My problem with control
Long ago I had this job doing some WEED control for taxpayers. (Noxious Weed Control Superintendant was the official title... the "county weed sprayer" was what people called me).
I was hoping it could be more like a "public relations" job rather than just somebody who was hired by the county to force people to control their bad weeds with strong chemicals. (If they did not do it themselves then you were told to spray the weeds and send them a bill for the work and the chemicals used to do it). This power, or CONTROL was often misused by many. It was also another way some used to get even with each other by costing someone else lots of money. (If they did not pay the spray bills each amount was added to their taxes and they would either pay or someday "give up" the land for back taxes). This was what caused some weed control spray trucks to get bullet holes in them and leak all those dangerous chemicals throughout the roadways! (They even had a class on the cleanup procedures during the wintertime, when you went to get certified for any newly "labeled" chemicals). Years before I worked for the county I had already attended many "EPA" classes... because my dad had a spray business and "chemicals" were the dangerous part of this business. (Although I had gone to the "spill" class before, I never missed attending it again. I liked listening to the "war stories" of what some county workers did to get shot at in the first place). At that time in my life any kind of danger was very exciting to me. Even the danger of using strong chemicals was exciting to me. (This all happened in the mid 60's... the same time the Vietnam War started). Agent Orange type chemicals were by now labeled as "restricted use only" and required yearly certification updates. I even thought the POWER these chemicals could give you was exciting! (You could kill trees that were 100 years old. I also learned even the smell of some chemicals could destroy unborn babies if you were not careful. Then people would shoot at you, rather than your truck as you drove away). Maybe it was good that I grew up a little bit more right about then!
The best way to grow up fast was to go to war! Due to my past training I was given the job as the CBR/NBC officer at my unit in Korea. (Chemical type warfare and whatever... After that I worked in a "Decon" unit while serving in the reserves). Ten years had past by then. I had not killed that many, but I did not like killing anymore. The "10 year war" ended after lots of "talking" the people said. (Actually the war in Vietnam was a total loss and the war in Korea was never resolved... they are still "taking" about that ending yet to this day)? I took the job working as a county weed control sprayer right after I quit working with the decontamination squad. (We were suppose to be training how to do decontamination after a nuclear blast. But all we ever did was decontaminate after chemical accidents).
Below is a picture of me and my CBR crew in Korea. (You issued working gas masks to all men and then detonate CS gas canisters up wind from the group)... All who coughed and puked in their masks were now listed as dead. The reports I made on this exercise normally showed us "losing" about 40 or 50 out of the 200 men each time. (An acceptable loss)!
I had changed my attitude about many things by this time of my life. I applied this new way of thinking to what normally was a "mean-spirited" job of controlling noxious weeds... and any people who had them on their land. (I will never forget my first contact, while I sat at my new desk in a room I shared with the secretary for the County Extension Agent). He sat in his own room to the side and was watching my every move as I faced the biggest problem this county ever had. No "weed man" had ever gotten along with this farmer and all of his neighbors hated him by now too. (He owned a number of different fields. They were scattered throughout many other fields owned by smaller farmers who did not have anything close to the large operation he farmed. This had also caused some greed and envy problems with some of them). This man also had a big problem with bindweed growing in every one of these fields. I can still remember him saying "my grandpa fought that bindweed till he died, my dad fought that bindweed till he died... and I will fight it till I am dead" as he spoke in his husky voice! I can also remember one of his neighbors later saying "that may be sooner than he thinks, if he keeps going by my mailbox on his tractor... pulling a half mile of those vines behind him" as he pointed to the main road! This man knew he was "top on the list" of those who had serious infestations of a noxious weed. He had in fact come into the courthouse that day to pay the yearly bill for taxes on all that land. At the same time also paying all the bills added on from the county weed sprayer I had just replaced. I already knew his name, but I was not aware of how big he was until right then! His first statement to me was in fact the large dollar amount on the check he had just written upstairs. He told me he hated that some of this money would now be used to pay me to charge him some more money. (I already knew who he was by then because that landowner was the only one that had such a "serious" amount added to his taxes... but I did not let on yet. I just explained I did not plan to follow this "outdated program" of overused "stinky chemicals" on large areas any longer! I explained my plan was to try spraying only a few small "test plots" unless the land was real close to a highway where too many people were watching. Then I pointed to my other chair and ask where all this "overtaxed" land was located. (My County Agent was making all kinds of faces at me by this time)! However this angry man sat down and began to relax as he showed me what his family had owned and what he had farmed during his lifetime. (I knew the family had originally homesteaded that entire area and had since sold some of the best of the "bottom ground" to others during hard times). My replacement had spoken highly of one of these farmers who had tried every chemical possible to control his bindweed... but continued to get "seeded" again when rains washed from higher ground owned by this angry old man. The people in the courthouse did not know me at all right then. However they already knew they would be "stuck" with me for years! (I had entered into a GI Bill program that paid part of my wages. Each six month cycle they paid less until this program ended two years later. The program actually saved quite a bit on the total weed control budget and everyone was happy. They were also happy they did not need to pay extra for all those EPA certifications I already had). All was well, as long as I did not get scared off by some angry land owner. This man had already voiced some angry words to the treasurer and she had alerted the County Sheriff on the third floor before he even made it to my office. As a deputy stood by in the hall ready for action he instead soon heard this 'ole coot laughing! He mostly like the stories of my family history and our struggles with land owned by "only us and the Indians" or whatever. He even offered to take me out to lunch and found out then it was my day to haul Meals on Wheels! (He had a relative on this program and I got him an extra meal for hauling it to her instead of me that day... She later told me it was the first time he had ever visited her since she moved to town and they had a good day talking of old times).
