Winter Weather

We had a cold, snowy winter in Stanford.  I was advised to fit the car with a head bolt heater.  This device places an electrode in the oil pan and when plugged into 110 volts A. C. it  warmed up the oil and allow the engine to turn over easier.  These are used in Montana were it gets below minus 20 degrees in the winter,  It is the same process we used on the old ranch truck with the pan of burning ashes placed under the oil pan but a head bolt heater is a safer process.

Our plan was to go to the ranch for Thanksgiving and Saint John for Christmas.  As we left for the ranch two days before Thanksgiving we encountered a snow storm that was blowing horizontal across the highway.  It created the condition known as “white out”.  It was impossible to see where you were going and the only way to stay on the highway was to roll down the window and watch the edge of the road.  That made it very cold, so we pulled off the road as soon as possible.  As the storm subsided and evening came it improved visibility tremendously.  It made us late in arriving at mom’s home, but she was expecting us and it worked out fine.  We all went to the ranch the next day for a big thanksgiving dinner.  That was the first time Marie had met all my family.  Dorothy had started community college and was going to teach after two years.  On leaving, to return to Stanford we went out to Mary and John’s ranch to see them and Mark, and we asked about the expected baby.  Mary said all was going fine and the new baby was expected in mid December.   By driving north from there to Jordan and taking the east/west highway through the center of the state it took us directly to Stanford.  This early snow storm put white frosting on all the mountains around Stanford and stayed that way for the rest of the winter.

I had a chance to reassure grandpa while at the ranch that I would be towing the Ford back to him from Cheney in the spring.  He was relieved as he supposed it had been traded in on the new car.


* Taken from "Which Road Should I Follow?, Volume 2, Roles and Responsibilities of an Educator", an autobiography by Edwin K. Hill. 

Special Visit

  

“Surprise!, Surprise!”; Eva, Maries mother, called out as she came up the walk.  We had noticed the familiar car slowly pull around the corner and park at the end of the walk.  Marie let out a gasp and started straightening up the front room.  I went to the front door and let them in.  Arnie was all grins and Eva was talking a mile a minute.  Their excuse for driving over to see us just a month and a half since we left their place was, “to bring over a few things you had forgotten”.  That explanation didn’t hold water with Marie.  She suspected as I did that they wanted to check on how we were living.  They had rented a motel room down by the highway entrance and had looked around town some before coming by to surprise us.  Marie bluntly asked how long they were going to stay.  Arnie replied they would like to look around at the country a little so probably a couple days.

Eva wanted to unload the car which held a wealth of wedding presents.  This changed the focus of the discussion as the thrill of opening presents took over.  All of Marie’s relatives had left their gifts with Eva.  Because of the late notice, they had no time to purchase a present and bring it to the wedding.  It was getting toward evening so I asked Marie if she wanted me to start dinner.  Eva announced she had put together a little something that was in the ice chest in the car.  She asked if I would mind bringing it in.  We soon had a cold casserole in the oven and plates of home made bread, vegetables, and cookies on the table.  I put on some coffee water and as we finished the unwrapping of presents the casserole warmed and filled the kitchen with mouth watering fragrance.

I could tell Arnie was enjoying his road trip.  He related a conversation he had with a service station attendant.  He had asked, jokingly what all the white things were out in some of the fields, knowing full well they were boulders.  The service station attendant, only slightly younger than Arnie, responded, that they were fertilizer.  Then Arnie wanted to know why there was a worker in one of the fields, picking up the fertilizer.  The attendant was quick to respond that the guy that owned that field must be gone and that worker is stealing his fertilizer.  Both men had a good laugh over their exchange.

It was the weekend, so we went for a ride with them and visited along the way.  I felt comfortable with them now.  I sensed they had decided we were going to make it, and the community and residents weren’t too different from Saint John.  They packed and left early Monday morning for Washington State.

It was a delicious meal, enjoyed by almost all.  When I glanced at Marie she looked uncomfortable and I had to excuse ourselves to take her back to the apartment.  I’m not sure what every one thought about our quick exit.  Our thanks were expressed as was regret we had to leave so suddenly.  There may have been speculation that Marie was pregnant.  I felt very sure that wasn’t the problem as we were taking measures to delay a couple years until we were more settled and could afford a baby.  However, it evolved that it was longer than that before we were able to have our first child


* Taken from "Which Road Should I Follow?, Volume 2, Roles and Responsibilities of an Educator", an autobiography by Edwin K. Hill. 

