Recipes for Living Glen Easter

My present position as Clarke County Extension Service Director, is rooted in my background. I was a classic 1950s farm youth who grew up in northern Missouri, on a farm which had been in the family for 140 years. My parents were typical of those days — my mom was a housewife and Dad farmed. Our operation was diversified. We had dairy and beef cows, hogs, sheep, and horses; we raised corn, soy beans, oats, wheat and hay. At that time, the bales were small and we young people had a hand in putting it up. Now, with large bales, that isn't possible, and I consider it and the lack of diversification regretable aspects of the changing nature of farming. My son, for instance, grew up on the same farm, but he has only experienced beef cattle. Today's farms don't have the broad, rich level of experience that was available in former times.

Our garden was a full acre. Mom canned and froze vegetables. We raised chickens and sold eggs. We killed and ate the chickens. I was intrigued with the killing process. My mom used the hoe handle to hold down the bird, then pulled the head off. As I small child, I was entertained by watching the chicken flop around.

Our family was pretty independent minded. Our parents taught my older sister Betty and me to make decisions and live with them. This may have caused some disappointment to them later when we both became interested and involved in international travel and work. Our father probably would have liked us to be closer home. However, our grandmother took National Geographic Magazine, and after she read each issue, she passed them along to us. They whetted our appetites. I became particularly interested in maps. Where other kids decorated their rooms with pictures of cars or football heroes, I had maps all over my ceilings and walls and developed an interest in seeing all those places.

As we grew up, Betty and I always knew that we were going to college. There was no other option. That was quite progressive of our parents, because our father went no farther than eighth grade. Our grandmother was a teacher, and our mother went to summer school to earn enough credits to teach in a country school. However, our parents were determined that my sister and I were to go to the major institution in Missouri, which we both did, with no student loans. The farm income was limited, but we made it, and had no debt encumbrance when we finished. I always felt that was an obligation I had toward my son.

When I was discharged from the Army, I went back to school to get my Master's degree. Betty's interest in international travel sparked mine, and after my wife and I had been married about two years, I took a job in an agricultural high school in Iran. We were on the eastern border, near Pakistan. I taught myself to read and write Persian, and I could carry on a conversation if it was not too fast.

Betty graduated and became a home economics teacher. She became part of the International Farm Youth Exchange and served in Peru for three months. I taught two years of vocational agriculture before I was drafted into the US Army. I have always considered myself lucky in love and war. It was during the Viet Nam war, but I didn't serve there. I was sent to Hawaii for 16 months with the 25th Infantry Division. Ours was a nuclear weapons platoon, and as such, it was a secured work area. People had to have clearance to come onto the post, so few visited us and we were not bothered by a lot of stuff that was normal for the regular army. My "lucky in love" is supported by the fact that in the summer of 2003, my wife and I will have been married 31 years. That is most fortunate, by today's standards.

The two years we spent in Iran were very interesting, and changed our social viewpoints tremendously. It was my first exposure to a culture totally different from ours. Their written language was from right to left, not like ours which is left to right, and they used true Arabic characters. Their culture was formed around a desert society and the Muslim religion. At that time the Shah was in power and the country was experiencing a lot of growth in their freedoms. At such times, it is necessary to define beliefs of freedoms. Some factions were really held back, and when that happens, society has to find ways to help those people move forward. My interest is not only in discovering what people do that is different from the accustomed way, but why. There is always a reason why people do the things they do.

There came a time when we felt we needed to get out of Iran, and took a 17-day trip to Greece. The travelers we met there had come from the west. They thought Greece was wild. We came from the east and thought, particularly from the driving aspect, that it was quite tame and manageable. It was a fun trip. We met a friend from Holland, teamed up with him, and drove his new car back to Turkey and into Iran. We also spent five weeks in Europe on the way back from Iran. We met friends from college and had great time.

