Throwback Thursday

It's fair time and Thursday Throwback, so I'm thrilled to post this photo and the one below today.  A few days ago, I saw a photo of Miranda Yetter on Facebook, showing a dairy cow at this year's Bonner County Fair. 

That, in itself, seemed like a throwback, considering the fact that the last dairy in Bonner County shut down the milking machines a few weeks back.  Yup, Randy Poelstra is finding out what life is like without the 365-day-a-year schedule of milking those big Holsteins.  

At 64, he had a lot of years of milking time under his bibs (no belt on bibs) because I'm presuming his dad Corny got him busy as soon as Randy was old enough to help out in the barn as a boy. 

So, seeing someone show a dairy cow at this week's fair took me back on memory lane to the days when dairy cows were as common in the exhibit barns as beef. 

Running across the photos last night brought back even more nostalgia as these were taken 12 years ago in Hamilton, New Zealand, where seeing dairy cows ranks right up there with the deer population in the Selle Valley.  

Motorists stop for dairy herds crossing the roads.  Ayrshires are very common.  Back in the day when we had a lot of dairies in Bonner County, Thad Hunt's herd of ayrshires stood out among the packs of guernseys, jerseys, Brown Swiss and Holsteins.

in New Zealand, the brown and white breed is pretty common, and in New Zealand, back in 2003 while visiting, I felt like I was watching a movie about yesteryear when Annie and I attended the fair in Hamilton where she was spending her semester abroad at Waiketo University at the time. 

Bet ya can guess I LOVED New Zealand because of such sights which truly felt like a total step back in history.  It was wonderful. 

So, enjoy these two Kiwi throwbacks and then go enjoy this year's Bonner County Fair. Maybe you'll see a token dairy heifer or two there. 

On to other throwbacks----last week I went for a morning bike ride down Selle Road.  It was cool enough, and my wrist didn't hurt, so the experience was enjoyable, especially when I focused on an item in a yard which I've probably seen a million times before.

This time, however, I had my camera and my memories.  The pedaling stopped, the camera came out and my face lit up with a smile, thinking about a day long ago---one of many when Mother was out of the house and her little darlings went into action. 

On this particular day, she had the wringer washing machine set up and working in the kitchen next to the sink.  I was thinking this morning that when not in use she probably stored it in the corner next to the refrigerator.  A brother can correct me if I'm wrong. 

Anyway, on this day, I remember Mike, in particular, mentoring me through wringer-washing machine crime. 

I call it crime because I'm pretty sure that Mother did not want us to mess with her wash, but we did.  Soon, while feeding an item of clothing through the rollers, I found myself stuck to the washer. 

For some reason that morning, the wringer must have been as hungry as the deer in Selle Valley.  Those rollers saw my fingers coming, grabbed them right up and tried to consume my entire arm. 

There I stood, watching the veins on my instantly purple hand swell up while trying to pull my arm from those rollers.  Tugging and tugging, I could not get my lower arm and hand to budge from the wringer. 

Big brothers didn't often do nice things for me in those days----quite the opposite.  

On this morning, however, I suspect that Mike was probably envisioning the look on Mother's face and the wrath in her mind if she should come inside the house, find her daughter stuck to the machine and instantly tattling on the older brother who had lured her into this fix. 

So, Mike obligingly found the release button on the side of the wringer, and I was able to slowly remove my hand and arm from the wringer.  

I don't think Mother ever knew about that incident until maybe one of those young adult confessionals held at the dinner table long after the statute of limitations had run out. 

So, yes, wringer washers are a beautiful sight in my mind, as long as they're in someone's yard, preferrably filled with flowers. 

Seems like I found a generous collection of items among my TBT's last night, including a picture of a painting done by Cheryl Klein of good ol' Stinkin' Lincoln.  Cheryl, the former athletic director at Sandpoint High, painted the scene of my first school for the cover of my third book. 

Of course, with the class reunion coming up, it was fun to post it on our Sandpoint High 1965 Facebook site.  

Below that, Mr. Jim Nieman and his cage crew from a while back----definitely several notables in my life and some who have distinguished themselves as players and even a coach.  

All have turned out to be pretty neat adults these days, if you ask me.  I have a feeling Jim would agree. 

Finally, on the throwbacks, I chuckled while sorting through photos of an event I dreamed up a few years back in the dead of a North Idaho gray and gloomy January.  

It was long and depressing as many January's were back in those days before ZAG fever took over.  So, a Chick-o-Stick eating contest on the last day of January seemed like a nice way to celebrate the end of seemingly interminable month that year. 

People would eat as many Chick-o-Sticks as possible, and we'd earn a little money for the troops overseas.  It was held at the Bonner Mall, and we had some enthusiastic, if not heavily populated, participation.  

Veterans came to watch, and hungry little mouths gobbled Chick-o-Sticks until Buddy Chambers, son of Chris and Kathy, was the last Chick-o-Stick chewer standing.  

The event was great fun and a pretty unique way to end January.  Maybe we'll have to do that again some day. 

Finally, the sunset is hardly a throwback.  I snapped the shot last night while driving around in my air conditioned car on Samuels Road.  

Just seemed like a pretty way to end the throwbacks.  

Happy Thursday.  Stay cool.  Maybe this will be the last of the inferno of 2015!