It took several seasons before this angry man totally changed his ways and began to get along with all his neighbors. But in time I turned the corner with him and many other old timers by not trying to use anything but friendly words and smaller less expensive spray jobs where it mattered the most close to others. Years later the Roundup trick started and I was able to finally get control over a weed that had plagued all productive farmers for many generations! This man was also one of the first to began using old worn out "cutter wheels" from the new eco-fallow planters too! (They were originally used to cut stalks and trash ahead of each planting unit. Once worn down they were discarded... but they could still be useful if mounted on tilling equipment to cut bindweed vines so you did not transfer them to the next field, or along the roadways)! I had many other "tricks" and a few secrets to gain even more ground with those I called my "real bosses" in both of the counties I worked in. In the other county my dad was also one of the first to introduce liquid fertilizer, no-till eco-farming, and several other new ideas being tried at the time. I also told many "old timer" stories from my grandfather who still lived on our farm. (Even more from the other grandfather, who had supplied fuel to farmers in the area for many years). I had retired widow ladies with smaller problems in flowerbeds and gardens in town too, I worked with them in the evenings after the courthouse closed. I met even more people needing a bit of help or direction with their weeds through the "free meals" program. (The best story told about me at "club" was the one where I sprayed RoundUp in her backyard and the vine coming up behind the toilet in the house died right along with those in the back. She told me I had free strawberries for life for pulling off that trick).
I could go on for a while about the time and effort spent gaining the trust of these people. All the tricks of the trade and whatever... but you get the point.
It was no wonder I was allowed extra time for other duties during normal courthouse hours, in fact the County Agent soon supported me and covered for my absence at times. His secretary was married to a good friend of mine in the fire department and she took messages and kept up my records for me too. The commissioners knew I delivered fire extinguishers with the spray truck on my normal spray routes and said nothing. When a member of my weed control board died of cancer my wife and I stepped in and ran the Sunset Haven Nursing Home until a replacement could be found. When the Civil Defense Director was killed I took over his job as well. (Not really much work, just count the boxes of food and refill the water barrels once a year. The "key" was main issue there! Other than the courthouse caretaker, I now had the only other key to the basement)! It is all in the power you see... and the trust of those paying the money to this courthouse. It only made sense that because I knew every road in the county I should also become the "relief driver" for all school bus routes going in every direction. (Now I had a key to the school and the bus barn). My wife became the president of the Altar Society and we even had a key to the church)!
Below is a picture of me and the kids who signed up for what I did in the courthouse on "County Government Day" (the hippy with the longest hair signed up for weed control, the girl was interested in our "free meals for elderly" program... The rest wanted to see the "nuclear bomb shelter" down in the basement)!
I was becoming somewhat of a local superman or something and it soon went to my head. (A good example of that was when the "snapper" mower being used to do the courthouse lawn was replaced with a newer model. The "mower section' could be detached and a snow blade was added to do all the walks leading up to the doors in the winter. One of the county commissioners had made an offer for the old one and I heard about it before the deal was done. I offered one dollar more and said I would ride it to work and help with the walks when it snowed... Everyone knew the old caretaker never came to work early and often the walks were packed down before he could get a path. Then he pored lots of salt and that killed large areas of grass the following spring)! The commissioner did not get his way and I gained my first dangerous enemy! I added to his anger by doing all the walks in the six blocks between my house and the courthouse on my way, then those on the other side while going home for a late breakfast. One of the houses on the way belonged to the County Agent, another to the sister of one of the other commissioners... I could do no wrong! The mower was later used to begin doing the lawns for all those "little old ladies" I already helped with weed control.
