CALEB REINHOLD... IN THE SPIRIT OF WILL ROGERS
MY DAD AND SWIFT
This photo is Tige Reinhold on the Lonetree Ranch around 60 years ago. I love the bright color of this image taken from a 35 mm color slide. The horse's name is Swift. Pretty typical of the saddle horse of that day. Dad broke a lot of horses. Several of the Reinhold brothers had quite the reputations with horses. Except Carl, the oldest son of Emanuel and Hazel Reinhold, (my uncle) He told me that he lost his love for riding because in those early days there were no fences and when it was time to get the milch cows in...He would at times ride nearly to Elk Creek at times. That was six miles away... :) Carl, Uncle Dick, as I knew him was known to be quite a story teller. :) Earl (Tom) and my Dad (Tige) were probably the cowboys. To make a good horse...you rode. "Wet saddle blankets make good horses," Dad would say.
PRETTY GOOD CREW
We realize there are many activities that our children could be involved in. However, we like this one the best. Learning life, doing chores and understanding the need of working together. Caleb, Julia and Kiersten stayed busy this afternoon... Pretty good crew.
PHOTO BY ROBIN LEE REINHOLD
THE THRESHING CREW
Who remembers the "Threshing Crew"? Or how about playing in the remnants of the giant straw piles?
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I was able to observe the threshing machines at work and the people that operated them. I was very young when the last threshing machine was replaced by the combines in the early 1960's. Dad told about working with the neighbors and in particular, stories of working with the John Keffeler family during Harvest. He told of shoveling grain to the back of the barn for the Henrick's family. He didn't care for the shoveling there as much as he enjoyed the screened in porch after a day's work and the men ate on that porch and the breezes blew through... and very few flies. But his favorite story of threshing was how he got his team and wagon when he was quite young. He was always a big guy and he liked his horses. So to have a team was nearly the top of the ladder. He would hurry out into the field and pitch the bundles on and then hurry and get his wagon in line. He would have a short breather before he pulled his team up and then he would pitch his bundles of wheat or oats into the never satisfied and ravaging jaws of the McCormick Threshing Machine.
Threshing was a team effort. It took a lot of labor and working together to get the job done. I really like the photos along with this post. I believe the young lady with the draft horse is Mabel Keffeler McPherson and the young man with the tractor and truck is Maurice Keffeler. And look at the size of the straw pile You didn't dare climb on it until it settled. But when it did... They were great places to play. The last one on the place remained a remnant of the giant it once was into the mid 80's. And yes... whether you were threshing or just playing... the straw and chaff sure had a way of making you itch all over.
FRIEND
Photo by Robin Lee Reinhold
The sound of distant chimes is probably the best way to describe the melody that is played. When the ice starts going out on a river, the song may be loud and boisterous. Certainly many describe it as a roar; however, when around a pond or lake, there is a different song. Each morning there may be a new sheet of ice that reappeared when the night time lows fall below freezing and the daytime highs are attempting to vanquish the frozen, rock hard reminder of winter. I prefer the soft jingle, or perhaps one may say it is the “aquaorchestra” that is playing for the morning sun in the gentle breeze.
Oh, I am not claiming to have listened to this music for a lifetime, but I do remember when I started to lend an ear. I remember the spring well. And my friend helped me realize the beauty and freshness of the song. As we walked the shoreline, I must say that his fervor for life was helping me to overcome the enduring and nagging pain of death.
His senses and exuberance for the song and setting amused me. I walked much slower than he; nevertheless, the melody awakened my spirit and the melancholy was replaced by an attitude of appreciation.
My reaction to the hushed rippling of the waves, with the exception of the ice song, never did come to the same level as his. My friend would literally chase the waves, racing the foam and the ice, seemingly desiring more than just the relaxing music. I laughed inside at first and then aloud, as he would nip at the next incoming wave, catching it in satisfaction and not being the least bothered that his face was all wet.
Shep was an amazing friend. Oh, did I not mention that my friend was a dog?
My mistake…
Shep was a beautiful English Collie. He was an adult when we acquired him, but we did give him a name that was preferred by us.
