Let me just say that wood ticks can be good for something. Who would have known.
This, once again, is an odd—but very true—story. It began as I was laughing out loud to myself in the grocery store line. I figured I better explain to the checkout lady why I was chuckling. Surely I wouldn’t want her to think I was nutso.
I began explaining in detail the time my brother had plucked a wood tick off of himself in bed a few years back, and—rather than kill or flush the critter—he had flicked it as far away from himself as he could. Or so he thought.
The next morning he woke up to find it fixed and engorged between the eyes of his grumpy now ex-wife. By now, of course, the two of us were having a laugh-fest between ourselves.
Little did we know there was a third participant behind me in line. Between snorts and laughs, she blurted, “Well you must be from the Midwest! I don’t hear people talk about wood ticks around here.”
She was perfectly right. Coloradoans are more worried about deer ticks, recluse spiders, and a rare rattlesnake bite.
In my best Minnesota accent I stood erect and said, “Yup…you betcha! I graduated from Hector, Minnesota…class of 1980!”
She burst into hysterics and said, “You’re kidding me! My dad—Neil Macheledt-- graduated from Buffalo Lake High School! In fact, my mother (Wendla) was buried in the cemetery there in 2005.”
For those of you who struggle with geography like I do, the two towns are a mere five miles apart.
After we had both checked out, we stepped to the side.
“My mom graduated from Buffalo Lake. She was a Buboltz,” I added.
“Oh, my gosh! My grandparents—Alvin and Arvilla Macheledt-- sold their farm south of town to a Buboltz.”
This is when cell phones come in handy. I called my mother.
As Jean and I pried for information, we discovered that the farm had been sold to Virgil and Judy Buboltz. Mom kept interjecting how nice Jean’s dad and aunt (also Jean) were and, because of this, how I should not hestitate to become friends with her.
The story was to become even more entertainingly bizarre! As Jean and I talked about how we both had sons that were seniors at Fort Collins High School, I received a call back from Mom. She had talked to Aunt Eunice who knew even more information.
Come to find out, Jean’s grandpa Alvin had dated my grandma LuNita in high school. Grandpa Buboltz loved to tease Grandma by often telling the story of Alvin and her. They had pulled the horses off on the curves between Stewart and Gibbon. Everyone who has driven the Gibbon and Stewart road knows those curves.
Grandpa was even recorded on tape jesting, “The grass never grew there and the snow never melted there after that.” He would joke with Grandma and ask what exactly they had done on that spot to cause this phenomenon.
She would just say with a grin, “You know how kids are in the buggy.”
We would later discover that my uncle and godfather Lloyd Buboltz would voluntarily sign up for the Navy with Jean’s dad. They were close friends in high school.
