Franklin County, Nebraska

For Another Day

Editor’s note: this week’s column is the final chapter of the Fritson story.

We shared many Independence days with the Fritsons and Greenings and more than once it was celebrated with a barbecue in their yard. During one hot Independence Day it was just the Fritsons and us and they were combining wheat.

Donnie and I picked up the straw bales out of the field and moved them east of their house. I was to drive the tractor real slow to allow her to put the bales on a trailer. Well, I thought to myself I could use that hay hook and pick up bales too. I think I might have picked up maybe two or three because it was too hard of work for me. I don’t even think I knew how to drive the tractor either. I think she just moved it forward when it needed to be moved. I was no help at all, but I was there and I remember the scratches on my legs from the straw stubble in the field. We had a good day and later lit fireworks and had a cookout. If I remember correctly we were up very late. We had more energy in those days of our friendship.

Every Christmas we entertained each other with meals and conversation. One of our favorite foods to eat at our house was clam chowder, and of course served with the famous bread. I always looked forward to our gatherings, including the times J. B. and Emma come along too.

Our children would play together through the evening visits. My son Brian said this past summer, “I saw Tom Fritson!” I think they were glad to see each other and they share a hobby now today that I am sure they never gave a thought to as a child…golf.

Johnny, Donnie and I went shopping everywhere one day to buy the tan pickup, which was part of Johnny and Donnie’s lives for a long time. Just lately they bought a new little white pickup and I wondered if they would keep the old one, but Johnny said it was too worn out. I would recognize them in that pickup any time they were in Franklin. Now I have to remind myself to look for a white pickup. It’s amazing how the vehicle we drive brands us.

I recall when we kept the children in our homes that Pastor Bud of Macon Lutheran Chruch brought here from downtown Denver. By bringing these children here, it allowed them to see what rural farm life was like. The Frerichs, Moores, Fritsons and our family, along with other families, welcomed these children into our homes for a week. During that time we went on picnic and hayrack rides to the sand creek approximately three miles west of Macon. All the children played on the sand hills, sliding down the hills, which was great fun for the children. There were never happier children than that day, in the summer, riding a hayrack to sand creek. Did the hot dogs ever taste good, if we could get them to stop long enough to eat?

On this day in 2001 those Denver children must be grown with children of their own. I sometimes wonder if they remember that week of their lives with happiness. Sometimes I expect one of them to knock on our door and say hi!

Later in October of 1977 Duane and I went to help the Fritson’s combine Milo. The days were cold and cloudy.

Emma once again did the cooking and kept us all fed. J. B. would deliver the goods and check to see if we needed anything, then back to the house he went for the next load of food.

During those few October days (October 13-18) Donnie, Duane and I all helped. I drove a little dump truck taking the Milo to town. My arrival in my little truck at the elevator was a joke, and I was their laugh for the day. I couldn’t back the truck up to the auger and then I would always forget to weigh back in at the scale. Under my cabinet in the bathroom is a yellow rubber duck that I picked up off the highway during the drive back to the farm. Steve and his cousins played with it in the bathtub and now my grandchildren play with it also.

I will never forget that time with our friends. I just loved being there even if the Milo dust was itchy. When we left there in the evening we headed down the back road home s the day was over. I had made a memory that day that I would remember forever.

Today all those past times are just wonderful memories. Johnny and Donnie live in Emma’s farm home, another bigger two story white house. I love to go there and still eat in the washhouse and visit. The same items are still in there as were in the old days of the 70’s. Coffee cups hang from the ceiling, tins sit on the shelves, and a wall hanging that Donnie and I bought at the same time hangs by the door. The screen door still slams the same and the meat saw still sits by the window. Donnie continues to make me bread and gravy in the same pots and pans and we still eat on the same dishes as the old days. The dinner plate that they glued together while they lived in the first farmhouse continues to be used. We also continue to eat on the same table that we used to cut meat on. It has been made stronger by their son-in-law, Brad.

J. B. Fritson’s recipe still hangs on the wall above the gas cook stove for bloodwurst, that the men used to eat fried with syrup. J. B. used to write to us all in a Christmas card, in different colored ink. Just the other day I was going through some old cards and there was one of his bright colored cards to us. Before I knew them the washhouse caught on fire but they rebuilt it. We continue to wash our hands in the same sink and the coffee grinder still hangs on the wall in the washhouse.

I feel just as welcome there as always and that’s the way I like it. It is just like the old days and when I hit the door, I hear “Come on in and dinner is on. Please stay to eat.” Some of the best days of my life have been spent with these folks.

I appreciate all the wonderful memories and having Johnny and Donnie Fritson a part of our lives.

Recalling life during the special visits with these friends on the Macon prairie brings pleasure to me. Simple fun is the best kind.

The old grain dump truck is still in the shed out back waiting for a driver on a cold and cloudy October day.

It is a comely fashion to be glad-Joy is the grace we say to God. Jean Ingelow

Rena Donovan, For Another Day.

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