Shep. Sort of an ordinary name for a dog, I realize. The name is not as common now as it once was. But for me at the time, it was the perfect name. We had another dog named Shep when I was a young boy. He was a Norwegian Elkhound (mostly). He was brown in color with the characteristic curly tail. I shared him with my brothers, Lyle and Lee. Oh, I suppose Dad and Mom enjoyed him as well and perhaps my sister did, too. But, I always figured he was sort of “us boys'” dog.
So this English Collie received the name Shep as well. But in those days of walking the water’s edge, it was sort of him and me. I know Lana liked him, but she was still in school, and I am sure my brothers would have liked him…
But Lyle and Lee were not available to walk that shoreline with me in those days.
Lyle and Lee had finished their walk on earth. And it was here at this body of water that they stepped into glory with Jesus, just a few years earlier.
I cannot say that I was pondering that moment of death while I was listening to the song of the ice crystals. I do know that my life on this earth has never been the same. I also know the value of someone to walk with in the days following life altering events. I also know that it takes someone special to help one to hear the music as life goes on.
I am so grateful for Someone else that has walked with me continually through this life. Jesus has never let me down and I know that He has helped me be aware of His presence in each day and the hope of each new tomorrow.
My friend Shep continued to encourage not only me, but other family members as well. One day, a magazine salesman came to the ranch. He was the kind that would not take no for an answer. As he finally left in a certain amount of carelessness, his vehicle hit my friend. The salesperson never even stopped. Perhaps he did it out of innocence. I talked to my friend and assessed his situation…His leg and foot were crushed. It was not good. That would be my friend’s last day.
My heart was broken and I was angry. I never saw the salesperson again, which was probably for the best.
Over the last days of spring thaw, I have been hearing the song that Shep and I so enjoyed, and I have been reminded of my Friend Who has always been with me when others slip away into eternity. Perhaps the melody of the ice crystals would blend well with the old hymn…
What a Friend we have in Jesus,
All our sins and griefs to bear!
What a privilege to carry
Everything to God in prayer!
O what peace we often forfeit,
O what needless pain we bear,
All because we do not carry
Everything to God in prayer!
Have we trials and temptations?
Is there trouble anywhere?
We should never be discouraged,
Take it to the Lord in prayer.
Can we find a friend so faithful
Who will all our sorrows share?
Jesus knows our every weakness,
Take it to the Lord in prayer.
Are we weak and heavy-laden,
Cumbered with a load of care?
Precious Savior, still our refuge—
Take it to the Lord in prayer;
Do thy friends despise, forsake thee?
Take it to the Lord in prayer;
In His arms He’ll take and shield thee,
Thou wilt find a solace there.
The Hymn "What a Friend" written by Joseph Scriven.
GRANDPA BANGERT AND HIS PATROL
Working the winter of 1949
My mother, Voreta (Vicky Bangert Reinhold) was raised in Bon Homme County, South Dakota in the small town of Avon.
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Her Dad, Walter Bangert, (in the photos).... had been a farmer, worked a service station and spent most of his career operating a patrol in this southeastern corner of South Dakota. As I hear the stories of weather and flooding across our region, I think of Grandpa Bangert. Stories, he would tell, of the winter of 49 and emergencies that he would be called out on play over in my mind.
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One story that he enjoyed telling is when he and another county employee went down along the Missouri River bottoms and were asked to drain flooded areas. They went out in a boat with a load of dynamite and a potato planter. As they paddled their way across flood waters, they calculated where a trench was needed. They would take the potato planter and plunge it into the water and mud and then proceed to drop a stick of dynamite in the hole. They did this in a long line and then would go to the beginning where they would detonate the first of the line and in rapid fire succession the exploding dynamite would lay back a wall of water and mud thus forming a trench to drain the backed up water. Grandpa, well into his nineties, would conclude his story with a smirk and comment, "That was fun!"
GOD'S WORD IN MY LIFE
I am so thankful that God's Word is not only a part of my life and heritage... God's Word has molded my life and heritage. That is my dad, Tige Reinhold, standing in the middle of the front row. This Bible Instruction Class was extremely important in the Reinhold family. Dad would tell of when he was young, attending services at the one room school house conducted by traveling "circuit rider" preachers. The American Sunday School Union conducted many of the services. My mother, Vicky, was also brought up in a home that read the Bible and adhered to biblical principle. I will share her story another time.
