A Morning at the Mid-America Threshing and Antique Show

Demonstration of well-drilling equipment, hit-and-miss engine.

 Massey-Harris was the featured equipment of this year's show.

 There's a tractor name with which I am not familiar.

 One of my favorite pieces.

 Wonder how many arms were snapped by that crank.

 First tractor I ever drove was an Oliver much like this one.

 I am fascinated by pop-and-spin engines.  These Sandwich engines are very cool!

 Someone came to the show of vintage equipment in his vintage pickup.

 Minneapolis-Moline logo.

 A nice line of golden M-Ms.

 Look at that steam engine!

 Perhaps the coolest logo.

This Massey-Harris was my pick of the featured brand.  It is not restored; it is well-used and shows it.  It has been lovingly cared for, though, for she could still pull a plow!

Fork in the Road: 5.2

I composed a letter to the trustee of the school district which had so recently hired me, thereby tendering my resignation from a job I had never worked.  I stayed with my first school job.

The slight twinge of conscience I felt was soon quieted and the job of educating the prepubescent youth of the community continued apace.

Half-dozen years down the halls of time.  Schools all across the state were being encouraged (not saying coerced) into merging with other small school districts in the interest of efficiency and supposedly better educational opportunities for the kiddies.  In any event, the township school district in which I was working merged with two adjacent townships to form a metropolitan school district.

Soon there were plans on the drawing board to build a new high school to serve the students of the newly created district.  The building was erected and in 1971 the high school students were removed from the premises in which I worked.  The elementary students stayed in the old building.  However, few years managed to slip by before talk of a new elementary school was in the air.  This provided the staff with the opportunity of working with the board and the architects in the design of this facility.  Very interesting times, yet a certain trepidation niggled around the edges of my consciousness as the building neared completion.  The new facility opened in 1979.

I now had to drive six miles to work, whereas before I could walk to and from school.  But the new surroundings were state of the art, and meeting new people with whom I would work was an interesting time in my life.  It was about a year later that I began to see the children of the first students I taught show up in my classroom.

By the time I retired, I was teaching grandchildren of my first students.  But the sense of community that I developed as I grew with this small town and with the new school district was a real boon.  I watched the children grow to adulthood and select their own paths in life.  I became an integral part of something much greater than myself.  I was growing older, but so were the people I had taught along the way.

From Vanilla's Clipboard

A wind farm is up and running in our county. Another has received approval, but protests the limitations set by the duly authorized government agencies from which approval is required.

Thousands upon thousands of words have been submitted to the local newspaper as "Letters to the Editor."

The discussion has progressed, naturally, given that it is an argument amongst human beings, from reasoned debate based on findings of fact to ad hominem attacks on citizens with whom we have  all lived for decades.

This is probably the most divisive issue that has arisen here in a half century, and perhaps ever.  STSTT does not purport to be the voice of reason, presenting the solution to the problem and making everyone happy.  There is sufficient wrong-headedness on both sides to go around.  We need not add to the clamor.

I am sad.  Present me no arguments for or against "green energy."  Instead, if you can, reassure me that people are basically reasonable, good, and altruistic, being concerned for the welfare of all.  Currently, I have my doubts.

Fork in the Road: Five

Our fantasy tour down the corporate highway ended in precipitous dismissal and found me unemployed at age fifty, and greatly encumbered with "things."

In the real world, I chose the fork that led to the sixth-grade classroom.  Other than having completed a four-year degree in philosophy and possessing a willingness to give it a shot, I had virtually no preparation for dealing with eleven- and twelve-year old kids.  Thus it was that without doubt I learned a great deal more than did my students.

I took to teaching like a fledgling to the air.  That is to say, there was some hopping along the ground and some flopping in flight before a comfort level was achieved.  But this was my metier, and I came to love my work.  The salary was almost forty percent less than what I had been earning in my factory job. Even so, we were able to buy a new car, albeit a Valiant was certainly entry-level transportation.

At the end of my third year the trustee presented me with a new contract for the following year.  I requested more money than he offered.  He asserted that the offer was quite generous, and though they loved my work, no more money would be forthcoming.  I delayed the signing of the contract and started looking for another position.  I was offered a job in a community forty miles distant at a  salary $100 greater than I had been offered.  That was $100 more for the year.  I signed the contract and wrote a letter of resignation which I hand-delivered to my trustee.  He was floored.  "Well," he said, "we bring new teachers into the fold and groom them into quality employees, then they leave for more money."

Mr. T came to my classroom two days later with a new contract, the amount offered was yet another $100 more than what I had signed for.  "I have already signed with another school district," I reminded him.  

"Not a problem," he replied.  "So long as one resigns a couple of weeks before the school year starts everything is perfectly fine.  People do it all the time."

Another fork in the road.  Do I break my agreement with someone I don't know and accept more money from someone I do?  Do I honor my signature?

#:3& in the Morning

The irresplendent pink unicorn landed in front of me, folded its wings, and skidded to a stop.  “In what manner may I resist you?” he asked.

“Be away with you, you rhinosterous pseudoequine phantasmagorical fig pudding of my imagination,” I shouted.

“And to think,” the Unicorn replied sweetly, “I was ready to desist you from this slime-pit in which you swallow.  Tsk, tsk.”

At the gutterance of the word “swallow” there alighted on the sparkling horn of the beast a small middish bird with forked tail.  “You sang?  I assist you, beak and caul.”

“Explain,” said the imaginary beast, “to this hard-polled ninny that our efforts can distract him from these pickles into which he has fallen.”

“Your good will, Sirrah, is all that is required,” said the Swallow.  “We insist to be of surface.”

And at the squeaking of the word “surface,” aghast fixture opened beneath the creatures, and both were engorged in a trice.

I opened my left eye and peered through the blur of sheep captive within it.  The green numerals on the bedside clock looked like this:  #:3&

It would be mere hours before time to rise.  And shine.  But right now I gotta pee.  Really bad.

Lilies of the Field

Thirteenth day after first shoot broke ground.

Jesus taught us saying, "And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin:  And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.

Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?"

Pete Wilson in his study of Christ's sermon said this: "Worry isn’t the result of your problems. Worry is the result of you thinking you can control your problems.

I know it’s easier said than done, but Jesus is in essence saying “I want you to stop obsessing about the future and trust that I hold the future.”

Mid-America Threshing and Antique Show

The show opened and I had an opportunity to walk through before the crowds gathered.  Hope to share more later.

Signs

At the other end of our block and across the street is a power substation for our local electric utility.  I have ridden past this sign, oh, hundreds of times.

This sign clearly does not mean what it says, and yet its meaning is clear.  It is the nature of signs to employ succinct, nay even terse, wording. Utilization of space available.

If the gate were in fact kept closed and locked at all times there is an immense waste of posts, hinges, and locks, for all that would be needed is fence.

When I was a child we visited the grandparents in Southern California on occasion.  For some reason I was taken with the "PedXing" signs.  So much so that I found it fun to say.  Repeatedly.  And the parents found my saying it repeatedly to be quite annoying.  At least I assume that is the case, as they told me to knock it off.  (I still, on very rare occasions, and talking strictly to myself, find myself muttering a mantra which sounds a bit like "PedXing."  I am not nuts.)

How easily I run off into uncharted territory.  At any rate, back to signs.  Some of these international signs elude me; but then, I don't "get" many of the icons on phones and computers.  For instance, I would think that the circles would require a "/" through them if they mean "do not."  E.g., I would think I could ride my bicycle down the path marked by the first sign in the second row.  And who sponsors the last sign in the first row, "MaidenForm"?