Pulling the Rock- 09

Again how good it felt to be on the road in my old 88 Chevy homebuilt tractor in tow. Rose was occupied with a family reunion but 11 year old Briana was game and welcome company. We stopped at Cheryl and Rogers place to pickup second cousin Jordan, a happier bunch never graced the cab of the old Chevy. Grins and high hopes all around.

Learning from past mistakes we arrived early, I always get butterfly's though the stakes are rather low for me, at worst I bust and have to push back onto the trailer. This year is no different, I weigh in, 3230, sign up for two pulls, thirty bucks. Lot of pullers, nice crowd, weather is perfect, dry and cool. I pace, visit with some old friends. My sister Laura arrives along with nephew Travis and husband Darold, and lunch. Offered a sandwich or cookie I decline and continue to pace. I warm up the engine, if they had a drivers meeting I missed it. 3500 lb class is first off, I can not find the order posted, a modified B John Deere makes a run, sled looks tough to break loose but he has a good pull once rolling. I finally find I am pulling last in my first class and then coming right back to pull the second time.

I study every pull and find all have trouble breaking the sled loose but once free all make it to mid track and a couple make full pulls. I back up to the sled , they drop the hook into my clevice, I check for the uptenth time to be sure I am in low range then pull the slack out of the chain, I watch the starter, the flag goes from red to green. , I ease out the clutch, rev the engine, front tires lift everything strains, Damn but that sled is heavy, ten foot out and I am hooked up and on the gas.

The track feels a little loose I detect some slippage and am drifting right, dang I hate to lift but if I don't I am going out of bounds, I ease off just enough for the frt. tires to get some dirt and and ease back to the center, to my great surprise I get straightened up in good shape. Giving it the gas I can feel the big wheels churn and she pulls right again so I back off slightly playing with the throttle keeping just enough power on to hold to the track and not bust loose.

I have never had a track like this before, it is wonderful. If I go wide open the tires churn and I start to drift right, by just playing with the gas and keeping the right balance of power I can pull the load and keep everything straight. My straight pipe belies every move I make on the gas, I feel like I am playing a saxophone, what a pretty tune. The pull seems to last forever, like I am stuck in a good dream which just keeps on going, I look down and see the big tires turning, can see the slippage when I give even a tad more throttle then they will hold, everything is in slow motion, and perfect.

At two hundred feet it starts to pull down, no nuances now I bury the pedal and the motor screams the high notes as the front wheels wag up into the air. At 208 I the flag goes red and I ease it down..

Second hook was same although we were able to stretch it to 231.

The rest of the evening was very relaxing, Sis left early taking Briana with her, Rog and Cheryl came and picked up Jordon while Travis and I stayed till eleven just walking about and soaking up the ambiance. Saturday morning I taught Travis how to handle the little homebuilt and then let him drive it through the parade.

Sure wish Dad could have been there.

Blue Dress, Red Barn - Epilogue

Now, the rest of the story. What was it about this painting?
Why was I so strongly drawn to it at first sight, went back to it a couple times during our first
visit and then again when I went back to buy the small
piece?

I had mentioned the artist had two pictures of the same subject
this one being the more abstract. As nice as the
other picture was, this one is the one that seemed to hit a
chord down deep. . I really am not a big art fan, neverdid understand the draw of the Mona Lisa, what was it then?

As promised the painting showed up Friday, upon opening the box I again felt moved, why? Why this painting?

The one that got away and what could have been? Is that it?
Could it be so simple. I search my inner self but that is not it.

My mother, is it her on the farm when she was first married
to Dad? Again I look inside, I feel around, no, maybe a
little this time but no that is not it.

What about Grandpa? Yes, hit pay dirt, where the feeling is
coming from, my connection with Grandpa and the old family
farmstead. Let me explain.

Grandpa was a young man when he moved to Northwest Iowa from
Streator Illinois and started farming in 1889. Once established he returned home for his sweetheart Rezina, they married and had two little
girls. At 25 she took ill and was gone, he married
again, Minnie bore him five more girls before illness took her
also. Lastly he married my Grandmother who gave him two
boys, Uncle Charles and my father Duane.

I am the youngest son of the youngest son and only knew my Grandfather briefly before he passed on. I have two remembrances of him, one of
him holding me in his lap showing me the inner workings of
his pocket watch, the other of him sick in bed his family
gathered around. I recall clutching my Moms skirt and
watching intently as he joked with my Aunts and Uncles.

