SON-OF-A-WHO

The Who, in this story are not from Whoville.  So feel free to substitute any word that comes to your mind while reading this story about the who?

It happened right after that accident.  That accident, that happened, right after swimming until dark at School Section Lake.  We left the lake in my brothers black and white 1953 Mercury.  Henry age 16, was driving, Marvin Kalk age 15, sitting in the middle and I age 15, on the passenger side.  We headed north away from the lake, on the section line road toward Highway 43.  I don’t know if it was because Henry was tired after working all day at the service station, or because we were goofing off, or if the brush obscured the stop sign.  Anyway, we missed the stop sign.  There was a huge crash, lights flashing as I saw this car spinning around in the middle of the road and then I was flying.  I knew I was flying because the blades of grass were whipping against my face as I flew through the air.  It seemed like an eternity to me.  When was I going to stop, what was going to happen when I did stop?  Then I did stop.  I landed on something soft.  I was alright, I didn’t feel any pain, and the soft landing was on a human body, but whose human body.  Was the body alive or was it dead.  It was so dark I couldn’t see and I was afraid to say anything or to even move.  Then all of a sudden, a voice, a recognizable voice, “GET OFF ME YOU SON-OF-A-Who”.  Relief, it was Marvin, and you could tell from the voice, that it was Marvin and Marvin was OK.

 Relieved as him and I scrambled back to the car sitting up on the approach to the west of us, to see if Henry was alright. Relieved he was alright.  He complained of his left leg hurting, but he was OK.  Henry was unable to get out the driver’s door, due to the amount of damage to that side of the car.  He had to slide over and get out of the vehicle through the passenger door.  We rushed around the Mercury to the black car sitting in the middle of the road, to see if whoever was in the vehicle was alright.  A young tall fellow got out and said that he was fine.  We pushed his car off the road onto the approach, adjacent the Mercury. 

The Ross Brennen family that lived near the intersection heard the crash and all came out to see what had happened.  They standing at the fence, at the edge of the ditch, that Marvin and I flew into, asked if everyone was OK.  Henry and the other driver talked to Ross about reporting the accident.  Ross had no phone so it was agreed, that we would make our way to Kelvin Store to report the accident and the young driver would go to his home and call the authorities from there.  We walked off to the west on highway 43, to our Uncle Gus’s farm and the young driver walked off to the east on highway 43, both parties disappearing into the night. 

Uncle Gus, who lived a mile west of the crash site agreed to give us a ride to Kelvin as soon as he and Uncle Bill were done milking the cows. We planned to call the authorities from Kelvin Store when we got there, as Uncle Gus had no phone.  It was almost midnight when we arrived at the store.  Cousin, Duane Handeland who was working at the store told us that the accident had already been reported, and the sheriff had already been to the accident sight.  Apparently that all took place while we were waiting for Uncle Gus to finish milking.  Duane got off work at midnight.

We all piled into Duane’s car and he took us back to the crash site.  The black car was gone and Henry’s car had an accident sticker on the windshield.  Ross Brennen came out and said the sheriff had been there and told him that one car had no license plate and shouldn’t have been on the road anyway, and one had run a stop sign and that the accident was a wash.  Both drivers were to take care of their own damages.  We pushed Henry’s car back onto highway 43 and then Duane used his car to push it to Uncle Gus’s farm, where we left it parked for the night.  Duane then gave us three a ride back to Dunseith and home.  Thanks Duane!

Yes, Marvin and I flew about 25 feet out of that car.  No seat belts back in them days.  Marvin was sitting in the middle and my guess is that he had to fly out through the door window, and then the door must have opened and I flew out too, landing on top of him.  Hence, my soft landing, and him, calling me a “Son-OF-A- Who”.  Whenever it was brought up.  I always let him know that it was good of him, to provide me with a cushion.  His come back was always the same; I was always a son-of-a-who.

