Sue Wilken

The other day I was listening to the radio as Pat Connelly, owner of Dairyland, was being interviewed. I listened with interest as it was like taking a step back in time to hear him talk about his business, which was started in 1955, by Bert Skogmo. Pat’s older brother, Chuck started working for Skogmo when he was a teen and eventually purchased the business. Pat, in turn, started slicing onions for Chuck at 14, and bought the drive-in in 1997. I enjoyed listening to Pat share details of Dairyland, a business that is very dear to my heart. Dairyland has been in the Conley family for many years.

Horses, pigs, cows, sheep, chickens, rabbits … is it a farm? No. northern pike, walleye, garfish, carp and turtles … it’s not a lake either! Mink, fox, raccoons and other assorted wild animals, are you with me? Here we go … cotton candy, caramel corn, mini donuts, chocolate shakes and my favorite, funnel cakes! Now you know, we are at the fair. Remember the smells of the fair? What is your favorite food? Do you go to the exhibits or do you prefer the rides? Do you like the farm animals? What about the sounds? I can almost hear the merry go round now. Then there are the grandstand activities and the 4-H stands, exhibits, and competitions, and the games. The county fair was and still is a world all of its own.

I was thinking the other day about my next story and what I would write about, and then it happened. It was Monday, the day I usually catch-up from the weekend. If the previous days were busy, I have a mess. If they were quiet, I relax and by Monday, I have a mess. Apparently, we are messy people. I like a tidy house where I can look around and not see issues that scream for attention so I can relax with a cup of tea and a good book. On Sunday, I allow myself the pleasure regardless of the condition of the house, with varying degrees of success. But when Monday comes, my to-do list is quite long and it includes laundry.

Thanks for joining me today. If you missed last week’s story, I took a backward glance at my Mom. As precious memories bubbled up, I found it impossible to consolidate them into one column. Last week, I wrote about the early years, but it wasn’t long before things began changing.

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Francine Rivers wrote a book about an intrepid widowed grandmother. Instead of selling her home and huge garden, she decided to invite her grandsons to spend part of their summers with her. It was so successful that they soon began asking to bring friends. Eventually a passel of eight boys showed up every summer for “Grandma Camp.” Since I retired, I started hosting my version of "Gramma Camp," and now that grandpa has also retired, I have help.

Do you remember when gas stations were called service stations? When you pulled up to the pump, an attendant would hurry out of the building and promptly come to your window for instructions: “Fill ‘er up,” or “I’ll take five gallons”. While the fuel was pumping, the attendant would wash your windows, and if he wasn’t too busy and you were filling the tank, he might even check the oil in your car. You could always request it.

Eric and I just started week three of caring for four of our grandkids. A couple weeks before this event, we hosted five others for a week. Needless to say, I’ve been extremely busy. So, this week I have opted to take a backward glance at my own stories. My very first column was printed and distributed on March 3, 2017. Oh yes, I had written a few stories for Daily Journal Media on mental health topics and one of my “A Place To Belong” letters ended up on the editorial page, but that was all the writing I had ever done. In February of 2017, the editor of the Daily Journal contacted me and asked if I would like to have my own column. I could name it whatever I wanted. After talking it over with Eric, I accepted the opportunity and chose to write about growing up in Fergus Falls, naming my column “A Backward Glance.” Since that first story, the only thing that has changed is that I retired, and Eric and I are the proud grandparents of 20 grandchildren. I used to write my stories at work and members of the club would proofread them for me, suggest changes and point out poor grammar and punctuation. Now I must do that myself. Fortunately, my computer can spell better than I can type, so it’s all good! With no further ado, please enjoy the maiden voyage of “A Backward Glance.”

It’s year eight. That’s right, the eighth year of watching grandkids in marching band, and what a year it has been! Last weekend, we were in Sioux Falls, S.D. for the 37th annual “Festival of Bands.” 28 bands from Grand Rapids, Minnesota to Norfolk, Nebraska, including five schools from Sioux Falls who host the event. It’s a big deal with thousands of people filling up the Howard Woods Stadium that holds a crowd of 10,000! Well, it wasn’t completely full, but it’s a huge crowd when all the bands, families, and communities show up. We arrived about 1 p..m. and stayed for the last judging at 11 p.m. A long day for these grandparents. Next up is “Youth in Music” in the US Bank stadium., This event is the annual Minnesota State Music Competition. It also includes bands from the entire region who participate but not for Minnesota awards. We will watch some of the most accomplished high school field show bands in the upper Midwest. I can hardly wait!

Last weekend we went to Bloomington, to hear the 204th Army Band perform their annual Veterans Day concert. Our son is a 20-year veteran of the band, and I have only missed one of their concerts over the years. The band is made up of members from Minnesota and Washington. Yes, this concert is a big enough affair that the Washington members fly in for it. Another soldier flew in from Florida. He was the program M.C. as well as a band musician. He is also a personal friend. While visiting with him he explained to me the meaning of their uniforms, something I have always wondered about, since in my mind the slacks and jackets didn’t match. He explained that the Army Band uniforms, which include navy blue jackets and medium blue trousers with a yellow stripe down the side, are in honor of the cavalry. In those days, soldiers rode horses to travel. Their uniforms were warm and would get dusty, so they rolled up their jackets and stored them in their saddlebags. Their trousers bleached out in the hot sunshine. The yellow stripe on their slacks represents the sun. Every time the band dons their dress uniforms, they represent the United States Cavalry, which dates back in various forms to the American Revolution.