Even though I knew him only briefly something in him passed
to me, I have always had that sense, that connection. Dad
told of how he and Grandpa re-shingled the old corn crib,
as they were doing it Grandpa told when first built his first wife had helped him shingle it.

Dad said Grandpa cried as he told the story. I can feel
the pain he felt, the sadness of losing his first love.

Grandpa is buried in Lester next to his third wife, my
Grandmother Mattie, his first two wife's lie in Rock
Rapids sharing the same monument, just their names, a verse
I can not quite make out and a statement that they are the
wife's of Charles Gage. When his daughter, Aunt Alethia who
never married died she too was buried there . Every Memorial
day Dad would make the trip over to Rock Rapids and put
flowers on their graves, a week later he would pick them up.

Last year Dad passed away, the duty, no, honor fell to me, I placed the
flowers, then tried in vain to read the weathered verse, it seemed so sad they should
be all alone, three woman Grandpa had so deeply loved.
Two I had never known gone long before I arrived on
this earth. My heart went into my throat, tears ran down my
face. I could feel his immense sadness and sense of loss..

And that is the place this painting takes me, why it
is so much more powerful in it's more abstract form,
Because it makes me feel, just like I felt at the graves
that day. Yet it offers hope, a shrouded glimpse into a good life long past.

A powerful bittersweet feeling.

Blue Dress, Red Barn, The critics speak

While taking care of Mom our favorite hangout on Sundays was
the Washington Pavilion in Sioux Falls. Not only a lot for
the kids to do but it also houses an art gallery. I am not a
big art fan but it was something to do and on occasion I
spotted something I liked. Fun to look anyway.

A couple months ago we are at the pavilion with the grand
kids so Rose and I check the gallery's out. On display were
a number of paintings by a Tim Vogl from Rapid City S.D. the
title of his show was, Into the Red Barn, most of the
paintings dealt with his memories of growing up on a farm in
Mn.

I was drawn to the paintings, bought one very small one for
50.00 bucks but had to wait for a couple months for the show
to be done to collect it. Fifty dollar painting in hand I
asked him by e-mail if he had sold another larger more
expensive painting I really liked, he had not so I bought it
also, got it this Friday, love it, I am including it for
your review.(-:

Friday morning Miss Connie calls up and tells me she is
setting a extra plate for me, noon I grab my new picture and
head out to the little Acorn. When the main meal was done
and dessert was being served I brought it in and set it on a
chair for review. John glanced at it and simply stated he
was not much for abstract paintings, John is nothing if not
honest.

The rest of the crew comes in, Will gives it a eyeball and
says can't tell what it is, Connie's first comment is the
lady is standing on the downwind side of the line and no
self respecting woman would hang clothes with them blowing
in her face. Barb agrees.

Will exclaims he didn't know it was a lady hanging clothes,
he thought it was picture of a statue or something.

I comment Rose had told me she didn't see the chickens till
I pointed them out, Will exclaims he would have never
thought them chickens, all he could see was the barn.

Connie cocked her head, grinned, and inquired, "what barn"?

Tough Bunch.(-:

Teasing Miss Connie

First, I need to give you, the reader, the lay of the land. My small acreage filled with horses and goats is on
the south edge of town. By good fortune and due to the fact
the last owner had sheep it is grandfathered in as farm land
even though it lies within city limits.

To the south of me, right across the railroad tracks, is
Will's place. Mostly pasture and river bottom land, actually
several chunks strung together, Shakey, the Trailer House
place, Elwoods, the Pond pasture, No Mans land. Go far
enough and you hit Wills folks place, Little Acorn Ranch.

When I am needed and when I can I help Will with his
cows and calves, we chase the occasional bull, fix some
fence when we have time. Not bad work when you can get it.
And, on a good day, we get to eat dinner at the Little Acorn with
Will's folks,John and Miss Connie.

This is good old farm noon meal eating, porcupine balls,
maybe Spanish rice, other day we had tator tot casserole
without the hamburger or tater tots just hunks of steak
with sliced potatoes on top baked in the oven, fresh
asparagus when in season, on a good day fresh rhubarb crisp. And then, "Roy finish up this, Roy have some more spargus"

When you think your all done Connie
rolls out a cart with ice cream and two kinds of topping,
butterscotch and chocolate, and nuts, can't forget the
crushed nuts. "Roy, would you like some tea".

