Behind the Lines: by David Heiller

David Heiller Don’t laugh, but this column is about Bag Balm. Bag Balm is a product that is made to eliminate chapped skin on cow teats and udders. Hence, the name. Some people think the name Bag Balm is udderly ri diculous. But I kind of like it. Not fancy, not p re tty, but it fits. According to the can, Bag Balm is made “For chapped teats, superficial scratches, windburn, and sunburn.” The di re ctions on the can say: “Massage thoroughly and allow ointment to remain for full antiseptic and softening effect on the udder.” At the bottom in bold print, it says VETERINARY USE ONLY. You can ignore that line. It’s just a disclaimer in case some teenager tries to inhale it or something. Farmers discovered by accident that the act of massaging a few teats made their hands feel better. In other words, what is good for the goose is good for the gander. Hands that were chapped and nicked up, like all farmers hands are softened and healed from the Bag Balm. In my case, what ...

David Heiller There’s a feeling that comes about this time of year when fall settles in and winter is just a week or two away. It’s a feeling that tells people to check their wood supply and tighten up their leaky farmhouses. Grass dries up in the field and leaves crumble underfoot. It’s time to pick up the plastic buckets in the sandbox, and carry them to the shed, along with the Tonka dump trucks and bulldozers. The dogs stay in all night, and would stay in all day too if you didn’t have the common sense to boot them out during the day where they belong. Dogs outside, but not at night in the winter. The cat catches mice every other day, proudly leaving them on the floor, where the wife, if she’s lucky, gingerly walks around them and calls for the husband to throw them outside. If she’s not lucky, you hear the blood-curdling scream that only a woman stepping barefoot on a dead mouse can evoke. You work all through the weekend during the day, but the day ends dark and...

David Heiller “Just don’t get stopped with this trailer, because you might not get home with it.” I looked at my friend, Dave Landwehr. He was lending me his eight-foot trailer to haul a piece of newspaper equipment from Grand Marais. “Yeah, if the police stop you, they might not let you continue. You might end up spending the night.” Dave is an honest guy. He speaks his mind. This was his way of warning me, “You can use my trailer, no problem, but it doesn’t have lights, so if you get stopped, be prepared for the worst.” Cindy and I and our two children headed toward Grand Marais, pulling the tail-light-less trailer Saturday morning. As we passed through Duluth and up the North Shore, I thought about my luck with law enforcement officers this year. First, there was that trip to Nisswa in July. Sunday morning, on a straight stretch of Highway 18, a Crow Wing County deputy pulled us over. “You were going 71,” he said. He looked us over. Noah and Malika looked him over fro...