Sunday as I sat watching the downpour of rain I thought to myself – even the skies are weeping for Doc Krog. How appropriate that he would leave this earth close to Veteran’s Day because he was one tough Marine.
“Doc” Krog was the Veterinarian Hero of Sanborn County’s hard-working farmers who love their land and their livestock. Since the ‘50s when he opened the Pony Hills Veterinary Clinic, “Doc” devoted his life to his work, which meant he willingly went to be bitten, scratched, stomped and kicked by his patients on a daily basis.
Dedication is the word that comes to mind foremost when I think of Doc. He was no modern day vet who only worked eight to five. Doc was a man of few words, worked hard and played hard. He was quite adept after last call at Don’s to go and perform a C-section that would see him watching the dawn break.
    I never knew Doc very well until I started working at Van Dykes in 1984 and I started having coffee breaks with McGee, or Della or Jody Forbes, the telephone and shop assistants. Many days Doc would come through the swinging door from the back, root through the medicine shelves and depart without a word spoken.
One day I asked him a question that stopped him in his tracks. I said, “Is it true, Doc, that if a cow loses its cud it will die, but if you stick a rag in its mouth to chew on it won’t?” He looked, laughed softly to himself and answered,  “Young lady, who ever told you that?” (I was raised believing that, courtesy of my Aunt Elsie.) That was Doc and my bonding moment. Of course, we had many more when I became bartender at Don’s.
Doc always told me I was the best “bartenderess” in the state of South Dakota and he didn’t need to pay a psychiatrist $100 an hour as long as he had me to visit with. His favorite phrase was, “What’s my word? – People – then spell out, P-E-O-P-L-E,” as he pushed his glasses up on his nose. He would visit our camping group at Twin Lakes during Memorial weekend and loved the campfire time with his friends. Most would retire at midnight, but one morning we discovered Charlie Knigge and Doc still at the campfire reminiscing. Charlie said Doc had started to tell his life story and started in 1948.
Doc had many harrowing close calls in his life. An especially exciting one was when a buffalo cow chased him into the back of a pickup and then up and over the roof and hood at Aubry Lynch’s. He had to be fleet of foot in his profession plus an agile jumper to crawl fences to escape. He could probably have qualified for the Olympics.
For his 70th birthday Georgia and I set about (with the help of Julie Bebout, our camera woman) creating a video for Doc to show how much his friends appreciated him. So we traveled, stopped people on the road, found them on tractors and had them speak to Doc on film. (We even had a cow along a fence say, “Remember, me Doc? You delivered my calf.” Georgia does superb cow talk. Doc said he played the tape so much it finally broke.
On that tape is one of the most heart-wrenching stories of friendship and devotion I’ve ever heard. I cannot ever retell it without crying because it truly shows what Doc was made of. Jackie Evers had called us to say we had to go to Artesian to film her uncle John Grassel’s story.
The year is unknown to me but the winter was a tough one and John said he awoke and looked out the window and saw about 60 Hereford bulls down on the ground in his lot. (He cried in the retelling because he knew if they died, everything he had worked for was gone – his whole livelihood.) He called Doc, who worked with him side-by-side IV’ing the herd all day in the cold as a blizzard approached.
The snow began in earnest and he told Doc he better leave before the nightfall in order to get home. The weather advanced to what would be a three-day blizzard. The second day John was greeted with the approach of a tractor with Doc Krog driving. It was a repeat of the first day and their hands and feet were numb with the cold. Again Doc took his leave and the storm worsened.
John said his spirit was so low on the third day and he was giving up hope when he spied Doc on foot coming over the snowdrifts with a backpack of medicine. (We all wept right there.) That story alone showed the true measure of a man called “Doc.”
Doc would go on to continue working as a vet well into his 80s-plus. He and his closest pal, Jim Larson, would raise cattle together for something to keep busy in his spare time. Still riding horses in his  70s, Doc was all cowboy. The one thing I failed in doing was getting a picture of Doc manning the head gate of the cattle chute with a syringe in both hands. That would have epitomized him to “T”. I was so wishing that it would be the way he left this earth, doing the job he loved the most.
I always told him he was the toughest man who ever lived because he was the only man I knew who could close a bar at 2 a.m., get hit by a semi at 7 o’clock, be thrown in jail, bailed out by 10 and still finish the day working cattle without batting an eye.
