Well first let me start by letting you all know that it is official, I am a resident of North Dakota as of 10:00 am today. Now I can shoot ducks for more than 2 weeks. My secret motive all along!

I am right now in the breakfast nook of the Expresswy Inn in Bismarck. My current residence does not have internet service so I am here pounding out this blog. Just for you all. Especially you Ryan! Yes Ry, looks like Benton will have a play buddy! How about that! Jeez! I still can't believe it. MISSY A MOM!!!!! Very COOL!

OK here goes, Since I have already made my mom shed a tear or two tonight when I called her to see how she was doing. Missy sent her flowers from Alaska and Michelle talked to her as well. If you have not guessed, today is the 6 month anniversary of my father, Rogers, death. He passed away at 3:25 am on January 18, 2008 at the St. Cloud Hospital. He got the Leukemia and gave it a good run but in the end it was not to be. Now he watches over us, I can hear him yelling at me every day! "Buy you books and buy you books!" It is a lot more peaceful when I go home. But I still wish he was here. God help me.

I have promised to spend the next 7 days writing a story a day about my dad, and the way he shaped my life and our relationship. The good, the bad and the down right ugly.

I should first state that if any of you readers have a particular Roger story that you would want told, just email me at spikeidji@yahoo.com and I will do my best to include them as well.

STORY #1

It was the early spring of 1974, Late March to the best of my recollection. I was sitting in my 8th grade speech class, taught by Ms. Fogerty. It was the 2nd class of the day and I had just settled into my desk, no doubt trying to stay awake after talking my mom into letting me watch the Johnny Carson Show on TV the night before.

Suddenly the relative silence in the room was broken when an announcement squawked out of the brown box up on the wall, "Mike Miller please report to the main office, and bring you coat." WHAT???? I would have sworn that they said Mike Miller? Crap they did! This can not be good. I grabbed my books and headed to my locker where I deposited my books, put on my coat and slowly headed to the main office. Upon reaching the office, I peeked in and saw my father standing inside. Now let me tell you right now, this was a very scary sight. My dad was standing there talking to the principle, Mr. Pattee and he did not look happy. I stood outside trying to think of all the things that I could have possibly done wrong for my dad to come to school and yank me out of class. Try as I may, nothing came to mind. I was pretty much an angel in school you can ask anyone, it's true. I never really caused any problems for my parents, never drank, never smoked, no drugs, no parties. When I look back on it my Mom should have a special day just in my honor, especially after the hell that my sisters Michelle and Missy put her through! NOTE TO MY SISTERS: You know how true that is!!! Don't even try to call me to plead your case!

OK, I digress, After standing outside the office, much like a deer in the headlights, Kathy the secretary noticed me standing there, fear not allowing me to enter the room. As I haltingly entered the room and everyone turned to look at me, I think I almost passed out. Dad just looked at me and said that we had a family emergency and we needed to head home as soon as possible. Now, I wondered about what had happened? Was Mom ok? Michelle? Missy? What the heck! I nodded and dad said thanks to the office staff and out the door, and down the hall we went straight out the doors, into the cool, crisp late winter day. As we walked to the Suburban, parked at the front steps, I looked back at the school and I could see kids looking out at me wondering my fate.

Inside the truck, dad looked at me and said that we were heading out to meet his buddies at Lake Washington, near Dassel for some late season Crappie action and he wanted me along because it would mean more fish to take home.

HOLY CRAP!!!

Jeez, what a turn of events! I sat in shock, not sure just what to say. "does Mom know about this?" I asked quietly. "Not Yet" he said. "But she will find out, she always does." Off we went, first to Melvin Klempkins home to switch cars. Now, we had the ultimate fishing vehicle in a full size chevy suburban, brand new and loaded, but dad quickly explained that the ice on Lake Washington was in pretty bad shape and probably could not withstand the weight of the "burb." So 6 of us piled into a 4 door piece of crap car with a rusted out rear floor and a smashed in left-rear driver side door which would not open. Guess where I got to sit. Yep, you guessed it.

