FFA Week

    



High school parking lot.



     This week was National FFA week.  For those of you who don't live in a rural area, you probably have no clue what I am talking about.  FFA stands for "Future Farmers of America" and is a vital part of the education system in a farm community. From what I understand, FFA is like 4-H--on steroids.  It is an agriculturally geared program to keep young people involved and interested in agriculture.  Every February, they celebrate this program with a series of events to keep the young people interested in the program and to recruit others to join.

     I looked up some information about the FFA and was quite pleased to read their pledge that they are required to memorize.  It includes such phrases as: "I believe in the future of agriculture with a faith not born of words, but of deeds.." and "I believe that to live and work on a good farm....is pleasant as well as challenging.." or "I believe in less dependence on begging.....".  Wow, if only we could instill those values in others across the country.
     Basically, FFA week is a celebration of the agricultural way of life.  A time to reflect on the values and ethics that the hard working farmer knows.  And the school students have fun ways of doing this.  They started the week out with attending a church service together.  They then have different themes for each day of the week.  Tuesday was "camo" day where they all wore their camoflauge clothing.  They had a dress-up day where the FFA members wore their uniforms and took time to present the program to the elementary age students.  I heard many of the officers from the surrounding communities interviewed on the local radio station.
     I was never involved in FFA, though I was in small town schools all of my life.  I never had the privilege of competing on the national level in contests covering different agriculturally related themes. I heard one young lady interviewed telling about the Dairy Foods contest. She had to know, by taste, different cheeses, milks, etc. as well as their grade and quality.  I was impressed.  I don't think I could do that.
     One of my favorite parts of FFA week is always on Friday.  They call it "Drive your Tractor to school" day.  My kids wait at the front door in anticipation of all the kids driving into town with their family's machinery and parading them from the town square, down Main Street to the high school.  I apologize for the blurriness of these pictures, but these kids are really trucking, full throttle down the street!



        I think it turns out to be somewhat of a competition among the teen guys, (what among teen guys isn't a competition?).  See for yourself:

                                                          The dirtiest.

                                                                          The oldest.

                                            The coldest. (It was about 20 degrees out that morning!)

                                          Of course, the one with the most wheels wins!

                                           Or, would that be the one with no wheels?

                                     And, of course, the smallest, brought by the class clown, no doubt!

    

     I do have to mention that these we not just driven by young men, but several were driven by young ladies.  The FFA is not just for guys! The local chapter is headed by an equal amount of guys and girls.

      I got to thinking about this whole scenario the other night and envisioned teen sons asking their dads, "Hey, Dad, can I drive that $125,000 piece of vital farm equipment you have out in the shed to school tomorrow?  We're just going to tear up and down the streets of Kahoka for awhile before school starts." I then wondered about them having to calculate the mph and the miles to town and figure how early they would have to leave the house in order to get to school in time.  

      I asked my husband (who worked several years for a farmer) if he would let his son do that and he immediately replied "Yes!".  So, I have come to the conlusion that a tractor is so much more than just a piece of equipment. It represents years of hard work and the rewards of that work.  It is more than a hobby, it is a way of life and FFA week celebrates the glory of the farmer and his commitment to doing things right; to working harder than any other occupation; to giving ones all, even when the yield may not be all you expect it to be. 

     So, FFA members, we salute you this week.  We are grateful for your commitment to the American farmer and the way of life that started this country.  We love the work ethic that constitutes your being and the pleasure that comes from doing your best and reaping the benefits.  But most of all, we love your tractor parades and look forward to them every year...........but, you'll get that in a small town!