I think if I had been a better "business man" this life could have had a different outcome... but the lack of money soon became my biggest problem. (I did not charge enough and had trouble increasing it once I realized my mistake). The spraying job with the county was actually what caused that in the first place. (It was the policy of the county to only recover "bare minimum" expenses while making out those "forced" spray bills. The spray trucks were cheap "surplus equipment" handed down from the "County" shop. Even the weed control building doubled as a storage unit for all other chemicals and dangerous things used by the county. My wages, secretary, phone, and office equipment were already figured into the County Extension Agent budget as well. All I figured into each bill was the chemical and a four dollar charge for application. We purchased all chemicals in large volume and also got wholesale prices without any tax! I did billing the same way for all the small jobs around town and nobody ever said it was a problem... I listed it as "public relations" on the books and even the secretary just smiled about this little secret! The biggest problem with that kind of billing practice is what is known as the "non-profit" status you operate under. When you are using your own backpack sprayers or mowing equipment after hours things will break down or wear out. When I needed new equipment to fill fire extinguishers or whatever I had to use my own money. I should have never tried to run any side-line business as if it were "non-profit" as I was trying to do. But when you started it out that way it is harder to increase your prices... especially on the elderly! At first there were only a few nice little old ladies, but word gets around fast on a good deal like that and this town was filled with retired or widowed farm ladies. It reminds me of the old joke "you only lose a little bit on each sale, but you can make it up on volume" and it just got worse the longer I continued! (But I was their hero and I had to play the part).
I do remember once it paid off when I had an old man I did not even know die on me in the ambulance while we were on the way back to the hospital. (The courthouse was only about a block from the fire hall and when my pager went off I always took off running. (After the tones finally stopped it would tell you what the call was for. By that time I would be at the fire station and push on the right door button for whatever rig was going out. At first I had not completed the EMT classes and only went out on the fire calls. The rest of the time I closed the doors and walked back to work. People watched for me walking back and would always ask the caller name! I would be "the first to know" some interesting news). On this day only two others showed up to go on the ambulance run and the new fire chief was one of them. He told me to go ahead and jump in... we took off short handed. He was one of those "glory guys" and had to drive AND run the "show-off" buttons too. It was a heart attack and we were now "running hot" on the way back! The man had another big one just as we approached town. I called to the front for help but they were both busy trying to get through traffic and whatever. Before we got to the hospital he even "threw up" on me while I was giving him CPR. It was a bad deal all around and although only a few minutes passed before the hospital took over he did not make it. The fire chief and the other EMT remained inside the hospital while they brought me some cleaning supplies and extra scrubs to put on. By the time I did go inside I was greeted by the fire chief at the door. He was quick to instruct me that I was not to say anything and he would figure out later how to cover up our mistake from the family members who had just arrived. We turned the corner and I immediately recognized two "little old ladies" within this family group. One lived in town and her sister was often there helping with the gardening and flowers. (She had also been using one of my "secret RoundUp soap" bottles on her bindweed back at the farm). Both of these ladies began to hug me and almost everyone there was crying right away. All I ever said that day was "I am so sorry" over and over again! Nothing else was ever said about anything that happened and the POWER of public relations from my other work saved the day! Another time things took a different direction. It happened late one evening after the high school homecoming bonfire. We got a call about a car wreck and nobody showed up but three once again. (We had almost thirty volunteers, but at times too many did not respond late at night. This time it was an old guy and that new big fat fire chief). We waited for a bit and let the siren continue to run, then put out a second call on the pagers and took off with the small "fast" truck. (Most of the time a car fire was a "non event" anyway. All you normally did was watch the car until it cooled off enough to stop smoking! If it did start burning you just kept the fire from spreading, this one was more serious! It was a "roll-over" into a muddy ditch filled with water. The only one there was a fairly drunk teenager and he seemed scared to death. He kept saying it was not his car and he would not say who it belonged to either! Finally he pointed at the car and said it wasn't his girlfriend either! The fire chief began to yell at him to start over and explain it from the beginning. He began to tell us about how he was crawling into the front when the wreck happened and he did not know why the car had lost control. About that time flames started coming from the bottom of the car around the engine area. The boy must have thought the girl in the back seat was already dead... but those terrible screams started right after the fire started. We did not have foam on this truck and that side window above the water in the ditch was not a very big one! Things did not look too promising and the fire was now burning real good on that old oil on the bottom of this upside down car! We broke the window and tried to pull the girl out. She was caught and the arm we were pulling on was broken. She was really screaming now! The old guy reached in as far as he could but was unable to get her free. We could feel the heat building up and were pulling our fire gear closer and flipping the helmets down as we looked around with our flashlights. About then we noticed the gas tank was right in front of us and we all began to back up! From the road we could see the lights from town, only a few miles away. We could also see no other flashing lights were coming towards us yet either. The older guy went back to the radio on the truck and the fire chief began to use his emergency frequency radio to start the sirens over again. Without any words spoken I started for the car, dropping my coat and helmet. The "spenders" and pants were always hooked to the boots and we could get in and out of them very easy. For once in my life my small size would work to my advantage, I got through the window without much of a struggle. Once inside I fought her a bit and she was hurt a little more before I got the leg untangled... but she went out fast after that. We were not quite back to the truck before the gas tank blew up. She would have died right then and we all knew it! They had me back up the truck and turn on the heater. We were both all wet and remained there until the ambulance came. She told me then who was driving and ask why he