I had never figured on retiring back to Wisconsin. My career as an economist had taken me across the country and to several continents. But circumstances brought me back to my birth place and Swiss roots in 2005.
I had hardly touched my accordion for a couple of decades. But now back here, I picked it up again. As I fumbled through songs I once knew, my mother actually suggested that maybe someday I could entertain at Cheese Days. Yeah, right Mom - dream on.
Down at Turner Hall, I run into Del Heins, accordion aficionado and leader of Squeezebox night. When I tell him I once played the accordion, he invites me to Squeezebox night. Ya gotta be kidding, Del.
Del is persistent. I bring it down to Turner Hall one Tuesday evening. The first guy I run into is a significant character from my past, Henry Blumer. They didn't know it, and claim to not remember, but it was Henry Blumer and Rudy Rothenbuehler who inspired me to resume accordion lessons when we were students back in high school. It was their rendition of "The Ski Waltz" played at an FFA banquet that convinced me.
I could never have predicted that a half century later I would be on the same stage with Henry and another talent, Toni Blum Seitz, at the MAC talent show - doing "The Ski Waltz," no less.
With an accordion, you just can't predict the future. Like when I was a professor at University of Minnesota-St. Paul, I was conned into accompanying a singer of Swedish Christmas carols for a local early morning radio show. The host was a lanky, awkward looking character who claimed that his show was sponsored by "Raw Grits - they're not for everybody, but they just might be ... for you."
The Twin Cities has a bunch of shopping centers known as "The Dales." o he claims his program is also brought to you by "The Dales; Northdale, Southdale, Rosedale, Ridgedale, Brookdale, Chip n'dale, Roy n'Dale, Clydesdale, Ayrdale, Mondale."
Rather clever, I had to admit. He had another sponsor, Powder Milk Biscuits, "that give shy persons the courage to get up and do what needs to be done." I began to see why this odd bird had some loyal local followers.
After the show, he thanked us, sort of, anyway. He seemed a bit shy himself. In one sense, he came across as a rather cold fish. But nevertheless, you had to like this inimical character.
I gave the gorgeous, talented singer a ride home and she vanished - drifted off into the wintry early morning Minnesota mist and I never saw her again. But not many months later, the lanky Norwegian with the idiosyncratic demeanor went national with his "Prairie Home Companion," and became a shining star - still sponsored by Powder Milk Biscuits. Because of his talent I wasn't totally surprised. But I was a bit surprised that his off-beat Minnesota humor would catch on with a national audience.
But I can honestly say that I was once on his show - never mind that it was when it was just local on Minnesota Public Radio. You just can't predict what will happen when you play an accordion.
Then there was the time after I retired that I was down at Turner Hall. There was a guy dining down there, one Elmer Schettler, looking for someone to entertain some soybean processors at a future meeting. While visiting with Elmer, I found that he was based in Pagosa Springs, Colo.
Pagosa Springs? Hey, that's the home of Fred Harmon, cowboy artist and creator of one of my boyhood heroes, Red Ryder.
Several weeks later, Jerry Hastings and I entertained Elmer's group. Elmer presented me with a Fred Harmon painting of Red Ryder, and an invitation to visit him at Pagosa Springs. On a subsequent trip, I was treated to dinner and an interesting visit with Fred Harmon's son and his wife.
As a kid reading those Red Ryder comic books and looking at the photos of Red Ryder Ranch on the inside cover, I could never have dreamed of someday having dinner with Fred Harmon, Jr. in Pagosa Springs. It never could have happened without my accordion. You just can't predict this kind of stuff.
And it doesn't end there. Bobbie Edler grew up in Waterloo, Iowa, studying classical accordion. Like many of us, she took lessons for a few years before abandoning the accordion. In college, she met and married Dan, a native of Freeport, which brought her to nearby Cedarville.
Prompted by a friend to pick up the accordion again, she later comes up to Squeezebox night at Turner Hall. That's how she got associated with us Swiss boys. So, she invites me down to Lena to join her at a Chautauqua sponsored by the Smithsonian Institution. We see that our styles complement each other and, ever since, we have been entertaining as "The Accordion Duo."
We were even invited to play our rendition of "Granada" with the Monroe City Band last summer. Threat of rain cutting short the City Band performance during Cheese Days precluded a repeat performance, but I have a hunch that Randy Schneeberger will give us another opportunity.
But Bobbie and I did enjoy playing for several gigs during Cheese Days, including the polka lessons, accompanied by one of the best banjo and guitar players around, friend and neighbor Gary Hendrickson.
And, we are proud to accompany rising star, "youth yodeler," Cammi Ganshert. Our rendition of the Cheese Days Theme, featuring Cammi's yodeling, is visible on U-Tube.
Lest readers think these experiences unique, think of all the accordionists who quit taking lessons and stored accordions in the attic for years - only to get them out and participate in a major Cheese Days attraction, the "100 accordions" gig.
Who could have imagined that? With an accordion, you just can't predict the future.
