Growing Up Meadow Green
I grew up on a small farm outside of Milaca, Minnesota. Actually, the farm was tucked into the northwest corner of Isanti county, with Mille Lacs to 1/4 mile to the west and Kanabec 1/4 mile to the north of the house. Mom and Dad bought the farm two years before I was born, and Dad sold it in 1994. It was 144 acres, and in the 30 years we owned the land there were a lot of changes made. A lot of those changes was made with an Oliver 770 wide-front tractor. Dad bought it new in 1963, along with a four-bottom plow, harrow disc, corn planter, and sickle mower — all of which were Oliver meadow green.
Olivers were one of the main tractors in my neighborhood — mostly row crop 77’s and 88’s. Our neighbor Bobby owned a Super 99 GM diesel, a squat broad-shouldered beast that to this day makes me think unrelenting power. The other popular brands in our neighborhood were Cases, Massey-Fergusons, and Internationals. You’d find the random Johnny Popper, old 8n and 9n Fords, and one neighbor had a newer Ford. But, yeah, Oliver Green…
We mostly used our Oliver to move stuff around with the loader. It had a trip bucket on it, and Dad used it to dig gravel in our pit, haul fallen down limbs, and the two tasks I logged the most hours on it were picking rock and hauling wood. Jobs that never seemed to end. And it’s the machine Dad used me to teach me how to drive.
When I was a wee cub, Dad would set me on his lap while he was doing fieldwork. Now, remember, the tractor didn’t have a cab, power steering, roll-over protection, seatbelts, and really not set up for a toddler to be riding along. Back in the 60’s though, that shit was normal. I rode on the front edge of the seat until I was old enough to set against the clam shell fenders and hold onto one of the lamp.
But riding there…Dad’s legs and arm holding me in place…and every so often, he’d tell me to steer. “Use the radiator cap up there to aim.” While I took control, Dad would light a Lucky Strike (later a Pall Mall), and he’d take a bit of a break as I got us where we were going. I was 3 years old at the time. Now that’s a lot of trust. Heh
I miss the sound of that in-line six Wakishah engine, the growl of the transmission, the bump ahead when going from low to high range, the rattle of the snow chains in the winter…learning how to use the clutch and steering with the brakes…dropping the bucket down on the ground to push the wheels up high and give them a spin…so many different tricks I learned from Dad…I miss that iron…
*****
A few years ago, I was looking for pictures of Oliver 770’s and found a 1/16th scale model of the tractor I grew up on — complete with the right brand of loader. I hinted to my sisters for a while that I found it, and it’d make a great present. This year, I finally found one of the models still in the box, so, I picked it up as my Christmas present to myself. It finally came the other day, and it’s awesome! I’m now looking for more pieces to go with it, and I’m going to set it all up in my studio along with some of my old Tonkas and other pieces from my childhood. I might be 55 years old, but, I refuse to grow up.
