Wednesday March 16th, 2011

As a Freshman in high school, I thought my world was coming to an end. Little did I know, that it was just the beginning.
I wrote this my sophomore year for my English paper Scar Story.

Pop     Pop! Pop! Pop, pop, pop! Every time there is a moment of silence that is the sound that goes through my mind. Pop! Pop! Pop, pop, pop! Every time I close my eyes I see the same thing.
     People enter our lives just to leave. We have things and then they break. But our losses are over time, not all at once. We take people and things for granted even though we know they will eventually leave or break but we don’t think about shoes, a mattress, a door or even a home as something that we could just lose, in the blink of an eye. Even when we lose something we don’t lose everything all at once. We lose some and gain some, so it evens out.     *When we were little people would ask us “what one thing would you save during a house fire?” Our response would be “my GIJOES or my Barbies.” As we got older our responses would change and we would say “my skateboard or my pictures.” Even after the fire people would ask me “what would you save?” I couldn’t help but think “do you realize who you are talking to?” Since that day my response has been the truth “nothing. Nothing was worth it.”     *Every moment of silence. Pop! Pop! Pop, pop, pop! Every time I close my eyes. *Every single time. I see the flames. Maybe I should just consider myself lucky. *Maybe.     On the morning of Wednesday March 16^th, 2011 at around 7:00 a.m. my mom came into the living room, where I had decided to sleep that night, and said “Zipper! Get up! I have caramel puffins in the oven for breakfast.” I didn’t realize that this would be my last chance to sleep on a mattress.     I was so happy they were home. They came home from vacation 10 hours earlier and my sister had already gone back to her house. I mean even though I was 14 years old having my parents gone for two whole weeks was different.
     As I was getting ready for school, I noticed something weird. The washer had been in my room since we moved there and my mom had started a load of laundry right before she woke me up that morning. When I was getting ready I noticed the washer was doing something funny. It was starting and stopping, starting and stopping. Then I noticed the computer in my room was also off.
     I yelled down the hallway “Mom! Why did the power go out?”
     “What? The power isn’t out”     As I walked down the hallway l looked at the living room wall and realized it looked like police lights on the wall.
     “*Mom! What is going on?”     “What are you talking about?”     “The TV is turning itself off and on!”     “I don’t kn- it is power surges!!”     Pop! Pop! Pop, pop, pop! Pop, pop, pop, pop! Pop!     My mom got my dad out of bed, they were right next to each other, screaming and they still couldn’t hear each other. They went outside to see what they could do, shut off the power and the gas, and as they got to the door to go outside they realized that there was a fire. But I didn’t. I was getting really, really scared. So I walked over to the door so I could put some shoes on but, the smoke was too much to handle, I couldn’t breathe. I had to go to the other door, without shoes. When I got to the door I realized that the treadmill was in the way, and the smoke was filling the house. I moved the treadmill with all of my adrenaline. I left my house for the very last time with a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, pajama pants, and fuzzy socks, no shoes or jacket. Even though this all happened in six minutes, it felt like days.     When I got outside I heard my parents screaming for me. I was inside and heard nothing but the explosions. When I was inside I prayed to God that he would save my family. Now that I was out I thought “ehh. *Just a bad day. I can go home tonight and relax.” It didn’t occur to me that the home I just watched burn was the same home I thought I’d be in later that night.     Somehow I found enough strength in me to stop crying and call my school to tell the secretary I wouldn’t be coming today.
     “Barb, I’m not going to be at school today. My house is on fire. I have got to go. Bye.”     Maybe the strength came from my best friend Ashley’s phone call.
     “Brandi? Did you know your house is on fire?”     She was completely serious but it made me smile.
     Maybe it had something to do with everyone in my family being there for us.     When the fire trucks arrived I lost it. They have been to the farm I live on many times in the last three years, but never for the house, my home. I watched the firefighters cut the siding off of the house and cut the dining room floor out. When they were checking for hotspots they opened a cupboard door and a four foot flame shot out at them. It surprised everyone!     When we were finally allowed back in I couldn’t wait, yet I was so scared. It took me a few tries to go in. The smell of the smoke was so strong I still couldn’t breathe even at 1:00 in the afternoon. We were told had the PVC not been burning we could have saved almost all of our stuff. PVC is full of carcinogens which are cancerous, so anything plastic had to go.     Exactly one week later it finally hit me. My friends and I were walking out of choir when I started to laugh.
     They asked “What!?!”     I continued to laugh and replied “I’m homeless! I’m actually homeless!”     They all looked at me with such concern on their faces. Then it hit. I couldn’t hide the tears. The tears from not sleeping in a week and trying to be strong and not let anyone know I was hurting were finally breaking me. This was my breakdown. I was bawling uncontrollably. I was homeless.     I was leaving on a band trip one week and two days after the fire. I had nothing. I almost didn’t go. It was too soon to leave my family. I still wasn’t sleeping at night and I wasn’t sure I could handle being so far away. The only reason I went was because my aunt was a chaperone and my cousins were also going.
     One year later and we still haven’t moved in our new house. I am so thankful for everyone’s support and love but that still doesn’t heal the emotional scars.     *Those flames. That sound. They will forever haunt me. Every time something flashes I think: power surges! Every time someone drops something and it makes a loud noise or even when I make popcorn the popping scares me.     *Scar. *One word. *One word that can change your life forever. Everyone has the scars that they are proud of. You know those that you can say “look! This one is from when I crashed the dirt bike. And this one! This one is from chasing my little brother down the stairs.” Everyone has those physical scars, and for some weird reason they make us proud. They make us smile. In our society to shake off the stares we consider our scars an accomplishment, kind of like our own personal trophies. But what about those other scars? Emotional scars. They are easy to hide until we break. If we really don’t want anyone to know, we can hide them. There is no physical proof to prove it. So why are we so embarrassed about emotional scars? Shouldn’t they be even bigger trophies? Emotional scars make us who we are. They make us stronger. Pop.

