I just got a Facebook picture of my cousin and his wife sitting at a tiki bar somewhere in the tropics. Another friend and his wife are just back from a Caribbean cruise and are getting ready to go on another. Some of my friends are in Fort Myers getting ready to watch the first Minnesota Twins spring training game. It's snowing outside my window right now.
So, Minnesota will now be known as the place where the "coldest Super Bowl ever" was played. We're going to hear about this from sportscasters wearing Bermuda shorts and sleeveless T-shirts. Yes, we in the Gopher State know how to treat our visitors in the wintertime. We can actually prove to them that water freezes atop our lakes, water pipes freeze six feet underground, cars are sold complete with engine heaters, and furnaces don't turn off for at least three months.
OK, fess up now. How many of you have done the "Skol" Vikings cry this past week? I know many of you could care less about the Minnesota Vikings, but I also know there are many who live and die with the "purple." I know Todd's Tavern out there in Amherst, South Dakota, was donned with purple people. This column was written before the game, so I'm sure the slew water was flowing in anticipation of a win. (In Amherst, "slew water" is a traditional drink, just FYI). I would imagine a little "tiger meat" was eaten as well.
We've come a long way since the time when Lamar Jones strung telephone wire along our hog fence. Technology has truly entered my world. I have this thing in my pocket made of about 10 cents worth of metal and plastic. If I purchased a new one of these things, it might cost up to a thousand dollars. My piece of plastic didn't cost nearly that much, but people can be seen waiting in lines to purchase these pieces of metal and plastic every time a new model comes out. Funny they would do that.
Alas, I missed all of the "bargains" offered on Black Friday this year. In fact, I've missed all the bargains from any of the past Black Fridays. I'm thinking of that as we are at the doorstep of December when all good men should be thinking about possibly purchasing a Christmas present for someone. I feel somewhat guilty of not participating in Black Friday, but not too guilty.
Diary entry: Thursday, November 24, 1960, A Thanksgiving Day On The Farm Woke up by Dad at 5:30 a.m. for milking 36 cows. Grabbed slab of cold liver on way out of house after warming up next to cook stove.
Will we have an Indian summer this year? Will the recent cold spell ebb into a warmer disposition as we await the final ax of winter falling, leaving no one to guess that real winter has arrived? Some would wish for this weather condition, a period of unexpected warm weather after snow has actually covered the earth. I found Indian summer to be more a negative than a positive during my early farm days. After the busy harvest season I welcomed the recess that cold and snowy weather provided.
As I pulled that last walleye of the season to the boat last week, I officially said goodbye to the summer of 2017. It was a good fish, one worthy of being the last fish to enter my boat's livewell for the year. My friend netted the golden-sided fish and we both agreed it was a worthy candidate for last fish of the year. The boat is going into storage this week.
Last week my hunting friends and I took our first trek to our deer stands in the deep woods. I've hunted these woods since 1975, when my wife's dad and her siblings invited me along. There have been changes in this piece of Minnesota northwoods, but some things never change. That's comforting to me and why I enjoy this first sojourn into the trees.
Johnny Cash coined the song way back in the sixties featuring that tag-line. He was singing about some kind of beans, maybe soybeans, maybe kidney beans, maybe chickpeas, maybe black beans, but no doubt he was singing about a good crop of some kind of bean.