On our return to the States, I became an instructor in animal science. I took advantage of the GI bill, and after 2 1/2 years at Missouri Western State College, we moved to Pennsylvania to begin working toward my Ph.D. at Pennsylvania State University. That took five years total, and during two of those we were in Swaziland in southern Africa. I was an Extension Training Specialist with USAID (Agency for International Development), and observed their methods of agriculture. It was an easy place to live. They were a British protectorate so there was an obvious British influence. They were westernized in business, whereas Iran was middle-easternized. In Iran, the Irani or Persian language was spoken. In Swaziland, English was the official language. In both countries, I attended meetings conducted in a language I didn't understand, but by watching you can learn a lot. You can detect, for instance, whether or not the discussion is heated. By reading body language, you can tell a lot of what was going on.

Our son Cheston was three years old and we took him with us. He was five when we returned and we considered various options for where we would settle. My wife was from Malta Bend, Missouri, and I from Princeton. There were several reasons for our choosing Princeton. One was our family farm and the opportunities it offered. We liked the idea of our son being in a small school, which had benefitted us. We knew all the kids and all the parents. Everybody looked out for each other. We decided that with our education, if the small school came up short on opportunities, we could make up for them. Our son was in Princeton, then, from kindergarten through twelfth grade.

He has inherited some of my attraction to farming. He was active in 4-H, FFA (Future Farmers of America), and Boy Scouts. His interest in these organizations led to his state- and American- FFA degrees and his Eagle Scout award.

From Princeton, I was able to work for Graceland College in agri-business for two years. That program was discontinued, so I joined Iowa State University Extension at Oskaloosa in Mahaska County. At the same time, the position opened in my county but it was frozen. A year and a half later it became available, and I applied and was accepted as livestock specialist in Missouri Extension.

After five years, an opportunity came along to serve as regional director for the Extension Service and I did that for eight years. This position gave me a chance to see ways to improve my work at the county level, so when I was offered early retirement in Missouri, I took it and applied for the county director position in Iowa, which brought me to Osceola. We still have our farm home near Princeton, which is only a 50 mile drive, and I have taken an apartment above the Extension office in order to be on hand for early or late meetings.

That is my education and career experience, but along the way there have been many exciting diversions. As a child, I was sure that I wanted an outdoor job and considered being a forest ranger. As I grew older and evaluated my options, I didn't think that choice paid well and there weren't many jobs. That didn't preclude my love of the outdoors, and I have had great enjoyment backpacking, wilderness canoeing, and rock climbing. In the process I developed a strong interest in bird watching. I am still working at it. I started a "life list," which is a list of all the birds one sees in their lifetime. This entails naming all the species, where I saw them, and what time of day. Although many of our pursuits are interesting activities, this became more of a consuming hobby. Just today someone interested in bird watching came into the office. It has been a beneficial hobby in several ways — it has helped with identifying weeds, insects, and other things that clientele bring into the office.

I love to travel. I have been to all 50 states, about half of Canada, and on all the continents except for Australia and Antarctica. I still enjoy geography. I might not walk across the street to see a man-made museum but I will go far out of my way to see a natural wonder.

While I was in Extension work in Missouri, there was an opportunity to take part in an international program, and I took groups to Costa Rica to look at the globalization of our society and economy. It became important that the Extension staff should think in teens of globilization and help people adjust to it in their local communities. Our son was in Costa Rica for a semester at the Agricultural EARTH University. He went back later and did the internship for his Masters' degree. He went to Peru and collected data on subsistence farmers in the Andes plains at a height above 10,000 feet. My wife and I encouraged his international involvement. He is well versed in Spanish, but doesn't have the opportunity to use it enough in his current work. I've assured him that it is something he will always have. It will come back to him when he needs it. Cheston has his BS and Masters' degrees from the University of Missouri, and is employed with Pioneer Hi-bred International.

I like to do things on my own and not feel beholden to other people. In Iran we traveled by Volkswagon. In Afiica, my son, wife, and I traveled by Land Rover. We went from Botswana to Namibia by ourselves and camped with the sound of hippopotamuses and the roar of lions nearby. I consider it no different than camping in the national parks in our country. In all such situations, the rule is take precautions and beware.

