The weekend Farm Report comes to us from Ben.
So the Townhall burn. We don’t know much early history of the townhall. We assume it was built in the late 1800’s.
It was basically a room school. About that size. And if you look at old plat maps it will show that this was always the townhall and there used to be a school across the road. Some people might tell you this building WAS the school across the road, and it was moved here by the great tornado of 1883. Believe what you wish.
A stage was added onto one end at some point in time. A gentleman who’s 80 told me last week his dad had talked about the stage being moved here, which is the first time I’ve actually heard that. We always suspected it, but I had never heard it was moved and not part of the original structure. I got my theater start doing one act plays on that stage.
It’s the building where my parents met as infants when their parents would leave them behind the furnace in their bassinets during the Ringe Mothers and Daughters Club. Both my folks went to 4H there, my siblings and I went to 4H there, it’s been a voting place, if you grew up in the township you had a wedding shower there, oyster stews, ice cream socials, your typical rural gathering place. It had no running water or bathrooms. (When I first got on the townboard, we tried to get the residents approval to install a composting toilet, but they denied it.) The outhouse did have Boys AND girls sides. Two holes in each!
The township had been putting money aside for ten years for a new hall. We knew the front of the building was settling, and with the money the federal government provided to local governments during Covid, we were able to use that money to build a new building about a mile and a half away. It has heat, and air conditioning, and most importantly, running water and BATHROOMS. no more trips to the outhouse. However, you’ll be glad to know we saved the outhouse seats and have put them in the new bathrooms.
A lot of people wanted us to save the old building but there was a catch. The ground it sat on is county road right of way property, so the building needed to be moved. A few people got estimates, and it was ball parked at $20,000 not counting your site preparation and moving utility lines. Plus, we were not sure it would hold together for a move, and that stage end would probably separate. And in the end, we agreed to let the Rochester fire department use it for a practice burn as training for 8 new recruits. In order to do that, the fire department had to show that it had “interior firefighting value “, and thankfully, it tested negative for asbestos, before the DNR would issue a permit. One man, a training officer with the fire department, built eight individual rooms inside, complete with sheetrock, in order to have eight practice fires before burning the entire structure.
Saturday morning, November 9th, I was there for the whole event. More interesting than the fire itself was watching and observing the fireman and how they went about their duties.
Everything from the “shuffle” they must do when the motion sensor on their uniform goes off, to the trailer used to refill their oxygen tanks onsite. (The sensor is known as a PASS system – Personal Alert Safety System, and it’s activated by a lack of motion. As they stood outside talking, the alarm would go off and they’d “shuffle” or rock back and forth a bit or jump or something just to stop it. It was fun to observe that, but obviously, if someone goes down in a fire, it would be invaluable.)
They practiced cutting holes in the roof and walls, learning how not to cut through the actual roof supports. We discovered there was no insulation in the walls! No wonder it was always so cold in there!
Not really sure that many people should be on the roof…
My gratitude and appreciation go out to these men and women even more. I commented to one, there’s so much smoke, you can’t see anything. Nope, it’s all by feel, or the one man with a thermal camera near the front.
They simulated a Mayday call where one officer called over the radio that he was low on oxygen and lost in the building. Everything stopped while the rescue crew found him.
It’s sad to see a structure like that burned down, but that is tempered by the fact it went out serving a purpose.
A few day later we found out the telephone box next to the building was a major junction point and not simply the Townhall line. Oops. Melted that into one big pile of solid wire.
What did you want to grow up to be? Ever tipped over an outhouse? Or been tipped in one?
Trail Baboon 
When I got past the age of wanting to be a cowboy or a fireman, so, about 12, I set mi sights on becoming a teenager! Archie comic books were my reference material. I figured that I would need an old open car to drive and a malt shop in which to hang around with my friends. Alas, though I acquired my brother’s 1960 Ford Falcon when he went to the Army, and a “malt shop” temporarily opened at a nearby shopping mall, the friends gravitated to neither. I became a teenager, eventually. But that, like the Falcon and the Malt Shop, ended, too.
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what was that little box in the passengers front corner under the dashboard of a 60’s falcon? i spent lots of time opening and closing it while we were driving down the road.
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My first car was a 1967 Plymouth Valiant, and it those little boxes. I was told you could get a 6-pack in there in end. For me, they just let a lot of dust into the car.
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never tipped or been tipped
as a kid i enjoyed the moment. woods, bike rides, ball games, mever aspired to be anything and i guess i was successful
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Another way to look at it. Here’s another: “One possible reason why things aren’t going according to plan is that there never was a plan.” ~ Ashleigh Brilliant
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Memorable photos! Hard to see history go up in flames!
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I wanted to be a clinical psychologist and play therapist since I was in Grade 6. That is exactly what I did. Over the years I have personally stocked my play therapy room at my agency with really wonderful theraputic toys, a sand tray, sand tray figures, puppets, games, etc. My children are both therapists but prefer to work with older children, teens, and adults. I am donating all the toys to my work, and I am mentoring others to be play therapists.
Never tipped or got tipped.
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Sorry for the late start this morning. I had it published, but then forgot to pin it to the top. My bad.
No tipping here for the city girl.
I don’t remember thinking about what I wanted to do or be when I was younger. When I was in middle school and high school I envisioned myself as a translator at the UN. Even the idea of living on the East Coast seemed exciting to me. And then when I was a senior in high school I saw Charade with Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn. And those scenes of being in the small box and translating those speeches made me realize I didn’t want to do that at all.