was not there. (It was a local football star! I did not know him, but I knew the family name and knew they were powerful people)! I got out and ask the boy where the other kid was and he said they went for help right after the wreck. After they left the neighbor's house he said he could not remember much, only that he saw our lights coming and had gone back to the car. I had a scrap on my arm, but most of the blood on me belonged to that girl, I think she cut her shoulder on the glass while getting out. The three of us went back to town in the ambulance. The other two in the small truck came to the hospital as soon as the foam truck showed up. My arm was bandaged and I was waiting at the door when they came in. I had never liked the fire chief and he did not like me either. Rod Hutt was not only a "big boy" he was also a big shot in the town! He did not think "little people" like me even belonged on this fire department. Normally the more hose you could drag or amount of equipment you could carry was an important part of this job. My small size had been my only advantage in this case and he was going to have to write it up that way too! But he noticed right away I did not have my pager on my belt anymore and made a comment it was probably ruined in the water anyway. I remembered putting it on a shelf in the back of the ambulance and told him I would go check. I found it and thought back to the moment I last had it in my hand. (It was when I took out my pack of cigarettes and put them both on the roadway just before going into that water! I knew he did not like that I smoked and was always saying smokers should not be on the department either. I was thinking that was really what had saved the pager this time). I remained out of site and began to relax as I "had a smoke" while thinking over the events, and also how I should write them down as well. Up until then I had been quite "worked up" over things and not really thinking much other than how close I had just come to dying a horrible death when the radio went off in the ambulance. It was my favorite "midnight" dispatcher, an elderly lady who hardly ever spoke to anyone but me when I came in to work early. We often had our morning coffee together before the "courthouse gang" arrived to start the day! I began to talk to her as if we were alone in the break room (not on a scanner that half the people in town were by this time listening to... as they waited for more sirens to go off)! She ask if it was all over and said she wanted to go to the bathroom but was afraid to leave the radio unattended. I do not know what I was thinking, but I said it was not quite over... not until we found out what had happened to "Junior"... giving the full name of the other teenager who was possibly injured in this "roll-over" accident. (Unknown to me the car had since been recognized by another fireman. The mother had been called and the football star had already been found hiding in his bed unhurt... from the accident anyway)! But he would not be playing at homecoming and everything was already settled... except for what I just did. Needless to say, there was no "awards banquet" held in my honor! And the fire chief told me it was a good thing the "old folks" spoke up for me or I would no longer be a fireman! Below is a picture of my family at that time... Lots of small children also makes older people happy to show extra support for you, no matter what else you did wrong!
You would have thought I learned to watch what I said after that, but not me! (Actually, the elderly people told me a number of times afterwards that I did what was necessary at the time. All the truth would have come out in time, too many people knew about it to keep such a serious thing totally secret for very long. I just added a bit more "drama" to an already dramatic event that could have had a much worse ending if I had not been there to save this girl). The fact that I did not follow the rules of the radio was pale in comparison to what I did without even thinking of myself after the fire forced us back. You see, old people look at life differently than those who still have most of their life ahead of them. One of those who later talked to me about this event was the same sister who had the husband die on me. She told me something I will never forget. She said some people live an entire lifetime without ever having a chance to save someone else. She said she knew her husband had a bad heart and they both knew it would "give out" on him someday. She said what I did saving that young girl was far more important than saving or not saving any elderly person who had already had a full life. Until right then I had that kind of thing figured out somewhat backwards. I had always hated the way older people were treated poorly and those who had not contributed anything yet were thought of as our "promising youth" and required so much more of our attention. I thought somewhat like the old grandma who was famous for "that poor Henry" story... I had also grown up on a farm where weak youngins' often died without even a chance at life and it was a part of the "way it was" for many of those critters! You accepted it and counted up those who lived, not the others. I was also raised by my grandfather for the most part. And I never thought he received enough credit for what he offered to the cause. (Older people cannot work very hard or very long, and they often do things the old fashion way too). I do not know how many times I have "won the heart" of some "old-timer" while he is "selling down" everything he has owned all his life at some garage sale just before he moves into some retirement home or whatever. Every one of them will always have at least one of those old "hand-crank" drills! (The fancy big heavy kind, once proudly mounted up against a wall... Now they are usually just sitting in a pile with an assortment of old "brace bits" that are not a bit shiny. If the youngest of those running this sale have priced things the sticker usually reads only a few dollars. If the "old-timer" priced it the sticker will read fifty dollars! Everybody knows those old shank bits will not fit into the chuck on that worthless MIC cordless drill... The one in that brand new plastic box, complete with the charger and an extra dead battery. (The price on that will always be five dollars). Almost everybody knows any Made In China bits included with that new box are totally worthless too. But very few know you can remove that shank, and have the best set of made in America bits possible! (If your "cutoff saw" cannot cut it off, those are now your bits for strong steel... after you use a good quality older grinding wheel to remove it. If the cut off blade WILL cut through a bit, those are now your best wood bits)! But now, back at the garage sale... you walk by the cordless drill in the box and point to the rusty pile. You say in a loud enough voice the old man can hear. Look! A cordless drill with some extra bits! Almost every time the young man will say without looking. "You will need to get a new battery for that drill, that's why it is only five dollars". You say in reply... No, I mean the other cordless drill... The one we use when we don't have electricity. It never needs a new battery! Almost always the old man will be looking down now. Maybe silently saying a little prayer for this young man who has now replaced him on this earth! My grandad probably thought the same thing about me, way back then...
