A column from yesteryear
Thursday, March 16, 2023
Feet Touching The Ground
Thursday, March 09, 2023
MARCH SNOW MELT
One year Pa suggested we make a little waterwheel and place it in the melt water river. He made the waterwheel from a cedar wood shingle. He cut two pieces, each about three inches long and a half inch wide. He notched the two pieces and pushed them together making a waterwheel with four little paddles. With two other pieces of shingle wood he made a little frame that held the waterwheel in place while the running melt water turned it.
In early morning, when the temperature had fallen below freezing, the little waterwheel hung motionless in its frame, but usually by mid-day, with climbing temperatures and more snow melting, the waterwheel turned furiously, making a “flip ,flip” sound. The waterwheel turned for more than a week; Pa, my brothers and I would stop, watch and listen to it as we went about doing our various spring chores.
One warm, late afternoon day, we noticed the melt water river had stopped running and the water wheel no longer turned. On that day we knew that spring arrived.
THE OLD TIMER SAYS: Oft times the little things in life can provide the most pleasure.
Thursday, February 23, 2023
A blog I wrote in November, 2015
The Demise of the School of the Arts
An old
friend left us this past week. The more than 50-year old School of the
Arts held each year in Rhinelander, WI and sponsored by the University of
Wisconsin-Madison, is no more. Robert E. Gard was largely responsible for
starting the school. Bob’s philosophy was—the arts are for
everyone. No matter what your income level, where you lived, or how much
formal education you had.
I
attended classes there in the 1960s when I had the opportunity to learn from
Bob Gard. I participated in a fiction writing workshop with August Derleth, and
learned basic skills about writing a novel that have proved invaluable.
And much more.
Then in
1971, Bob Gard asked me to teach at the School of the Arts. I did this
for 32 years. It was there that I met such national writing figures as
Archibald McLeash (three Pulitzer prizes), Dale Wasserman, Henry Mark Petrakis,
Studs Terkel, Robert Bly and Jesse Stuart, all writers of considerable note.
All of whom taught workshops.
But now
the School of the Arts is dead. Many of us are mourning.
Mark
Lefebvre, longtime friend of Robert Gard, said this about the school’s passing:
Learning about the demise of the School of the Arts is
hard. I broke down and cried. I thought of the many summers I spent
with Bob at the School of the Arts. I think of all the people whose lives
were awakened.
I think
of the extraordinary faculty who in that very special place made real magic
happen. Bob taught me so much, most of all, how the unexpected can happen
through simple belief. I am so disappointed these days with the
University of Wisconsin. Belief is no longer part of its
vocabulary. No greater writer than Archibald MacLeish came to
Rhinelander one summer. A sophisticated guy. He could not believe
the world he had entered. Imagine these "students" being
exposed to this man who could not thank Robert E. Gard enough for putting him so
close to the creative process.
Long may the banner of
The School of the Arts wave over the
battlefields of ignorance!
THE OLD TIMER SAYS: The arts make a life
worth living.
Friday, February 10, 2023
The Many Faces Of Snow.
A column from yesteryear.
Snow, for
all of its inconveniences—driving challenges, shoveling, and slippery
walking—also has a lot going for it. The obvious of course is the beauty
of a snowfall and the wonders of the countryside transformed from the drabness
of late fall’s browns and grays to a world of white. Snow also provides an
opportunity to ski and snowshoe and go sledding. And a chance to build a
snowman or a snow fort or maybe even experience a friendly snowball fight.
I did a
little digging, no pun intended, into the characteristics of snow, and came up
with some interesting information, at least interesting to me.
Snow is
not always white. It may also appear blue especially on a cold winter
night when the moon is out.
Most of us have experienced
how sound changes after a fresh snowfall. Sound is absorbed by snow,
muffling it. But when the snow becomes hard and crusty, the opposite
happens. Sound bounces off the snow’s surface and travels farther. Of
course we all know the sound packed snow makes when we walk on it, especially
on cold days when it creaks and crunches, and sounds like it is protesting our
presence.
