Share Your Story – “Winnetoon Turd Birds” by Gayle Neuhaus, Winnetoon, NE

My mom, Arlene Fredrickson Neuhaus, (great granddaughter of Augusta Ballou Davidson, twin to Anne’s Augustus) had a strange sense of humor as did her brother-in-law, Barney. It was in 1971 that Barney challenged her to begin the Nebraska Turd Bird venture. His horse furnished the raw material.

While we have seen other turd birds, Arlene’s were special because they were made using as many Nebraska grown products as possible. The wooden base was cut in the shape of Nebraska. Of course, the body was a horse turd, legs were a chicken or turkey wishbone, toes and beak were wheat seeds, head was a cockle burr, dyed chicken feathers were the wings, tail and topknot.

Arlene showed her first bird to a Winnetoon native. He bought it and her unintended business was born. At first she enjoyed the challenge. But after a while working with horse manure became overwhelming. Arlene upped the price to stifle orders…still they poured in.

After quitting the business three times, in desperation she turned the birds over to her son, Bill Jr. He was just able to keep ahead of the demand. During this time over 2000 Winnetoon Turd Birds flew all over the USA, to South America and Czechoslovakia.

With the popularity of Nebraska’s football team, Bill developed a variation…the “Go Big Red Bird” complete with hat, football and goalpost.

Bill, too, got tired of the flock. He quit nesting and flew the coop to Nevada. The business reverted to “Granny T Bird”.

Arlene went back to assembling the birds. After she died in 1980, her daughter, Gayle, reluctantly took over. As the years passed, Gayle’s son, Jeff and daughters, Gina and Tarese became the bird makers. Then, the birds were passed down to the fourth generation, Tarese’s sons, Jonathon and Abraham. But these boys also flew the coop leaving their mother, Tarese, as the current “Turd Bird” maker.

Such is the genealogy of our “Winnetoon Turd Bird”.

Missing You Monday – Dear Old Dad

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So, I decided to make up my own “prompt” called, “Missing You Monday.” I’m glad I can do things like this…it’s my blog, after all!

Well, Saturday made four years since I got the dreaded phone call from my father’s wife saying, “Annie, your Daddy is dead.” I couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t want to believe it! She told me that she was trying to get Dad to get ready to go to the hospital. His lower leg looked bad (he was diabetic) and I think he was afraid of having to have it amputated.

Well, I have to give details here to tie in the story…sorry ’bout that. Anyway, Dad was in the bathroom that morning and he became extremely adamant about not going to the hospital. I guess his heart gave out and he died right there on the john. Poor Dad…

I was living in Rochester, NY at the time. My sister was at the ocean on vacation with her family and my poor brother was at work, in Baltimore, when I broke the news to him. Daddy was living in Lillian, Alabama (right over the line from Pensacola, Florida) and we had to decide how we would get there. We decided to rent a huge SUV and drive, each of us taking turns. We left just before midnight on the 6th from Maryland – my sister, my brother, his wife, my husband and me.

Dad's 75th, Oct. 2006

My brother drove for the first part of our journey. None of us said much to each other. We listened to some of Dad’s favorite music on the car’s CD player. Some of us dozed, some slept…we took turns driving. The trip was rather uneventful.

We reached Lillian late on the 7th. We got a motel and the next day, we picked up Dad’s wife and drove to the funeral home.

Such a sad day…our beloved Father gone. I will spare you these details.

We dropped off his wife at home; she needed a rest. The five of us went to dinner at one of Dad’s favorite restaurants. We sat down and breathed…finally. It was over. There was to be no funeral, nothing else. Just the five of us huddled together around a table at a restaurant near Lillian, Alabama. (It is here that I must interject a warning of sorts. You probably know of my sense of humor by some of my writings. I inherited it from Dad. So did my brother and sister. I have to tell you this so you won’t think we are unfeeling, odd or somehow evil. Well, you still might think we are, but I had to warn you just the same!)

The waitress took our orders. We sat and waited, not saying a whole lot. Finally, my brother says something to break the silence, “Well, Dad has a new hit song.” “What?” I shockingly said, “what are you talking about?” “Yeah, Dad has a new hit song,” he reiterated, “It’s My Potty & I’ll Die if I Want To,” he sang to the tune of “It’s My Party & I’ll Cry If I Want To!” We laughed our heads off til I thought we would fall out of our chairs…we didn’t care that the rest of the restaurant was staring at us…that laugh was just what we needed to bring ‘life’ back to us. I’m sure Dad was laughing, too!

Tombstone Tuesday – Sarah Janett Ballou Box

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Sarah J. Ballou Box

Sarah Janett was the eldest daughter of Levi and Mary Marble Ballou. Sarah was born in Illinois in 1835, not long after her parents made the trek to Illinois from Central New York. She married James Box on April 5, 1852 in DuPage County. Less than a year later, Sarah died, in childbirth, on February 18, 1853. Her only child, William, lived to age 11. Both are buried in Forest Hill Cemetery, Glen Ellyn, DuPage Co., IL.

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