I will never know for sure either! I do however, know what happened not long after this video was taken. I left the area for the Black Hills and did not return to the farm for many years, by then the old shop was gone. (My grandpa Ed was put in a "rest" home and almost everything made out of metal in this shop was loaded on a "salvage" truck by junkyard people. The rest was pushed into a pile and burned. There was no time for the old ways anymore. Many years later I once ask my brother what he would do if the power was out now that he does not have that old drill anymore. He just smiled as he told me their new generator for the shop has push-button electric start!
Enough about the old days, back to my courthouse job... Across from my office, on the other side of the big hallway, was the office of what many call the "States" Attorney. Now, Pat McDermott was one cocky son of a bitch let me tell you! (Maybe you need to take an A$$hole test before they give you that job. If so, he passed it for sure). He also liked to get a little sex on the side while at work too. I could not see him inside his office from where I sat, but I could always see anyone who went in and turned to stand in front of his desk. Something I noticed in time was the way a few of the women would stand as they faced him. It might be called "body language" by some maybe... but I thought of it more like the position she would take to be entered from behind. More than once he got up and closed the door right after that. More than once she did not walk out the same way she walked in either. I never said much about this, as I knew the kind of POWER he had over others. Only the County Agent's secretary and I ever discussed what was going on as far as I know. The secretary did tell me he was sometimes seen drinking at a local bar until closing some Saturday nights. She and her husband both thought it was very arrogant of him to be seen leaving that bar with various loose women at closing time too. This worked against him at the local catholic church later on... but first I must explain just how it happened. The men of this church have a group called the Knights of Columbus. (It is kind of a carbon copy of the Masons. Or a "knock-off" of the Knights of the Templar or whatever). The position I held in this group at that time was the "communicator" that used "plain talk" to inform all in this group what was being said in a more understandable way! Most of the time I just used my "breakdown" book to explain big bible words using a number of smaller ones. Every spring any new members were "introduced" or sponsored by a current member and voted on by the membership. During one of these meetings the newly elected County Sheriff introduced Pat McDermott to be voted on. Our priest was very "old-school" and did not hold back on this opportunity even a little bit. He sat in the middle beside the Grand Knight and they called me over to kneel between them just as Pat walked in the back after his name was announced. It was a bit overplayed the way it happen, but normally it worked out differently when they were accepted. The inside guard (who was the sheriff) and the outside guard (who was his deputy) escorted the new man up to the front table where they faced the Grand Knight with his shiny sword. After they walked up the aisle all the members always moved to the middle so they could shake hands with the new member as he went back out when the performance was over. Now, before this Father Green had lost his green house to a fire and was getting ready to go to a retirement home for priests. He was leaving anyway and really did not care what the county attorney thought of him! Shorty was the incoming Grand Knight and had not even got to use his new sword yet. He also owned the best bar in the area and had no use at all for Pat McDermott or any of his girlfriends! The priest spoke softly and slowly at first, then used some bigger words from the bible. Pat did not say anything but only put up his open hands as if to ask what was going on? The sheriff did not say anything either, only looking back and forth at the officers sitting at this table. But it was me who stood up first. I was eye to eye with the bastard, and might not have used the best choice of words in my explanation of why this man must be removed from a room filled with "practicing" Catholics. He turned and saw everyone now standing on each side. He raised one hand as he turned back, as if to appeal this decision. Shorty was bigger around than he was tall, but he felt mighty powerful in that fancy new outfit! He stood up so quickly that folding chair hit the wall ten feet behind us. He drew his sword so fast it scared the shit out of everybody! The attorney ran for the back door and some of the men followed him out. This meeting was over! Some later said it was the strongest lesson the people of this community ever had on the issue of adultery! I however, had just made an enemy for life and lost a few friends in the process. Almost "everybody in the know" within this small community already knew I had gotten a vasectomy! (I was now maybe a "practical" catholic... but no longer a "practicing" catholic)! Everybody knew why Shorty got that big bump on his head from his wife's frying pan too. Many people even knew what the sheriff did to get elected as well... I could go on! Nobody above the age of about ten or twelve is ever perfect. And the smaller the community... the more people will know why! Life went on as usual. Except for the office of the County Attorney, who was now on the third floor beside the sheriff's office. It was not long before I realized the power these people had over someone like me.
