text: It's not so much the day it happened, but the day that signaled that I had arrived, I had achieved adulthood. But I am getting ahead of my self. I grew up on a dairy farm in central Wisconsin. This area was all dairy farms. If you farmed in this county, there was no question of what you produced. It was the heart of America's DairyLand, and 60 to 80 cow herds filled the landscape. I was in high school in the late 70's. My uncles farm was nearby, and the two farms touched. My cousin Bill was one grade above me in school, but only 4 months older. I was closer to him than my own, much younger brother, and he had no brothers. Miles from the nearest paved road, we had the opportunity to Drive tractors and other machines at a young age. I had a beat up old 5hp trail bike for transportation, and Bill had an ancient moped. On summer nights after evening milking, we would be on call to help unload and stack baled hay at neighbors places. we put this money away for the one indispensable item all of us rural Romeo's needed, a car. The summer before our 16th birthdays, our fathers begrudgingly cosigned for cars for us to fix up (we couldn't afford much). Bill was lucky to find a Grand Torino that was mechanically sound, but with a badly beaten body. I found a Chevelle with a good body, but burned out engine and transmission. The fall of my sophomore year, Bill and I spent all of our spare time working on his Torino. We hammered out dents, welded in patches, applied and sanded body filler and applied primer. All the while planning our adventures. Oh, the wonderful mayhem we were going to unleash on our unsuspecting little town!. The Torino would soon be ready for paint, and in mid November, Bill passed his drivers test. That fall had been busy, due to the wet weather delaying the corn harvest. The Sunday night before Thanksgiving I went to bed looking forward to the abbreviated week ahead. The corn harvest was done, the machines parked for the winter, and a few inches of snow had fallen in the afternoon. Bill was to deliver his car to a friend for paint and I was looking forward to getting started on the Chevelle. As I drifted off to sleep, I thought I heard the phone ring downstairs. but sleep took over. For some reason, a few minutes before my alarm clock was to ring at 4:50AM, I woke to a light on my bedroom wall. Our farmhouse was on the north side of the road and my room was the in the south east corner. The light was the headlights of a vehicle coming up the road. It was very unusual for traffic to be on out road this time of morning. I watched the light grow bigger, expecting it to shoot to the north side of my room as the car passed by. But instead the light shot south then disappeared. They had pulled into the yard!. I leapt from my bed to look out the east window to see the pickup truck pull into its garage stall. I knew something was very wrong. I pulled on my work cloths as fast as I could, grabbed my shoes and rushed down the stairs. Mom was seated at the kitchen table. I could tell she had been crying. Dad had gone to their room to change into his work overalls. As I tied my shoes she told me to go "feed the monster in the basement", the family euphemism for filling the decrepit old wood furnace that heated the ancient farmhouse. I went down the stairs and rushed through the routine. Open the draft door, scoop out the ashes, shake the grates, small wood first, then the larger blocks. When I got back up to the kitchen, Dad was also at the table, then they broke the news to me. Bill had been killed in a car accident the evening before. I went numb. The exact details matter not. It boils down to an inexperienced driver on a slippery road. My body seemed to be on auto pilot, and the morning chores seemed to drag forever. Even with my Mom and my younger brother coming down to help with feeding the bottle calves, we got late. As soon as we were done milking, Dad sent me and my brother to the house for breakfast and washing up for school and he said he would do my normal job of cleaning up in the milkhouse. School was subdued and quiet that day. The whole high school of 250 students soon heard and a dark mood seemed to press down on us all. My 5th period was study hall, and the school guidance councilor came to get me to help clean out Bills locker. I got the text books back to their appropriate classrooms and threw out unnecessary notebooks, saving only what I thought my Aunt and Uncle might want. At the time I thought I saved too much. With the wisdom that comes from years, I realize I did not keep enough. After school, Mom was waiting for me at the at the school busses. She took me downtown to the men's store for a new suit. I was growing by leaps and bounds at that time and I had long since outgrown my suit from confirmation. On the way home, she broke the news to me that I was to be one of Bill's pallbearers'. I protested, saying, "NO, I cant do it!'