farming, but I didn’t want to waste my summer vacations bringing in hay. There were books to be read and lakes to be swum in and—most of all—old movies on T.V. to be watched. The fights my Dad and I had over me helping out on the farm were awesome. I remember him yelling once that I “read too many books!” (Translation: My son’s a faggot.)
Of course, I always lost those battles and wound up on the hay wagon, broiling in the sun, hayseeds torturing me down the back of my t-shirt, sweat soaking me through and through, being nearly knocked unconscious by the errant catapulting bale and trying to keep my balance as the wagon bounced over the uneven fields. All the while knowing that there was a Norma Shearer picture on the Million Dollar Movie that would probably never be shown again!
Boy, was I a stooge.
Looking back now, I think my protestations were an essential part of the experience; maybe if I had gone along willingly the memories wouldn’t be as strong, the remembered sensations not nearly as vivid. By hating every moment, I experienced every moment.
I don’t picture those days in the tans and sepias of old photos. No, I see the late 1960s in the super-saturated hues of 8mm Kodachrome home movies. The sweet corn presented proudly to the camera at the picnic after finishing in the field is lemony and lush. The scarf covering the pink rollers in my aunt’s hair is turquoise and diaphanous. The picture is a little blurry and the action is sped up just a little, like we’re all rushing to fit as much fun as we can into our too-brief summer vacation.
I don’t think Dad was right that I read too much. But, I’m dearly glad I always lost the battle and got to spend a few hot July days bouncing along on the back of an old hay wagon.
ALL WE OWE IOWA
Well, the way Randy tells it, he had just picked up his mail and there among the bills was an envelope addressed to him from his grandfather. Seems Grandpa would give each of the grandkids a check for $250 when they got married. All the other cousins had gotten their loot by this point but Randy was still unmarried. Who can say what got into the old man, but he decided to send Randy his check in spite of him still being a bachelor.
“How do you like that?” Randy said to Allen as they drove down the street in Allen’s red convertible. The thing is, Randy didn’t exactly consider himself “unmarried.” He and Allen had been together just a short time, but it felt like The Real Thing. So they went right to the bank where Randy cashed the check and handed $125 to Allen.
“And I took it,” said Allen. “And I spent it. And I haven’t stopped spending since.”
That check from Randy’s grandfather arrived in 1973 and, according to Randy, that’s when they were married. As far as the state of Iowa is concerned, however, Randy Van Syoc and Allen Coit Ransome are newlyweds who were legally married on August 26, 2009.
Randy and Allen have been my friends for just a few short years but we’re as close as family. Our mutual friend Jeanine and I were the witnesses who signed the marriage license. But when their friend Ken, who officiated at the ceremony, asked who would stand for these two people, the entire crowd yelled, “We do!” and leapt to their feet.
The ceremony took place on a boat that launched onto the Mississippi from Dubuque and in the middle of the ceremony, in addition to heckling the minister, Allen instructed the captain to veer a little away from the Illinois side and further into Iowa waters just to make sure the marriage was legal.
All the trapping were there: the open bar; the cheese platters, the bacon-wrapped shrimp; the relatives meeting out-of-town friends for the first time. The usual. The atmosphere , though, was anything but; it felt historic and long, long overdue. Allen told me earlier in the day that he had been lying awake a few nights before the ceremony trying to
Of course, I always lost those battles and wound up on the hay wagon, broiling in the sun, hayseeds torturing me down the back of my t-shirt, sweat soaking me through and through, being nearly knocked unconscious by the errant catapulting bale and trying to keep my balance as the wagon bounced over the uneven fields. All the while knowing that there was a Norma Shearer picture on the Million Dollar Movie that would probably never be shown again!
Boy, was I a stooge.
Looking back now, I think my protestations were an essential part of the experience; maybe if I had gone along willingly the memories wouldn’t be as strong, the remembered sensations not nearly as vivid. By hating every moment, I experienced every moment.
I don’t picture those days in the tans and sepias of old photos. No, I see the late 1960s in the super-saturated hues of 8mm Kodachrome home movies. The sweet corn presented proudly to the camera at the picnic after finishing in the field is lemony and lush. The scarf covering the pink rollers in my aunt’s hair is turquoise and diaphanous. The picture is a little blurry and the action is sped up just a little, like we’re all rushing to fit as much fun as we can into our too-brief summer vacation.
I don’t think Dad was right that I read too much. But, I’m dearly glad I always lost the battle and got to spend a few hot July days bouncing along on the back of an old hay wagon.
ALL WE OWE IOWA
Well, the way Randy tells it, he had just picked up his mail and there among the bills was an envelope addressed to him from his grandfather. Seems Grandpa would give each of the grandkids a check for $250 when they got married. All the other cousins had gotten their loot by this point but Randy was still unmarried. Who can say what got into the old man, but he decided to send Randy his check in spite of him still being a bachelor.
“How do you like that?” Randy said to Allen as they drove down the street in Allen’s red convertible. The thing is, Randy didn’t exactly consider himself “unmarried.” He and Allen had been together just a short time, but it felt like The Real Thing. So they went right to the bank where Randy cashed the check and handed $125 to Allen.
“And I took it,” said Allen. “And I spent it. And I haven’t stopped spending since.”
That check from Randy’s grandfather arrived in 1973 and, according to Randy, that’s when they were married. As far as the state of Iowa is concerned, however, Randy Van Syoc and Allen Coit Ransome are newlyweds who were legally married on August 26, 2009.
Randy and Allen have been my friends for just a few short years but we’re as close as family. Our mutual friend Jeanine and I were the witnesses who signed the marriage license. But when their friend Ken, who officiated at the ceremony, asked who would stand for these two people, the entire crowd yelled, “We do!” and leapt to their feet.
The ceremony took place on a boat that launched onto the Mississippi from Dubuque and in the middle of the ceremony, in addition to heckling the minister, Allen instructed the captain to veer a little away from the Illinois side and further into Iowa waters just to make sure the marriage was legal.
All the trapping were there: the open bar; the cheese platters, the bacon-wrapped shrimp; the relatives meeting out-of-town friends for the first time. The usual. The atmosphere , though, was anything but; it felt historic and long, long overdue. Allen told me earlier in the day that he had been lying awake a few nights before the ceremony trying to
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