I mentioned we had just held our local election. For about six months before that many were on opposite sides of who would be elected as the new commissioners or sheriff. It was clearly a choice between the bright young candidates and the old school people who held those offices. I remained loyal to the old sheriff and had a long standing agreement with him on any local people turned in for growing marijuana on their land! He did not win and although Dave Deaver later turned out to be the best choice, all who voted to keep the old ways were well known! I took an even stronger stand AGAINST two of the older commissioners. I spent way too much time going around to all the farmers in the area and spreading rumors about foolishness they had pulled off in the four years I had been there. I also learned of many more tricks they had pulled before I was around from several of the more angry farmers. (Some of the information was even true... but that did not stop me from adding the other to "spice it up" a bit more). It rained the night before we voted and many farmers did not go out on muddy roads. The old commissioners remained in office and I was now in serious trouble, but did not have a clue! Little did I know the last month I spent in office during that spring of '82 should have been at some EPA school, or ANYWHERE else... rather than wasting all that Perkins County gas driving around delivering more free RoundUp and spreading malicious gossip! Years of my life and over a thousand positive relationships were soon erased in record time!
It had actually started the month before, when I attended something they called Marriage Encounter with my wife. It was like a vacation weekend spent away from your kids in a motel room! You went to a number of classes put on by professionals. (With an hour or so between sessions to talk of marriage problems alone in your room). We did not really have any problems, instead we had four kids in five years! I spent most of that hour on both of those days trying out my new vasectomy. It was actually those two sessions on money that changed everything in our lives for many years to come! (The only input from my wife was the regrets of starting up her "home daycare" business. We were up to fifteen kids at times and were finding out some parents were not very good at parenting. The part time job openings for the upcoming summer season had already caused our phone to ring night and day). The lack of money was a major issue in our lives though, and it was getting worse during the farm recession we were in the middle of at that time.
That first session on money was about which pay helped the family and which money did not do the "family unit" any good at all. This made me realize for the first time how much of my money was helping other families more than it was helping my own! (When you put those yearly figures down on the "worksheet" it made things much more clear than when you did each "non-profit" bill separately... as I had always done before). A major change was in order! How to do it was the biggest question unresolved at the time? That session ended on a high note about "growing a new set of balls" when it came to asking for a raise from your boss. (I do not know how many others in that room had just been "neutered" but I was bound and determine not to let on about mine)! They spoke of "talking it up" around your friends at church to "soften up" your boss ahead of time. Little did they know there was NO Catholic church in Hayes Center, and I was running low on friends at our church as well. Dave Deaver even had more little kids than I did too!
The second session on money was the last one of the weekend. It was about donations and tithing your ten percent. That worksheet surprised me the most. (I was allowed to list all my non-profit "volunteered" efforts towards the elderly at full value and any community service work as if it were a "paid" ambulance or fire department. You also added up any church work you did! These totals were placed on the left side first! Then you put your pay on the other side and subtracted before you figured out your ten percent. We may have already been giving too much before I counted us mowing the church lawn OR my catechism classes during the winter months). On the way home we joked about how someone had warned Pam not to let them "con" her into an office in the local Altar Society... they said if you were good enough at doing it you may have to die to get out of that job! We were too young to die, so maybe leaving town was the only other option! It was then that I made a play for more money down in Hayes County. I tried to get the family interested in fixing up the old house in that town too. (We were almost done fixing up the small home were we were living in now and the other one was bigger. It also had an unfinished basement and lots of space to add on). We did not really have much of a plan other than the move would eliminate all my "free" workload and I could start over pricing my labor more profitable. What I did not understand is that the people in charge of money spending did not really care much about you or your family... They only cared what you cost them out of their budget! (It had been the same way in the other county. The first two years they had to increase what they "matched" from my GI Bill portion already paid. The third year I argued everyone had received a raise except for me every other year or so... I should have one voted into my next budget. They showed me all the increases in pay on their budget in past years and refused my request). I think what caused more anger than anything was that the others lied about raising my pay and thought nothing of it. My biggest mistake was to take this increased hatred for powerful commissioners and applying it to the ones controlling the county I lived in. My other mistake was shutting down all those other jobs without good reason. Many of those older people did not take that lightly... neither did the school or the church. I was quickly moving from a so-called superman to a short time show-off in a hurry. What made me realize it was when a small grass fire started up in a remote part of the county while I was "out running around" with the county spray truck one day. (I heard the pager and saw the smoke. I went directly to the fire. I had it out before they arrived with the first truck. They were angry but left without saying anything). I found I had a flat tire from driving over a fence. I drove slowly to a neighbor, but it was ruined anyway. He did not like the land owner where the fire had been and told me I should have let it burn. He did not want to help either and only let me use his phone to call my wife. She had to load up a bunch of kids in our little car to come help me. I got the tire off and had to leave her and