We hope you are
doing the jitterbug
in Heaven,
Country Claude
and Dee Baby

Scotland, More Than I Expected
Leaving the warmth of the Indian Ocean and the beauty of Sri Lanka was hard to do when faced with the knowledge of 30˚ weather and wind in Scotland. However, I had no idea what wondrous things awaited me on the Isle of Iona and all the rest of Scotland! I don’t think I could have been prepared for what we experienced there.
Karina was to leave us before we went to Scotland.  We flew into Heathrow in England and over-nighted before our flight to Edinburgh and Karina’s flight back to the United States.  It was hard to let this bright, Hemingwayish character go.  She had been an inspiration, a confidant, a hospital nurse, a literary companion, a roommate and a friend for two months. In the morning we took separate flights about the same time.
Flying into Edinburgh, I knew that we would have a few days before the tour started.  After we landed, we picked up our rental car and drove to our lodgings. That night we had dinner with Finbarr’s brother and family and the next day we left for the Isle of Iona.  It was such a great experience to drive in a car over the hills and dale of this magnificent land!  The beauty of the rugged mountains, the stillness of the lochs and rivers and the greenness of the land in the cold of March was breathtaking.  The sun through the clouds made dynamic shapes and pictures for the camera.
As we came close to a village, we looked for someplace to stop for tea and some soup.  Finbarr spotted a quaint little place along the way and we pulled in.  Walking in, it was like stepping into a picture book, such a tiny little place with four tables or so, a tiny bar and a nice fireplace with a roaring fire.  It was in this little corner of paradise that I had my first taste of ginger wine.  It was a feeling of lingering warmth all the way down that warmed my body as well as my heart.  Welcome to Scotland, I told myself!
We had to take two ferries to reach the Isle of Iona, an island about a mile by three miles, population 130. The people working on the last ferry were so lovely.  I admired one young man’s Wellies and on a return trip he told Finbarr to “tell the lovely lady she can buy Wellies at the corner shop on Oban” (the next island over). That’s how I found the people in Scotland, the most friendly, kind people you’d ever meet. Now I know why I enjoy Craig Ferguson so much!
The two of us left on the second day to drive to Glasgow to meet the people who were to be on the tour and Kenneth, our driver, who I’d met on my trip to Ireland.  I was excited to be reunited with the wonderful Irish character.  The road to Glasgow was full of curves and hilly and the most invigorating drive.  Driving on the left side of the road, stopping sometimes to let another car go by on a very narrow stretch… it was like being in the Indy 500 with lots of shifting.  It was one thing to drive in the States like that but in Scotland on the left side of the road, it took an expert, and that wasn’t me, but Finbarr who had learned to drive on roads like these.
After picking up the bus and the pilgrims we began our trek back to Iona. Our first stop was not too far from Glasgow at an ancient stone circle at Kilmartin Glen. In this area, we not only saw the stone circle but also burial cairns and a henge monument.  It was just as powerful as the ones I’d seen in Ireland. As I lay my head against one of the tall standing stones, I immediately got the picture of the Mason’s symbol.  What?  This must be my imagination because what does that have to do with this stone circle.  I forgot for a little bit to trust my visions. Later Finbarr reminded me that this was a place of the Templars also and that the Masonic symbol would be right on.
As we toured the site, we found another powerful spot that was encircled with a very large, wide path of stones.  As I walked around it, I was going to enter across the stones and walk to the square indention in the center, but I didn’t feel right and I went further around. Soon it felt right to walk across the stones, which I did. I climbed down into the indentation that was probably three foot deep and stood there.  I had a hard time keeping my balance and felt as if I were in a whirlwind going up and then going down.  Others felt the same thing and others something different. I asked Fibarr if this was an opening to something, because on a larger standing stone I saw steps leading downward as the picture of this site formed in my mind.  He said, yes but it was covered now with earth.
Further down the path we came to a mound with flat rocks standing to form a cave like place.  We were told this was an initiation chamber. There was a much smaller one beside it that I crawled into.  It was like a sarcophagus and the story is that a person spent three days in it.  I would have had a hard time spending three hours in there, covered by a big flat stone!