Snow is also a great insulator. Fresh
snow is made up of from ninety to ninety-five percent air. Many animals
know about snow’s insulating qualities as they burrow into snow to keep
warm. Farmers know this as a good snow cover protects crops such as
alfalfa from “winter kill.” A good snow cover also keeps my septic system
from freezing—not a good thing as it happened a few years ago when we had a
stretch of below zero weather and no snow.
Snow also stores water. Ten-inches of
snow may equal one-inch of water. Or ten inches of snow could contain as
little as one-tenth inch of water. It depends on whether a snowfall is
enhanced by moisture from the Gulf of Mexico, or comes from the dry plains of
Canada.
This is probably more than you wanted to know
about snow, but I find it all interesting as we plow on into the new year with
many more snowfalls to come.
THE OLD
TIMER SAYS: Let it snow, let it snow. Nothing much we can about it anyway.
Friday, January 27, 2023
A Column from Yesteryear Horseshoes and Good Luck
.
Friday, December 30, 2022
Last Column Photo by Steve Apps
With another year ending, I’m sorry to report that this will be my
last column. It was a difficult decision
to make, as I have been writing columns nearly every year since 1957. In that year I began work as a County
Extension Agent in Green Lake County and wrote columns about Extension
activities for the Berlin Journal. In
1960 I moved to Green Bay and worked there as an Extension Agent, writing
columns for the Green Bay Press Gazette.
Ray Pagel was Farm Director for the paper at the time. He would have made a good English teacher,
for with a red pen he took my columns apart and showed me how to make them
better. He showed me how to say
something with 500 words or less. For his patience and instruction, I am
forever grateful.
In 1962, I moved to Madison to become Publications Editor for the
State 4-H Department, editing all the many 4-H bulletins that went out by the
thousands to 4-H member around the state.
Bulletins that ranged from how to raise a dairy calf, to tips for sewing
and canning. I had no time for column
writing, indeed no time for any of my own writing.
By 1964, I was teaching in the Department of Agricultural and Extension
Education in UW-Madison’s College of Agriculture and married with three little
kids. Learning a new job, and helping
take of my family left little time for column writing. Glen Pound, then Dean of the College of Agriculture
said I must earn an advanced degree before he could increase my salary. So, in 1966, I was a full-time in graduate
school, learning the nuances of academic writing, which was informative, well
researched, and often without much heart.
In 1966, in addition to my academic writing, I began writing a weekly
column titled “Outdoor Notebook” for the Waushara Argus in Wautoma, and
soon also for the New London and Hortonville papers as well as The Central
Wisconsin Resorter. I wrote for
these papers for ten years. A bit later
I wrote weekly columns for the Country Today, and Agriview
newspapers. And for the past few years,
I wrote “Sit Awhile” for the Wisconsin State Farmer. I have also written this column for the past
15 years as both a blog and an entry on my Facebook Page.
I’ve learned much from my many years of column writing. I’ve learned
the power of a story. I have learned
that putting a little heart into a story will often take it from ordinary to something
better. I have worked hard to do that. A little humor helps too. I write with the hope my words will get
people thinking, and perhaps remembering.
Memories are powerful tools to make a life more interesting.
I know I will miss reading all the comments and stories that my
columns have evoked. Thank you everyone for reading my words. I plan to continue to write books and do TV
and radio work, and perhaps write a few articles.
THE OLD TIMER SAYS. Thank you. Without readers, where would writers be?
UPCOMING EVENTS:
Saturday, January 7, 2023, 1:30
p.m. Patterson Memorial Library, Wild
Rose, Wisconsin. Presentation on my
newest book: More than Words. That book
and others will be for sale and signing.
I plan to be there in person.
WHERE
TO BUY MY BOOKS (Including my newest one). As you all know, books make
fine presents. See my website, www.jerryapps.com, for a listing of my books. Buy
my books from your local bookstore,
or buy online from the Wisconsin Historical Society bookstore, https://shop.wisconsinhistory.org/books, bookshop.org, or purchase from the Friends of the Patterson
Memorial Library in Wild Rose—a fundraiser for them. Phone: 920-622-3835 for
prices and ordering, or contact the librarian: barnard@wildroselibrary.