the kids there while I went to town to get a new one. Pam was gone too long and several mothers were at our home when she returned. I was also in trouble at the courthouse for using that truck for something insurance did not cover. This cost me a tire and I quit the fire department then too. That cost me even more friends and things went down hill from there. I think the last straw was when I went to a new job interview out west without taking proper "leave" from the courthouse job. Pam did not want me taking a job so far away so I went without talking about it first. I wanted to get the money part "lock in" and down on paper so she would see how much better it was. I just left her a note in the car and parked it at the courthouse. At times I would go off to the other county for something and stay at the farm overnight. I did not think she would worry for a few days and then she would find the note about the time I called her with good news about money. The trip took longer than I thought it would due to not having a very good plan! (I told the Railroad people I needed to document the noxious weeds on their right away and got a seat facing backwards in the caboose. I had a scary looking EPA ID card and an official clipboard filled with blank grid maps. I do not know what happened to those papers, I made a good record of all "circle" patches the entire way)! The big problem developed when she did not find the note I left in the car and I did not call until it was time for her to come to the airport for me almost a week later. A few of my worst enemies even spread a few rumors of my suicide by then! The next problem developed after we took the kids out of school and drove all the way to that job offer with them. In the end she talked me out of taking this risky job and now it appeared to many I was not making very logical decisions. Words like foolish, irresponsible, irrational, and crazy were being used freely by various people, depending on what I said to who... and how it affected each of them. The following few weeks were an extra struggle as I had just wasted all of our savings on a job that was now off the table. My wife had always been very "soft-spoken" and most of the time she answered people's questions with a "return" question, asking only what they would do! Looking back on it later, I realized I should not have taken some of her advise on what to do now... mostly because it was actually what others thought should be done! She remained President of the Altar Society and I began to mow the church lawn again. (I also visited all my elderly with a new approach on pay and requested a deposit up front before adding them to the list for the upcoming season. This only worked on about one out of three of them and even they did not like my new attitude very much. One of them even wrote me a bad check and later said they did not put a date on it and I broke the law writing it in? It appeared I could do ONLY wrong! It was at this time that Pat McDermott introduced paperwork showing I was dangerous to my family or something. Deputy Napercowski placed me in handcuffs in front of my children while I was painting the outside of my home with the big air compressor that belonged to the weed control building. I was sent off to the state nuthouse to be evaluated. My younger son still remembers me asking that deputy (the same "guard" from church that I had embarrassed before) to do this "cuffing process" down at the courthouse or whatever. He replied only that my kids "needed to see this happen" so they would understood things better later on? When I arrived at Hastings they interviewed me and questioned what was actually going on. Pat drove all the way down there to convince them I should remain in "lockup" until a hearing could be held in the same courthouse I worked for. (That turned out to be quite the setup... he did his planning well and got even for all I had ever done to him)! It was not until much later (after the tornado got him) that his wife said it was actually her who told the priest about his foolish behavior! They sent the younger deputy to bring me back from Hastings. (We had worked together at the fair in a booth about the "dangers of marijuana" among our youth. The last fair I had even brought up a large "ditch weed variety" marijuana plant in a planter and we used it to show what the leaves looked like. We were a big hit that year and became good friends). That was also when I met my wife's cousin who had this wicked cancer in his nuts! He told me they were treating his side effects from "chemo" with some very strong government supplied pot. He said they gave him a little bit of oil made out of it for the soreness from radiation as well. He told me his wife liked it and had used it all up. He ask my wife if she would help me gather him the "tops" of some female plants from this valley and we did our best to help him out. (In fact we gathered up almost a dozen old chemical boxes full and took it to him less than a month later that same fall). The day before my Christmas break I was cleaning out the weed control building and he showed up in his old pickup. He told me he tried the oil he made out of a box of this stuff but it was not any good. He did however, have a little present for us for our efforts and gave me a joint of the "good" stuff from the government. I declined at the time and took him home for lunch to see my wife. He mentioned that his wife was now going to have their first baby and they had a good visit about old times. I later explained how my wife never did "do pot" and I had found it to be too non-productive for the responsibilities and heavy workload I had become accustom to by this time in my life. He did not agree with my way of thinking at all, something not uncommon to anyone using anything that works so well for them! I remember after we left he offered the joint again and I agreed we should just "smoke it up" for old times sake... If he could just help me finish my work in the shed. He agreed and we went back to the shop the "long way" while smoking. He pulled his pickup right into the building and filled it with all the junk I had piled up as I drug all the chemical stuff I had wash off in the street back into the side. He left and I think I just listened to music until it got dark... to be honest I do not remember much of anything I did after we left my home! I do know I missed the Christmas party at work and a few thought about going out to remind me. (The weed building was on the other side of the back parking lot for the workers. They saw me using the pressure washer earlier and figured I may "stink up" the party! I did not fit in very well with this bunch anyway, I worked way too hard and many did not like that I was so popular. Some of those "friends" helped others to take care of that soon after)!