As good as the food is the table banter is even better. Although
both in their seventies Wills folks act much younger, lots
of joking and kidding around. I should have known I couldn't
keep it for myself long.

You remember my son Alan the 31 one year old erstwhile
mechanic. Alan decided he liked being a auto tech as good as
anything but that as much as he liked it anything over three
days a week was simply too much of a good thing. He sold all his
crap, bought a cabin "trashed out trailer house" in the
woods, got his electricity usage down to thirty kilowatts a
month and started working for Miss Connie on Mondays and
Fridays, me, I get him Tuesday thru Thursday.

So what does he do at Miss Connie's? Oh they have funerals
for dead woodchucks the dogs kill, walk in the woods and dig
up protected flowers to plant in the garden, dig up shrubs
and plant new ones, make shade gardens, mow the lawn, wash
the motor home, clean the garage, hang bird feeders, study
birds and catalog bugs. In short they get along just fine
and seem to enjoy each others company. Miss Connie is
nothing if not a mother and like any good mother she makes
sure Alan is well feed. In short, the little fart cut into
my noon dinner franchise. John who buys the grocery's
grumbles but seems to tolerate the situation. Certainly
makes for some lively dinners.

The sting

So my best friend Jerry the parts man from the local GM
dealer retired and I lined him up to help Will pickup round
bales and tote them to Elwoods. 10AM Will calls and asks if I
want to join them for dinner in town, sure count me in, he
asks if I would please pick them up, making sure he has his
checkbook with him I agree to pick them both up at Shakey. A
hour later I come back from a service call and Alan tells me
Will called and they are now eating at John and Connie's and
to please pick them up at Elwoods.

I ask Alan if he is coming, he replies, sadly, that no, he
was not invited. I call up Miss Connie and ask if it would
be possible for Alan to join us. She replies that he is
welcome but their is hesitation in her voice, it is too late
to put on more potatoes, the meat is limited, yes, he is
welcome but we won't be able to eat as much as we normally
do she cautions. Sensing her weakness I say I will tell him she said there
is not enough food and he has to stay home, she makes
some protest but I assure her it will be OK and hang up.

Chuckling I turn to Alan and give him 6 bucks to go buy a
meal at Subway instructing him to show up ten minutes late
with his sack lunch in hand looking all sad and lonely.

Picking the boys up at Elwood I tell Jerry about my plans,
Will is riding in the back of the truck his legs dangling from
the bed and remains oblivious to the plot.

I am no more in the house then Connie starts to apologize
for Alan not coming out, I explain to her is was not a
problem, I had told Alan she had said there was not enough food and he
had to stay home, "but he could have come, I just meant there
was not a lot of food, we could have got by, he could have
come, he is always welcome " her voice trails off. I act unconcerned.

We all sit down for dinner and dig in, Alan's absence comes
up again, again Connie says he could have come, she didn't
mean to say he couldn't. Again I shrug it off, no big deal.

We are ten minutes into the meal when the dogs start
barking, Will gets up to look out the window and starts
laughing uncontrollably, "It's Alan and he has a sack lunch
with him" he yells out.

Connie rushes to met him at the door apologizing and giving
him a big hug, looking for all the world like a lost dog Alan says no problem but could he maybe havea glass of water to go with his sandwich?

At the table again Connie begs his forgiveness and explains
her situation, Will had called late, she hadn't planned on
so many, Alan is playing it for all it's worth, all I can do
to keep from losing it.

After five minutes Alan gave it up and told her it was a
setup, what a hoot, the whole table is roaring now.
Recovering Connie tells us a story of checking cows at two
in the the morning back in the day, not thinking much of her
flashlight one of the cows had stomped her into the mud
leaving her to crawl back to the fence. She was determined
to sell the offending cow but the next day one her her
neighbors had came to the cows defense. Surly she could
understand the cow had been affected by a hormone imbalance
as she was just ready to drop her calf? Connie replies she
had two children and she never stomped anyone into the mud,
that cow was hamburger!

With this story as a lead nothing could save Connie from my
favorite joke of all time.

"Connie, know the difference
between a enzyme and a hormone"?

"No"

“Can't hear a enzyme”.

The table again roars, Connie keeps shaking her head saying
"that's terrible, that's a awful joke” all the while she can't keep
from laughing.

