To Pick South Dakota Sweet Corn

2021 has been a very… interesting year for me. I intend to write a piece at the end of the year, but with October coming to a close in a little over a week, there’s likely not a whole lot left to write by most standards. I hope anyway; there've been some curve balls this year that I’m still dealing with. Here, I would like to talk about a trip I took to South Dakota this year, in July/August. It was the cause of first stress, then some happiness, and then gratitude. Due to my aunt and uncle’s desire for privacy, and also my lack of impulse to take many photos (reaching for my phone isn’t usually my first instinct), I will only refer to my aunt and uncle as such - without name - and there won’t be many personal photos.

It started when I went over to my parents’ for what was initially supposed to be one night. They had a room up at one of the casinos in Central City for the night and I was staying overnight to care for my younger brother with special needs. My brother is allergic to cats, which my boyfriend and I have four of, and it’s simply easier for me to go stay over there and take care of him, as his bed is outfitted for when he wets through and he knows how to “bunny hop” crawl around the house to his room. While he can crawl around in, say, relatives’ homes, not knowing the layout combined with his blindness means he’s wound up in some rooms we didn’t expect.

While I have not been a fan of some of my family’s outings during the COVID-19 pandemic, I am sympathetic; going “up the hill” has been one thing my parents have enjoyed doing together for decades, and they haven’t done much of it together the last few years. Date nights have always been rare for my parents, and they were overdue for a night out. I particularly worry about my dad too, as he stays home with my brother as his primary caregiver; often it is only him and my next-to non-verbal brother day in and day out. Not the most stimulating for either of them. So I came over to take care of my brother so they could have a night out and dad could socialize a little with someone who uses more than 10 partial words.

Before they left for the night, my mother mentioned something that was a little odd.

“Oh, your aunt and uncle should be calling you tonight,” she stated. I gave her a quizzical look. I knew the aunt and uncle she spoke of - I wasn’t confused by that. Though I love and get along with my aunt and uncle in South Dakota, I’ve never been much in the habit of being in contact. Growing up, I only ever saw them when we drove out for holidays. So it was strange that they wanted to talk to me.

We had driven up a month or two prior for my grandmother’s celebration of life, which we had been unable to do last year because, well, 2020. I pretty much always go with them on these trips - mostly to help out with my brother, of course. Even though he loves car rides, if he gets upset, he starts getting worked up and/or pinching and grabbing, so I try to keep him calmed down on the 8-9 hour drive. There’s also typically a lot going on while we visit: mom wants to catch up with her sister(s), my uncle usually has something he could use my dad’s help with...etc. For the celebration of life, this meant there was a ton of prepping food and transporting/setting up items for the event. With everything going on, it can be easy to lose track of time.

But my brother’s needs still need to be met; he needs to be fed, changed, and checked on. So I went with them, and I must say, I think I actually did a really good job this time keeping up with him - there was only one time he wet through on me while I was watching him during the week we were there. I was pretty on top of it. Especially since I was due to watch my sister’s house for a week the day after we returned from this trip! I’ve been in high demand this year….

I deduced this recent trip out with my parents and brother meant that I was still fresh in my aunt and uncle’s minds, but still wondered why they wanted to talk to me. After seeing my confusion, my mother clarified, “Something about flying you out to pick corn.”

Oh, that.

My uncle had sent me some pictures of a corn field between the trip out and me watching my brother overnight. He had permission to pick from the fields when it was ready. He had mentioned something in the text about flying me out to pick it, but through the text it was hard to tell a tone, and my uncle does have that type of humor.

“Uh, I thought they were joking about that,” I said, then shrugged, “I mean, I’ll probably go if they’re serious. I just didn’t think they were.”

“Well, they said they’d call when I told them you would be here tonight, so keep an ear out for the phone,” mom said. I nodded as she and dad exited the house, then closed and locked the door at their departure and went to start making my brother and I dinner.

My aunt and uncle didn’t call that night, however.

I stayed late into the next day; my parents didn’t come down from the casinos until late afternoon. Another rarity - they usually come down shortly after checkout, but were enjoying themselves. Not a big deal, outside of wondering when they were on their way; my parents have cell phones, but my mother doesn’t even keep hers charged and my dad never uses his and often forgets it in the door of the car. They basically only take one in case of emergency. It’s not like they work that well up in the mountains anyway. So I wasn’t going to call and have them get into an accident trying to answer if they were on the road and neither can text so… I just had to wait and see when they’d show up. Nothing new there - been that way since I was a teenager.

