Watermelons have always been synonymous with the tiny town of Forestburg, but also the Hinker family who were our classmates, friends and neighbors. This week we sadly say our farewell to Lee Hinker, a native son. I would like the focus to be not on his ending days but on the journey of his life.
Lee was always a budding entrepreneur, thinking of new ways to build a business. After going to school for refrigeration, he was our local go to guy when your air conditioner went on the blink. As so often happens, they tend to break down on the hottest days of the year. Even on the Fourth of July, you could count on Lee to drop his plans to come to the rescue with a grin and maybe a promise of a cold beer.
Only Lee could have come up with the idea of a traveling hot tub that he would transport on a trailer to party locations. Evidently back then, we had no fear of germs as multiple people used it over and over. He was a pioneer for party planners.
Broadening his horizons in 1983 with his good friend, Mark Snedeker, they purchased the old brick school at Lane, and transformed it into THE place to be on the weekend, bringing in bands to play. They brought us the “Leap to Lane” concerts with headliner Johnny Holmes to sell out crowds – our version of Woodstock in the middle of a field. (I don’t remember if we even had port-a-potties!)
It was there at Lane that we celebrated his wedding to Janet Authier. I still remember how tiny and exquisite she looked in her dress. Lee returned to his Forestburg roots and entered into the farming operation and his watermelon and tomato business. Lee and Janet welcomed their son, Drew, to this world, and every Christmas card featured Drew and usually their beloved dogs.
Lee was a friendly competitor in the melon world. He loved to stop along the road and “shoot the s_ _t” and see whose melons were doing the best or what hail catastrophe had wreaked havoc on whose field. Lee’s staked out melon territory was Aberdeen for pumpkins and tomato crops.
I personally cannot think of pheasant season without thinking of Lee, Milt Authier and the Minnesota boys. Hunting season was the best time of the year for friends to enjoy. After the local Ducks Unlimited banquet, Georgia and I could count on their group to pay us a visit at Don’s Silver Dollar. Every year, they questioned me on what I was saving my tip money for. They loved the fact that one year I was saving for an air conditioner for my bedroom. (I lamented the fact that it was too hot to have sex!) They came to my rescue and I had enough for a lovely little 110. My love life was saved.
Lee also came up with the phrase “The Baysinger Stomp” to describe me when I had my temper up. He would do a windup with his leg similar to a pitcher on the mound much to everyone’s delight to mimic me. I could never stay angry after watching a few times.
During everyone’s life, we all choose a different path with wrong choices, oftentimes one that your family cannot help you divert from, even with their love and support. So it was with Lee. It was not how we wanted it to end for our friend.
Thinking of the
good times,
Dee Baby

Dynasty – A powerful group or family that maintains its position for a considerable time. – Merriam Webster Dictionary
When Lars Herseth ran for governor in 1986, he was attempting to achieve something unusual, even rare, in politics. His father, Ralph, had been governor in 1959-60, and for a son to follow in his father’s footsteps at such a high political plane was the stuff of novels and celluloid film.
It was not to be, and by the narrowest of margins the job went to George Mickelson, also the son of a previous governor.
For South Dakota, it was a choice between two highly qualified and gifted public servants. Either would have been a fine governor, and one of them was, though he died tragically in office in an April 1993 plane crash.
Now, something even more exceptional is happening. The son of Gov. George Mickelson is running for his dad’s old office.  If George Mark Mickelson is successful, it will be, as far as I have been able to find out, the rarest of accomplishments. To label it a “three-peat” is to trivialize the challenge, and indeed, the young Mickelson, who goes by Mark, cannot rely on his name or pedigree to win the race in 2018.
He will have at least one primary challenger in Attorney General Marty Jackley, and possibly Congresswoman Kristi Noem, though I believe that is unlikely. And the Democrats will also have something to say about who will be this state’s 33rd governor.
Still, contemplating three governors from the same family in generational succession is politically and historically fascinating. When this discussion occurs, conversation often turns to Rhode Island, where John Chafee served as the 66th governor. His son, Lincoln, was the 74th governor, and John Chafee’s great-grandfather, Henry Lippitt, was 33rd governor of the Ocean State.
Similar to what might be, or could be, in South Dakota, but not the same.
If Mark Mickelson is to win the governor’s race, he will have to show the people of South Dakota that his vision is better than that of his competitors. He has already shared one goal: Expand value-added agriculture to broaden and better our state’s employment opportunities.
“Political dynasty” is a term that is somewhat misleading when referring to the Mickelsons. It’s been 23 years since George Mickelson was governor – a generation. And in South Dakota, names by themselves aren’t enough. Yes, name ID is helpful in politics, but Mickelson’s success will depend not on his name, but on his abilities.

If you live in South Dakota, I would expect you to consider Sioux Falls as life in the fast lane. Coming from Woonsocket, we would be in the slow lane with your turn signal left on for two miles. Sioux Falls may have the Washington Pavilion, but we have local talent for our community play that is always outstanding and entertaining.
The cast and crew outdid themselves with the comedy they performed this year. It was the tale of six elderly spinsters who had the hots for the macho cop next door. Gayle Feistner in an afro wig played the object of their affection with a straight face and his droll sense of humor to the hilt! The six spinsters stole the show, but the outstanding performance for me was Lisa Snedeker, who was playing a woman so out of her character. Lisa is very comely, tall and thin as a willow. I was laughing out loud just at her matronly dress complete with a “bubble butt”. The opening act with all the lustful ladies at the window fighting to look through the binoculars had tears coming out of our eyes. My favorite line was, “If the cop (Gayle) was a carpenter, he could fill all our holes.” He, he, he!
A note of appreciation is also due to the men and youth group of the Lutheran-Methodist Parish, who took the time and effort to construct a cedar cross for the Easter service and placed it outside to surprise the congregation. That really made you realize what a person enduring a crucifixion went through. A replica of the spike made me weak because the end was not sharp. The blunt end was intended for ultimate torture and pain.
This week has me wondering about the obsession with reality shows. I hate to think I would waste a minute of my time in life on a Kardashian viewing. The thought of falling in love in front of a camera (“Bachelor” and “Bachelorette”) is beyond comprehension for me. I guess I could apply for a show called “The Cougarette”. I would stipulate to the producers that all applicants could not be missing front teeth.
Gay and I would be interested in doing the “Amazing Race,” but I would have to tone it down a bit to the title “The Amazing Walk.” My new digs would qualify for “Design on a Dime” or “Flea Market Finds.” I’m hoping they ask me to be on the Tour of Homes this year. It would be a short tour indeed. I could put out boxed wine and Chex mix.
Progress has been made in the move experience. Moving the boxes of decorative items once again reminded me to go buy some packages of rummage sale stickers. Painting was completed on Sunday, even with all the visitors who stopped by to say hello. Sorry we didn’t have time to have a beer and chat. A word of warning—if you do stop, we will try to put you to work. Our last male visitor of the day was forced to install the fire alarm.
Dee Baby