The General Store

     Okay, I know what picture just popped into your mind right now.  You are thinking of the Old West and the only store in town where miners and settlers went to get their monthly supplies.  You are seeing barrels of flour and pickles, big glass jars of candy and displays of prairie fabrics, farm tools and wagon wheels.  There are burlap sacks of sugar stacked next to the glass display cases of jewelry and knives.  There is an older gentleman with a white mustache and a visor on his head.  Sorry to disappoint you, but, as nice as it would be, there is not a store like this in our small town.
     The General Store in our area is invisible.  It goes out across the radio waves everyday on our local radio station.  Every weekday from 9:00 a.m. to 10:00 a.m. the station opens up the phone lines and people can call in to "buy, sell, or trade" almost anything they wish. 
     There are certain ground rules for the general store.  At the beginning of the program they make sure that you know that you cannot sell guns, ammunition or pharmaceuticals.  You also have to tell where you are calling from.   The announcers also make sure you know that you have to turn your radio volume down as they will get major feedback while you are on the phone.  If I had a nickel for the many, many times I have heard the announcer holler "Turn your radio down" to a caller who didn't comply....
     When you call, you don't need to give your name, just your phone number, the town you are calling from and what it is you want to sell, give away or want to buy. It's fun to listen for familiar voices of people you know and what they are trying to sell or find.  People also like to announce friends and relatives birthdays by way of this program.  I have heard birthdays announced for people as far away as Georgia.  'Not sure the purpose in announcing that birthday, as the one celebrating won't get to have the novelty of hearing their name announced on the airwaves!  I guess it's kind of a joke to be the one to call in and announce someones birthday, and their age.  I don't think I would think it was funny.
     The problem with the General Store is that people view it as some kind of Santa Claus.  If they tell what they are looking for, then maybe someone will have that exact item and sell it to them for next to nothing.  Here is an example that I heard one time:
     Announcer: "Caller number 25, you're on the air. Where are you calling from?"
     Caller: " I'm calling from ______________."
     Announcer: "Go ahead with your item"
     Caller: "Yeah, I'm needing a couch in like-new condition.  I'm looking for one that is medium blue with a
     small floral pattern.  It must be from a pet-free and smoke-free home. I can pay about $25."

  I'd be really surprised if they even got a call back on that one. 
    
     One caller broke the rules and tried selling a gun.  The announcer let him get through his whole description, price and phone number before he told him that they were not allowed to sell firearms over the radio waves.  The announcer did make sure that everyone knew what the phone number was and even repeated it several times.
     I have used the General Store a few times.  I had a very old, upright piano that I was getting rid of.  This thing was a monster and taking up too much space in my house, so I called in 2 days in a row, telling people that it was in tune, and played well, and that I was just giving it away.  I waited and waited for the phone to ring and received no calls.  Finally, on the third day, I called and announced the same piano, but was asking $25 for it.  Immediately the phone rang and I sold it on the spot.  Weird.
     In a small town area, you get those who like to debate as well. I'm sure the General Store is not supposed to be a venue for political debate, but a few years ago, during a presidential campaign, the announcer and a caller got into a very heated discussion about the positives and negatives of a certain candidate. The announcer was accused of talking down on this candidate (he had mentioned the debate from the night before in passing).   I heard the announcer apologize later, but it was rather tense for a few moments. 
     I have heard everything from tractors to prom dresses sold on the air. Sometimes there is an unspoken story with an item that is sold, like a brand new wedding dress.  It's surprising what people have to sell and what prices they ask for them.  But, we all want something for nothing, don't we? And, you'll get that in a small town.....
    
    

Hail to the Indians!

     Yes, it's that time of year again and the basketball season is in full swing.  The little wooden footballs that were hung on the electric poles throughout town have now been replaced with little basketballs with the names of the players on them.  Red is the color of the day as the Indians prepare for battle.  Last weeks local paper had the pictures of all the players and their positions listed in the paper along with a schedule of the games to be played.  It's an important part of small town life and it keeps the winter blues away. 

     In honor of the Clark County Indians, I am posting a picture to boost their morale.  My husband and I found a book from 1914 in the walls of our old house and this picture was inside:

     This was the Kahoka Basketball team of 1914.  The game sure has come a long way since then. Doesn't it make you grateful for the inventions of polyester, weight lifting and Nike?? 

     So, here's a shout out to the team for a great season.  Wonder if those old uniforms are still around somewhere??  Maybe we should find them for a reunion of some sort..........but you'll get that in a small town.