I figured they’d talk me into staying another night or two - not uncommon - and I wasn’t wrong. While I have my driver’s license, I hate driving and have no car - I only got a license in case I had to drive my brother somewhere in the event of an issue (there’s always a car at mom and dad’s). So usually my dad drives me home when I come over to help out. However, when they returned home, his contacts had been in long enough to really bother his eyes, and I stayed the first extra night. While my partner would gladly have driven the few minutes to get me - actually, he wound up driving my forgotten phone charger over - my dad had mentioned that he could use a hand moving some things the next day. Besides, I hadn’t had much chance to visit with my family - and I always appreciate meals at my parents’. My partner doesn’t cook and my parents are awesome cooks; I wasn’t going to pass up a few home-cooked meals.

I never got cooking steaks down - always seem to overcook it, sadly - and my parents know I don’t get it often anymore as a result. While I’ve tried cutting back on my meat consumption some in the last few years, I will practically never turn down a steak. I’m not kidding when I say the first time I ate a T-bone solo as a preteen, it was like a rite of passage. So dad treated me to a fine steak and we caught up and watched some television together.

I stayed the second night, and by the third, I was quite ready to return to my boyfriend and critters. I’d been gone two weeks in a row, been home just a week or two, and then at my parents’ another three days. I had housework to catch up on! Dad insisted he would drive me home, but I began wondering if I would have to stay another night as it began getting late. Then, just before we were going to leave, my aunt and uncle called.

“Wanna come help pick corn?” asked my uncle.

“Uh, when?” I inquired. I heard them both laugh on speaker-phone.

“Tomorrow!” laughed my uncle, “Seriously, though, in like 3 days?”

I paused. I didn’t really think my partner would mind if I went, even when my uncle told me I’d be out there as long as five weeks. It wasn’t just corn they needed some help with, after all. My boyfriend would miss me, but he knows I go when family calls. Still, after the time I'd been gone and this potentially month-long trip, I wanted to think about it and talk it over with him. My aunt and uncle understood.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go. I’ve been discontented with much of my family this year for a variety of reasons. I’ve been struggling with who-knows-what exactly for… well, a long frigging time. Possibly decades. I’ve been worn out on most fronts for years. And yet I keep trying to meet the needs of my family. Much of it reached near boiling point this year; something is going to give. It has to. I was exhausted before I left to help on the trip. I’m still exhausted months after. And I was exhausted when I received that call.

Worst yet, and most frightening; I had never flown by myself.

Despite my hesitance and weariness, I decided to go. I had hardly been able to visit with them in the chaos of the celebration of life, so it would be nice to see them, just us. Because I’ve been in a weird headspace for some time and my boyfriend’s house isn’t quite where I want it to be, I thought maybe some time with my aunt and uncle might give me some ideas on how to more effectively handle our place, or offer up a routine I could adopt and adapt. At the very least, I knew I could go out there for a few weeks and learn some new things. They had asked me to fly out and help partially because they know I have some interest in learning how to can foods and such. But, they had also asked me because no one else was really offering to help; my uncle has developed some issues moving well and is limited in what he can do, and it’s too much for just my aunt to handle the rest. They asked me because they needed help. And they must have needed it to want to fly me in from out of state to do so.

My uncle paid for the flights, and I spent the two days I had at home getting ready: spending time with my boyfriend because I wasn’t around a lot then, straightening up some parts of the house so they weren’t so bad upon my return, making lists of items to pack, then actually packing. And spoiling the critters with treats, because my boyfriend doesn’t give them many while I’m away.

I was very nervous about my flight - I rarely ever hit my goal of 150 minutes of “vigorous” exercise a week, but the days before I left, I nearly hit double that goal, just from the anxious pacing. I’d flown a few times in the past, but always with a school group or family member or partner; never by myself. And living near Denver, that means flying out of D.I.A.; Denver International Airport. It’s huge. There’s so many people. It’s advised that people arrive several hours ahead of their flights to make sure they get through security and get to the gates in time.

Oh, and Blucifer! Blucifer’s a funny icon for Colorado. It, uh, killed its creator. Basically a blue nightmare of a horse with eerie red eyes; I rather like him. But, he’s not for everyone. He rears up and towers over the landscape near D.I.A. Toss up between him and the D.I.A. conspiracy theories as to which is most talked about when mention of the airport is made.

I was far more nervous about navigating the airport and that solo flight than the artwork, however.

My boyfriend went with me as far as he could, which happened to be to the security line. Once I was on my own, I tried to follow signs and draw on the few memories I had of traveling through the airport before. My gate was in “A”, thankfully, so once I got on the shuttle, I only had to ride to the first stop. Then things got a little tricky. I followed the signs for quite some time; maybe 15 minutes. The journey took me into a silent hallway where I passed one other person. The scarcity of people had me wondering if I was even going the right way. Eventually, though, this led to some gates. Promising.