Things die down a bit Alan offers up he told that joke once
to a fellow, guy replied back he never heard a hormone, Alan told him in that case he must be doing something wrong.

Table again erupts.

It was a good day
Regards, Roy

Writers note, Those familiar with the Greigs land will note a error in that No Mans Land is on the Little Acorn Ranch, not Will's land, This is simply a case of it is too good a name to leave out of the narrative. I firmly believe one should never let the truth get in the way of a good story.

Up and In, Stoneys big big day.

Highway Nine runs right past the front office of my shop, the door open I could throw a donut out and hit the street. Yesterday , Friday, they started pulling into town, funky little livestock trailers, cobbled up home made jobs, 35 year old horse trailers, paint faded if they had any paint left to fade.

Exotic animal auction at our fairgrounds two blocks south of me. Friday nite and Saturday till noon. Had to get hay last night, by the time I got there the goats were all sold, lots of birds selling though, chickens, ducks, every kind of pheasant, guinea hens, peacocks. the variety and color of the birds were only matched by the variety of people attending. They don't call them Hill Billy auctions for nothing. In my straw hat though I guess I am the pot calling the kettle black.

I was drawn to the miniature donkeys, they had about twelve or so , one had just dropped her baby earlier in the day, Mom was rather nondescript, what a flashy little jack she put on the ground though, white face, white rump, white rear leg, some other nice white splotches. There is just nothing cuter on Gods green earth then a baby donkey.

Only a couple horses, one was 12 hands, underfed and untrained, not enough time in my life, sorry, surly it will go cheap if it goes at all, horses are worth little unless trained. It is a shame, people just should not breed a horse unless they have a good use for them.

The other horse is a little sorrel miniture mare. I go take a look, I already have three minitures and enjoy them . Stands about 36-37 inchs high at the shoulders. I like this one, friendly, not head shy, nice proportions, not fat, hoofs look good, she lets me pickup her feet.

Saturday morning I take another quick look around, watch them auction off some birds, get a bidding number. Then I turn my back and start to get serious about work, have to get my trailer load of hay backed out of the shop and across the highway, feed my animals, run down Will and see if we can get the hay put up in the barn, no bad work, but work, a busy day.

I am headed to Wills when I get thinking about the little sorrel, they don't eat much, or poop much, I know it would like my farm, feel confident it would fit in. I swing the truck back into the fairgrounds, they have just started on hoofed animials, the longhorns are first up, then the donkeys followed by my little sorrel.


I call Will and he says to go up to 350.00 on the Jenny and her newborn Jack, it goes for 360.00. By now my daughter Audrey has shown up, she knows her horses pretty well, I had requested she take a peak. We both kick ourselves for not throwing another twenty in on the Jenny and Jack, would have been worth it for Will to have it, surly we all would have enjoyed it's antics.

Audrey liked the sorrel, shortly before it came up we met the couple that was selling it, they too had a hobby farm, found out shes was 5, no papers, name is Peanut, had kids on her but not broke to ride, nice couple, I figured at least if she got no saled it would go back to a good home.

The hammer dropped at sixty bucks. I put a lead rope on and led her the two blocks home, not without some excitment. She doesn't lead as well as she could, took twenty minutes to get her through the gate. We put her in a pen by herself at first, sure had all the rest of my animals worked up.


Later I came back and put her into the barn pen where she would have more room, briefly she was with the other horses and they beat on her pretty good, just the way horses are. Kayla my 9 year granddaughter though was pretty upset. Almost as a after thought I put Stoney our little Buckskin gelding in with her so she would have some company. Stoney shows great interest from the get go, lots of sniffing and some tender biting, well for Pete's sake, I think that mare is in heat.

Couple hours later we meet Audrey at the farm so we can go get her hay, we are all watching with bemusement as Stoney does his best to get the job done on his little sorrel, Peanut was certainly cooperating by standing nice for him.

Could of knocked us all down with a feather when he got it up and in.

Back on all fours Stoney gave a soft nicker, it was not easy to pick it up but it was clear to me what he was saying, " Thanks Boss,I needed that"


Sunday, April 27th update.


Looks like today is going to be Pistol the gelded Donkeys
big big day. A cold rain started last night and is
continuing this morning, felt sorry for the rest of my
animals by now dripping wet so opened the gate to the barn
pen letting them all back together. Everyone was out went
in, Stoney stayed in, looks exhausted. Pistol is following
Peanut the new mare around the yard in the rain, holding his
head sideways, curling his lips into a big grin giving
everything a good sniff.