The Destroilet

     The words of this title may baffle some, but speak that name in our family and laughter erupts. However, at one time in my life, that name was a nightmare.  The story begins in a small country town where my daddy was the parson. The town had once been a Quaker settlement.  There were many beautiful old houses and buildings in the small town.   The church building where our small congregation met was one of the oldest in town and therefore, had very old plumbing.
     Now, before we get into the full story, you have to understand something about small town plumbing.  When you have old houses, you have old plumbing.  Often a house that should be described as "2 bedrooms and a bath" is really "2 rooms and a path".  There are still homes in existence that have a well worn path from the house to the little building with a moon on the door.  Adding water and sewer pipes to an old house is a major ordeal as well as great expense to have all that work done.  I'm sure that was the reason that our little country church had to come up with a better plan.
     Small town churches operate on the same principle as big city churches, only with a minimal congregation which results in minimal offerings and not much to work with for a pastor's salary and building maintenance budget.  So, our little town church most likely heard about this solution and decided to run with it.
     A Destroilet operates on electricity and propane or gas. Maybe that gives you some clue as to what I am about to describe.  I remember it looking like a tall white trash can with a lid and seat on top.  You would sit down, do your business and then shut the lid, causing a flame to come out and destroy what was left in the bottom.  I distinctly recall a certain odor that accompanied the process.  The whole operation invoked terror in the mind of my then 5 year old brain.
     There were many Sunday evenings and Wednesday evenings that prayers were sent to heaven asking that the preacher would hurry so I could "go" at home.  Often, I waited too long and got in trouble. Being the pastor's kids, we spent a lot of time there. We were always the first to arrive and the last to leave.  If Deacon Smith or Sister Jones was in a rather talkative mood after church, it could spell trouble.  As a mom of young children, I know how dealing with that would have been a burden.  The question of showing mercy or exacting  punishment would have been a quandary.  Obviously, my mom didn't suffer with that same problem.
     Among the Sunday School children there were rumors of someone who had been burned on it at one time and therefore, did not come back to church as a result.  Understanding the full function of the apparatus, I now know that it would be impossible to be burned while sitting on it, but to my young mind it seemed completely valid.  No doubt there were many crude jokes that circulated among the youth group.  I often wonder about what rumors the old ladies and the gossip chain could come up with.
     I googled the name and found out that you can still purchase toilets like this, though the Destroilet is no longer made.  A company called "Incinolet" now makes them.  The pictures make them look like they have improved upon the original design.  No doubt they are a safe and convenient way of taking care of business, but no thanks on my part.  Yes, it does save water, but I want to save my children from the trauma. 
     The old country church I speak of has now become modernized.  I am told that they now have full functioning normal plumbing.  I wonder if the old timers in the church, trying to teach gratefulness,  tell the young children "Back in my day we didn't have things as nice as you have them........".  But, you'll get that in a small town.
    

Full Service, small town style....

   My husband and I were out and about in our small town this past week and drove by one of the local gas stations.  Now, in our neck of the woods, Casey's are the usual convenience "brand".  They swept the market on small town convenience and have made we rural peoples lives easier.  However, that was not the station that we drove past. My husband pointed it out and said "There's something you don't see very often."  It's called "Full Service".

    This station is somewhat hidden by the row of broken down vehicles awaiting their turn with the mechanic. Behind this row is the station with 2 gas pumps in front of it.  If you were to pull up in front of the station, an amazing thing happens. Out of the station comes a human being.  He walks up to your window and asks how he can help you.  He then proceeds to open your gas tank, pick up the nozzle and begin filling your tank with the type of fuel you requested and the exact  amount you want.  These guys are pros.  Never do they go a penny over what you wanted. ( I try that all the time and always  manage to go over....) While your tank is filling, they do some other amazing things.  They will go over to the island and pick up the squeegee and wash your window. They will then ask you to pull the lever for the hood and they will check your oil level.  If it is low, they will ask if you want some added. They will pull a pressure gauge out of their pocket and check the level of air in your tires and fill them if needed.  This whole process is what is known as Full Service.
     If you were to try and stick a credit card in the pump, it would probably get lost in a crack, there is no slot for the plastic.  There is no screen telling you to press the cash button or hit enter.  You don't prepay.  The station takes cash, please, and checks only if they know you.  There is a sign over the door "In God we trust, All others pay cash". Of course, the attendant can make change if you need it, though you usually tell them to fill it with whatever denomination you have in your wallet.