Fire

Fire 

Early one morning we were awaken by the sound of sirens and flashing lights.  Coming through our many windows with sheet curtains, the lights painted the walls of our apartment with moving hues of red.  We scrambled out of bed to see what was going on and if we were in any kind of danger.  All activity was centered on the building directly across the street.  It was a church, a Lutheran church I believe.  We had been laying low, not interested in joining a church just yet.  When we did make that commitment we would like it to be a serious decision, one we would plan to keep over time.  We discussed my job, this location, the pay and future of Industrial Arts in my assignment.   The conclusion was we might look for a better job next year.

Now that the church was burning, it seemed like a sign, but I think not.  Finally the fire was brought under control and gradually the men and equipment moved away.  We got back in bed and tried to sleep, but it was difficult after all the excitement.   I had classes that morning so couldn’t sleep in.  When the alarm clock went off I was about to nod off.  Everyone at school was excited about the big fire.  I guess it didn’t happen too often.  I looked at the church when I left the apartment, but couldn’t see a lot of damage.  The story at school was that the floor was being refinished and an upright sander had collected the sanding dust which had high varnish content, and it hadn’t been dumped at the end of the day.  The fire started by spontaneous combustion.  I used the fire and its cause as discussion in my Industrial Arts class.  It made a good lesson and the students showed interest.

* Taken from "Which Road Should I Follow?, Volume 2, Roles and Responsibilities of an Educator", an autobiography by Edwin K. Hill. 

A Wilson Dinner

When the Stanford job was finalized I had heard that this was the home of Uncle Eric’s folks.  I hadn’t given it much thought, with all the rush and activity of the wedding and the start of school.  One fall Sunday we were invited to the Wilsons for dinner.  Aunt Alma and Uncle Eric were there visiting, so we accepted and asked for the address.  We were told it was two houses up the street from our apartment, toward the school and on the opposite side. This was another “small world happening” that I ceased to be amazed by.  Aunt Alma and Uncle Eric were special relatives to me.  They always seemed in control of their lives and fun to be around.  We had a good visit before dinner and caught up on what their girls, Lenore and Marlene were doing.  Mr. Wilson had settled in Stanford as a young man and developed a farm where Eric helped as he grew older.  Winter wheat was the favored crop because of the short growing season.  Initial preparation of the land for farming included removal of many boulders strewn around the field.  These had been dropped by the prehistoric ice glacier as it receded to the north.  Early farmers hauled the boulders to the edge of their land and dumped them in the fence row.  Uncle Eric had wanted to teach, so combining his experience on the farm with that desire he found the compatible mix in the university extension services.  He was presently working for Montana State University at Bozeman.  He asked me what my long range plans were and if I ever considered getting into Ag education.  I shared my high school Ag experience, which I had enjoyed, with him, but indicated the Industrial Arts was more in line with my desire to create things.  At that point dinner was called.

It was a delicious meal, enjoyed by almost all.  When I glanced at Marie she looked uncomfortable and I had to excuse ourselves to take her back to the apartment.  I’m not sure what every one thought about our quick exit.  Our thanks were expressed as was regret we had to leave so suddenly.  There may have been speculation that Marie was pregnant.  I felt very sure that wasn’t the problem as we were taking measures to delay a couple years until we were more settled and could afford a baby.  However, it evolved that it was longer than that before we were able to have our first child

* Taken from "Which Road Should I Follow?, Volume 2, Roles and Responsibilities of an Educator", an autobiography by Edwin K. Hill. 

Teaching

The year at Stanford grade school started smoothly due to the competence of its teachers, most of who had been there many years.  The experience of principle Bill was valuable too.  He was easy to get along with and worked closely with the teachers and the curriculum.  I appreciated his help in getting started and I enjoyed the children.  They were country kids for the most part and hadn’t developed the sassy attitude I remembered of some Washington Grade School kids I had known when I attended the eighth grade in Miles City.  I was able to keep up with the math classes by doing my homework evenings, and survived social studies.  The problem area for me was Industrial Arts.   It was held in the basement where a massive amount of old furniture was stored.  There were few tools to work with and no supplies.  Bill said I had a small budget to purchase startup supplies. 

