Trego's Mountain Ear

"Serving North Lincoln County"

Tag: family

  • Actuarial Thoughts on Turning 76

    As the 75th year moves to the 76th, there are some actuarial thoughts that come to mind. Table 10 (Social Security Administration) gave me a life expectancy of 65 years and 3 months at birth – obviously, since 52% of my age cohort is still on the grass side (as opposed to the root side) we’ve made some long strides in medicine, health and life expectancy. It’s not until the 80th birthday that 50.7% of us will be gone.

    That translates to a calculated mean life expectancy of 11.29 more years at my next birthday. On the other hand, if I’m still kicking for that 87th birthday, the table shows another 5.6 years – and nearly 30% of the original birth cohort will be there for the 87th birthday.

    I suppose that living is kind of one of those habitual things. I can’t help feeling fortunate for the many advances that have occurred in my lifetime. So what do I plan to do with those next ten years? When I lived past the June, 2012 expiration date my oncologist gave me, I came to the conclusion that my best purpose was to look out for wife and daughter. It’s been a good purpose – but the next ten years are for my grandkids. I want to teach the little ones to sail – and I think I can do that on the pond, by combining a small lateen sail with a slow hull. I want to teach them marksmanship – and I will probably start with airguns and little steel chickens, pigs, turkeys and rams. If the health holds out, we’ll combine forest management with entrepreneurial attitudes as we continue thinning the woods. I may not ride a bicycle to their house – but I am sure that they will ride bikes to mine. Bicycles are a good place to develop mechanical skills – and seven speeds seem like plenty to me. There is a chance that we can rebuild the fences, and get a few Guernsey or Jersey cows. Remi already has his two little goats – and one watches his little crawling brother through the window. By the time a kid is ten, leading and brushing a dairy heifer is a reasonable task. At ten, a kid can learn the mechanics of a single or double barrel break in the middle gun. And, with any luck, I will be able to share the joy that can be found in mathematics, in reading, design and research. It is enough. Not everyone has a 76th birthday with so bright a future.

  • Veteran Confusion

    So I get an email that tells me that Veteran’s Day sales have been extended. I’m not a veteran – I had to damn near beg the physician to get a 1Y deferment instead of a 4F. Really don’t know why it was important to me, but I suspect it was my mother’s tone of voice when she talked about 4F’s. Anyway, South Dakota has some very active Veterans coordinators in each county, and, so near as I can tell, the one in my county learned the clearance I had – since I had access to air photos that showed locations of missile silos as well as agriculture, and wanted to recruit me as a veteran. I’m not real sure of his motivation, and he was disappointed to learn I wasn’t eligible for his services. Somehow, I didn’t disappear off his list, and the American Legion offered membership. Again, I gave a polite thanks and explained that I didn’t qualify. And that ended the folks who were mistaking me for a veteran.

    Until I wore an old T-shirt Dad had given me from the Kenneth Whiting’s 50th anniversary. The shirt was probably 20 years old, and I wore it into Great Clips. The hair stylist looked at me, looked at the shirt, and long story made short, I walked out with a high and tight haircut and a veteran’s discount. The next stop was Cabela’s – where the T-shirt and the haircut got an unsolicited 5% discount on a couple boxes of ammunition. Didn’t notice until I got home and looked at the receipt. Then Lowes, and a 10% discount. I now only wear the shirt around Trego. It’s too easy to be the accidental stolen valor kid. The closest I came to actual service was accompanying a National Guard officer to South America when I was an adjunct professor for the Navy grad school – I’m pretty sure academic rank doesn’t count – though Dad was pleased that I somehow got into his Navy.

  • The Lady in the Latrine

    In telling this story, I have to go back about 40 years, to my first time teaching college. Somehow, Colorado had gotten off on the idea of workfare – that people physically capable of work should have a job to qualify for welfare benefits.

    The science building had a janitor – nice guy, worked a 4 to midnight shift, which meant that he had the time to clean the classrooms, labs and offices when they were empty. The building, built back in the sixties, had the janitor’s workspace located in the men’s room. I was a bit surprised at about 3:00 pm one afternoon, I headed for the head, and was greeted by a woman about my age and her 10-year-old daughter as I walked into the room. She explained she was there to help our janitor, I agreed that was nice – and then I walked down the hill to the restroom in the admin building. There was no point in warning my colleagues by sharing the story – they would have laughed at me.

    Turned out, I should have said something. I was one of the younger faculty – I didn’t think much of an 80 yard walk, outside, to find a facility that didn’t have a pre-teen girl and her mother as observers. And, having moved to southern Colorado from northern Montana, there weren’t many afternoons when the trip required a coat. But a lot of my colleagues were in their sixties. Now I recognize the difference. Then I didn’t. When the college president realized the hardship on our old biology instructor – past 70 and with prostate problems calling for a lot of trips – well, our little school went out of being a site for the workfare program.

    It probably seemed like a good idea – but reality has a way of showing the problems that come with good ideas. Single parents and the janitorial space located in the men’s room created a situation where working for the welfare benefits cost the school more in (male) faculty time than the help cleaning the building was worth. And unpaid labor didn’t leave her many options for childcare.

  • The Old Man and The Boy

    I’ve been reading the collection of essays that compose Robert Ruark’s book The Old Man and the Boy. The tales are from a century past – but Ruark makes a case that having the old man around is good for the boy. I recall my own grandfather, who died when I was five – but whose positive regard for me has been a big part of the good things that have happened, the successes and challenges of my entire life. Any failures, any rough spots, were eased by the memory of an old man who treated me as the most worthwhile person of his life. Yes, I was heartbroken when he died. At five, I didn’t get the experiences Ruark did – his grandfather lasted until he was 15 – but like Captain Ned Adkins and Robert Ruark, Gust Fahlgren has been a pleasant memory away for my last 70 years.

