Losing steam on the past

A stroke and the beginning of Parkinson’s disease had left my father a small fraction of the man he had once been. After church on a rather nice Sunday morning, I casually asked Dad, “How about if we go to the White Pine steam show at McGrath this afternoon? I’ll come pick you up about 1 o’clock or so.” Mother looked at Dad and said, “He can’t go.” Dad and I let that lay; Dad said, “I’ll call.” I said, “You do that.” My wife and I arrived home. The phone rang; it was Dad saying, “I am going.”

Arriving at the White Pine show, we parked as directed at least a quarter-mile from the show. I helped Dad as he hobbled over to the shuttle, a hay wagon. Facing him was the task of how to jump the 3 feet onto the wagon. Before either of us realized what was happening, two sets of strong arms reached down, picked Dad up carefully and sat him firmly onto a bale of hay.

We were show-bound. Of course they dropped us off at the sawmill. Old Bill Langenbach was sawing lumber like nobody’s business. The steam engine was working hard and doing her stuff. The sweet smell of steam engine oil, wood smoke, steam and freshly sawn white pine lumber caressed our noses, the engine talking loudly as Bill hung onto the sawmill stick as only an experienced sawyer can.

All this brought back vivid memories for my father, who, as a young man, ran steamers threshing grain and the 125-horsepower Corliss steam engine at his father’s flour mill in southwest Iowa. Two hours passed, all the while Dad leaning on his can near the engine (a little too close for comfort) with a kind of halfway smile on his weathered face. I believe that at least for a couple hours, he was thinking back to the days when he was running the engines. A place and time I could never go. What can I say, only that that day was bittersweet.

As the day closed, we found the shuttle and rode back to the car. If I remember right, not a word was said on the drive home. Maybe, just maybe, some experiences are too deep for words. Some things are better just shared, and not talked about.

Arnold Collman is a part-time creative writer, who lives with his artist wife, June, in rural Cromwell. She persuades him on occasion to send his stories to the Pine Knot News.

About the photos:

Frank Collman (great-uncle to writer Arnold Collman) stands next to his Rumely Oil Pull Tractor, which he bought new in 1928 in Massena, Iowa. Frank Collman used the Rumely for threshing grain and broke land with it. The tractor was also used to pull a road grader in a time when most graders were horse-drawn. After Frank died in 1960, his brother Forrest Collman (Arnold's dad), brought it to Minnesota, where it was used for stump pulling and other adventures. Arnold inherited it after his dad passed away in 1988. He takes it every year to the Lakehead Harvest Reunion outside of Esko. This weekend, Arnold will have the tractor at the White Pine Show in McGrath, where he and his son, Walter, like to help out with the sawmill. The national 2019 Rumely Collector Products Expo is also being held at the White Pine Show this weekend, Aug. 31-Sept. 2. Contributed photos