After a further few minutes of confusion, I realized my gate did not have an overhead sign signaling its location like most of the others I had passed. Instead, it was posted along the wall. I scowled in mild annoyance when I realized I’d been standing around looking for the overhead sign like a fool. I glanced around as I approached the seating area.

While I had been nervous most of the walk through the airport, as soon as I sat down and started listening to my iPod, I relaxed somewhat. I was still terribly nervous, but now it felt like when I used to take the school bus to middle and high school, and I’d always had to make myself relax there. It felt like slipping into an old habit, and I was a bit surprised by this. Maybe relax isn’t the right word - it’s more like withdrawing or going into neutral. My discomfort started rising again as an older woman approached.

Despite the six-foot rule and plenty of seating space, this old woman came and sat down in the seat right next to me. While I don’t have a problem taking to folks, per se, I was nervous and not feeling at all chatty; I also hadn’t slept much the night before. My jaw kept clenching in discomfort with the anxiety of, “just how chatty is this lady?” and I was once again glad that I was wearing a mask with my jaw working like that. I felt a little bad that I didn’t remove the earbud of the ear closest to her, or give her any indication I was aware of her there, but I just couldn’t.…

I just wanted to get to my aunt and uncle’s safely and get settled for my stay.

When we boarded, I was focused on looking out the window and finding songs for the hour-long flight. I honestly didn’t even notice the fellow who sat down next to me until the flight attendant began the safety demonstration. I can only imagine what he thought when we were finally airborne; I jolted, jumped, and gripped the armrests many times in the short flight due to turbulence and general flying anxiety.

I knew the airport in my aunt and uncle’s neck of the woods was small, but I couldn’t believe how easy it was to walk out of that airport compared to D.I.A. I found my aunt seconds after we entered the lobby, and a minute later she was driving me into town. We stopped at the store to pick up some things on the way back to her home.

I grinned as we pulled up to their house; Storm sat by my uncle on the porch. Storm is a yellow lab. He’s six, and a good, happy, playful dog. He sits on the porch with my aunt and uncle, rides in their gator, sleeps by their bed. Yep, he’s a good dog - and technically the neighbor’s! The neighbor pays for the vet and food, but Storm has decided his true home lies with my aunt and uncle. It’s not that his owner doesn’t take good care of him; it’s that they take better care of him. Their neighbor is decades older, so he can’t do all the things with him that they can. He doesn’t mind - he knows Storm is well looked after. And Storm wouldn’t have it any other way!

The next day I got up slowly; despite not sleeping well before my flight, I also did not sleep well my first night at my aunt and uncles’. I brushed my teeth, got dressed, and walked into the kitchen. My aunt was working from home that week, so she was busy in her office, while my uncle sat at the kitchen table, chopping the ends off green beans that were to be broken into smaller pieces and packed into the canning jars. I began helping break off the ends, and we had the full bushel done within a few hours. Later that day, I placed the dill and spices in the jars while my uncle packed the pickling cucumbers in them and my aunt rinsed the batches and readied the hot water baths.

Sadly, some of the items were not ready upon my arrival; the beets, for example. So for a few days, there was mostly yard work and errands to help with. And then my first weekend with them came, and with it came the time to do the main thing I had come out for - to pick corn!

My uncle enlisted an old work friend; I knew she had to be a tough woman to work around the men in construction. I was kind of expecting someone heftier when I met her, but she was actually rather slight. I smirked upon meeting her - her stature wasn’t what I expected, but her old-school, “bite me” attitude was. My aunt and uncle had told me about her coffee consumption, and her huge mug of the liquid confirmed it in a satisfying manner.

Since my uncle doesn’t move well now, it was up to us three women - bearing two 5-gallon buckets each - to pick the ears. We had brought their gator to fill and drive back to the parked truck; we would be filling the gator twice. We walked deep into the cornfield, further in than most would bother going, to make sure we had unspoiled areas to pick from. My uncle had driven us out to check the field the night before, and my aunt had shown me how to find and pick good ears; it was my first time picking corn. It was my uncle’s old coworker’s first time as well - we later blamed all the smaller ears harvested on her indiscriminate picking!

We arrived at the field at around 7 A.M. and felt fortunate that it had rained a little the night before and cooled the corn off (cobs can get very hot inside the husks!). Before long, the three of us had spread out with the only indication of each others’ location being the sounds of empty stalks breaking beneath our boots and the shrill, ripping screams of the corn cobs being broken off and removed. It was a little eerie to hear it but not see it, but overall, I was digging it all. Well, except all that moisture wound up soaking into my clothes, making my already heavy boots, jeans, and shirt heavier.