Anyway, back to the hearing... I was found to require more confinement and my job was now terminated. Due to the fact I was a veteran my insurance was also canceled and I was to be taken to the VA nuthouse of my choosing! I named the one near the Black Hills and the deputy loaded me up. At the next town he took off the cuffs and I rode up front with him! We took the long way through the hills and I gave him the "nickel tour" most of the way. I had always enjoyed our family trips to this area and I thought he had a good time as well. (He later told a "true" friend of mine it was a setup from the start). He was only trying to gain my trust and before we got there I fell for the trick. I ask him if he would do me a favor without telling anyone and he agreed. Many years before (after a rough year overseas I was awarded an easy job working "underground" at times. In fact I only "worked" about four hours at a time a few days a week! I had lots of free time). I helped a friend do some "secret" mining on the side. He still had some detonator cord and fuses. Also a part of a box of blasting caps. He was "shipping out" and gave this stuff to me before leaving. I did not have the required permit and he could not transfer it. Although we finished off the rest of the dynamite I still had the rest in a big metal box! Years later I had found some claymore mine detonators when we were draining a pond at the edge of Ft. Riley Kansas. These units were still brand new and wrapped in the protective foil the military shipped them in. I do not know who got them all the way back from Vietnam, but I knew where they tossed them when they found out how much trouble possessing them could cause! It was early one morning after the "all night" shift I pulled watching the pumps on our "Decon" trucks. We tried to keep them "operational" during Summer Camp each year while I served in the Reserves. This project was foolish (the first big rain would fill it right back up) but it was "something to do" as they say! I was up early and noticed these packages appearing out of the mud beside the roadway. I opened one and knew right away what they were. I had once used one of them with a blasting cap in it to alert everyone when someone came in through the back way... and I still had a few blasting caps left too. So, I put those in the box as well. After we got the daycare kids I took this box to the weed shed for safe keeping. I foolishly ask the deputy to give this box to my wife, but that is not exactly what happened.
My "confined" stay at this VA nuthouse... already overfilled with "real" crazy veterans did not work out as they planned. I think the county attorney knew that would happen. They in fact called in my weed board members and searched the weed building before I even had my first interview with the doctors at Ft. Meade! The VA had then requested that my wife come for a private meeting with them, but she brought some bad news instead. (Not even I knew that my wife's cousin had returned those unused boxes of worthless pot to the weed control building when he loaded up that junk before Christmas. He later told her he mentioned it to me before he left but I only remembered the music! In fact, if I had known it at the time I would have burned them with the rest of the trash that same evening). After they added up all those felonies I was facing ten years to life. Up until this time they had tried to decide what kind of crazy label they could give me. Manic depression was quite common... that might work. I did show signs of the "high" side all the time. After hearing about those pending charges I began to show signs of the "low" side too. Everyone agreed it was best that I remained crazy for the time being and Pam went back home alone. I learned how to pray, I quit smoking, and they put me in charge of the greenhouse a few weeks later.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch... things did not go well for all those who showed any support for me. My grandad went to a rest home, a nurse at the hospital lost her job and the bindweed took over the gardens! The worst thing that happened was to my favorite midnight dispatcher Deltha Clough. She "told on" those two mean deputies and they brought her some coffee with a new kind of "sweet-n-low" early one morning (actually some liquid pored out of the tranquilizer shots used for mean dogs)! They thought it would get her fired for sleeping on the job! But she had a heart attack and died instead. My so called deputy friend "ratted out" Kapercowiski and then quit. They said he later fled to Canada. The mean deputy was fired but nobody ever pressed any charges on him. (Years later he went to jail for having sex with a young girl working at the Burger King he was managing somewhere in Oregon). My son later told me he wished he could have been there to see him get his! I was given some kind of a deferred prosecution agreement to sign that I would never return to do more harm or tell more lies about any county "big shots" in either county. (They tested the "hemp" pot and discovered the truth about the oil from Glen Lee's wife). The government said I would no longer have my top secret clearance anymore and ordered all other information be sealed until enough people were dead. (It has been 40 years, nobody can lose rank over it now). I tried to go back after they said the coast was clear but it was no good. Some people acted like I was going to blow them up or something. Even kids were pulled aside! I was not worth the bother. We settled into the Black Hills and before long Pam was the new president at our church in Deadwood. She still holds that office, and will probably have it until she dies!
I left out a few other things that happened, both good and bad. (Some of this information was also later relayed to me by the family of that young girl I saved). A few others also told me some things a bit harder to believe... Like the tornado! (I did not leave out anything that matters though. And I tried the best I could to stay on track, without leaving out anything important to the outcome). I am sure a few people will have a different version of what happen involving their part, depending on who they are. But this is my true story... and I was the one it happened to! I only wanted it wrote down correctly before I died. I do not ask for your judgment, God will do that. And I did not tell about it to get even with anyone either, God will take care of that too!