There are times in life when the peculiar collides with the rational. I experienced one such day the summer I moved back to Park Falls.
I was 19 years old and had decided that life at home in Indianapolis was not working for me. I had fallen in love with a Park Falls fellow named Louie Schmidt. Since I had lived there for 9 of my 19 years PF was also "home" to me.
I moved back upstairs of the Gruener Wald with my Aunt Emma and soon started a job at the local hospital as nurse's aid.
My brother Nick was also living in PF at the time. He was 18 and eager to fit in with the baseball playing local guys.
On a Sunday in early August Louie had arranged for me to go blueberry picking with him out in the forest somewhere. He remembers picking buckets of blueberries there as a child.
I just finished the night shift at the hospital...11pm to 7am. Lou picked me up from work and about 8 AM, with his car full of empty ice cream pails, we started out for a day of adventure. He could already taste the fresh berries and delicious baked blueberry dojun!
The temperature was hot so I wore a sleeveless blouse and shorts. What does one wear to go blueberry picking in the woods? I had been "in the woods" in Indiana and it was serene.
We drove about 5 miles on state roads, the town and rural houses disappearing behind the ever larger, thick growth of trees and then turned off onto "fire lanes", dirt roads barely wide enough for one vehicle and sturdy as long as there hadn't been rain. We drove probably another 5 miles and turned off onto what seemed suitable for a deer trail, Louie getting more eager the farther in we got.
Having found a place to park amid the broken branches, shrub bushes and leaf covered ground he triumphantly jumped out of the car and urged me on. I was a bit apprehensive since this seemed more like jungle than the woods I knew. But in full confidence that my Lou was a man of the northwoods and knew the procedure we both donned the ice cream buckets and headed out to find blueberry heaven.
At first the pesky mosquitoes were few in number; swatting at them wasn't too difficult. Soon, though, my legs and arms were more black than healthy tan and I was doing a disco dance without the disco. The blueberry harvest was yet to appear. Lou, a bit disappointed, determined we should still keep on while suggesting I should have worn long pants and long sleeves like he did.
We came to a small creek. Lou knew paradise was just on the other side. He crossed alright; his limbs protected with his long clothing. I was in trouble since I needed both hands to hold onto tree branches so I could cross over as well. When the mosquitoes landed 3 layers thick on my bare limbs and no berries were to be seen, Lou was gracious enough to surrender the search. I was almost in sleep deprived, mosquito tortured tears.
As we backed out of our parking spot and headed to the deer trail to retrace our miles back to civilization Lou felt bad for me, but more so that there were no blueberries. There had been buckets full 20 years earlier. He reasoned that the abundant harvest had dried up sometime during those year.
It was about mid afternoon when we arrived back in Park Falls. Lou decided we deserved a nice large ice cream cone from the root beer stand for all our effort. Having gotten them and eagerly licking them we headed down the road back to the Gruener Wald. Just a block down, though, Lou saw something moving in the high grass along the road. It was a baby skunk! They don't squirt their spray when they're that young, he said. And it was so cute! He hurried over to pick it up and show it to me. Yikes! It was a bit older than Lou thought because it showered him in a very unpleasant smell. Having dropped it he hurried back to the car and slid in. With the fragrance flooding the car I could not eat my ice cream and tossed it out the window. With the windows fully down we raced back to the Emma's, fortunately only a couple miles away.
Once we arrived Lou changed his clothes with his army uniform he kept in his trunk and washed as best he could, muttering something about soaking his clothing in tomato juice once he got home. I was relieved to be back in a semblance of order and settled down on the couch. Lou headed for the bar to relieve his stress.
Shortly, my brother Nick showed up. He had enjoyed the afternoon playing baseball. He also joined in the tradition of beers after the games. He looked a little unsteady and quickly hobbled to the bathroom, spewing vomit on the floor as he did. Once he emptied his stomach he fell onto the couch with the moan of a drunken sailor. His sister, however, on her knees cleaning up the vomit, was approached by Lou who asked her to sniff his shoes cause he still smelled skunk and didn't know where it was coming from. One gagging look from me confirmed his suspicions. He briefly said he would pick me up at 10:30 for another night shift and quickly fled the premises.
A bit dazed but not conquered, I put a blanket over my brother, took a shower and fell into bed for a few hours sleep before transforming into a professional nurse's aid at the local hospital. Tomorrow had to be a more rational day...blueberries or not. That is what grocery stores are for.
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