    
     There is a typical "gas station attendant" uniform as well.  When he comes swaggering out of the station, he is dressed in a navy blue button down shirt and navy blue pants (never jeans).  He will have a pinkish rag with grease stains on it hanging out of the back of his pocket.  He has a tire pressure gauge in his chest pocket and a knife or wrench in the other.  Behind his ear is a ball point pen with the  name of the station printed on it.  He is always prepared. Old ladies swoon when they see him. He is their hero. He cares for their needs and is friendly.  They know they can trust him with the care of their old car.
     Those of you who live in more suburban and populated areas don't have this privilege. If you were to pull up to a gas station and a guy came out and tapped on your window, you most likely would not open it. You would maybe even drive off.  My brother worked at one of these full service stations in our small town. It was on a main highway from Chicago. Big city people were so amazed at what he did, that he would get $100 tips all the time.
     I can remember the gas station in our small town when I was a girl.  I can distinctly hear my dad saying "Filler-up" when he rolled down his window.  My dad's name is Phillip, and one of my brothers used to think that you had to say your name in order to get gas!  I can also distinctly recall the sound of the air bell that would ring as you drove over the hose to warn the attendant that someone was there. We would try to jump on the hose to make it ding.
     With the economy crisis lately, there has been a rise in gas theft at stations.  Gas companies might do well to hire an attendant to fill people up and prevent them from driving off with stolen fuel.  You would be less likely to drive off if the attendant actually saw your face. Rolling down that window and telling him to fill you up makes you committed for the long haul. No driving off without pay!
    This service comes from a long tradition of gas station attendants down through the ages. Men who weren't afraid to get their hands greasy and knew an engine inside out.  Picture Goober on Andy Griffith.  If he heard a strange sound in your engine, he could diagnose it on the spot.  And, he could take care of it for you. His job was to serve.  It is a service that has almost become extinct,  but you'll STILL get that in a small town!

Oh, deer....

  

      Today is the day that is officially known in these parts as "Deer Widow Day".  Yes, rifle season opened in our state today.  I woke this morning to the sounds of gunfire.  I looked out on Main street to see it rather empty, except for those who had already made their catch. The local hotel (with it's total 8 rooms) is booked all weekend, as is the local bed and breakfast, each with pickup trucks loaded with four wheelers cramming their parking lots.    As we drove to the bank later on, there were many pickups driven by blaze orange cap wearing drivers, and their friends.  I didn't see any deer in the back of the pickups.  'Must not have been a good day.

     The local high school holds a craft fair for all the deer widows.  It's a fun time for the ladies to get together and showcase all the crocheted potholders, plastic canvas items and pom-pom decorated crafts that they have been working on all year.  I have been involved in these craft shows before, and the funny thing is, that you usually don't sell much. Everyone that is there looks at your items and quietly whispers, "I could make that."  So, unless you have a craft that is highly unusual, or a talent that no one else could duplicate, you are pretty much out of luck.

     This is also a big day for churches to hold their annual "Deer Hunter's Breakfast".  They are advertised on the radio for about a week in advance.  They start at 4:00 a.m. so the hunters have a chance to eat and get in the stand before first light. They are always touted as "free", so I guess the churches just hold them out of the goodness of their hearts, and so the wives don't have to get up and make breakfast for their hunter.

