I guess you could say I am German-American.  Mostly.  There was one job I was on where one of the carpenters was African-American.  Totally.  Every so often he would come into the room where I was working and ask what I needed.  I would reply: “I don’t need anything.”

He would reply: “I thought I heard you call me.”

This would happen two or three times a day.  Finally one time he asked my name.  I told him “Adrian.”  He said; “That’s what it is.  My name is Maynard.  When they call you I think they are calling me.”

As he was leaving the room I was working in, he paused at the door, looked back at me for a short time and then he said; “And we don’t look anything alike!”

On the same job, the carpenters were using metal lath.  Metal lath is designed to hold plaster.  It comes in 4×8 sheets.  When they would hold the sheets up to the wall to fasten them, they would call to each other to inform the other worker that the sheet was ready for nailing.

The electrician I was working with was named Mark.  When the carpenters were ready to nail they would say so by calling “mark”, meaning the sheet was properly placed.

They kept my fellow electrician running.

I guess there was a lot of running back and forth on that job.

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Another fellow who was pretty much on the trigger was on the same job as I was from time to time.

One instance I remember about him was when he was standing on the very top rung of a five foot ladder.  Another boy wanted to use the ladder so he was standing by waiting for it.  Eventually he grew tired of waiting for the guy to get finished and asked him; “How long are you going to need that ladder?”

The guy on the ladder very deliberately turned around and counted the steps on the ladder.

“One, Two, Three, Four, Five – about five feet.”

Isn’t the English language amazing?

Plowing snow is a definite part of winter life in Montana and North Dakota.  Blowing snow is also part and parcel of winter living in that part of the country.

When it gets way below zero, you have to have some sort of heat to keep the house from freezing up.  After electricity was brought in to the farms and ranches, the farmers and ranchers had become used to having electricity for everything and they depended upon it.

One time, when we had had a heavy snow with strong wind, there were drifts all over.  The roads were pretty much impassable.  One farmer, who lived about 20 miles out of town, had his power lines go down in the storm.

Though this farmer heated with a propane furnace, without electricity there was no way to circulate the heat through the house.  It was possible to start the fire manually but if left without air circulation, definitely the furnace would be endangered and very likely the house.

Even today I don’t know how he got word into the power company that he was in desperate need of power, but they were advised of his situation somehow.  The power company requested a snow plow from the County Road Department so that they could get out and repair the line.

At night the plows came back.  The next morning all the plowing had to be re-done because the roads were drifted shut again.  This happened over and over again for a week or more before the power company finally got the power back on to the farmer’s home.

Meanwhile the farmer, being an ingenious fellow, had done some self-help.  He had taken one of the children’s bicycles down into his basement, mounted it up on blocks, taken the rear tire off of the rim, and placed a v-belt (from one of his other machines) on the bicycle rim and down to the blower pulley on the furnace.

The family took turns pedaling the bike, getting their exercise and warming the house.

This could be termed an early source of alternative energy.

Since we had “Ice Storm” in the Spokane area a few years back, our company has been called to set up stand-by alternative energy for many homes.  And we’ve gotten very proficient at it.

We’ve come a long ways from the days of “Bike-and-belt.”

When we were living in Havre, Montana, we bought a brand new mobile home.   (Today’s PC description is “Manufactured Home.”)  The home was delivered to us by a dealer in the Mid-West.  He brought it up to Montana with his pick up.  He was determined to do some fishing in the Rocky Mountains after delivery.

We lived in that home at five different locations and, presently, it sits on our property as a storage unit.  The first location we parked it in was a mobile court.  Previous to taking delivery on the new home, we had lived in a small 27 foot trailer in a very narrow mobile home space.  (The space was so narrow that when our windows and the neighbor’s windows were open at the same time, they nearly touched.)  When we opened our windows on a hot summer day, we could communicate with our neighbors face to face.  It was almost like living in the same dwelling.

We had our dining tables in the same area of our respective homes, with adjoining windows.  It served to put a new meaning on the term “dinner table conversation.”  If our son would murmur during the night, then neighbor husband would call out; “I have to get up at 4 A.M.  Can’t you keep that kid quiet?”

The neighbor and his wife were from Kansas and they were following the harvest.  The couple had a son named Eugene.  Their son was about 4 years old at the time.  The mother was quite impatient with the son, and would call him “YO-Geene.”

One morning Eugene spilled his milk.  The mother gave “YO-Gene” a good lecture saying now she had to clean up the mess.  She complained to her husband; “Aint ya gonna hepp me?”

He replied: “What’cha way-ant me to do?  Hold your hay-and?”

When the family left the mobile court, they did so in a very mobile manner.  They left in the middle of the night without paying their current rent charges.  That’s called a skip.

That experience convinced me that we needed to park our home on private property.  Eventually that private property was our own.

Besides eventually owning my own business, I must have worked for nigh onto 30 different contractors.  While we lived in Glasgow and Havre, Montana there were no electrical supply houses locally.  Supplies had to come from Billings or Great Falls.

One of the contractors would take one of his trucks and drive the 100 miles to Great Falls with his list of supplies once a month.  He would buy his month’s worth of supplies, cash on the barrelhead.  He never had a charge account.  He was the only contractor I ever knew who would do that.

I thought; “Now that’s the way to go.”