The hayloft of Grandpa's Barn

 Grandpa's barn was one of my favorite places on his farm, and of places in the barn, the hayloft was my favorite place to be.  The barn was built into a side of a hill, so at the back of the barn, you could reach the hayloft from the bed of a pickup. Around to the front of the barn, the loft was probably 20-25 feet high. 

    I loved playing in the loft, and when I went to the farm with Grandpa, he usually made time for me to play a little in the barn. Sometimes after he was done with his work, he would come and open up the door in front and we would look out over the farm and towards the river valley. I loved those afternoons when we would be able to do that. A few times it was almost dusk and in the winter you could see some fog starting to form in the river valley. 

    But I have a favorite time in the loft, which has stuck with me though a lifetime.  Grandpa had to meet a man, really early at the farm one morning. I don't remember if Grandpa was letting him borrow some equipment or what was going on. We left town really early that day, before the sun rose. When we got to the barn Grandpa decided we would take some hay out to a group of cattle. So he pulled up to the back of the barn and loaded some hay in the back of the pickup, and waited for the guy. I was probably around four or five, and I was really tired. It was probably around 6 a.m., and seeing me yawn, Grandpa told me to lay down for a minute and take a little nap, so I did. I had such a good nap, and during the nap, I heard this beautiful. beautiful singing. It was all female voices, and it was so beautiful it made me almost cry.  

   By the time I woke up, it was 8:30 or 9:00 a.m., the guy Grandpa met had been there and gone. So over the breakfast Grandpa had packed I told him about the dream and hearing the beautiful singing. I wasn't sure it was a dream, because I remembered laying in the hay, while they sung. I asked Grandpa, if any women were there singing when I was asleep. He didn't know of any, no one had been there, other than the guy he had met, and other than opening a gate for the guy to get the equipment, Grandpa had been right there the whole time. He wondered if maybe the wind blew, and I heard that, but we decided the wind hadn't really blown all that much. Finally, Grandpa said, "You know, maybe it was angels. Sometimes, on really good days, I can almost hear angels sing."  The minute Grandpa said it, I knew it was true. I told Grandpa, that hayloft was and had always been my favorite place in the world. Grandpa smiled, and said, "No doubt about it then, it was probably angels." 

      After that day, I always have thought of the hayloft that way. My favorite place to be . . .the only place I ever heard angels singing to me.....

Stories and thoughts about my Grandpa

      My Grandpa. Oscar Jensen, only finished the 6th grade in public school, but he was one of the smartest people I ever knew in my life. As I reach retirement age, I think back on my Grandpa and find I have relied on many of his little sayings, and have watched how things, he talked to be about when I was a child, have manifested themselves in today's world. 

       One of my Grandpa's "little sayings" was whenever I would get behind the wheel to drive a car, he would always say, be sure to watch for that 'invisible' car.  One day, a bit annoyed, I asked him what he meant by that piece of wisdom. His response was, " do you think people purposely allow themselves to get hit by a car. You know, I gave it some thought, and came to the conclusion there must be some "invisible" cars around that people can't see running around the area. So I have decided when I am driving I need to take a second look to make sure there are not any 'invisible' cars around."

        I remember shaking my head, and thinking, you crazy old man. But now, I understand.  I can't tell you the number of times that advice saved me from some serious, serious auto accidents. Grandpa was thinking about things like that all the time.  Another time, after Grandpa had suffered a stroke, he and I were in the backseat of car, waiting for Grandma and my mother to do some shopping. As we sat there, Grandpa noticed all these parked cars still running, while people were in stores. This happened in our small home town, in the mid-1960's. Grandpa noticed all the exhaust fumes and smoke from the exhaust pipes of the cars. It was a brutally cold winter day. He said, "you ever wonder where all that goes, Doug, that smoke. It has to go somewhere, it doesn't just disappear. I can smell it, even when I can't see it, and so can you. It might be harder for you, because I remember back to the way things smelled, before there were cars. That exhaust smell is never gone, and think about the number of cars in the world. It has to be doing things to our environment.  . .making plants grow differently, making us breath differently. You almost think it would be making things hotter . . that and cement. Look here at all the cement, covering the ground. You know that cement makes things hotter. Think about how much cooler things are, when we are at the farm, instead of in town. Then think about New York city, or Chicago. . .sure makes a fellow wonder what the world will be like, when you get to be my age."

      Grandpa was like that about everything. He pondered things. He loved rocks, and showing me rocks, and showing me how rocks formed. Showed me rocks he had collected that looked like they had melted, or others that looked glued together. Grandpa's farm was one of my favorite places in my childhood. Grandpa had fenced it, in an unusual way. There were lots of gates and a lane or two, which seemed different to me. But when I asked him, why it was the way it was, when he explained it, I realized, he had put lots of thought into how he fenced his farm. The way he did fence it, gave him so much more flexibility regarding how he ran his cattle and how he hayed the farm. 

        When Grandpa passed away, we cleaned his home, Grandma had passed away first, I purposely kept some boxes with Grandpa's handwriting on them. Fairly recently I found them again, and opened them up. What I found made me smile. The boxes were full of booklets, books and papers from the government and other agencies on about every subject under the sun.  . .farming practices, raising cattle, fixing machinery even some books on building radios. There was even a little book on how television worked, how waves carried the images through the air.

     My Grandpa only had a sixth grade education, but he wasn't ashamed of that. When I asked him once about school, he said, he couldn't see any reason to continue. He knew he was going to be a farmer, and he figured he could teach himself anything else he would need to know. I have a some college degrees, and because I had some excellent advisors in college, I had the opportunity to teach at the college level in a couple of colleges, while working on advanced degrees,  but like my Grandpa, I decided I couldn't see much reason to continue with my education. Hopefully I am like my Grandpa in other ways also, one of the smartest men, it has been my honor to know.

Reflection: A Smoke

 written and published in 2013.

A Smoke

she asked forgiveness.

did not know what she was thinking,

or how she could have betrayed me,

I tried to read her eyes,

but the pack of cigarettes,

on the dresser, was all I could see.

Reflection: The Outsider

 written and published in 2012.

The Outsider

left out when sides picked for play,

ignored in the classroom if arm raised,

the education completed at an early age,

the outsider.