    Remi got me thinking of these things with his first complete sentence to me: “I need a goat.” He was right – and I have enjoyed watching the two little Nigerian Dwarf does I purchased for him. The goats, as former 4-H animals, just regard me as the supplier of hay. Remi, on the other hand (or hoof, as the observing species may have) is their kid, whose pockets need to be sniffed and examined until he learns to always have treats for them. The old man is a significant part of the boy growing up.

    But I am a demographer who will soon turn 76. Unlike Captain Ned, I have actuarial table that can provide some idea of how much time I have for Remi and Nathaniel – for the next 10 years and 4 months, we will be living the story of the old man and the boys. My grandfather died before my brother could develop memories of him – he wasn’t yet two – and couldn’t make the memories that have left me with a feeling of unconditional support all my life.

    Captain Ned left Ruark with memories of fishing, hunting, building and making repairs, developing competencies. I’m planning for the next 10 years. The pond offers a place where, with a slow hull, two little boys can learn to sail, as well as row. My little bailer, turning out 30 pound round bales, will provide a task where small boys can help with haying. I’m not certain that I will have the time to provide the training in pistol marksmanship – but I will have the time to teach the self discipline of a single shot 22 at official targets and measured ranges. Possibly the beginnings of gun repair on the simple break in the middle single barrel shotguns. I don’t believe I will have the years left to teach the more complex pump and lever actions.

    The sawmill will provide a source for the lumber little boys need for their projects. As we continue to thin the forest, they will have an opportunity to make their own firewood business – Remi already insists on hauling the wood blocks to the pickup, and loves watching the hydraulic splitter. The firewood from thinning will teach valuable life lessons – using something that would be useless without your work, deferred gratification, and conservation in the real world. I need to get the skid-steer back online – it offers a power that is much easier to learn than the tractor.

    I heard a country song on the radio, where the singer sang about what he would be doing for his next thirty years. I don’t have a next thirty years – but I can be with those two little boys for their next seventy years, like my grandfather was for me. Come to think of it, Captain Ned got Robert Ruark a goat.

  • The Storage Building

    Yes – we have built a storage building across the street from the Pub and the Post Office. Yes, we will have storage units for rent. Probably the most important thing is that we will be filling several with our own stuff. You see, stuff takes up space – and that stuff has been in the way of remodeling the old service station. When I returned to Trego, it was a place to put stuff that I didn’t need immediately. Ten years later, I’m looking at stuff that hasn’t been needed in a decade.

    One of the boxes that is destined for the storage buildings contains is labeled ‘Barbies’. Right now I’m looking at a toddler whose main interest is wheels. After Bruce Todd gave him a ride in his dump truck, he plays wih tractors and trucks, in that order. His little brother is almost crawling – along with mechanical noises. Barbie is headed for the storage building, until another little McCurry comes along that is more interested in dolls than rolling stock. There are a couple boxes of photo albums and such. All good stuff, all temporarily stored in the way of getting things done.

    Today, it would be called a meme – but the slogan “He who dies with the most toys wins.” came along before the internet.

    So what’s going on in the old service station? The first effort was the roof – originally of corrugated metal, it needed to be replaced before anything could be done inside. Then there needed to be a plan – Dad’s remodeling has effectively removed the shop (though most of my old Austin Healey is still there – and parts have been scattered throughout it and other buildings. Again, stuff that gets in the way of remodeling.) Phase 1 is pretty simple – increasing insulation and getting a heat pump added so we can work inside in the winter. Then remodeling the store area, and moving the old logging camp cook shack away from the south side. After all, it too has became storage.

    So Sam has already promised four of the storage units. I figure I’ll be using at least two. There are 20 units in the building. I’m sure that there is enough stuff in Trego to fill the ones I can’t.

  • Fixing The Jennie May

    A Montana ranchette needs about 30 horsepower of tractor. Now I have a soft spot for Massey Ferguson – and have a 59 hp model 40b – but Mrs. Ferguson doesn’t get through the trees well. Her job is to provide the weight and mobility for a small backhoe – and the loader does have enough strength to move some fairly large logs. Still, it’s time to pull her down and get a couple cylinders repacked. I can afford to sideline her because Jennie May is back on line.

    As I shopped used tractors – specifically in the 30 horsepower range – I kept looking at (in order of cost) John Deere, Kubota, and Chinese tractors. Jennie May is Chinese – technically a Jinma 284. Built in 2005, she showed 29 hours on the clock when I bought her – and a little ignorance is a dangerous thing. I didn’t know that on 50 hours, you’re supposed to retorque the head gasket. On 229 hours, I blew the head gasket. Fortunately I found a dealership with parts, and our friend Larry not only understands diesel engines, but has been teaching me how to repair them. Monday afternoon, Larry said it was time, I hit the starter, and Jennie Mae is back in business. We’ll be moving some more gravel to the east and west ends of the new storage building.

    So how should I describe the Jennie May? She looked like this one when she was new, but 20 years of being parked outside has the paint a bit faded.

    She has a 1.5 liter 3 cylinder diesel – and is about the same size as one of the old grey ford 9N tractors – but with four wheel drive, twelve speeds forward, and a live PTO. Fortunately, I can get parts from Keno tractors in Oregon, and there’s an owners group online with recommendations on how to keep a Jinma running.

    There are better tractors – but I have a small place and Jennie May does what we need.

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