Gautier MS, to Ocean Springs MS, back to Gautier MS, to Ironton MO, to Lincoln NE, and finally to Branson MO.  We lived the old Hank Williams tune, "I've Been Everywhere."  Our path up and down the Midwest and South resembles that of a pinball. Really, I should have U Haul on speed dial.  So it doesn't seem to be a stretch to think that we're thinking about chucking it all and embracing the "RV life."
Every place we've lived, we've either had a storage unit full of stuff or a garage that never was big enough to hold our car too.  But since we moved to Branson, we've downsized from two storage units to a few rows of boxes in the garage.  And... taa daa!  The car now fits in there like a glove.
But Barbara has caught the RV fever, and, as usual, I'm a bit behind in catching on, but... the idea is tantalizing.  We are bogged down constantly with this "stuff."  Boxes and boxes of dishes, books, photo albums, mementos and other things we've moved from place to place and haven't seen in months, yet dutifully moved them with us.  A few items have gone to our children, but they too have limited space.  And, besides, who wants more stuff?
A couple days ago we took a baby step.  On a trip to Springfield we stopped by a couple RV dealers.  Like kids in a candy shop, we peaked in a couple of Airstream trailers, then opened doors, and cupboards and sat in the driver's seats of a few motor homes and conversion vans.  Is this a new lifestyle that we could embrace?  Twelve years of driving U Hauls would say, "oh, yes!"
We like living in Branson and have made this our "home."  Barbara has worked her decorating touch and made this a warm and inviting place.  But the thrill of getting out from underneath these boxes is refreshing.  A life without all the responsibilities of home ownership -- no house upkeep, lawn maintenance, property taxes, loud neighbors, etc., etc., etc.!  Granted, RV living has its own challenges -- vehicle repairs and upkeep, flat tires, and doing laundry in strange laundromats.  Aargh!  And driving to places unknown.
But think of the adventures ahead!  We both want to see more of the U.S.  It's still in the "daydream" stage.

Let's dance!

I have the utmost respect for my dance partner.  When we are moving in time with the music on the dance floor, Barbara's face lights up with the sweetest smile, her green eyes glow and her dimples appear!  Her smile almost makes my knees buckle but I can't let that happen now.  I have to keep off of her toes and stay in step.  Quick, quick slow!  Quick, quick, slow!  Quick, quick, slow!
After a nine-year break we signed up for ballroom dance classes, dusting off those basic skills we learned and forgot long ago.  But this is not like riding a bike.  You have to use it or lose it, buster.  And we hadn't seen a dance floor in years.  The Foxtrot, Waltz, Swing, Rhumba... Our teacher now is a feisty little redhead -- also named Barbara -- who watches us with an eagle eye as she lines men up on one side of the floor and ladies opposite.  She shows us the dance step, patiently counts the rhythm, and then leads us through it -- men first because we lead, then ladies because they follow our lead.  If I'm lucky, I mimic her steps perfectly.  But if I bungle it, she leads us all through the steps again and then turns her gaze upon my two left feet.  Quick, quick, slow!  Quick, quick, slow! Quick, quick, slow!
After we've mastered the basic dance step, we meet our partners in the middle of the floor.  My right arm bends at a 90-degree angle so I'm pushing on Barbara's back so I can properly lead her, and my left hand (and her right hand) are clasped.  Not unlike a batter's or a golfer's stance, there is a proper dancer's stance, and our arms are adjusted so we create that Fred Astaire-Ginger Rogers look.
I have the greatest respect for the likes of Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire, and their legacy is certainly safe.  But, as Ann Richards once said, "After all, Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did.  She just did it backwards and in high heels."  Gotta really respect that.  And poor Barbara is doing it in sandals, so if I misstep it's her toes that feel the crushing weight of my size twelves, or our knees knock together.  But even when I lose count and we start our dance steps over, she's patient with me, gives me a quick pep talk to stay focused and positive, and we start again.  It reminds me of how patient Ginger Rogers must have been with Fred Astaire.  Boy, she sure made him look good!
 

Shaving

I'm not sure why or when shaving got to be so expensive.  It's a mystery to me.  It probably shouldn't be since I spend a good share of my life staring at myself in the mirror, smeared with shaving cream with razor in hand.  I've bought dozens of razors and mounds of shaving cream. I shaved almost every morning, except for that rare Saturday when I decide to forego the routine and live with stubble.
Every boy looks forward to that day when he begins to shave.  The whiskers start filling in where pimples used to be.  It's a sign of maturing, growing up, becoming a man.  And, holy cow, shaving was so cool.  I still remember that 1967 Noxzema Medicated Instant Shave TV commercial where the beautiful actress exhorts her man to "Take it off.  Take it all off!"  And he does so, to the tune of David Rose's "The Stripper."  And Joe Namath -- a playboy, ladies' man and New York Jets quarterback -- did it in another Noxzema commercial, at Farrah Fawcett's request.  Now how can that not make an impression on an adolescent boy?  Oh yes, another very important rite of passage into manhood.
I don't remember exactly when I began shaving -- pre- or post- Joe Willie Namath.  I'm sure it was somewhere late in my high school years or maybe even college.  I do remember how neat it was to shave with a double-edge razor!  Where one whack at a whisker was good, two whacks had to be better.   And for years the double-edge razor was all right. 
But at some point in time two blades didn't cut it anymore (pun intended).  Then there were triple-edged, four-, five- and even six-edge razors.  I'm all for a close shave, but I want to save some of my skin too.
And with multi-edged blades, shaving has become expensive.  Have you looked at the price of razor blades lately?  And why do they keep them under lock and key now?  Have razor blades become so valuable that they have to be locked up?  But then again, if you look at the price, you'll understand.  You'd think they're gold-plated.
Well, Gillette gets no more of my money, and neither does Schick.  Not at $20+ for a pack of razor blades.  Uh uh.  I can still get a close shave for less than that.  I had read about the Dollar Shave Club on Facebook and now I get my four-blade razors -- four of them in the mail every month -- for a mere six bucks.  And they're delivered to my mail box.  Pretty handy. 
So although facial hair seems to be 'in,' it's not for me.  I've grown the beard three or four times -- the last couple were only of the 'goatee' variety.  But it's become too gray, too scratchy and too much work.  For a few bucks and five minutes of work I can still get a close shave.  In my book that's still a good deal.