 3 years ago Sunday marks a day where I changed forever. I grew up, realized just how thankful I was for our little community, and decided that I wanted to stay here forever. I couldn't be more thankful for everyone that helped in any way possible. Some days the fire is a distant memory, others it feels like yesterday. I actually watched fireworks at the fair this year, for the first time since the fire. I learned that I am the only one that can define me, not the events in my life. That was a hard day and it didn't really sink in until exactly 7 days later. It all felt like a nightmare that just wouldn't end, but our community was there to catch us when we realized that it wasn't just a nightmare, it was our new life. I couldn't be more thankful for my community, my family, and my friends and all the support they have provided for my family and for other families. After all, that's what small towns do, support, survive, and smile through it all. So, thank you. 

 The day of the fire is above. The first 4 are the outside, the next is our kitchen, and the last one is our dining room with no floor as the fire originated right below the floor. Nearly 3 years later, our new house is in the picture below. It all turned out to be a blessing.

Say Hello to Renville County's new Dairy Princess

I was recently informed that growing up on a farm really shows through me. I come off as responsible and respectful with a hard work ethic. I earn my money and everything I have, and I don't spend money unless it's going to make me money. I am the farthest thing from a "girly-girl". I hate wearing dresses and heels, I could care less about jewelry or a diamond ring, I hate being in pictures, I don't want my fingernails done because I don't want to waste money by getting them dirty, and I don't wear make-up. The ads on my Facebook are trucks and four wheelers, not dresses and shoes. I'm most comfortable with my hair in a ponytail, my boots and "old" clothes on, driving machinery, or in the shop with the guys. My favorite day this summer was spent replacing the clean grain elevator chain with my dad. I ended the day covered in grease and the biggest smile on my face. Don't get me wrong, I love my job at the daycare center, but there is just something special about farming. I love the family feel of it all. As soon as one of the workers has a kid, they are out riding in the equipment with them. And if that means stopping to change diapers on the floor of the tractor, that's what you do.

Including me, there is only two girls (the other is my cousin), that are seniors in high school who live on a dairy farm or whose family's own dairy cows. That meant no competition for the county dairy princess. Renville County Dairy Princesses of 2014-2015 are me and a friend who is a year older because she works on a dairy farm. I cannot believe that I am a dairy princess, it will definitely take me out of my comfort zone!
This is a few pictures from my Crowning on March 17th, 2014.

I Have a Dream

My favorite quote is by Franklin D. Roosevelt, "When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on." I am a firm believer that you are only given what you can handle. That being said, on many occasions I thought I couldn't handle what I was being given. But I believe that those occasions are what made me such a dreamer. I believe that I was put in those situations to make me dream, realize my potential, and motivate me. I absolutely love my life. I am unbelievably blessed and couldn't ask for a better family. They are always there for me and we only get stronger as the situations get harder.

I have spent my entire life on a farm. It is where I feel most comfortable. I wouldn't give it up for the world.
I recently went on my first vacation, to Arizona. It was nice to get away from the cold Minnesota blizzard, but there is no way I could ever live there. Arizona was warm, but everything was brown. There wasn't normal trees, there wasn't grass, there wasn't even normal fields. Everything in Arizona is dirt, desert, mountains, and cacti. Never will I move there. As much as I complain about winter, I don't know if I could survive a Christmas without snow, no change of seasons, and no fields. I don't know if I could survive living in a place where everything is one color, I need the change. I need excitement.

I have a dream that this world will be different. I have a dream that people will be kind. I have a dream that people will know where their food comes from. I have a dream that people will have people skills, not rely on technology to do it for them. I have a dream.