From there we were glad to get back on the bus as the rain and damp had begun in earnest and we were ready for a cup of tea.  Kenneth, our driver, is a very nice fellow.  He had his iPad set up to video the sites and roads through the windshield, so that if he sent another driver on a tour with Finbarr here, he would be able to see how to go.  He also had some lovely music that was just my style on there and he played it and asked how I liked it.  I moved up to Finbarr’s seat by the driver when he began his moving about the bus to talk to the people.  Kenneth liked older music from the ‘70s and great movie themes.  He is about my son’s age, so it was nice to chat and hear his political views as well as his jokes.
The drive was a long one.  The bus could go across on the first ferry; however, on the second ferry no cars were allowed to go to Iona unless they belonged to the people on the island.  So we de-boarded the bus and pulled our suitcases onto the ferry for the 10 minute ride to Iona.  It was to be the most magical six days of Scotland!  The view coming in on the ferry is outstanding.  Of course, I had already seen it, but to know what my fellow travelers were to see and feel ahead of time made it that much more fun.  To top it off, I already knew several of them as they had been on other tours I’d been on.  My friends, Angela and Coleen were to add a great deal to my own experience on the island.

In the past 230 years, America has gone from the go-getter, take responsibility, have pride in yourself, your property and your country, fight for you’re your freedom attitude, and taken a nose dive into the life-sucking, quicksand muck of laziness and entitlement.
The above statement is indisputable. Feel free to write me and try to dispute it if you feel differently.
Today’s Americans don’t have a clue about hardship, strife and sacrifice. Today’s Americans have the innate belief that they were all born with a silver spoon because of the location of the dirt under their feet. Today’s Americans are apathetic. They would rather let their Big Brother wrap a warm blanket of “safety” around their shoulders, than inconvenience themselves with the real problems.
It’s just too hard to think about the big stuff. The government will take care of us all! After all, what does it matter if our Constitutional rights are dissipating into thin air? Owiiie! My brain hurts… but look at what Lady Gaga is wearing now! Angelina had her WHAT cut off? Didn’t she just adopt her sixth Namibian baby?
One of thousands of pieces of evidence that support this American laziness “claim” (fact) came out Wednesday morning in the headline, “Record 10,978,040 on Disability; Disability Would Be 8th Most Populous State.”
Well there you go folks. There are more people receiving disability benefits than there are living in the state of Georgia. Over 13 times as many people receive disability than live in South Dakota. According to this article this is the 196th straight month the number of American workers collecting federal disability payments has increased. Sixteen years ago, in January of 1997, the number taking disability was 4,385,374.
I know, too many numbers, I’m losing your interest. Let me put it this way, in 1997, 1.6 percent of Americans were on federal disability; in 2013, 3.5 percent of Americans receive a check. How does this work in the long term? The money has to come from somewhere, right? The government can’t just print more (although they do – but that’s a whole different can of worms).
Back in the day it worked, (back when people worked). In 1968, just .65 percent of Americans collected disability. At that time there were 51 full-time workers for each worker collecting. Today there were only 13 Americans working full-time for each worker collecting a check. I’m not a rocket scientist, but to me, these numbers do not work.
Do you really believe that there are that many more people with debilitating injuries or diseases that make it impossible for them to punch a time clock? I don’t. Heck no. We are lazy Americans, born and bred.
Meanwhile our government welcomes with open arms those climbing over the border. There are actually “help stations” on the Texas/Mexican border complete with a phone to call for help and a jug of water. Why do they want to come here? Not because they won’t be able to find a job, there’s plenty of those. Unemployment levels go hand in hand with economic health, right? Well, unemployment levels in America today are nothing more than a measure of laziness.
If Americans were to get their butts back to work, much of the illegal immigration problem would be solved. And while the government would still find stupid places to put money they don’t have, the actual health of the economy would see a decent upturn.

***
Ok, that’s enough ranting from Lois for one week.
Here’s a few more tidbits of information from the 15th Century:
Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof.
When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof.
Hence the saying, “It’s raining cats and dogs.” There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection.
That’s how canopy beds came into existence.
The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt. Hence the saying, “Dirt poor.” The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on th floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entrance-way.
Hence: a thresh hold.
In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire. Every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while.
Hence the rhyme: “Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old”.
Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, “bring home the bacon.” They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and chew the fat.