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How can a young man cleanse his way? By taking heed according to Your word. With my whole heart I have sought You; Oh, let me not wander from Your commandments! Your word I have hidden in my heart, that I might not sin against You!
Psalm 119:9-11
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All Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness, II Timothy 2:16
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When I was a child, my parents gave me a Bible with the following verse written in the front cover....
Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go. Joshua 1:9
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"HOW IMPORTANT IS GOD'S WORD IN YOUR HOME?"
"IS IT VITAL TO THE WELLBEING OF YOUR FAMILY?"
PLAYING WITH FIRE
Photo by Robin Lee Reinhold
Graphics by Larry Reinhold
Just having a little fun on the computer.
'MAMA COW"
We have a cow. A Hereford
With horns that wrap around
A big framed, well weathered mama.
That I claimed a friend in the corral.
She lost her number
And we didn’t know
How old or who she was
So during this here story
I named her “Mama cow”.
A couple years ago, she calved
And had a nice little bull!
But his legs never worked right
and he was lame
right from the get go.
So I started milking Mama Cow
in the chute there by the barn.
Bottle feeding the calf... Morning, noon and sunset
For weeks it seemed I tried.
She got to know me pretty good.
And Mama cow and I,
We had an understanding.
And she liked me I think in time.
She got to where I didn’t need the chute
I just found her in the corral.
She’d let me milk her and just stand there.
And she rarely did ever make me spill!
She knew that I was trying
To help her little calf
But he wasn’t getting better
And he died even though I tried my best.
I didn’t want to quit my old friend
So I kept her milking then
Hoping maybe we’d get a calf
and then maybe we could graft!
The years went by and more calves she raised.
She did a dandy job.
And she never quite forgot me.
As I scratched her favorite place
The corral, the pasture. It really didn’t matter.
She was always waiting.
But she’s definitely getting older and I can see it in her eye.
The Dakota prairie has taken its toll.
And this winter has sure been long.
Well this fall she came up Open.
And I was sad to see.
I didn’t want to sell her!
My old friend. It couldn’t be.
Then Dad said. “Keep her.”
He knew and Understood.
“We’ll let her live out her days on the ranch” he said.
She’s earned it for sure.
So I kept her in this winter.
Fed her a little special.
She’s getting grain and scratching .
And a nice warm place to lay!
Well this morning I was finishing up feeding.
And found her laying there.
She’d gotten pretty sick last night.
Now stretched out and having hard time breathing.
We sat her up as best we could.
And I had tears on my face.
So I kneeled and scratched her favorite place.
And hoped that maybe she’d pull though.
I think I know she won’t though.
Tonight is looking not nice at all
The temperatures is dropping and calling for ...45 below.
So I think we’ll have to go out and do the hardest thing.
Nothing lives forever.
And ranchers hearts do break.
She’s special.
Mama cow.
God gave her to us to provide
But the lump in my throat won’t leave.
Yes. I know... “she’s just a cow”
The hardest thing about ranching.
It’s not the daily battles.
It’s not - not being rich with money
And it’s sure enough not the cold.
It’s the animals we care for
The ones we call our own
The livestock that surrounds us
That God gave us - on the hills to roam.
For as with everything in life.
There is death as well.
And our responsibility comes hard sometimes.
But character demands this call.
So I’ll say Goodbye to “my” old cow.
She lived a happy life.
She brought me joy and smiles.
And I’m thankful for this time.
And one thing I most definitely know.
I’d want to live no other way.
And Thank You, God for the lessons...
I learned from “Mama Cow”.
©️ -Rachel Reinhold - Lonetree Ranch
March 2, 2019
A GOOD ONE FROM RACHEL - FEBRUARY 5, 2018
So this morning while I was out feeding the cows I had rolled out a bale and had gone back to get a second when the cows all made a charge for the gate. I was in the process of rolling out their hay, but they thought it looked much better on the other side. I kept rolling out hay because I knew that Belle (our dog) would see them and "tell them to go back to where they belonged” 😉
And seconds after, Belle showed up and sure enough the cows took off running back to where I was in the tractor.