My ultimate life goal is to be a mother. I have always loved kids and can't imagine not having any. In my mind, it's not life without kids. I dream to be a mom. I dream to be a wife. I dream to be a teacher. I dream to be a farmer. I dream to be a speaker. I dream to be me. I am a small town girl with big dreams. But not city dreams. I dream to live on a farm, start an agricultural charter school, be a mom, wife, and farmer. I dream of my kids making me crazy, I dream of my husband and I arguing about letting pets in the house. I dream of yelling at my kids for the million and tenth time to just share with their siblings and being at my wits end. I dream of smiling, happy, healthy kids who love the farm and their life. I dream.

I dream of obstacles and overcoming them. I dream of not letting anything get in my way. I dream of a fulfilled life.

And I can't wait for it all to begin. I dream.
*This is what I imagine <3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QJuDLkiHX8g

Small Town Minnesota

I grew up where mason jars have always been cool. I'm from a small town in Minnesota. Approximately 1000 people, no stop lights, and you know everyone and their grandma's business. Our school is from 3 separate towns and there is kids from several other surrounding communities. Our district is about 500 kids and my graduating class is 31. We have a gas station because we are on a main highway. We have 3 bars, 4 churches, and several country churches. We don't have movie theaters, bowling alleys, restaurant chains, anywhere to "hang out", or even a grocery store. We don't have crime, fights, or "trouble". The only traffic we have is farm equipment, but it doesn't bother us because they are the people who feed us and more than likely,  we are in farm equipment too. We take Sunday drives by the river bottom going 30 mph, "field-checkin'", eventually getting to a big town where we can stop for ice cream at Dairy Queen (the closest is about 30-35 mins away going 55.) This is where your summer is spent with friends, working for your dad, cleaning shops, machinery, in a field picking rocks (and other things!), making songs and memories, and telling stories. This is where you see either pickups, equipment, or four-wheelers, go-carts, and dirt-bikes on the gravel road. Vehicles are every color but white-because white shows to much dirt. Cars aren't common because they don't have the 4-wheel drive to get through the snow and mud. You see kids flying through the ditch on machines trying to see who can make the biggest splash in the puddles or who can get through the mud the fastest. This is where the kids don't freak out about being dirty and not showering twice a day. This is where boots, ripped-up, stained jeans, and laughter is common. This is where you hear "shop-talk", "crop-talk", livestock, and market prices all day long. Starting as a little kid, you learn that when the markets are on, you are quiet. Kids learn how to understand the markets before they know their alphabet. This is where kids learn responsibility, respect, and  manners BEFORE they start school.
So many of us call our town "Hick-ville" but it's because we would rather be "hicks" than "city-slickers."
I know many kids who think that small town life is boring, pointless, and frustrating. They just want to escape. And I get it. I do. But I find small town life special, a blessing, and exciting. We get excitement from the cows taking the road to the neighbors house, looking in their window, watching the Timberwolves with them, then leaving a nose print on their window, instead of going on the road and coming home after a small walk. I would never want to live in a city, let alone a town. I like to live in the country, the middle of nowhere, it's my sanctuary. Life is fairly simple: what you see is what you get. People here are honest and always try their hardest, if not, they won't get business-and word spreads FAST. Life in small town Minnesota is quiet (but it can also be LOUD), there is always trucks going by, roads are small, the school parking lot is basically pickups, girls help with everything the boys do, and more than likely, when you babysit someone's kids, it's because they babysat you, and their kids will babysit your kids. Our towns are like a large family. Of course there is gossip but we are together when it counts the most. You know everybody's name and where they grew up, probably where their parents grew up, and you know all of this without the internet, because people here talk, with WORDS, it is an amazing thing, really. I LIVE for life in a small town and plan to raise my family and have my career in my amazing hometown.
I am blessed. Unbelievably blessed. I can't imagine living anywhere else. Even though word spreads faster than you can say "what?", our community comes together and supports everyone when there is a need. When we had our fire, our community was there immediately. I can't imagine living somewhere where the whole area doesn't stop to help you. Help came emotionally, financially, and physically. And the help never stopped. We still get it, three years later, because that's what you do in small town Minnesota, you support. With those homemade meals from church families, to benefits, free babysitting, clothing, schools who make sure EVERYONE has the opportunity to do everything they want, and the friends who just pop in to make sure you are doing ok.
It is Friday night. Since last Friday, EIGHT young men have passed on, TWO girls were found unconscious, SIX escaped a house fire, several elderly have also passed, and a few have been diagnosed with cancer. This has all happened with in a 75 mile radius of us. Everybody is asking "why? I just don't understand." I don't understand either, but I don't think we are meant to. God has a plan, He knows what He is doing.

Our small communities have been shook up and turned upside down this past week, but with love and support from one another, we have survived. And we will continue to survive and support because that is what small towns in Minnesota do. We survive, support, and smile through it all. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l5DnNxDTjbQ