Tamarack River Ghost: A Novel

34. Spring Snowstorm

201 Spring Snowstorm 34 Although May was right around the corner, the last Wednesday in April was unusually chilly, even for central Wisconsin. Only two days earlier, after many area farmers had their potato and oat crops planted and vegetable growers had their peas and early sweet corn in, it snowed two inches, destroying anybody’s hopes that maybe this year spring would succeed in pushing winter aside before May. The snow stayed; it didn’t melt as it fell. It accumulated and even threatened to make those who put away their shovels find them again. The April snow put everyone in a deep funk, including Fred and Oscar, who sat at their regular Wednesday-morning table in Christo’s. “So whaddya make of the snow, Oscar?” Fred asked. “Not much. Don’t think much of it at all. Kind of pretty, though. Kind of a pretty snow, all white and fluffy.” “Oscar, you are losin’ it. This time of year, no damn snow is pretty. Not one little bit pretty. People are sick to death of snow. They want spring. People have had it with winter,” said Fred. “I suppose so,” said Oscar. “I can sure tell you don’t want no more winter.” “You sure got that right, Oscar.” With coffee refills, the two old men gazed out the window at the bright sun working hard to melt any last snow remnants from the restaurant’s lawn that fronted the Tamarack River, now running full and fast. “Say, Fred, did you get a copy of Farm Country News in the mail yesterday?” 202 Spring Snowstorm “I did. Good to see them back in business. I need to read a farm paper every week, see what’s going on. See what the farmers are gettin’ for their milk, that sort of thing. Check on the price for live hogs.” “Did you read it?” “Sure, skimmed right through it. Looked for stuff that’s interesting to me. The way I always did. Not much to it, I must say. Read it all in about fifteen minutes. Didn’t find what I kinda liked reading every week, though. Didn’t find it.” “What was that?” “That stuff this M.D. guy wrote almost every week. I like that guy’s spunk. Lotta spunk there. Even liked his attempts at poetry. I liked the farm cartoons too. Guy who draws them is from Iowa—gave me a chuckle every week. Yes they did. Everybody needs a chuckle once in a while. At least once a week.” “So you really didn’t read much of the farm news?” “Didn’t say that. Said I skimmed the farm news,” said Fred. “You wanna hear what the new owner has planned for the paper?” “Do I have a choice? I know you’re gonna tell me.” Oscar took a long drink of coffee. “First off, this is the last copy of Farm Country News you’re gonna find in your mailbox.” “Last copy. I thought this was the first one under new ownership; I did glance at the part about new ownership.” “The paper is gonna be in electronic format, with only one print edition a month.” “In what kind of format?” “Electronic, which means you will have to read it on your computer.” “I don’t own no damn computer. Don’t intend to buy one either.” “Then you’ll see Farm Country News just once a month, and it won’t come to your mailbox either. You’ll have to pick it up at the feed store, or the John Deere dealer, or the bank. And it will be free.” “Free, huh? Sounds like that’s what it will be worth.” “It’s the wave of the future, Fred. The way newspapers in the country are headed.” 203 Spring Snowstorm “What about all us old timers who don’t, and never will, have computers? What about us?” “Guess you’ll have to buy one, Fred.” “So I gotta buy a computer to read news about farmin’, and I get to read the Farm Country News on a TV screen.” “Something like that, Fred.” “Where’s it gonna end, Oscar? When’s all this newfangled stuff gonna quit comin’ at us? It’s about to drive me just a little crazy.” “You sure it hasn’t already, Fred?” “You want a kick in the leg, Oscar?” Fred picked up his coffee cup...