Listening to Martians talk

Jim Pluimer

Tractor Tales
Posted 7/9/03

Leaving Duluth was like trading in your Erector Set for a box of toothpicks. We drove the long road home in silence.

For supper we had sugestim and hot currant cakes. It felt good to get something warm inside of me.

"What are your plans for after supper?" Shirley asked, looking at both of us.

"I'm going over to Marlo's Porch tonight," Al said. "Cousin Elmer is going to be there."

Shirley turned her gaze to me, it was my turn. "Cal Scumaski said that Harvey and me..."

"Harvey and I!" Shirley corrected me.

"Oh, yea, Harvey and I. He told us we could go over to his workshop and listen to his homemade radio. If that's okay with you. "

Shirley hesitated and looked at Al. "Well, I guess that would be okay. Just don't touch any wires. I've heard funny things about that place." We were excused from cleanup and exited like a couple of spooked rabbits in front of a hay chopper. A1 fired up the Oliver and I hopped on my bike as we both headed south on Bergen. By the time I reached the Trondheim's, A1 was already half way up the hill. (He had to pick up Elmer because Saturday was "no-car night," because of the dance.)

Harv pedaled out to meet me as Hattie waved to me from her door. "Don't touch any wires," she shouted. We continued in a southerly fashion to the end of Bergen Street then took a left up the driveway which connected Eigersund's, the Arendahl twins and the Scumaski's. The road continued past the Scumaskis until it reached a dead end at the Insons.

Harv and I pushed our bikes uphill the last 50 feet to the Scumaski's moss-covered, rough-sawn, bare-board dwelling. Their house was surrounded by a crawling landscape of untended vegetation, piles of assorted junk and several cords of neatly stacked firewood--a testimony to bachelorhood, a requiem for marriage. We couldn't believe how cool it was!

Cal Scumaski met us at the door and waved us in. Once inside we realized the lower floor of his house was all workshop. And wires? Oh, yes.

"You guys ever heard Martians talking to each other?" he asked as he began turning the immense dials of his receiver with surgical precision. We didn't know what to say. After a few crackles and spits from the radio, strange voices began to emanate from the oversize speaker.

After fifteen minutes of intense listening we were dumbfounded and dazed--a French-Canadian talk show can do that to a couple of naive 10- year-olds. We had been "had."

By the end of June, Harvey and I had made friends with the entire town. It was a wonderful feeling. The month had gone by so fast and, except for the rainy spells and frost on the 25th, it was a very good month. If I live to be a hundred, this month will represent .00833% of my life. In terms of growth, I'm sure it's more.