The Story of Andy Kjearsgaard
Neither Mom nor Dad ever really mastered the English language. So whenever Dad went to town to wheel and deal, one of us boys had to go with him as translator.
On one such trip, I was the lucky one. We were taking a load of wheat to the elevator at Benalto, 25 miles north of our farm. We went by horse-drawn sleigh in the dead of winter. The weather was terribly cold. To keep warm, we took turns walking. But what I remember most vividly about the trip was the drift-covered roads. In some places the drifts were ten feet deep. One two-mile stretch was drifted in so completely, even the bush tops were covered. The wind had packed the snow so hard that the horses' hoofs barely made a mark. Lucky for us, or all––horses, wheat, and Kjearsgaards––would have foundered.
Why didn't we haul by truck? We didn't have one. We could have hired a truck but wheat sold for about 25 cents per bushel back then. That wouldn't even have covered the trucking charges.
When we reached Benalto, we dickered with the agent, delivered our load, then stayed overnight in the livery stable. Right after breakfast, we headed straight home.
Wheeler-dealers don't waste time. Time is money.
Adapted from the 1994 Heritage Book,with permission from the Federation of Danish Associations in Canada
Teaser:
• Andy grows up in an unexpected way.
