Delano Herald Journal

Serving the communities of Delano, Loretto, Montrose, MN, and the surrounding area

Sue Fink’s Imagine That Column, 4/30/2001



Have you ever been given words of advice, ignored them,
and regretted it later? Aunt Evelyn used to say, “Don’t try to do two
things at once.” She was canning sauerkraut and, in her hurry to take
some jars to the basement, she slipped on the basement steps, fell, and
broke her leg. I should have remembered her advice Easter morning at the
Fink farm.

Some of our kids and grandkids were coming over for Easter
dinner and I was making early morning preparations. I had just gotten the
potatoes and eggs boiling for potato salad. While they boiled I had a few
minutes to run down to the milk house and get milk. Anticipating the crowd
coming for dinner, I headed out the door with two pitchers.

As I entered the milk house, I noticed that the handle
on the bulk tank spigot was in an unusual position. Normally, it’s parallel
with the bulk tank and a couple of inches away from it. This time the handle
was pushed all the way back against the bulk tank.

This should have been a clue. Talk about being clueless.

I crouched in front of the bulk tank and screwed off the
plastic cap that covers the end of the spout. I turned the handle, holding
the pitcher tilted toward the bulk tank to catch the milk.

No milk came out. At that moment, Jesy came in from the
barn. I looked up and said, jokingly, “What is this, April fools?”

Just then, the milk started to flow, squirting off to the
side more than down into the pitcher. I filled the pitcher and tried to
push the handle back to the closed position. It turned freely in my hand,
and didn’t stop the flow of milk in the least. The metal stopper had come
loose from the handle and fallen out onto the floor. Suddenly, milk began
to gush out of the bulk tank.

I grabbed the second pitcher and hollered at Jesy, “Get
your dad in here!”

There I was, yelling for Tom and rapidly being covered
with milk. I tried to hold my hand over the end of the spigot, but I couldn’t
keep it there. I couldn’t screw the cover back on because the milk was gushing
too fast.

Finally Tom came running in, and stopped the milk by holding
his hand on the end of the spigot. “Grab some latex gloves,” he
yelled. He wadded the gloves into the end of the outlet, and held them there
while he considered a solution.

“I’m going to have to take this apart, fix it and
clamp it back on. You’re going to have to hold some paper towels over the
opening while I do that. Get some paper towels and get ready.”

The only way I could manage to stop the gusher was to hold
the paper towels across the opening, hold my wrist with my other hand, and
then brace my knee against my hand. It was a very awkward position to hold.

Of course, I tried to think happy thoughts as I crouched
there. In the back of my mind I could see my potatoes cooking away to mush,
and the eggs boiling down to hard little blobs on the stove. I imagined
myself trying to find something else to serve with the ham. I even began
to wonder if the glass cook top would shatter if the kettles boiled out
of water.

“The pin that holds this together fell out,”
Tom exclaimed. “I have to find a nail small enough to fit in the hole.”
The repair would hold until the milkman came later in the morning to pick
up what was left in the bulk tank.

Just when I thought I couldn’t hold the milk in for another
second, Tom brought the fixed spigot over to where I crouched. “Okay,
now,” he said. “You take your hands away and I’ll put this on
and snap the collar in place.” It took two tries, but the flow of milk
finally stopped.

We were both covered with milk. My hair and face were
dripping. My sweat pants and shoes were drenched. I have felt my shoes
squishing with water before, but this was the first time they had ever squished
with milk when I walked.

Jesy came back from feeding calves and was put to work
hosing the milk off everything. I left quickly before she decided that I
was also fair game.

How did the potatoes and eggs fare? Well, luckily, I had
turned the burners down low enough before I left the house. No harm was
done to the potatoes. The eggs may have been a little overcooked, but they
were acceptable for potato salad.

There was plenty of milk to go around, too. I passed on
that. After all, I’d already had more than my share for the day.

Got milk? Oh, yeah!

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