I feel like I dropped a hooker off at a Boy Scouts Jamboree.

Tombstones and Epitaphs

The caskets were easy, Dad left us first, we spent some time
on that one, Mom's turn we just said get us another one just
like the other one. You put them into a concrete vault,then bury
them never to be seen again.

Headstones though they are forever. They put me in charge,
as usual I procrastinated, not that I didn't think about it,
just that I didn't do anything about it. This past week Sis put me on
notice, time to get it done, Memorial day is fast
approaching.

The easy part was finding a company to deal with, a place
between here and the folks seemed right, they have all their own
equipment, do all their own work, I like the boss, Randy, he
does all the selling himself. I find the selection problem
difficult simply because the selection is so large. I
learn the granite comes from quarry's all over the world,
Cold Springs Mn., the Dakotas, Georgia, India. After three
trips I pick out a deep red from India. Finished on all four
sides, serpentine top. Randy explains it this way, you pay for the size of the stone, the quality of the stone and then the amount of finishing put into the stone.

Sounds easy,buying a headstone, it was not. Dad left us we still had Mom, still
had a home to go back to, after losing her it has been a
little harder. I find myself more emotional, more affected,
more introspective, I believe it brings ones own end into
focus a bit, at least it has for me.

There are grape vines, birds, butterfly's, a complete book
of clip art to choose from, fire engines, motorcycles, they
both liked birds so some finches seemed appropriate.

I have always liked epitaphs, thought there should be some
attempt to sum up your life, what you stood for.

Mom was easy, "Always a smile, never a harsh word, she was
our sunshine".

I had considered "They never gave up on us", although it
sounds good and certainly would apply to Mom I think Dad
gave up on us, at least my brother and I several times.


Saturday morning I made another trip to Worthington.
I called my brother and one of my sisters from
the office, need some help, what about Dad's
epitaph? Larry thought should be something about the
customer is always right, or about getting on the other side
of the counter something Dad was pretty vocal about.

He paused as he thought and then came up with this one which
he said Dad got from Grandpa, "You can judge a man by how
well he sweeps the floor". Larry went on to say he had seen
Dad use it when someone came out looking for a job in the
past, he would hand them a broom and tell ask them to sweep
the floor. If they felt it was below their station in life
or did it poorly, missing the corners, sweeping around
things instead of picking them up, well, that was what Dad
wanted to know.

I kind liked it, the fellow at the tombstone store loved it,
a call to my sister Laura and it was a done deal.

I finally got a hold of my other sister on the way home only to have it
nixed. Made Dad sound to judgmental and she pointed
out a man could be a excellent floor sweeper and still beat
his wife and neglect his kids. Points well made and taken. I start over.


Dad being Dad it is easy to come up with some that run true
but we can't really use like, "Never trust a stock broker".

He was adamant about us picking him a lot in the high ground
at the cemetery as the family plot Grandpa and Grandma and
Uncle Charles have is on lower ground which sometimes has
ground water at the 6 foot level. And Dad always made a
point of using high ground for any building he put up. Loved
nice views.

A engraving of a man standing upright with his hand over his
brow Indian scout style with the words "View is great from
here", makes me chuckle.

"It's not a good deal unless everyone is happy" comes to
mind as does,"Worked hard, played it straight, did good by
us and Mom".

Or maybe simply, "She was his Sunshine"

I kind of like that one.



Sunday,April 27th update


Looks like today is going to be Pistol the gelded Donkeys
big big day. A cold rain started last night and is
continuing this morning, felt sorry for the rest of my
animals by now dripping wet so opened the gate to the barn
pen letting them all back together. Everyone was out went
in, Stoney stayed in, looks exhausted. Pistol is following
Peanut the new mare around the yard in the rain, holding his
head sideways, curling his lips into a big grin giving
everything a good sniff.

I feel like I dropped a hooker off at a Boy Scouts Jamboree.

Billy the goat

Dad ran his business, a feed mill/farm store like ringing a bell, he had built it, nurtured it, poured his soul into it. He grew it every year, took no prisoners,the rhythm of his life was a constant drum beat of projects and deadlines. He vacationed poorly, seldom had time to relax.

