I left the house around 8am on a February, 2011 morning in the pouring rain and snow mix, temperature about 33 degrees, wind blowing, miserable, etc. It appeared I had every piece of rain and cold weather gear I owned in my pickup, based on the pile of clothes, boots, coats and gloves taking up the double cab pickup. My job was to either run a backhoe, or help the backhoe operator, and dig 25 holes at the Polk County Fairgrounds for some donated large trees. The backhoe was being provided at no cost by Rickreall Farm Supply. Thank you, Farm Supply people!
Once we found the tractor and learned how to operate it, Joe Bourson arrived and volunteered to drive the 1/4 mile to the fairgrounds and dig the first hole. He had owned a backhoe and was my volunteer expert. Once we got to the fairgrounds, I added a layer of clothes and boots and gloves and proceded to point and get wet. Joe's first hole was awesome, my first hole was a catastrophe and took forever and we almost lost Joe due to my widely swinging boom. He decided the quickest way to get this job done was for him to dig the holes and me to do anything else that needed doing.
Away we went, like a herd of turtles. Turns out this type of tractor was not designed for digging, moving and digging more. Each time we finished a hole, Joe had to get out of the seat, lift it up, spin it around and then sit back down, drive forward, get off, lift up the seat, spin it around, climb back up and start digging again. Sigh. My insulated coveralls, two pairs of gloves, jeans, undershirt, flannel shirt, hooded sweat shirt, rain hat and rain jacket kept me tolerable but I just got wetter as the morning rolled on. Somewhere around 10am, Joe had to change jackets (he was mainly under a canopy of sorts) and I dug another hole. Since I had been watching his every move, I didn't do so bad this time but nowhere near as good as Joe. Perhaps I could be a backhoe operator when I grow up? Joe got back in the seat and began to dig another hole. We 'sped' through the remaining holes and then returned to our pickups.
It was 11am when we ran out of holes to dig and we agreed I would drive the backhoe tractor back to the dealer. Joe ferried me to leave my pickup at the dealers and we said goodbye as he dropped me by the tractor, back at the fairgrounds. Thanks Joe, for all the volunteer help!
It was on the trip back to the fairgrounds that I reached for my phone to tell Karen we were done. Ooops, no phone. Joe called my number from his phone, thinking it could well be stuck between the many layers of clothing I was wearing. It could be in one of my boots and I might not have sensed it, due to the numbness of my body. No sounds came. I then called Karen on Joe's phone to tell her my phone was lost, but no answer. Shoot! I got on the tractor and drove it back to the dealer, fretting about my lost iphone and how this was not a good time to loose it (is it ever?) and how was I ever going to find it amongst the holes, piles of dirt, snow, deep puddles and mud. The 25 holes were 23 feet apart and spanned the length of the fairgrounds. A lot of space to cover looking for a 2x4" black thing. I was so upset by the lost phone, I failed to ask about washing the backhoe and the dealer was kind enough not to mention it. Sorry Rickreall Farm Supply! And yes, the weather had not stopped raining or snowing since before 8am.
We headed back the five miles to the fairgrounds with her phone still getting the signal. We parked a little ways from where the signal was emanating, not wanting to run over the poor thing. The rain had stopped and the sun was peaking through the flying clouds. We walked towards where the signal was coming from and Karen reached down and picked up my phone. I must have walked by it a dozen times. It was not dry by any means (nothing was that day) but it was still working and still in its case and I still had my $200.00 in my pocket that would have been used to buy the replacement phone. The wonderful 'find my iphone' service is free now. Life was great again and as we drove home through the sunshine and the melting snow and the ditches running full of runoff, we felt strongly that something had just happened that did not seem even possible.
So next time you find yourself at the fairgrounds in Polk County Oregon, wander over to the south boundary where the tractor pulls and lawn tractor races are held. Gaze upon the 25 Scanlon Maples lining the south boundary and know that these were donated trees, all labor was volunteer to get them in the ground and there might have been an iphone buried amongst them.
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