We stopped in Hutchinson to get bait and pick up another member of the fishing group. I knew a few of them, Leroy Hahn was there, That I remember, I believe Melvin Klempkin and his son Gary? But the rest were friends of my dad and therefore, were shadowy figures whose name were best left unsaid. Within short order we were at the access of Lake Washington. Good God!!! There had to have been at least 20 yards of open water then the ice sheet, which, as is usually the case in spring ice fishing in Minnesota, was covered in slush! there was no way we were going over that!!?? The guys all piled out of the car I believe there were 7 men and then myself. I stayed in the car, the guys walked the edge of the access and talked a bit, then came back to the car. They took blankets out of the trunk and plugged to holes in the floor. they rolled down the windows. (Mine would not roll down, door smashed remember. They opened the doors and held them open with their feet. The driver, (not sure who it was as I was kind of in shock at this whole scene about to be played out in front of me)Backed up the car about a block or so, hesitated and says, NO SHIT!! He says, "If we go down, grab the kid and get out best you can" He hit the gas and down the access we zoomed. I know that there were shouts of encouragement, lots of colorful language and of course, laughter. We hit the water, with a huge WOOSH! and the car staggered a little then up we popped on the ice surface! Now, inside the car, on impact the blankets popped up from their wedged in positions and sprayed all of us in the back seat with a solid sheet of water and slush. Freezing cold, like I was trapped inside a snowcone. we slowed down, to almost a stop, the icy streams of water spraying inside the car. We crept along and headed toward a small group of anglers already fishing on the lake.

We assembled out gear and drilled a few holes, I rigged the jig sticks, No reels in those days gang! Baited 4 rods and put them down the hole. The men around me were doing likewise, for the most part. It was almost 1 pm and we were fishing! I was NOT in school! Not giving a speech! I was fishing! It was GREAT!

Now here it gets really amazing. I am pretty sure that the crappies committed suicide. They just kept biting, and biting. The beer and snowshoe grog and blackberry brandy was also flowing. In massive quantities, I might add. Not just for us, the band of seven; but the small group of hardy anglers we joined were also having great success. Now in 1974 i'm pretty sure that limit on crappies was about 30 a piece. Northern Pike and Walleye season was closed at this time not that it really seemed to matter that much to the group. the pile of fish laying on the ice was growing to epic proportions. At about 8 pm, it was my job to start shoveling fish into the trunk of the piece of crap, death trap of a car we came in. Houston, we have a problem, the trunk was full of fish, and there was still a sizeable pile on the ice. we went to the guys on the ice and asked if they wanted any more Crappie? They took some but there were still 25 to 50 fish on the ice. The ones that were still flopping around we slid back into the holes and hoped for the best. The others we stuffed into every open crevice in the trunk and into the car we loaded up. Fish were laying atop the blankets on the floor and we then slowly rolled down the lake towards the access. As we approached the now even larger open water hole at the access. We accelerated and with a giant splash we slogged onward to dry land! It did not take long until someone decided that we needed to get rid of some of these fish and we headed towards a home on Lake Marion. Try as I may, I can not remember the mans name, but I know he was the leader of a very popular polka band in the area, maybe a Shuft? Maybe Wally Pikal? I say Wally Pikal, because I seem to vaguely remember a pogo stick and trumpet playing included in the evenings festivities. There we set up shop in the basement and started to clean fish. More beer and now whiskey flowed and the the filet knives were flashing. This is where I really learned the skills that helped me years later during my Gander Mountain Days, doing the many seminars on how to clean and prepare fish. The accordians came out and there were many songs played, classics like "Beer Barrel Polka" and "She's to Fat Polka's" Many slurred lyrics spat out and slime and scales just flying about. At 3:00 am the fish were cleaned and packaged. Not proud of it really today, but I would bet that we cleaned at least 400 crappies and maybe a few Walleyes to boot.

We loaded into the piece of crap, death trap car. I'm not really sure who drove. I know I did not sleep a wink on the way home. We got back into Gaylord around 4:20 and got into the Suburban and headed off to the R & R Drive Inn, (home) There I fell into bed, pretty much exhausted and covered with fish slime and scales. (Prep for Alaskan guiding experience)

It seemed like just minutes later my Mom was waking me to get up and get ready for school. NO WAY! I begged and pleaded, that I be able to sleep in and skip school for another day. NO DICE! Mom said, "You want to hang out with the men, you have to pay the price!" I still tryed to cover my head and hope that she would forget about me. NO CHANCE! All she had to say in the end was, "do I have to get your father?" CRAP! Up and away to school I went. Riding the bus into town, I had the chance to reflect on the whole experience, as I have many times since. I'm still not sure what made my dad, pick me up from school and take me along. I never asked him. I wish now I had. I hope it was for more than being just another limit to bring home. I believe it was. It is a memory that will stay with me forever. I got to hangout with my dad and his pals, catch a huge amount of fish and watch the effects that alchohol have on seemingly normal men. I also learned that it sucks to clean fish all night long and most importantly. Never own a piece of crap, death trap car!

UNLESS IT HAS A BIG TRUNK AND IT CAN FLOAT!

Thanks Dad!

Love ya!