Which is why I can't figure where the idea to get a goat came from, guess he just figured we needed to have some fun, that it was time to lighten up. He spoke of it several times, we pretty much all thought that was as far as it would go. Then one morning he comes waving around a classified ad from the Sioux City Journal, goats for sale. He motions to Leonard the bulk truck driver, gives him the address and a check. Just like ringing a bell, Dad was getting us into the goat business.

The laughs start right away, Marv, the feed mill operator didn't like the idea of goats, every time the subject had came up he would snort and say “you get goats next thing you know they will be shitting and pissing on the floor”. He was pretty adamant about it. Like I said, Marv didn't think much of goats.

So Marv had missed out on Dad's big conference with us about the Sioux City goats and sending off Leonard to fetch them, about 9 AM he asks “where is Leonard”? So, we tell him, “ he went to Sioux City to get goats” Marv thinks we are kidding him, asks again, we tell him again, Marv sputters something about being us being smart asses and goats shitting and pissing on the floor, giving up he stalks off..

.A hour later, in his best and most sincere voice “ no really, where is Leonard today?” we wince as we say it, “he went to get goats Marv, honest”. Marv walks away muttering to himself still convinced we are teasing him. Now down to a routine we go through it once more before the little one ton GMC with the flat bed bounces into the yard with a Nanny and Billy tied up in the back. Marv was speechless.

If this story was about nanny goats it would be a short one as she was sick and died shortly after coming to her new home. Billy on the other hand was not only healthy, he was full of piss and vinegar, the goat of Dad's dreams, just what our feed mill needed.

For starters he was friendly, had no fear of people, would follow you around like a dog, loved to get his ears scratched. We soon found if we wished to get him out of our hair all we had to do was bend over and pick up a rock or dirt clod, he would take off like he was shot from a gun kicking and skipping sideways as he scooted from view. We never threw a rock at him, guess the people at his old home had and he had just learned real good to scram.

There was never any attempt made to fence him in, Dad's shop, we always called it the shop, was on a couple acres of land west of town on highway 9, in all the time Billy was with us I never saw him venture on to the road, he just roamed around checking us all out. He would wander around here and there, loved people and very curious, any project he was in the middle of it, forty years later I ran into a fellow from Ireton, Iowa at a booth over at the Clay County fair. We get to talking and mention I am from Lester, he perks right up, yes yes he knew Duane Gage, yes he and his partner put up some steel bins for Dad. He then tells of his partner bending over to drive in a wood stake when Billy comes around the corner sees his butt sticking up in the air nice and pretty and pops him one. His partner jumps up and starts waving his hammer at Billy, Billy just backs off a little, sticks out his tongue and makes this bleating noise, sounds for all the world like he is laughing at him. Then the fellow looks around to see not only had his coworker witnessed the whole thing but Dad had just come around the corner and seen it also, both were laughing pretty good. He was pretty steamed by the incident, Billy just sauntered off looking for something else to get into.

We were getting our power service worked on, a lineman from the local REC had showed up, of course Billy wandered over to see if he could help. The fellow was surprised to see a goat and pleased when he turned out to be friendly, at any rate he was petting him and giving a him a good ear rub, finding it to his liking Billy jumped up and placed his hoofs on the fellows chest and was pretty much eye to eye with him when Dad walks by and says,” he will eat that cigarette your holding lit if you let him.” And he would, given a chance Billy would stick out his tongue and take short quick licks at a smoke until the fire went out, then gobble it up. Thinking this was just to cool not to try the fellow held out his smoke and Billy went to work on it. Some smoke got in Billy's his nose and he sneezed blowing goat snot all over the guys face.

Hung like a Billy goat, horny as a Billy goat, stinks like a Billy goat. We had all grown up with these phrases, used them even yet none of us really knew much about goats except Marv and he wasn't talking. If we had we would have got Billy fixed and this story would have had a happier ending, as it was our ignorance although it served Billy poorly generated some good stories.

Billy's first love was Arie who ran the portable mill, most days Arie would pull back into the yard at quitting time, often the rest of us would be standing up in the office watching him park at the bottom of the hill and make his way across the yard to the shop. I guess maybe his absence made Billy's heart grow fonder, anyway Billy sporting a full erection would try to chase him down, Arie would take off for the office turning and slapping at Billy with his hat, this seemed only to fan the fires in little Billy and by now he would be sticking out his tongue making his frenzied bleating “I will still respect you in the morning” noise. We used to laugh so hard the tears would roll from our eyes. Oddly Arie never saw the humor in it..