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Though I never made it to the UN, I became a simultaneous translator (Taiwanese to English) and actually sat in a little booth translating while a former president of Taiwan addressed the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in Taiwan sometime around 2009. I truly enjoy simultaneous translation, but since I retired half-a-world from Taiwan, I don’t get the chance any more.
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Impressive!
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My folks were both teachers, till my dad went on to counseling. I wanted to be a teacher, or a nurse after I started reading novels about Sue Barton, Nurse… Became a kindergarten teacher and lasted four years, till I felt trapped by the bureaucracy (it was 1974)…
But my sister and I would play Library, and I think I would have loved being a librarian (speaking of bureaucracy), as I went on eventually to bookselling.
No tipping or being tipped for me, but my dad might have done some tipping in his day. His brother was quite the prankster, and he was sometimes along for the ride.
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Rise and Shine, Baboons,
From about 10th grade on I wanted to be a history professor or teacher. I had a nearly photographic memory for history and anthropology, and absolutely loved both fields. However, there was little market for history teachers, or teachers at all, at that time. College professors, I was reminded repeatedly, were men. I received nothing but discouraging guidance about any career. It seemed that few careers were very possible in the culture in which I grew up. Then there was the guidance counselor who wanted to know if I cheated on my ACT testing because I got the highest math and science scores in my class, and that could not be–a girl after all. (A relative in Iowa City who works for ACT tells me that indicates superior critical thinking skills). Mom wanted me to be a nurse–that would have been a poor match. So then she pushed elementary ed.. I had NO motivation to do that, let me tell you. As it turned out I could not really tolerate bureaucracy of any sort, but I was an excellent entrepreneur in my field. Nobody saw that coming.
I did not ever tip an outhouse, but I am sure that was because I had little access to outhouses. The last one I knew of was on my grandparents’ farm. That outhouse was destroyed in about 1966 with the building of a new farmhouse with INDOOR plumbing. My mother, however, did tip an outhouse with a friend on Halloween. Then she and the friend discovered that the outhouse owner was using it at the time of the tipping, trapping him in there. They ran for cover and were never caught.
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My parents were proud and supportive of my career choices, but my mom told me she sometimes wished I had just married the farmer down the road and became a Grade school teacher
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I’ve used several outhouses, but thankfully, never been tipped in one. Tipping outhouses was really a thing? Can ‘t imagine what would compel me to do such a thing.
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What I wanted to be when I grew up was never based in actual knowledge of what the job entailed, or any aptitude or strong sense of calling on my part. The desire to become a nun and a nurse was based largely on their outfits. Back then nuns wore habits, and nurses uniforms included perky little hats. Becoming a nurse, I figured, would also qualify me to go to work for Dr. Albert Schweitzer at his hospital in Lambaréné. Most of these fantasies were short-lived, including the one to become a lion tamer.
Guidance counselors, or any other type of school counselor for that matter, were an unknown phenomenon in Danish schools back then, as was aptitude testing. Considering that my parents’ main ambition for me was to get married, they were no help at all. As miserable as their marriage was, I wonder why they thought marriage was the answer? Too soon old, too late schmart.
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I hear you about the nurses’ uniform…
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Snort.
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I can so see you as a lion tamer.
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I swear that wanted to be a marine biologist or an architect.
It was really wild to watch the Seinfeld episode where George complained to Jerry about now being a fake marine biologist when he always wanted to be a fake architect.
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The above snort was meant for the lion tamer comment.
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Ben – it’s really cool that the fireman trainees were able to get all that experience from that one little building, eventually. And I had never thought of what that training would entail… Thanks.
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OT: My sister will be coming in tonight and visiting till Wednesday – if I’m not here, that’s why.
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Make her post something about you.
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I only ever wanted to be a musician. I started at St. Olaf on a music scholarship my first year. I wanted to sing for my entire life. Becoming a nurse wasn’t actually a choice. It was kind of incidental, but it turned into a good career.
We had an outhouse at the lake cabin before we built our home. I really didn’t care for it. It was dark out there, and there were spiders, and it was smelly. Nobody ever tipped it though.
I do recall being in one of those plastic porta-potty things once, and suddenly some guys were outside laughing and the porta-potty started shaking. I started screaming and they left, laughing. I don’t remember if I knew them or not. They are uncomfortable, germy things, and tipping them is just not funny.
Interesting photos of the burn, Ben. It must have been hard to watch all those memories burn. Your new one will be much more comfortable and useful.
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Interestingly, although probably not surprisingly, one of the follow up stories on the bottom of today’s blog on my phone, is a photo of an old Township map showing the Townhall and the School across the road. And I talked about having our first meeting meeting in our new Townhall.
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Great song, this! We used to sing this at Song Circle..
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I don’t remember giving serious thought to a career when I was growing up.
I do remember once in grade school that we were given a test to determine our aptitudes and inclination toward a particular line of work. For my own amusement I skewed my answers so the result would be that I was best suited to be a mortician.
I was never a tipper nor a tippee.
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For several years I wanted to drive a semi. I’m not sure I knew there was over the road or local, but I had pictures of semi trucks in my room and plastic models and an autographed picture from ‘Moving on’, the TV show. Remember that?
At some point I started to worry about being lost or maneuvering a big truck downtowns. And from then on, all I knew was that i wanted to farm.
I remember being about 17 and Dad asking if I thought I wanted to farm because he wanted to build a new machine shed, but he wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to farm. But I knew that’s all I wanted at that point. This is the shed I built the shop inside of. And by the way, last night I finished insulation and steel on the west wall, and basically, I have a functional heated shop. There’s a lot to finish yet, but …. I have a heated shop. It’s been a long time coming and I’m a little overwhelmed about it.
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