I planned on telling you about our trip
to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland this week, but a lot
has happened since my last journal. Two of my best friends passed
away and I helped chaperone 13 teenagers on a four-day trip to Jag
Lake this last week and went to a family reunion. So to begin,
Kathy (Bartels) “Bart” Diederich and Greg Lenz died last week. I
knew them both since I was a little kid.
I first met “Bart” at the Bartel's
Tavern near Burton south of Cassville. When my dad was working for
Tri-State Breeders, I got to ride along a lot. He and I would stop
in for lunch and something cold and to chat once in awhile. In high
school, they had moved to town, so I used to pick Bart up in the
morning to give her and Laura Bossert a ride to school. During the
summers between college, I worked with Bart's dad at Cassville High
School when Walt – and his brother Paul – headed the maintenance
department. I pretty much lost track of Bart since a long, almost
forgotten class reunion back in the 90's. She had recently retired
from a career in banking. From what I could see in the pictures at
the funeral, she and her husband Bob had a beautiful lakeside home
and loved to entertain. She was definitely a people person with a
fantastic smile and sense of fun. Bart passed after a brief illness.
Greg Lenz and I were sidekicks from the
time we were 5. We did our best to outdo each other in the next 20
years with bikes, cars, boats, motorcycles, and partying. After
seeing the Beatles on Ed Sullivan in February of 1964, I convinced
Greg, Don Schnering, and Roy Mosely that we had to get guitars and
drums and start a band. We did after hours of practicing until our
fingers bled. We played our first gig knowing only three songs. We
named the band, after seeing the ending credits of the movie “Rock
Around the Clock.” Instead of “The End”, it read the “hip”
phrase: The Livin End. Greg and I lived together while going to
school in Madison in 1970-71. That year we formed The Mississippi
Mud Band, by adding brass and more singers. We were on top of the
music world, at least along the river in those days, playing to huge
crowds and parties. He and I drifted apart over the years, but we
played together in the 90's in Shake, Rattle, and Roll. He was fond
of saying it was my fault that he loved music so much. I accept the
blame for something that gave so many so much pleasure and fun over
the years. Since then, we talked often and he would sometimes stop
here – he worked for Dairyland Power and would come to La Crosse
for meetings - with a bottle of Captain Morgan and some Coke and he
and I would play guitars and talk over the old days until the wee
hours. He and I had so much in common. We both found and kept the
loves of our lives, raised two great kids, loved all kinds of music,
the river, hunting, fishing, old cars, and more. He was a man of
many talents including carpentry and woodworking and fundraising. He
and Barb and his family raised over half a million dollars for
Multiple Sclerosis research over the years. There is so much more I
could say. After a two-year fight, Greg succumbed to pancreatic
cancer. I will miss him and Kathy very much.
Until next time, get out - On Sunday we
drove to Burton to the annual Uppena Family reunion. The food was
amazing as usual, casseroles, fried chicken, lasagna, topped off by
Chuck's fresh sweetcorn, and finished with fruit and desserts of all
kinds. I particularly liked the sticky brownies with whipped cream.
Another highlight was catching up with some of the relatives and
their kids, but most of all, I always enjoy visiting with and
swapping jokes with Ellen's Uncle Gene Uppena. Gene is 89 and lives
between Black Earth Minnesota and his daughter Mary Ann in Texas. He
is a retired county extension agent, but this day he shared with me a
story of when he was in college at UW Platteville. It was 1942; the
war was on, and labor in short supply. They got news that a dairy
farmer over by Hurricane (a cheese factory/crossroads between
Lancaster and Beetown in Grant County probably 20 miles from
Platteville) had been seriously injured in an accident and the family
needed someone to help with their dairy herd. When they came to the
college looking for help, Gene, who had grown up on a dairy farm,
took on the job. He said it sounded easy enough, but he was just a
kid who like most kids didn't know anywhere as much as a dairy farmer
needs to know. The farmer's wife helped him pick out the dry cows
and the cows that needed breeding and milking and special treatment.
Eventually he was farming this Guernsey herd. He said he had to fill
silo in the fall too, and still try to go to school. The farmer
recovered and remained a lifelong friend. Gene's joke for today was
about when Ole and Lena bought a farm on the Iowa/Minnesota border.
They had been there a few years when an assessor dropped by and said
he was confused about their address. He sent a state surveyor to
check out the property. A few days later he dropped by with bad
news. He said, “Ole, I have to tell you that your place is in
Iowa, not Minnesota.” Ole and Lena looked at each other and began
cheering and hugging. When they settled down, the assessor asked
why, and Ole replied, “We're just so happy. We are sick of these
Minnesota winters.” Next time I will write about the Rock and
Roll Hall of Fame and Jag Lake. Enjoy.
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