For
many years (15 in a row) I would drive from Los Angeles back to that North
Dakota town to visit my Grandfather and family each summer. I would stay in his
old house, which had served as the area hospital back in the late 1800s and
early 1900. My mother was born in that house…and my cousin Annie owns the brass
bed that was used to deliver my mother on that faithful day (I know…TMI). I
always loved visiting my grandfather. As he got into his early 90s, we
would spend hours and hours driving around the country as he told stories about
the old days on the prairie.
My
grandpa was pretty old when (in his 80s) when I started visiting him each year,
and he was a devoutly religious man that attended the Evangelical Free Church
in neighboring Wolverton, Minnesota. Any kind of extracurricular activity was
usually off-limits, and drinking alcohol was a sin that doomed you to an eternal
future that included a shovel and a whole lot of coal. Thankfully I was pretty
straight-laced at that point in my life, and he used to love to introduce me to
folks by telling them that I didn’t drink…and that I didn’t even like coffee.
In
the evenings he would “hike of to bed” pretty early (sometimes around 7 or
7:30, at which point I’d sneak down the stairs and hop into my car and head up
old 81 into Fargo. They had just passed a gaming initiative about the time I
started to visit each year, and in Fargo you could walk into a bar and play
blackjack. Sounds better than it was…as at that point there was a two-dollar
limit on the bets. I would sit there for hours…drinking diet pop and playing
blackjack. Usually around 11pm, I would leave and head back to my car and make
the drive back south on old 81.
One
of the things I love about the Plains is the hellacious thunderstorms that come
across the prairie in the warm summer months. One particular night…you could
just feel it was shaping up to be a good one. I was driving my red 72’ Ford
Pinto (whatever cool image you have in your head…I looked even groovier than
you’re imagining) with the window rolled down and you could literally feel the
hair on your arms standing in anticipation of the pending electrical storm.
As I
drove southward by towns like Oxbow, Hickson and then Christine, you could see
bolts of lightning striking the wheat and soybean fields. I stepped on the
accelerator hoping to get to my grandpa’s house before any heavy rain fell…or
worse…a whole bunch of hail. Thankfully, I could see the lights of town on the
horizon and the security of the blinking yellow caution light that swayed in
the building wind above of the intersection of County Road 81 and Broadway.
Just
on the left side of that intersection is the cemetery that hugs the Lutheran
church on the west end of town. I used to see an old woman that lived in town
walking her dog along the road there sometimes late at night, but after not
seeing her for some time, I was surprised to see her outline illuminated by my
headlights…particularly on this stormy summer night…and especially with the
nasty weather closing in fast. To make matters worse, she was walking directly
through the cemetery…and I remember thinking as I made the left turn into town
that it’s true what they said about North Dakotans…they are a hearty group
indeed. There is no way I’d walk through a cemetery at night…in pitch dark,
with an electric storm about to break. I surmised that she too must have felt
the storm approaching…and decided to take a short cut back to her house to
avoid the rain.
The
next morning I walked up town to have coffee with the boys (my grandpa never
came…couldn’t see “giving” 35 cents for coffee when you could boil it up at
home for next to nothing) at the town hall. I’ve referenced this group of
mostly older farmers before, and I had become a welcome yearly regular with
these guys…many of whom I was related to in some way (if you listen carefully
you can hear the banjo music). They reveled in my often exaggerated
rough-an-tumble “life in the hood” stories of LA, and they also enjoyed my
animated recaps of my nightly gambling excursions into Fargo. Often times, if
I’d hit it big, I take my 10 bucks in winnings and cover coffee for everyone at
the table…I was a popular guy.
On
this morning I was telling them about my previous night’s winnings and one of
them asked me if I’d driven back in the heavy storm. I told them yes, and
almost as an afterthought, I mentioned that I’d seen crazy old Mrs. Erickson*
out walking at midnight again…directly through the cemetery on the west-end of
town. Some of them laughed a bit nervously, and I continued to go on about how
odd it was that she’d be out in weather like that. I noticed my uncle looking
at me kind of strange…but before long we moved on to the usually bad Norwegian jokes, stories about the latest auction sale,
or guys talking about how much they had in their respective rain gages.
When
we walked outside to hop into his dark blue GMC pickup to drive over to the
Post Office to get the mail (it was literally across the street), my
uncle asked me why I told the story about seeing Mrs. Erickson. I told him I
didn’t really know…it just seemed interesting that she’d be out on a night like
that. He responded by asking if I was sure it was her. I told him yes…it was
her…I have no doubt…I’ve seen her 100 times. I inquired as to what the big deal was…at
which point he told me that she had passed away the winter before last.
I
know what you’re thinking…but it’s a true story…and the only thing I was
drinking up in Fargo that night was diet pop. It was her…but don’t ask…I don’t
know either.
One
of the trippy things about moving from Los Angeles to the east is the amount of
fervor folks have here connected to Halloween. Sure, kids went
trick-or-treating in the west, but it was a one-day deal and there certainly
wasn’t the fascination with the holiday that there is here. I’ve had some
people here tell me it’s their favorite holiday…and it’s clear that even
grownups really get into it. So, I hope you had a fabulous and festive
Halloween. It’s going to be a great Fall weekend…so make the best of the
changing season doing the things you enjoy with someone you love.
No comments:
Post a Comment