Table Talk

How wonderful it was to be a kid on daily, and would treat us to sticks of gum was big. It was delicious. And we didn’t have to the farm back in the day. whenever we were there waiting for him. share with our siblings—we each had our very own Growing up ten miles from the nearest town, you didn’t just run into town for one missing ingredient in a recipe, and you sure better be near death if you There were a lot of us kids, and I suppose his expensive gum-buying habit may have to have been explained to his wife on occasion. slice of heaven to unwrap and devour. And we could eat it whenever that truck came, regardless of when dinner or supper would be. Looking back now at all those times we greeted needed to see the doctor, with gas at 45 One of our biggest thrills was seeing Mr. Bullington, I wonder if he used those suckers or 50 cents per gallon. the gas truck come into the yard. The more like mail carriers use dog treats — to keep Seldom did visitors find themselves in our yard unless they really wanted to be there — if only because we lived in Nowheresville. Rare was it for a visitor to find themselves there by accident … except for the Fuller Brush lady, maybe. truck was huge (as a child remembers) and it made a lot of racket coming up the lane and driving across our yard toward the gas and fuel barrels. A guy named Bob Bullington drove that bucket of bolts that kept our farm going. TABLE TALK By Karen Schwaller dogs occupied and away from their ankles. Or maybe he just liked having kids come to greet him. After all, it took a while for the barrels to fill, and he was stuck there until they were filled. I shudder to think of the stories we must have told him while he waited. As kids, we learned to entertain ourselves. My brothers wore paths in the yard grass from all the farming they did. How much farming do you have to do with toy tractors and implements to impede the growth of grass along the paths they created? Obviously, Mom and Dad didn’t care a lick because at least the kids were occupied. They were not douFarm kids in the day were not as afraid to approach someone they didn’t know; or maybe it was because Dad would occasionally stop what he was doing to visit with him while the barrels filled. The guy must be okay if Dad stopped his work to visit. Before long, we befriended him; and when we saw I once heard of a teacher who spoke at a kindergarten round-up meeting and said, “If you don’t believe most of what your child tells you about me, I won’t believe most of what your child tells me about you.” She probably heard that line from our gas man first. ble-dog daring someone to do something dangerous, the truck coming we would scamper to meet him … He probably knew more stories about us than weren’t smoking dad’s cigars out back, or setting not necessarily for the stimulating conversation Mom’s hairdresser … who never brought her scisthe cats on fire. What was not to like about a few that would ensue, but because he had the goods. sors and hair dryer to the farm, but who may have paths worn in the grass? It was kind of a big deal whenever someone did He had Slo-Poke suckers — those chewy caramel slices of heaven on a stick. And he always had also been hired on occasion to creatively remove a Slo-Poke sucker from someone’s hair. find themselves in our yard. Some of those visitors them. And he would share. Karen Schwaller brings “Table Talk” to The Land were the landlord and landlady, neighbors, the milk man, the school bus driver, and the grocery truck guy. Yes, a grocery truck used to navigate the gravel For a kid out in Nowhere-Land who didn’t get to town a lot, a Slo-Poke sucker was the living end. It from her home near Milford, Iowa. She can be reached at kschwaller@evertek.net. v roads in Plymouth County, and it was always fun to see what treasures were inside the truck when he Letters to the editor are always welcome. opened those big blue doors. It was like a wonder- Send your letters to: Editor, The Land, 418 South Second St., Mankato, MN 56001 land on wheels to us kids. e-mail: editor@thelandonline.com

Our mail carrier would visit at the end of our lane All letters must be signed and accompanied by a phone number (not for publication) to verify authenticity.

Draayom made two promises if he would survive the storm

FARMHOUSE KITCHEN, from pg. 4

ented in the extremely cold, dark night.

He walked for several more hours before he finally collapsed in a snow bank. He thought if he took a short nap, he would be refreshed and would be able find his way. Before long, Watch became impatient with his master. He barked and whined, tugged at his coat sleeve, began jumping in his face, even scratching with his sharp paws. Watch would not leave Draayom alone.

Draayom’s legs were numb. He knew death would come soon. Unable to walk, he followed Watch on his hands and knees. In a short time, he could walk again.

To his surprise, he found himself at the F.H. Peavey grain bin. This building was in close proximity to the depot, where Watch and he returned. The fire still held some warmth.

Grain elevators lined the railroad track in Hospers, Iowa where Gerrit Draayom was employed as an elevator manager. This may be how it looked when the blizzard of 1888 struck. While he was wandering in the storm, Draayom promised himself he would do several things if he survived. First of all, he would move to a warmer

state in the union. He didn’t. He stayed in Hospers all his life, dying in in 1937. He promised he would build a monument to his faithful dog. He did. Watch lived for another 12 years, dying in 1900. Draayom made a monument from concrete. For many years the homemade concrete monument could be seen from old Highway 60. It has now been placed outside the Hospers Public Library which also is home to the Hospers Museum. Thanks to the Hospers Museum, the Genealogy Department at the Sioux Center Library, Hospers, Iowa Centennial Book, Iowa Gen Web Project and a written account by Gerrit Draayom (NWC Commons). Renae B. Vander Schaaf is an independent writer, author and speaker. Contact her at (605) 530-0017 or agripen@live.com. v