- John Waelti's column appears every Friday in the Times. He can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
I had hardly touched my accordion for a couple of decades. But now back here, I picked it up again. As I fumbled through songs I once knew, my mother actually suggested that maybe someday I could entertain at Cheese Days. Yeah, right Mom - dream on.
Down at Turner Hall, I run into Del Heins, accordion aficionado and leader of Squeezebox night. When I tell him I once played the accordion, he invites me to Squeezebox night. Ya gotta be kidding, Del.
Del is persistent. I bring it down to Turner Hall one Tuesday evening. The first guy I run into is a significant character from my past, Henry Blumer. They didn't know it, and claim to not remember, but it was Henry Blumer and Rudy Rothenbuehler who inspired me to resume accordion lessons when we were students back in high school. It was their rendition of "The Ski Waltz" played at an FFA banquet that convinced me.
I could never have predicted that a half century later I would be on the same stage with Henry and another talent, Toni Blum Seitz, at the MAC talent show - doing "The Ski Waltz," no less.
With an accordion, you just can't predict the future. Like when I was a professor at University of Minnesota-St. Paul, I was conned into accompanying a singer of Swedish Christmas carols for a local early morning radio show. The host was a lanky, awkward looking character who claimed that his show was sponsored by "Raw Grits - they're not for everybody, but they just might be ... for you."
The Twin Cities has a bunch of shopping centers known as "The Dales." o he claims his program is also brought to you by "The Dales; Northdale, Southdale, Rosedale, Ridgedale, Brookdale, Chip n'dale, Roy n'Dale, Clydesdale, Ayrdale, Mondale."
Rather clever, I had to admit. He had another sponsor, Powder Milk Biscuits, "that give shy persons the courage to get up and do what needs to be done." I began to see why this odd bird had some loyal local followers.
After the show, he thanked us, sort of, anyway. He seemed a bit shy himself. In one sense, he came across as a rather cold fish. But nevertheless, you had to like this inimical character.
I gave the gorgeous, talented singer a ride home and she vanished - drifted off into the wintry early morning Minnesota mist and I never saw her again. But not many months later, the lanky Norwegian with the idiosyncratic demeanor went national with his "Prairie Home Companion," and became a shining star - still sponsored by Powder Milk Biscuits. Because of his talent I wasn't totally surprised. But I was a bit surprised that his off-beat Minnesota humor would catch on with a national audience.
But I can honestly say that I was once on his show - never mind that it was when it was just local on Minnesota Public Radio. You just can't predict what will happen when you play an accordion.
Then there was the time after I retired that I was down at Turner Hall. There was a guy dining down there, one Elmer Schettler, looking for someone to entertain some soybean processors at a future meeting. While visiting with Elmer, I found that he was based in Pagosa Springs, Colo.
Pagosa Springs? Hey, that's the home of Fred Harmon, cowboy artist and creator of one of my boyhood heroes, Red Ryder.
Several weeks later, Jerry Hastings and I entertained Elmer's group. Elmer presented me with a Fred Harmon painting of Red Ryder, and an invitation to visit him at Pagosa Springs. On a subsequent trip, I was treated to dinner and an interesting visit with Fred Harmon's son and his wife.
As a kid reading those Red Ryder comic books and looking at the photos of Red Ryder Ranch on the inside cover, I could never have dreamed of someday having dinner with Fred Harmon, Jr. in Pagosa Springs. It never could have happened without my accordion. You just can't predict this kind of stuff.
And it doesn't end there. Bobbie Edler grew up in Waterloo, Iowa, studying classical accordion. Like many of us, she took lessons for a few years before abandoning the accordion. In college, she met and married Dan, a native of Freeport, which brought her to nearby Cedarville.
Prompted by a friend to pick up the accordion again, she later comes up to Squeezebox night at Turner Hall. That's how she got associated with us Swiss boys. So, she invites me down to Lena to join her at a Chautauqua sponsored by the Smithsonian Institution. We see that our styles complement each other and, ever since, we have been entertaining as "The Accordion Duo."
We were even invited to play our rendition of "Granada" with the Monroe City Band last summer. Threat of rain cutting short the City Band performance during Cheese Days precluded a repeat performance, but I have a hunch that Randy Schneeberger will give us another opportunity.
But Bobbie and I did enjoy playing for several gigs during Cheese Days, including the polka lessons, accompanied by one of the best banjo and guitar players around, friend and neighbor Gary Hendrickson.
And, we are proud to accompany rising star, "youth yodeler," Cammi Ganshert. Our rendition of the Cheese Days Theme, featuring Cammi's yodeling, is visible on U-Tube.
Lest readers think these experiences unique, think of all the accordionists who quit taking lessons and stored accordions in the attic for years - only to get them out and participate in a major Cheese Days attraction, the "100 accordions" gig.
Who could have imagined that? With an accordion, you just can't predict the future.
- John Waelti's column appears every Friday in the Times. He can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
