This story was told to me by my husband Sid, that was told to him by Lester’s oldest boy, Dave.
The weather has turned balmy, from 40 below to 20 below. Lester is fully dressed as he leaves the house to feed the cattle. Warm toque, woolen coat, woolen mitts. After the first stack yard, off comes the toque. After the second yard, off comes the mitts. After the third yard, off comes the coat. So after the cattle are all fed, he’s back home. Next day, same thing all over again, new hat, new coat, new mitts. End of the day, back to the house; next day he knows he’s gonna have to go through all that again, but now there’s an additional problem: where’s my teeth? Lester always kept his teeth in a glass beside his bed. So Dave tells me, when Lester got riled, you didn’t want to be around. So, as Steve and Mike were looking for Lester’s teeth, Dave walks out on the porch, and there’s the dog–munching away on Lester’s top plate! So Dave says to himself, “Yeah, I mean, I think I’ll go shoot some squirrels!”
Sid has related lots of Lester Dorsey anecdotes to me, and he says there may be more to come, if only he can remember them! He says, “They don’t come any tougher than Lester! He could take a boiling pot of coffee off of the stove and drink it right down!”
My father died of a massive stroke 44 years ago yesterday. I was holding his hand in a Saskatchewan hospital when he passed. It was on Monday of holy week. I recall looking from his face – after his tremendous last gasp – to the window, as if I was experiencing his spirit going to a richer, healthier place.
I was 23 at the time. It was a few months before my wedding. My father‘s death was a loss, all right. But I was not at a loss about it. He had told me earlier that year he thought his time was at hand. I’d asked if he was troubled by the thought. “Not at all,“ he said. “I trust where I’m going. But I do love every day of life.“
His life had been full of a lot of losing, actually. In 1936, at age 36, he’d been run off his land by creditors during the “dirty 30s“. He had nothing. He found work using his one vehicle (a beat-up truck) to haul things – even sewage – for cash. At age 46, he left his church to support his oldest children who’d been expelled because they were holding Bible studies in English, when the church saw German as the divinely sanctioned language. [Well, fact is, as is characteristic of xenophobic folks anywhere and anytime, they simply feared loss more than they trusted change.] When he was 50, not yet fully back on his feet financially, his first wife died, leaving several of his seven children to provide for. He started a small business, but it collapsed because he refused to collect debts from farmers and townsfolk he considered worse off than himself.
I was born to his second wife in late 1952, their only child. I grew up never feeling poor (since my very existence was so endearing) but I was often overhearing the difficult conversations of my parents about “how we’ll have enough“. My father felt that if he had more than a poor neighbor, he had enough… to share.
So, last week, when I, inching into retirement, sat safely cloistered in my home during a horrific world health-hiccup, and had a long and disconcerting phone chat with my investment advisor, I looked at the picture of my father loading his hillbilly style jalopy, and smiled. I suspect my life could get a bit leaner going forward. But we have practised a “live on less” lifestyle for 44 years, trying to let any surplus flow in good measure toward obvious global neighbourhood needs (of refugees, in particular) even as we have hoped to have a little something left for ourselves, perhaps enough to pass on to our children’s families as well.
Uncle Diedrich’s truck
Of course, the best thing they could get from us when we die – since they likely won’t want a truckload of aged furniture – is a lesson on learning from losing. Everyone, after all, can be resourceful enough to tighten belts and generous enough to see to the needs of neighbours near and far. After all, we’re all refugees in the face of mortality.
A friend asked me for an easy go-to recipe for a quick meal, so here you are! I like this because it’s versatile. Whatever vegetables or herbs you have on hand you can throw in, and if you don’t quite like something you can leave it out or change the amount of it next time.
Quick & Easy Vegan Soup
I keep on hand a wee jar of Better Than Boulion. I get the vegan one; you can also get beef or chicken. I also keep on hand a wee jar of dried onion bits. My husband is very fussy about onion; he likes the flavour but not the texture, so adding a tablespoon of dried onion bits to something works for us.
I also usually have some carrots and celery and potatoes. So I start with whatever vegetable needs to be cooked the longest, usually chopped onions if I’m using fresh ones, and celery. I saute them in a spoonful of olive oil in the bottom of the pot, starting on high till they sizzle and then turning down the heat and waiting patiently till they are translucent and soft.
Meanwhile I peel and chop the carrots and potatoes or whatever other root vegetables I have. Maybe a parsnip or turnip or yam. Small yellow potatoes work well, chopped bite-size, because they stay firm. Russets tend to disintegrate if boiled long, so if using them throw them in last.
The trick is to add the vegetables that need the longest cooking time first (usually carrot or maybe beet because they are firm). Add water according to the amount of vegetables you are using and how much broth you want. Here is where you throw in some dried onion if you haven’t used fresh and any herbs. Parsley is always good in soup, either dried or fresh. Oregano if you want a stronger flavour. Maybe thyme or rosemary… Experiment and see what you like. Herbs fight viruses! And so do hot fluids.
Continue adding your vegetables and cook a few minutes to let the flavours blend. You might want to throw in some frozen green beans or a bit of leftover corn. Now taste-test and add boullion, salt and pepper a bit at a time till it’s just right! Cook a little longer to let the flavours blend more. Taste-test a chunk of vegetable to see if it’s done.
A crusty bun or grilled cheese san is nice on the side. If not, your tummy will surely beg you for a second bowl!