We filled the gator the first time, and my uncle instructed me to hop in so I could help unload the corn into the truck bed. We left all six buckets with my aunt and the friend as he drove us out to the truck. The drive out was slow; that rain also meant the routes between fields were pretty muddy. A short 15 minutes later, and we were back for round two. It didn’t seem to take nearly as long to fill it again, but maybe that was because my aunt and the friend had kept picking while we were gone to unload. It wasn’t even noon by the time we left.

We stored what we could in the refrigerators for the time being, boxed up plenty more for their neighbors, and my aunt and I delivered bags and boxes while my uncle supplied the ones who came to pick it up themselves. The rest of the day was spent showering and relaxing; there was plenty to do the next day. We got the first, good taste of our harvest - that was some damn fine sweet corn, I’ll say! My uncle joked about how sick of corn I was going to be by the end of my stay; I told him, “Bring it on!”.

My aunt and uncle were already well into shucking the corn when I got up the next day. Probably took the three of us over an hour to remove the husks on what was left after setting aside plenty for eating while I was there and the remainder that hadn’t been delivered to neighbors. But once we got done shucking…

...It was time to blanch, chill, and cut the corn off the cobs before bagging and freezing it.

I was amazed how easy my aunt and uncle make these things look and operate. That’s what my uncle did while in construction was oversee and direct effective approaches. Also helps that they have years and years of experience doing such things; they have - I think - 14 grandchildren. They used a large sink with ice to quickly chill the corn after blanching, which my aunt was handling, while my uncle cut the corn off the cobs and I scooped 2 cups into each freezer bag before removing the air and sealing them. We were at this for hours before we finally got through the intended amount! My aunt and uncle have a way about keeping me engaged though, so there was never really a day that I was bored doing any tasks.

After the majority of the corn had been handled and the gator’s mud mask cleaned off, we took a few days; sitting at the kitchen table cutting corn off for hours hadn’t done my uncle any favors. My aunt had to go into her workplace that week as well, so I took the time to hammer out some short fiction pieces for Vocal.media’s 2021 Summer Fiction Series challenges; 4 of my 10 entries were written while I was on this trip.

That’s not to say it was all work: Storm was with us at the house most of the time, playing and resting with us, my aunt and uncle took me out to a nice steak dinner, and we wound up going to a few places I didn’t expect to.

Like the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally. We were taking some corn and pickles to my other aunt who lives in the Black Hills area and my cousin’s family out that way. I knew my aunt and uncle would stop at the rally; each owns a Harley Davidson that they adore and they wanted to get their pins. Was supposed to be a quick in-out situation, but the pins were not being handed out in the expected spot and we wound up having to go into the massive throng of people I had hoped we could avoid.

I then had to make a decision: stay in the truck with my uncle, or venture out with my aunt. Years of my dad sending me with my mom to stores (to deter creeps because either 1, I was a child and maybe someone wouldn’t want to harm a mother and child, and 2, when I had grown, I was often decked out in heavy, black clothing and a thick, eyelined glare) meant that I felt obligated to go with my aunt; I couldn’t send her out into that alone without guilt, even when she assured me she did it all the time. Though all three of us are vaccinated for COVID-19, I opted to wear a mask: with no health insurance, next to no income personally, and being a secondary caregiver to my younger brother, I was not screwing around. All those people there, and I only saw one other woman wearing a mask. Home in Colorado, many wear masks. It was bizarre to see so many mask-less faces while the pandemic still rages; fucking terrifying.

Besides my other aunt and cousin’s crew, we also stopped to see an old friend of theirs camped nearby Sturgis. If you know, you know - he is called “Batman”, and he has got a wicked-cool trike (care to guess what’s on it?)! He also gets a tattoo for every year he attends Sturgis - and he’s got over 50! Quite the character, him. Having sadly lost many of his biking buddies to COVID complications that very week, he was not in high spirits, but appreciated the food my relatives brought him - including my aunt’s delicious pumpkin roll and tomatoes from her garden!

Earlier that day, on the way to Sturgis and relatives, my aunt and uncle also treated me to a drive through the Badlands National Park! I had no idea; I had been just about to fall asleep in the back when I saw the line for the payment - and then we fell in line! Every year, my mother tells the family she wants to go through, but we never do, largely because it’s already an 8-9 hour drive to/from home!