In the summer of 2003, we spent nine days in Hawaii. I had wanted to go there, and attending the marriage of a nephew in Maui, gave us the motivation. We revisited Oahu, where I had served in the military, and saw the big island and Hawaiian's Volcano National Park. In all cases, I plan my own trips, take care of my own car rental, and arrange where we will stay.

Another of my interests is the Old West and particularly Old West poetry. In high school we had to learn poems, and I discovered that the writings of Robert Service were like lots of the modern poems — there is a cadence that, once you get it, they are easy to memorize. I have entertained by reciting Robert Service poems, such as "The Cremation of Sam McGee," which has been included at the close of my story, and "The Shooting of Dangerous Dan McGrew." There have been occasions when I have done that with actors behind me acting out the scenes. I have been part of a shoot-out gang, setting up street theater and doing shoot-outs, fight scenes, and bank robberies. The script is ad-libbed. It is meant to be free entertainment. Over the years I have often played the undertaker and portray him as an unscrupulous character, taking money or valuables from the pockets of the deceased.

In "The Cremation of Sam McGee," Lake LeBarge is mentioned. In 1978, while we were living in St. Jo, Missouri, we drove to Alaska. We were gone a total of 10 weeks, were in Alaska for 30 days and saw only a small part of it. We camped most of the way, donned our backpacks and went from Sitka to Juneau. We parked our truck and rode the inner coastal ferry from Haines to Skagway. We shipped the pickup by train from Skagway to White Horse, British Columbia. While we were at White Horse, I drove three hours one way to see Lake LeBarge.. I saw the lake, got back in the truck, and drove three hours back.

I like to hunt deer and turkey on the home farm. We consume or give the meat away. We created the wild habitat, and I have always considered wild game to be part of the farm production. My parents are now both deceased. When my father had heart surgery, which ended with a massive stroke, I took over the family farm. I sold the livestock and rented the land. Later, I started taking back the farm 40 to 80 acres at a time to raise stocker cattle in the summertime. My wife is a special education teacher in the Mercer school system, just five miles below Lineville, Iowa. Her summer job is to rotate and look after the calves. Our ultimate goal is to retire to our family farm.

Both of us are actively involved in the First Christian Church (Disciples) in Princeton —on the board, and in all the general church activities.

We are also both avid fans of the University of Missouri Tigers. We have weathered lots of bad games but win or lose, we're there. We aren't the kind of spectators that leave when our team is well out of the picture. We sit through every game to its conclusion.

I surely don't need to mention that I particularly enjoy my work with Extension. My hope is to design programs to help youth develop and learn life skills. That, of course, is traditional in 4-H. I hope to be involved in programs that will help youth and adults develop leadership skills, so that there will be increased participation in organizations, elected offices, etc. I want to see more programs to make families stronger, ones that will include financial management, improve parenting skills, and increase viability of businesses, including the family farm.

I feel very much at home in this community. Half of my world has been Iowa. I grew up on Iowa-Missouri line. If you draw a circle that includes Princeton, our closest shopping center is Southridge, our closest airport is Des Moines. I like to fly but generally I choose to drive. I recently had a meeting in New Orleans. I could have flown but I had a new pickup and opted to drive. I get on the interstate and do not stop until I need fuel. I enjoy seeing the countryside, which I miss from a plane.

THE CREMATION OF SAM McGEE
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee..

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way that he'd "sooner live in hell."

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursed cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet `tain't being dead — it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."

A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.

There wasn't a breath in the land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains."

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows — 0 God! how I loathed that thing.

And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;
Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared — such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said, "I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; . . . . then the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said, "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm —
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."

There are strange things done in the midnight sun                        The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
By men who moil for gold;                                                                But the queerest they ever did see
The Arctic trails have their secret tales                                           Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
That would make your blood run cold;                                        I cremated Sam McGee.