. She just smiled her knowing smile and said, "Talk to your father". I relaxed. Dad and I had a good rapport. He would understand. That evening, during milking, (the only time during evening chores that we were in the same proximity to each other in the barn) I pleaded my case, I said, "No, I can't do it". Dad did what he always did. He listened, he asked a few questions to make sure he had a full understanding of the issue, and then he rendered his verdict. He said, "You're going to be Pallbearer". He then went on to explain that it a man's job to be there for the family in times of need. He also explained that it was a solemn duty and honor to be one of the few selected to carry someone to their final rest. I tried to protest, saying, "I can't do it". He said, "You can and you will". He then went on to give me, either by design, or happenstance the best advice he ever gave me. It would be advice that went on to help me many times in my life. He said, "You're going to set your focus, bite your lip, put your feelings aside, concentrate on what's right in front of you, and you're going to do the job that needs to be done. That's what it means to be a man". Seeing I had lost my case, I resigned myself to my fate. The funeral was the day before thanksgiving. A fresh snow had fallen and the temperature was climbing to thawing. As the service concluded, I took my place with my uncles to carry the casket to the hearse. All of the Pallbearers traveled together in one car. It was a 10 mile drive to the cemetery, and mostly only family was attended the graveside ceremony. As we took the casket from the hearse, I took my assigned place on the left front. I was concentrating on the job at hand and measuring my steps. My Uncle on the right front slipped and almost fell when he stepped from the pavement to the snow covered grass, but I was able to shoulder the extra weight while he recovered. By the time we had returned to the church for the lunch, everyone who had not attended the interment had already left, and it was mostly just the family. For unknown reasons, my Dad chose to eat and talk with us pallbearers. Though it seemed shocking to me at the time, My uncles were very nonchalant about it. The conversation between them went like this: "Was that a bit to heavy for you?" (to my uncle that had slipped) "Naw, just the fresh snow, not like Uncle Fred's casket, That was heavy" "I didn't think Uncle Fred's was so heavy, Uncle Merlin was the heavy one". "I didn't get in on Uncle Merlin's, I was out in Oregon visiting Aunt Minnie when he passed away". "Yea, Uncle Merlin was a heavy one, I swear there was four inches of concrete in the bottom of his casket." "Well, knowing the ambitious go getter he was, Maybe that's the only way they figured they could keep him down there!". Some muted laughter followed. I realized some time later that I had taken My fathers place in the family Pallbearers. It was the first step in the changing of the guard from my uncles duty to falling to me and my cousins, and I would eventually be pallbearer for everyone I was pallbearer with that day. And I was the one to shoulder the responsibility of easing the younger cousins into this solemn duty. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was given much more freedom after that, and much more responsibility. I never had a curfew, But I was expected to be up at quarter to 5 every morning for chores. If I overslept, there were makeup chores for me at the end of the day. I soon learned to be home and in bed by midnight at the latest. The rest of high school, I was a bit of a "party pooper". Being at home and in bed while classmates were still "howling at the moon". I was also given the responsibility of the reproductive health of the dairy heard. Basically to be matchmaker for choosing what frozen semen to use on what cows and to be midwife to the cows having calves. As well as noting any cows that failed to cycle to be checked out by the veterinarian. I took it seriously, and made many night time trips to the barn to check on expectant mothers. I managed to drag my attention back to the Chevelle in February out of sheer necessity. An uncle on my mothers side of the family, (also farmers) contacted me to tell me of a neighbor of his who had a son that also had a Chevelle that ran good, but had been wrecked. I went to find a car that had just had a replacement engine put in it and had been rear ended at a stop sign. It was totaled, but he did not want to give the new engine to the junk yard for the few dollars they were willing to pay. A deal was made and I put it on a hay wagon and brought it home. With a little help from Dad and my little brother, I took on the task of the engine and transmission transplant. I even used the front bucket seats and some interior moldings, as well as the chrome wheels. In March I got my drivers license on the first try. By early May, the Chevelle was ready for his debut. We had a rare spring Saturday off for a cousins wedding. We had