Hitterdal Lions
Thu, 12/16/2004 - 12:11pm | 
Eric Bergeson
Last night, Joe and I drove down to Hitterdal to play at their Lion's Club Christmas Party. It was a fun bunch.
They tuned the piano for us, even! They said that according to the writing inside the piano, the last time it had been tuned was 1929. Let's hope this isn't a sign that the market is going to crash again. Doggone it, every time we tune that darn piano...
The show went well. Joe wrote a blues tune which outlined the events of yesterday for the audience--about havin fun cuttin firewood till the skid steer goes through the ice. I didn't know that was coming. The people enjoyed it.
Sometimes things just click, and this was one of those times. The men served lasagna and other goodies.
WOKE UP in the middle of the night feeling bad about the Mitey Mac sitting in the water and wondering how we'll get it out. Joe and Dad talked to Butch last night. As Dad put it, Butch is "the last word" around here in situations such as this.
Butch is a local legend. He used to run the backhoe. Now he just consults on large machinery matters. He's an at-large, free floating community consultant.
Everybody has a Butch story. Yesterday, Dean told me that Butch once dug a hole as deep as the backhoe would go, but wanted it to go deeper. So, he hooked a chain to the backhoe and lowered it into the hole with a caterpillar and dug some more.
I remember watching Butch making a ditch in the swamp with the backhoe. He only got concerned when the fan on the engine started kicking up water. Dad tells about the time Butch's wheel came within an eighth of an inch of our office while he was digging a trench. Dad waved his arms and stopped him, saying you're going to hit the building. Oh no, Butch said, he was pretty sure he had an eighth of an inch to spare.
They tuned the piano for us, even! They said that according to the writing inside the piano, the last time it had been tuned was 1929. Let's hope this isn't a sign that the market is going to crash again. Doggone it, every time we tune that darn piano...
The show went well. Joe wrote a blues tune which outlined the events of yesterday for the audience--about havin fun cuttin firewood till the skid steer goes through the ice. I didn't know that was coming. The people enjoyed it.
Sometimes things just click, and this was one of those times. The men served lasagna and other goodies.
WOKE UP in the middle of the night feeling bad about the Mitey Mac sitting in the water and wondering how we'll get it out. Joe and Dad talked to Butch last night. As Dad put it, Butch is "the last word" around here in situations such as this.
Butch is a local legend. He used to run the backhoe. Now he just consults on large machinery matters. He's an at-large, free floating community consultant.
Everybody has a Butch story. Yesterday, Dean told me that Butch once dug a hole as deep as the backhoe would go, but wanted it to go deeper. So, he hooked a chain to the backhoe and lowered it into the hole with a caterpillar and dug some more.
I remember watching Butch making a ditch in the swamp with the backhoe. He only got concerned when the fan on the engine started kicking up water. Dad tells about the time Butch's wheel came within an eighth of an inch of our office while he was digging a trench. Dad waved his arms and stopped him, saying you're going to hit the building. Oh no, Butch said, he was pretty sure he had an eighth of an inch to spare.