Patterson Memorial Library
500 Division Street
Wild Rose, WI 54984.
www.wildroselibrary.org
If you live in the
western part of the state, stop at Ruth’s home town, Westby, visit Dregne’s. and look at their great selection of my
books. Order a book from them by calling 1-877-634-4414. They will be happy to
help you. If you live in northcentral
Wisconsin, stop at the Janke bookstore in Wausau (phone 715-845-9648). They also have a large selection of my
books.
Friday, December 23, 2022
A Christmas Memory Photo by Jerry Apps
Christmas is a time for remembering. Some of my most vivid memories go back to
1939, when I was five years old and in first grade. I was attending Chain O’ Lake one-room country
school, located about four miles west of Wild Rose. As my fellow students planned for the annual
Christmas program at the school, I was terrified to learn that I would have to
stand on the stage and say my piece. I
was the shiest of shy little kids at the time.
In fact, when someone stopped by our farmstead, I would hide in the
woods back of the house.
Miss
Piechowski, our teacher insisted that I, along with everyone else in the
school, all eight grades, would be involved in the Christmas Program and be on
the stage. I told Miss Piechowski I
couldn’t do it and didn’t want to do it. But she wouldn’t change her mind, she
said I must. And she gave me a copy of the words I must memorize. I practiced the words every night with my mother,
worried that I would make a fool of myself in front of all of my classmates,
and neighbors as everyone attended the annual Christmas Program at the school.
As
the night of the Christmas program loomed every closer, Miss Piechowski noticed
how disturbed I was. She said she’d
share a secret with me to make my task easier.
And she did.
The
night of the Christmas program arrived.
I was dressed in a new pair of bib overalls, and a new work shirt. I even combed my hair. I hated doing that. And now I was worried if my teacher’s secret
would work, and if I would remember all the words I had tried to memorize.
In
1939, the school had no electricity. On
this night, two gas lanterns hung from the ceiling on either end of the school
room—casting shadows in the dimly lit room.
The wood stove in the back of the room was keeping the building
warm. The room was packed. All the seats were taken and people were
standing in the back of the room.
I
was first on the program. Instructed to use my outside voice, and scared to
death. Then I remembered the secret Miss
Piechowski had shared with me as I spoke the words I had worked so hard to
memorize: “I would like to welcome all of you to our annual Christmas Program.”
Miss
Piechowki’s secret, “Don’t look at the people seated in front of you. Look at
the stove pipe in the back of the room.
Everyone will think you are looking right at them, but you won’t see
them.”
I
spoke the words, smiled as Miss Piechowski said I should, and ran off the stage
to loud clapping. I had my first experience with public speaking. I have been giving talks for more than sixty
years, and I continue to look for the stove pipe in the back of the room.
THE OLD TIMER SAYS. A simple lesson can
often be an important one.
UPCOMING
EVENTS:
Saturday,
January 7, 2023, 1:30 p.m. Patterson
Memorial Library, Wild Rose, Wisconsin.
Presentation on my newest book: More than Words. That book and other will be for sale and
signing. I plan to be there in person.
WHERE TO BUY MY BOOKS
(Including One Room Country Schools). See my website, www.jerryapps.com,
for a listing of my books. Buy my books from your local bookstore,
or buy online from the Wisconsin Historical Society bookstore, https://shop.wisconsinhistory.org/books, bookshop.org, or
purchase from the Friends of the Patterson Memorial Library in Wild Rose—a
fundraiser for them. Phone: 920-622-3835 for prices and ordering, or contact
the librarian: barnard@wildroselibrary. www.wildroselibrary.org
If you live in the western part of the state,
stop at Ruth’s home town, Westby, visit Dregne’s. and look at their great selection of my
books. Order a book from them by calling 1-877-634-4414. They will be happy to
help you. If you live in northcentral
Wisconsin, stop at the Janke bookstore in Wausau (phone 715-845-9648). They also have a large selection of my
books.