     It is somewhat of a crazy habit to those of us who don't understand the lure of hunting.  These men, who usually won't sit anywhere but their heated Lazy boy, suddenly jump up out of bed at 3:30 a.m. and start dressing to go sit on a hard, wooden deer stand,  up in a tree, for several hours.  It is usually very cold out.  You sit there in the dark, squinting through the fog, to try and see an animal that God created to be hidden.  You load up on snacks and coffee to keep you awake and warm (my father-in-law says he only goes hunting for the snacks).  So, the minute that you have hot coffee balanced on one knee, a twinkie in your hand and your gun out of reach is when you finally see your deer.  I'm sure many a buck has been scared away by hot coffee or flying donuts.

     I have been hunting once in my lifetime.  Before my husband and I were married, I went with him on his birthday.  We dressed up in the coveralls and boots and coats and the ugly blaze orange cap that was several sizes too big for me.  Then we sat there and talked ( very taboo if you want to bag a deer!) for countless hours until the sun came up and a doe wandered over by us.  Oh, I forgot to mention that it was a record temperature that day-- 80.  To say the coveralls, boots and coats were a tad too much is an understatement.  We didn't drink the hot chocolate we brought.  I craved Gatorade and Popsicles.

     And, then there is the garb..... blaze orange and camouflage.  These are a real big deal.  The blaze orange, of course, is to assure that other hunters don't mistake you for a deer.  Believe me when I say that this has happened before (not sure how you can see a man and think he is a deer).   One of these days, the deer are going to get smart and start wearing blaze orange caps on hunting morning  (hmm, I wonder how hard it would be to attach one to a deer??).   You can buy any clothing article you could possibly wear in either of these colors/patterns.  Supposedly, the camouflage is meant to camouflage you from the deer seeing you (of course), so then, why can you buy trucks, lazyboys, and even prom dresses made of this pattern???   Truth be told, these are not just the colors of the hunter in his natural habitat, but these colors denote the rural citizen, the signal of the true redneck, the emblem of the free..... but you'll get that in a small town.

Small Town Business

     Business is a tad different in a small town.  Of course, business is geared to suit the needs of a certain area.  I begin with this picture because I love the quirky, old fashioned feel of it.  It is an age old "sign", most likely has been there for years and they just paint around it once in awhile.  By the way, it is a car dealership.  If you were to walk inside it probably still has the old counter top.  Maybe a few modern conveniences have been added, but it still has that "Mayberry" feel to it.
     Even in everyday business operations, things tend to be different in a rural area.  Most stores will keep a running account for you that you pay off each month.  You really do hear people say "Just put it on my tab".  Because you know everyone, you also know who you can trust-- or whom you can't!  Many stores have a large hand written list, place prominently somewhere in the store giving names of people who have written bad checks. Several stores even have names of people posted out front who are not even allowed in!!  In contract type work, your word is as good as gold.  Even a simple handshake is as binding as a signed contract.


Local gas station and liquor store.

         Often small businesses have to diversify.  Two or more separate operations can be run under the same name.  In the big city you can get by with specializing in one certain area, for instance:  counter tops, tires or carpet.  I've even seen stores that only sell candles, ball caps or flags.  One wonders how they make it, but they have a much larger population to deal with.  In a rural area, you sometimes have to combine techniques and abilities in order to make your business work.  My husband installs seamless gutters, yet also has a mowing and snow removal business.  Besides the gutters, he will also do construction, tile, plumbing, electrical and tree removal just to keep the business going!  Talk about diversify!!
     I have seen some humorous business linked together.  While driving through a small town in Illinois, I saw a sign that stated: "Miller's Car Repair and Cafe". Hmmm.  'Hope the mechanic doesn't do the cooking too!
     Not long ago I saw this advertisement locally:

    By the looks of the play toys in the fenced in yard, she must run a daycare as well.
     When times are rough, we rural people still do things the old fashioned way.  Services can be exchanged for services.  Sometimes business is given in the form of a gift when a family is struggling.  We all know each other, and we all know each other's needs.  So, it's just part of everyday life to help someone out if you have the ability to do so.  Sometimes a genuine "Thank you" and a handshake are the best pay you can ever get.  But, you'll get that in a small town....