Norwegian Farmer’s Son…August 28th

August 28th…“TELL ABOUT A UNIQUE PERSON WHO LIVED IN YOUR HOMETOWN WHEN YOU WERE A LITTLE BOY GROWING UP IN SOUTHERN MINNESOTA.”

[Author’s Preface……August 28th, 2023.   Mr. Beryl Franklin ‘Lightning’ Lark was born September 6th, 1919 in Boone, Nebraska.  He was one of a family of seven with three other brothers and three sisters.  Beryl died on January 4th, 1989 {at 69 years of age} in Freeborn, Minnesota and he lies in rest at the Glenwood Cemetery in Ogden, Iowa.  I discovered through my research that Mr. Lark dutifully registered for The Selective Service during World War II (I even made a copy of his Draft Card) and that he even found love and was married, in 1947, to a young lady by the name of Elsie Chestnut…….although, during his tenure in our village, it appears that that marriage came to an end as he lived single in those Kiester days.

Like a good meal, every community is home to individuals who bring a ‘flavor’ of their own to the ambiance of the village they have chosen to call home.  Mr. Lark, while he called Kiester, Minnesota his home, was part of the ‘recipe’ that made our little town special.  Was he perfect?  By no means!  Yet, it would do no good to elaborate on his failings as a human in this story forum.  Matter of fact, in another story here at my website, I sing the praises of Mr. Lark for capturing one of my favorite toys from the junkyard there in town and selling it to my father.  As a kid, I treasured that metal orange dump truck and kept that Tonka truck for YEARS until my own children could play with it, too. 

You see, friends, the reason I share this background information is because when I first published this story, a current resident of the Kiester, Minnesota area took it upon himself to severely excoriate me for publicly regarding my sharing of this memory from my childhood.  His remarks cut me deeply!! 😦   I had merely shared my childhood observations of ‘Lightning’ from the perspective of those times of childhood innocence and never intended to denigrate Mr. Lark in any way.  Sadly, the attacking person failed to see that there is a ‘happy ending’ in the story of my farmer parents choosing to show love to ‘Lightning’ by inviting him into our home for meals and fellowship and that our farmer father saw to it that Mr. Lark was safely transported back to town and his humble abode.  With my heart having shared this preface, I now bring you the story of ‘Lightning’.] 

**********************************************

He may have rolled into town inside one of the many railway freight cars that stopped at our village in southern Minnesota.  Or, he may have been a son from a local farm family.  Either way, Beryl ‘Lightning’ Lark was a colorful character that found our small town of Kiester, Minnesota to his liking and called it home for the largest share of his adult days.

Somehow, over the years, Beryl was tagged with the nickname, ‘Lightning’.  And, from my childhood recall, it likely did NOT pertain to him being speedy on his feet by any means.   When it came to physical attributes, that literally poor man had to merely open his mouth to show that there weren’t many real teeth in attendance, per se, but only a vacant dental cave with a single stalagmite and stalactite here and there in his cavernous smile.

One thing for sure, ‘Lightning’ never looked like he was starving……wink, wink ;o).  Through his various means of garnering some sort of income, Mr. Lark became one very roley-poley man.  That fact became seam-splittingly obvious when he’d try to fit into a lady’s old dress while riding one of his bikes through various parades in our town over the years.

Amongst the various parade entries of marching band, fancy decorated floats and sparkling cars during festivities in our hometown of Kiester, Minnesota……….there’d come old ‘Lightning’ on a bike, pulling a child’s wagon and throwing candy to the kids in the crowd along the way.  With about a six month supply of dirt all over his body, he was quite the sight wearing a lady’s frilly hat with a matching dress on that very soiled body.  His burgeoning belly had burst out the side seam of that dress that was wayyy too small and revealed sections of his ‘personal landscape’ as he wiggled-n-jiggled by to the crowd’s delight.

Our farmer parents, on occasion, would hire one of the local grain grinding businesses to come out to our farm with their special machinery to grind field corn into a meal mixture, which we then, in turn, would feed to our cows and other livestock.   Good old ‘Lightning’ had been given the opportunity, by the business owner, to earn a few dollars as one of the crew of the grinding service that day.

After the grinding operation was completed that day, the other feed grinding workers on the crew had already gone home to their families, but not ‘Lightning’.    With no family to rush home to, ‘Lightning’ meandered up to our mother’s kitchen and engaged her in conversation while she prepared our savory family supper that evening.

Since Mr. Lark was an unmarried person (during that time of his life) with a microscopic source of income, he was limited to taking up residence in an itty-bitty shack that was either near or actually IN the town’s junkyard.  So you see, as a man who had to fend for himself in the food department of life……he was in no hurry, whatsoever, to want to leave the tantalizing aromas of our mother’s delicious cooking and that warm, cozy kitchen of ours.  Being the generous soul she always was, it didn’t take Mom long to realize that this long-winded talker was hoping for an invitation to stay for supper with our family.

From Mom’s kind heart came these words, “Lightning, would you like to stay and have supper with us?”   Spoken through his toothless mouth and with an accompanying speech impediment, his classic response to Mom’s invitation has become a staple in our family ever since his utterance of ……“Well, thince ya twithted mah arm, SURE!  I’ll thtay fer thupper!!”  

Mom had to squelch a giggle in reacting to ‘Lightning’s’ quick response to her invitation.  When Dad had finished milking the cows, he also arrived upon the sweet aromatic scene of supper on the table and our guest of honor for that evening…….Mr. Beryl Lark.  Generous were the pleasant portions, that evening, of food, friendship and fellowship with ‘Lightning’ that made for a pleasant moment to remember for this Norwegian Farmer’s Son.