Just like people I thought. God is here trying to take care of us and feed us and we run out the open gate thinking we know best! We charge ahead into the wide open world where we are met by the “dogs". Where we realize that things aren’t always as great as they seem out in the world. Oh sure it looks nice! But it’s not really all that great! So we run back scared and crying.. “God, where were You??!” “Why didn’t You come save me???!!” “God, it’s scary out there!”
And God welcomes us with His open, loving arms and kindly reminds us that He never left.
Yes, We are the ones that insist on running away. Maybe one of these days we will learn. And just maybe we will decide to rest in the promise of God’s unfailing love and care. 😉 Just maybe…We will be content with what He has for us instead of running out the gate looking for greener hay...
OUR SON DANNY IS A SENIOR
STOCK SHOW PRESENTATION 2019
Each year at the Black Hills Stock Show & Rodeo the Lonetree Ranchhonors a "Hereford Family" with this print called Buckshot by artist Bob York. This year the Reinhold family presented this in honor of Tige Reinhold to the Peterson Family of Kadoka, South Dakota. Thank you Lynn Weishaarand Levi Landers for your assistance in the presentation. Thanks also to Jill Hotchkiss of Hereford America.
THE OLD SCHOOL
This school house used to sit across from the John Keffeler Ranch. Around 50 years ago Cecil "Buck" Henricks moved it to his place to use for a shop. Reinholds purchased that place in the mid 80's and now we haved move the old school house over to the headquarters. Dean Hackens restored it and Danny helped him roof it. Now we have time to work on the interior. Another fun deal here... the old flag pole came form the Morris Creek School where the Scott Kids and Jorensons and other attended. Dad purchased it at the school sale because Mom and him wanted a flag pole by our house. It stood there many years. It was involved in one accident. One Sunday when we were at church, Buck Henricks' hired man, Red, came over to go fishing. He had stopped in at the house and when no one was home... he left to go fishing. On his way out, he accidentally backed into the flag pole. We would not have known who had hit the flag pole except for the note on the door along with two bags of cement on the back step with a note that said, "The Red was here".
JUST SAYING...
Happy Birthday Robin 2018
Happy Birthday Dear Robin.
I consider myself as your husband most blessed, but as I think of all the people that you impact...many are blessed. Your zest for life and love of the Lord, along with your desire to be a servant of Christ is inspirational. You are my "Dakota Rainbow"...my "friend of promise".
"ITSNOWFUN"
Danny, Caleb and Connor coming in from sledding today here at the ranch... We had 3-4" up til this morning and then through the day... it really came down and we got about 6" more...
100 YEARS AGO ON CHRISTMAS EVE
100 year ago tonight at a Presbyterian Church in Brooklyn, New York this couple came together in the covenant of marriage. Walter Bangert of Avon, South Dakota and Nora Hughes of County Mayo, Ireland were married.
These are my Grandparents... my mothers parents. A fun story indeed... Nora came from Ireland at the suggestion of her cousin, Sally, to get work. There were some wealthy people in New York that were glad to hire a girl to help around the house. During the waning days of World War I, she found herself on a ship leaving the Emerald Isle, with the hopes that she would one day return home. Walter was a sailer in the US Navy... a long ways from the fertile soil of Dakota. The Bangert family were early residents of Bon Homme County, Dakota Territory. Walter served on board a ship in World War I. Sometime near the end of the war, he and friend were walking down the streets of the city and they passed two attractive young ladies. After they passed, Walter turned and gave the little Irish lass a wink and she had turned to look as well... you could say the rest is history.
On Christmas Eve 1918 they were married and life together began... But times were different then. After the wedding Walter had to head back to his ship and Nora returned to the mansion where she was employed. But in the near future they would head to Dakota...Nora would never return to Ireland and Walter cherished his little Irish lady.
They would raise five children of which one, Voreta (Vicky), would be my mother. Grandpa and Grandma Bangert loved the Lord dearly and I believed that I was very blessed to have them as my grandparents. And you know what... I saw Grandpa Walter wink at Grandma on more than one occasion. Happy Anniversary to a special couple.
