Genrich Memories, Dorchester, Mayville Township, Clark Co., WI

Grandpa Otto Genrich

My grandpa Otto was an outdoorsman. He was passionate about fishing and hunting in particular. If there was a season for it, grandpa would hunt it. I went rabbit hunting with him once. I must have been around thirteen and I was using with my own gun. It was a little 22 that he had given me for Christmas. We made our way out to the tree farm (east of Dorchester) that he and his brothers Hugo and Elmer (Grub) owned. Grandma, of course was terrified that I would shoot myself instead of what I was aiming at.

There was about three inches of snow on the ground and Grandpa told me that he would walk thru the woods and try to scare up a snowshoe hare. I was wearing red and black checkered wool pants and a blaze orange hooded sweatshirt. On my head, an orange cap with ear flaps. I got positioned in a prone shooting position...lying on the road and aiming away from the direction grandpa would be coming from. Pretty soon I heard something scurrying thru the balsam trees. I moved my finger toward the trigger and very quietly pushed the safety to the off position. Then...a big, fat rabbit hopped out onto the road. I could hear grandpa coming up behind me. I took aim...and pulled the trigger. It was a direct hit into the head but the rabbit hopped about ten feet anyway. I was excited and shocked at the same time. I felt a sudden rush of guilt. I had killed something. It felt much different than catching fish. I had actually stopped something from living. I also felt excited! I wanted grandpa to be proud of his little hunter so I sprang up and yelled out to him, "I got one...I got one!". He was also excited and explained that we would clean it up and bring it home to cook it. I didn't care so much about seeing that part, but I do recall asking him if I could have one of the feet as a souvenir. He said something about grandma wouldn't like it.

I can remember many fishing trips with grandpa. He owned a little cottage on the north end of Pier Lake north of Tripoli. It seemed like it always took forever to get there. Once I turned 15 he would let me "do the gas" in the car. That made the time go by a little faster on the way north.

One summer I took the Greyhound from Minneapolis all the way to Abbotsford. Grandpa and grandma picked me up at the Abby Cafe which also served as the bus depot. My first morning grandpa woke me up very early. it must have been around 5:00 when I heard the bedroom door open. "Fisherman...fisherman...time to wake up". Our plan that day, he said, was to drive up to Tim's Lake for bluegills. This was long before that area was developed into the park that it is today. We stopped at a bait shop in Medford for leeches. There was never a need to buy worms as grandpa kept a lot of them in a big, old Styrofoam cooler in his basement. That's another thing I remember vividly. Going out at night with flashlights to catch worms.

The Snowmobile

From what I remember, it was an old blue and white Skidoo (I think that's the brand). It was running and ready to go. The plan was for Grandma and me to go together, with me in front. I think I was about five years old at the time. At any rate, someone set me on it and I held onto the handlebars. Grandma was about to straddle the seat when I unexpectedly squeezed the handles (or whatever you did back then to make it go). Away I went without Grandma! Heading across the back yard, I was on course to wipe out one of Grandpa's many poles with a birdhouse on it. People were yelling, "let go of the handlebars!" I didn't hear them in all of my excitement, but I must have finally let go, bringing the sled to a safe stop. It was a most unforgettable "white knuckle ride" in the backyard of Em and Otto's house.

The Big Cookie Jar

The drive from Minneapolis to Dorchester was usually pretty mundane. We'd pass the time playing the "alphabet game" with road signs or read a book. If it was during the winter months the trip would take a little longer just because the roads could be slippery. Sometimes we'd stop along the way for a picnic or a potty break in Chippewa Falls.

"Grandma probably has chili ready for lunch", my dad would tell us kids.

Grandma's chili recipe was a real keeper, but my mind's eye was focusing on the scrumptious home baked cookies she was sure to serve for dessert. I was glad the chili was good because cleaning my bowl meant I could reach inside that big cookie jar and pick exactly the right cookie. I was careful not to grab one of the apple slices that were apparently in there to keep the cookies moist.

I think the most exciting part of the trip was after going through Chippewa Falls;

Cadott...Boyd...Stanley...Thorp...Withee...Owen...Colby...Abbotsford.

Most of those towns afforded us a practice run...for the Grand Finale!

Everyone would be wide awake by this time, what with all the announcing and giggling.

Through Abbotsford we'd go...knowing that if we'd just make a right turn at the next street...we might go into that little red barn that sells ice-cream cones. Or not. Maybe on the way home. Instead, we'd take a left turn onto Highway 13 north. This is what we've really been waiting for anyway!

It wouldn't be long now (about four minutes by my calculations) and just a bit east of north. I breathed on the window and then wiped it clear. I put my eyes right up against it and waited. My sisters were in the "way-back" of the green station wagon doing the same thing. As always, we were having a competition.

Any second now, seemingly from out of nowhere, it would appear.

Was it behind that barn?

Beyond that hill?

Wait...what is that? It could be...I'm pretty sure...YUP!

"I see the Dorchester water tower!" I'd proudly announce.

Almost immediately, my sisters, would also spot that same tower, and I'd smile because they were too late for making that official announcement.

Another three minutes in the car and we'd be there, sitting in grandma's good smelling kitchen, eating delicious chili and then deciding which cookie to choose!

Genrich Family Photo Album.