My aunt had my uncle request a map - partly so I could see if there was anything in particular I wanted to see, and partly for a souvenir! Instantly, I noticed a fossil trail. However, despite them encouraging me to find a few things I was interested in, I was hesitant to share my excitement over the trail and museum. Growing up, I didn’t get much say over what we saw on trips, or the things I wanted to do were not accessible to my wheelchair-bound brother, or else there just wasn’t the time... or it was just too expensive. I knew we still had to make it to Sturgis and relatives, so I didn't want to take up too much time - it was already going to be a long day of driving.

We pulled off a few times so my aunt and I could take pictures; my uncle was content waiting in the vehicle - apparently he’s used to it with all those grandkids! My aunt took the first pictures of me in years; I never know what to do for pictures (posing seems so damn weird). We then went through the museum quickly, but got sidetracked in the gift shop. Gift shops were another rarity growing up; too expensive! While I was drawn to two books - a geology dictionary and a book on minerals - I opted for a $7 poster. It feels odd to buy physical books now when I could look up geology terms and mineral formations online, but I wish I'd snapped a picture of the books and authors, because it’s been months and I’m still thinking about them! I do like the poster, though.

And then, we got to walk the fossil trail! Kinda felt like a little kid again, and I kept babbling on about things I - kinda - know about prehistoric life. Thankfully, my aunt and uncle are fairly patient. We ended our trip through Badlands National Park with miles of prairie dog burrows, a bighorn sheep, and even a bison!

That wasn’t all for the wildlife on this trip, though. Though I’d seen deer in Colorado, I had never seen them prance - only ever walking or standing next to the road! I was caught off guard when three began prancing down the hill next to my aunt and uncle’s house!

And then there was the bull snake.

My dad and uncle are both known to be snake killers; I have the severed rattlesnake tails of at least seven individuals to prove that! Somewhere… I think they’re still in an odds-and-ends box we never unpacked. I don’t want to touch snakes, but I don’t mind them if they’re just doing their thing. So when I saw a serpentine creature exit the grass of the front yard and slither onto the driveway while we all sat on the porch one evening, I tried not to draw attention to it, hoping it would cross into the field on the other side quickly. But then my aunt noticed it.

“Is that a snake?” she asked.

“Where?” my uncle asked, before my aunt pointed it out. The snake wasn’t moving very fast, and my uncle wandered into the garage. He came out with a hoe - the only readily-available item. He wasn’t sure what kind of snake it was yet, as it was dark. If it was a rattlesnake, it was about to be beheaded.

“Bull snake,” he stated, prodding the creature with the hoe. He tried to get it to where he could fling it into the field, but the hoe wasn’t the best for it. The snake eventually crawled into the parked gator, under the lift for the bed.

“Surprised you didn’t kill it,” I said.

“If you weren’t here, I would have,” my uncle admitted. We attempted to get the snake to move on by turning on the hose and spraying the underside of the gator, but all that did was make it emit a long hiss. We tried about 10-15 minutes before we all came to the conclusion that it was just doing its thing when we bothered it and that it would likely not still be in the gator come morning, though my uncle reassured me he would check to make sure before anyone used the gator again.

And finally, the night before I left, they took me to see some car races. Not something I had done much of, despite my dad having used to race and our proximity to Bandimere Speedway; I grew up hearing the noise of their “Night of Fire and Thunder” through my bedroom window miles away. But this was a dirt track we went to. We wound up watching the final race night; it was a good 4 hours with hours of driving either way. Again, I was the only person wearing a mask, which was also helpful with all the dust blowing back.

We ate a final meal together before I left the next day, and my aunt stayed and watched from the lobby until I boarded the plane and left; so much easier to get through than D.I.A.! This time, the plane I was on had one side with two seats and the other with single seats, and I opted for a single seat. The flight home was much like the first, and I jumped a few times.

I had some trouble figuring out where I needed to go when we landed, and had to text my boyfriend on where to go. I had just gotten off the shuttle and was looking around in confusion when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I was relieved to turn to face my boyfriend, and tiredly followed him out of the airport; he walked much faster than me, and I was wearing my heaviest outfit and dragging my suitcase and purse. We then had about an hour-long drive home, during which we caught up.

Overall, I had a great time with my aunt, uncle, and Storm (that dog deserves a piece all his own!). But I was so happy to finally be home again - and this time for a while! I missed all of our critters! And they seem to have missed me as well - I got so many puppy kisses and kitten cuddles upon my return! I showered and joined my boyfriend on the couch to watch some shows together, eating Chinese food he’d picked up on the way home. I wasn’t sick of corn yet, and I didn’t really adopt any schedule, but I had certainly had a different experience on my trip! I expect I’ll be heading out again to help next year, but we’ll see - depends on how good a job they think I did!