Why was I called a “son-of-a-who”?  I was working out on the prairie this one summer on my other Uncle Bill’s farm.  I was in the field operating an 820 John Deere, pulling a cultivator, cultivating a 40 acre field. I saw my brothers 56 Ford pull up to the edge of the field and stop.  I made my way over to them with the tractor and stopped to see what was happening.  They were on their way to the outdoor movie in Rugby and wanted to know if I wanted to go with them.  I replied, sure, but I wanted to finish the field first as I had only a couple more rounds to make and then I could take the tractor and cultivator back to the farm.  They agreed to wait for me, and both Henry and Marvin climbed onto the tractor.

Henry and Marvin, one on each side of me, each of them hanging onto a fender, as I turned the gray looking dirt black with the cultivator, from one end of the field to the other end.  I was anxious to get done, and so I put the John Deere in 5^th gear and opened the throttle.  In no time we completed cultivating the field and headed back to where Henry parked the car.  We were traveling wide open in 5^th with the cultivator in the ground.  When we got next to the car, I pulled the hand clutch back and the tractor stopped dead.  Marvin went flying down on the ground in front of the back wheel of the tractor.  He was lucky that I stopped that short, and I told him so. He got up dusting the field from his clothes and complaining, calling me a “Son-of-a-who”.

This happened one night after attending a movie in Bottineau.  We were on our way home, back to Dunseith.  Henry was driving, Marvin was in the back seat, and I was sitting on the passenger side of the front seat of Henry’s red and white 1956 Ford.  Marvin for some reason and maybe no reason kept putting his feet up on back of the front seat between Henry and me.  I told him to quit doing that.  He would take his feet down but it wasn’t long before he had his feet up there again.  I warned him again to take his feet down from the back of the seat, or I was going to throw his shoes out the window.  He took his feet down again but it wasn’t long before they were both up there again.  I grabbed both his shoes and threw them out the window.  The first thing out of his mouth was you “son-of-a-who”.  I was surprised, even my brother Henry got a little upset with me.  He said, “Now we have to go back and find his damn shoes”.  I said to hell with his damn shoes.  Marvin said, “You son-of-a-who that’s the only pair I have”.  Henry circled into the ditch and we slowly back tracked in the ditch looking for Marvin’s shoes.  Henry and Marvin both complaining.  Henry because he was tired and would have to go to work the next day and Marvin because of his damn shoes.  Never mind the lesson I was trying to teach the guy.  I also explained to Henry, that I didn’t really throw them, that I kind of just set them out the window.  And wouldn’t you know it when we pulled back onto the highway and started driving back east on the right shoulder there sat Marvin’s shoes side by side like he just walked out of them.  I tried to explain to them that I had a plan and it worked out just fine.  I don’t know why, but all the way back to Dunseith, I was a son-of-a-who.  Who would have thought that I could be a who?  I always thought that I was more of a Grinch.   However, it still makes me laugh today when I think of Marvin (Marvin who is no longer with us), a spitting and a sputtering, and calling me a son-of-a-who.

Another incident that happened took place while working at Robert’s Service Station.  The Catholic nuns pulled up to the gas pumps to have their car refueled and the fluid levels under the hood checked. While this was happening Sister Rose came into the station and was wandering around looking at items on display.  She stopped when she came to the post card rack.  On that rack were some cards with photos of the North Dakota landscapes, Marilyn Monroe and some that were comical.  Sister Rose spotted this one card where the cowboy rode his horse off a cliff, with the cowboy shouting as he on his horse were descending “WHOAA YOU  S.O.B.  WHOAA”.  Sister Rose read that card aloud in her soft, sweet voice and said “whoaa you sob whoaa” and I swear “well, not swear” that she wiped a tear from her eye.

I loved all those Catholic Sisters, but Sister Augustine was always my favorite.  I could never remember her name.  So I would always call her Hey.  She would always reply by telling me to save it as I might need it on my farm and that grass is free.  We did have a good time teasing each other about whether the grass and hay, was for a horse, or for a cow, or for a sheep, or for all three.

Remember to laugh, as the world will laugh with you.

Larry