John Wetrosky, Columnist
I really don't want to write this column. I really don't. But, due to pressure from members of my community and the free world, I somehow will find a way to work through this and issue my once-a-year Minnesota Twins forecast. This task is really worse than fixing health care, folks. That is an easy task when compared to looking through the tea leaves of the Minnesota Twins and their upcoming season.
The last vestiges of the glacier that has taken over my driveway since last December gradually is ebbing into the lowland below our house. It is time for it to be gone. Spring came this week. Too many days while the glacier has existed have been spent trying not to slip on it, thus threatening to knock my artificial hip out of place. But the spring sun has now become high enough to evaporate this remnant of a for-the-most-part gentle north country winter.
It's time to tackle your tackle for the coming warm water season. Minnesota's inland fishing season is only two months away! Ah, that sounds good to me! After enduring another winter, I've retired my snow shovel for good. I don't care how much more snow might hit the ground, the shovel shall remain retired at the back of our salt-encrusted garage. I refuse to acknowledge that we still have a week or so of calendar winter to absorb and I'm off thinking of pleasanter things. Things like open water fishing.
Art Linkletter made a living out of it. He saw the entertainment value in asking kids questions and waiting for their responses. Those answers sometimes brought discomfort to their parents or relatives, but the audience loved that show and made it a TV hit. Kids have vivid imaginations.
The towering, red-headed high school senior had a reputation for being a fearless basketball player. He liked to box and was good at it. He showed no fear when it came to standing his ground. He was and I still consider him a friend of mine. But, there was one thing that brought him to his knees and made him sweat. That little thing was giving a speech to a group of fellow students. One of the furthest things in my mind while I was growing up and working on our farm was that someday I might be required to give a speech.
Do they sew buttons on anymore? Does anyone patch chore coats? Those questions came up a few weeks ago when I asked my wife if she would be so kind as to sew a button on one of my favorite shirts. Now, I admit that I could have probably made a grand attempt to sew this button on, but my wife is a wizard with a thread and needle, and since she's saved my skin a number of times with missing buttons and broken zippers, I thought I'd give her the chance to again prove her prowess in the world of sewing.
I'm still caught up in the hype of the Super Bowl. Sorry! The lingering anxiety I felt during the overtime must have grabbed onto some of my brain cells, and this has caused me to lie wide awake at three in the morning. The anxiety is subsiding, but now I've been thinking of next year when the hordes will cascade into our fair state of Minnesota, looking for things "to do" before "our" Super Bowl.
I was born before the time of the first Super Bowl. It used to be a quiet time of year, a time in the winter when one could relax a bit from the toil of the farm, awaiting the gentle zephyrs of springtime. No parties, no wide screen TVs, no million dollar ads. By the time this column hits the press we will all know who won Super Bowl 51. All the betting will have been completed, even if authorities keep telling us that betting is illegal. One of two teams that somehow made it through the football season with fewer injuries than any other team will be the winner.
I did a walk-through of my life last week. The deed of the day was to move my and my daughter's blaze orange deer hunting clothing back to the upstairs of our garage. The bright orange clothing was starting to bother me after hanging in our basement since last November. Things kind of get stalled down in the basement.
I'm thinking spring. Yes, I know that spring is still seven Mondays away, but I can feel it, especially this past week when the ice and snow were melting across my driveway and causing people to slip and slide their way to work. The chickadees began to sing their spring mating song, and the owls were hooting, hoping to attract another owl of the opposite sex. Those things are happening.