a cow that was likely to calf that day, so I drove myself to the wedding in the Chevelle. After the ceremony, we all went to the local Legion post where the reception and rest of the celebration was to be held. About 2 in the afternoon, I excused myself to check on the cow. I drove the 12 miles home and drove right down to the barn. Off to the side we had a little maternity paddock, I had hopped to see a content cow, chewing her cud and giving me the "what you want?" look, But it was not to be. What I found was a cow in labor and distress. I quickly drove to the house and changed onto a pair of coveralls and quickly cross tied my work shoes and raced to the barn. My first stop was the milkhouse for a bucket of warm water and the obstetrical chains and grips. I did a reach in check. One hoof, not too big, that's OK. A second hoof. Then a nose. Then a third hoof, and second nose!. she was having twins and attempting to expel them simultaneously!. But I had paid attention to Dad over the years and knew what to do. I slipped a chain around one hoof and gently tugged while feeling of their noses. When I was confident I knew witch nose was attached to the hoof that I had the chain on, I waited for her to stop contracting. When she did I pushed back inward on the other nose while pulling on the chain. The first calf slipped out fairly easily. I attached the other chain and quickly retrieved the other one. After quickly clearing their noses and mouths of mucus, I was rewarded with 2 heifer calves struggling to get their first breaths of air. I tied off their navel chords and dipped them in iodine to prevent infections from entering. I then turned my attention to the cow. Her head was pulled back toward her udder. She was not alert. Her ears were cold. She had milk fever, a potently fatal low calcium condition. I went quickly to work. I retrieved 2 bottles I.V. calcium from the medicine cabinet along with the I.V. kit. I went to the cow and put a rope halter on her head and tied it to her back leg to keep her from fighting the treatment. I took the huge 2 inch long needle and, after locating the jugular vein in her neck, I plunged it in swiftly. I was rewarded with a good flow of blood. I attached the first bottle of calcium to the hose and tucked it between my neck and shoulder to free up my hands. As soon as the mixture flowed freely with out air bubbles, I attached it to the needle. The medicine flowed quickly into her bloodstream and I was soon rewarded with a quivering in her flanks, a sign it was working. After the first bottle ran dry, I switched to the second. She was a large cow and the second bottle was insurance she would have enough. With all of the calcium in her, all she would need was time to recover. I released her head and collected up all of my equipment I had used, cleaned it in the milkhouse and put it away. Then I turned my attention back to the calves. I brought a small pail out and milked out some milk from her where she laid. I took it in the milkhouse and put it in a calf bottle. It was a little more than 3 pints. Not a lot, but enough to give those twins the much needed mothers protective antibodies. They greedily sucked it down. a sign that they were healthy and viable. Having done all I could for now, I returned to the house and took a shower. After getting dressed to go back to the wedding I headed back out to my car. but instead of just going back, I first drove back down to the paddock to check on them . I was rewarded by the sight of the cow standing and vigorously licking one calf that was struggling to stand while the other took it's first wobbly steps trying to nurse. When I returned to the festivities, Dad immediately saw me walk in and asked me, "Is everything alright?". "Everything is fine', I said, "But we have two more calves to feed tonight". The dinner was soon to be served. I was talking to a group of cousins and we were lucky enough to be seated at a table by the kitchen. We were served early, But the table Mom and Dad were on was farther away. As the meal wound down and I was cleaning up my serving of cake and ice cream I looked over at Dad. I thought of the chores that needed to be done. The extra work involved with the cow and newborn calves. I also saw Dad enjoying the time that he got to enjoy with family and friends all to seldom. When I finished, I said to my tablemates, "Sorry, I gotta go, it's chore time". Then I walked over to where Dad was eating with one of his old friends directly across the table from him. I clamped my hand on his shoulder and said, "Stay as long as you want. I'll do the chores tonight". Across the table Dad's friends fork slipped from his startled grasp and clattered to his plate, but he recovered quickly enough to point a butter knife accusingly at my Dad and say, "Ya know, I raised four boys on that place of mine, but I ain't NEVER heard that from one of my kids!". Dad just beamed. Mom had to hide her laughter behind a napkin.