I decided we would work with small projects after studying a unit on the main tools and construction methods.  Thinking back to my experience in eighth grade Industrial Arts with Mr. Metros, I felt the students needed to get their hands on a project, early in the class to hold their interest.  We used the wood from old desks for three piece book ends.  Vertical and horizontal pieces of wood were held together with screws which challenged most of the students. The third piece of wood was placed in the middle of the two pieces as a brace and could be designed by the student as a dog, horse head, etc.  I made a sample for them to follow, or modify as long as they didn’t completely change the assignment.  Most of them copied my model exactly.  A few had the creativity to work a different design into the third brace piece.  We got off to a good start until our basement shop cooled down as the fall weather turned cold.  Work we glued fell apart when clamps were removed the next day.  It was a valuable lesson for everyone and the solution was to put our glued projects in the furnace room to dry.

* Taken from "Which Road Should I Follow?, Volume 2, Roles and Responsibilities of an Educator", an autobiography by Edwin K. Hill.  

On the Job-Stanford

Our little motel room was a good staging point in our search for Stanford rental prospects.   We were eating “in” to conserve the few funds we had.  Warming coffee water or soup on an electric iron positioned upside down was one creative approach to fine dinning.  I haven’t been able to eat sandwich spread on bread since those days.  We had the room rented for three days and that left us one more day to secure a rentalWe had taken our time on the drive back enjoying the swing through Yellowstone Park and getting to know each other better.  Once the job started our lives would be full of activity and less of home life.  When we pulled in to Stanford and parked by a grocery store Marie ducked her head.  She didn’t want to be seen by someone walking by.  It turned out it was a fellow she knew in Saint John.  Call that a small world “happening”; we had just arrived hundreds of miles from Saint John and there he was.  I didn’t know why she didn’t want him to see her.  A lot of people would have been out there flagging him down as a kindred soul in this far away land.  I didn’t ask and it never came up.

A Stanford Home

This was our lucky day.  We got a lead on a large old house close to the schools that had apartments for rent.  We found there was only one unrented apartment left and it was a modification of a large enclosed porch and kitchen area. The porch area was converted into a living room and bedroom with a hid-a-bed sofa.  The enclosed porch was all windows, so it had nice light, but little privacy.  It was just a short walk to the grade school and the price was right, so considering the time limit on our search for a home we took it.  The furnishings were minimal but adequate for us as a start.  We paid a months rent in advance and picked up the key. After unloaded everything we started organizing our space.  Marie hung sheets over windows in the bedroom area, but we still had to turn off lights for total privacy.  As we finalized the apartment decoration it beginning to look like a home with personal items distributed around.  We were happy with it.

* Taken from "Which Road Should I Follow?, Volume 2, Roles and Responsibilities of an Educator", an autobiography by Edwin K. Hill.  

Dear Hunting

Deer Hunting 

     Dear hunting season opened with the arrival of fall weather.  I was told the hunting was good in most areas around Stanford and particularly in the foot hills of the Belt Mountains.  Marie and I decided to try to bag a deer to help out with our food bill.  I had the rifle I used on the ranch, so we bought a deer tag and drove out in the hills early Saturday morning.  We were surprised at how few people we saw hunting.  I checked the date on the tag to be sure; yes the season was open.  The next surprise was the number of deer we saw.  Several jumped across the road ahead of us as we drove to the foot hills where they were starting to gather in small herds. 

     The area was open for either buck or doe.  We sneaked up a canyon toward one herd, similar to my hunting experience in the alfalfa field on the ranch.  There was little cover to hide our approach, but because of the terrain we were able to get close enough to try a shot.  We were crawling the last few yards to get as close as possible, so I rested the gun over my arm that was supported on the ground.  That made a good steady rest for the shot, but the distance was greater than I thought and the bullet struck at their feet.  They started to mill around as they didn’t know where the sound had come from.  This gave me the chance to get off another round.  This time the shot downed what I thought was a young buck but when we got to the fallen animal it was a large, barren doe.  After field dressing the animal I drug it down to the car which seemed a lot farther than the distance of our trip up the canyon.

     When we arrived at the apartment, I sought out the landlord and asked if I might hang the deer in a shed beside the house to cure.  She said that would be alright as it was an old garage, but no one used it anymore.  She cautioned me not to leave a mess in it.  We rented a freezer locker and filled it with wrapped packages of venison.  Later that fall the game department issued a second tag to hunters because of the over population of deer in the area.  We hunted the same area several times before we bagged our second deer.  We lived on venison all winter and it was good.

* Taken from "Which Road Should I Follow?, Volume 2, Roles and Responsibilities of an Educator", an autobiography by Edwin K. Hill.