Another favorite of Billy's was Gary the Kent feed salesman, if he caught Gary in the open he would come up behind him stick his nose in the seat of his pants and take a couple good deep whiffs, as Gary said on more then one occasion ”it's none of that damn goats business if I use Preparation H.

Lavonne was was perhaps the most beautiful woman in our county, our state even, she had such rare beauty that most men, and I might add teens like myself were reduced to blubbering fools in her presence. To walk around a corner and bump into her was like having the brain plucked out of your head. You just knew something dumb was going to happen and there was nothing you could do about it but flee. She drove a dark colored Ford LTD four door,white top, in my minds eye I can still see her swinging it off the highway making a big loop in our yard then hitting reverse to back up to our dock to get some bag feed. And I can still remember the frantic sound of Dad scrambling out of the office running back to the feed room yelling in panic,” Lavonne's coming, Lavonne's coming, where is that damn goat, get him tied up!” I think Dad's worse nightmare was Billy would come around the corner see Lavonne and be smitten, unlike us mere mortals Dad knew full well Billy would act on his impulses.

Marv never did warm up to Billy, it was awkward, like having two friends that didn't get along. Wasn't Billy”s fault, he got along with everyone. Billy would wander over to Marv's world every once in awhile, Marv's world being the feed mill control panel and scale beam. You could hear it from quite a distance, a whooping noise not unlike Indians on attack in the movies, you would look up to see Billy tearing out of the feed mill at full tilt his little butt just a humping, Marv hot on his tail broom always raised up over his head, there are rare moments in life you really get to laugh, from the belly, from the heart, half of mine were compliments Billy.

The hardest we ever laughed though was the day I set Marv up. I was back to the shop early that noon, Leonard had ate in, Clint was back early too. I grabbed a cup of coffee and some goat turds and made my way to the scale beam and control panel. Right where Marv stood while he weighed the feed batch's I piled up the goat turds in a nice little natural looking pile, then spread the coffee out on the floor in three distinct lines. Any half blind tracker could clearly tell a goat had stood right there with a full erection, pooped on the floor and turning twenty degrees at a time sprayed out three good four foot squirts of pee. We go back to the office and to await Marv's arrival. Marv comes in a whistling and how do you doing, marks down his time and heads back to his control panel. It's not long and he is back, sticks his head in the door and looks at Leonard real serious and says, “ you come with me Leonard and let me show you something” with Leonard in tow they head back to the control panel. Clint and I sneak over to the window and watch, we can not hear them but can see Marv is serious as hell pointing at the mess on the floor, I don't know how Leonard kept a straight face, Clint and I are laughing so hard watching Leonard nod his head as Marv talks to him. We can almost read his lips, “ I told you Leonard ,get a goat and first thing you know, shitting and pissing on the floor”.

Poor Billy, he deserved better then he got, all that peeing on his face took it's toll and wasn't long he stunk so bad he brushed up against you had to burn your clothes. We had him staked out on a rope all by himself, at one time the offers to take him in would have been plentiful, now no one wanted him. Dad was working late one warm summer evening when some young kids pulled up all dressed up for a night on the town, told Dad they had heard he had a goat he wanted to give away, Dad pointed to Billy and said there he is, figured they would be back later in work clothes with a pickup, instead they put him in the trunk and drove off.

According to the police reports they dumped him in downtown Rock Rapids right in front of the bar, Billy fell in love with a gal walking down the street, whipped out his tiddlewhacker and treed her on top of a car, the cops got called and the chase was on, Billy gave them a good run by all accounts, nearly made it into the IGA food store before they tackled him. They threw him in the back of the squad car and hauled him off, end of story, almost.

Dad sort of winced when he heard about it, I am sure he felt bad for Billy, not bad enough to call up the cops and fess up to owning him though. One rumor had it he made it to a farm, we all figured we could live with that. Couple months later the gal did the Rock Rapids news for the radio station came on telling about how she heard a noise in her garage while making breakfast, opened the door to see a goat standing on the seat of her snowmobile, eating it, last we ever heard of Billy.

Several years ago I got thinking about Billy and all the fun we had and got a couple goats, one, Red, reminds me of of him, friendly and full of life. Wish I had known enough to take care of Billy as well as I do Red. Another of life's regrets.