Oh the Things We See ~ by Grace Augustine

I've been fortunate to live in three different states--Montana, Oregon, and Iowa. They are so very different! From the landscape to the people, each has its own charm and uniqueness.

Copyright: Abbi Fetters

When I was a young adult living in Cut Bank, Montana, where I'd lived from 6th grade until I moved to Oregon in 1976, I often went for walks around the town. At that time, Main Street (US Hwy 2) was thriving. All of the storefronts were full. We had a beautiful city park, swimming pool, many architecturally interesting churches, and a variety of other things that made Cut Bank, well, Cut Bank. One of them was Tank Hill. 

copyright: Barbara Gerard-Mitchell

What is Tank Hill, you ask? Well, Cut Bank was a goldmine of oil and natural gas in the 60's and 70's. The rich crude aroma filled your nostrils daily. Phillips 66, Conoco, and Texaco were only a few of the corporations who had "tanks" on the hill. I lived in a house at the foot of that hill for a long time.

copyright: Josh Cramer 2019

I moved to the North side of town to the mobile home park in 1975. The stunning view out my front door was of Chief Mountain and the Rockies. Mind you, they were a forty-five minute drive away, but they were visible. I remember sitting on the front steps in the summer with an iced tea in hand, watching the storms move across the mountains into the valley and soon to our town.

copyright: Deposit Photos

copyright: Deposit photos

Moving to Portland, Oregon, known as The City of Roses, was one

copyright: Deposit Photos

of the best decisions I've made. It, too, is a city of many things--China Town, Pittock Mansion, OMSI, International Rose Test Garden, The Japanese Gardens, Jantzen Sportswear, Saturday Market. Too many wonderful places to mention.  Mt. Hood was visible from every point in the city and the ever popular Multnomah Falls and Columbia River were a short drive North of where I worked.

copyright: Deposit Photos

In 1981 I left all of that behind and moved to the Des Moines, Iowa area. Iowa is a slower pace, even though two major interstates intersect in the middle of the state--I35 going north/south and I80 going east/west.

copyright: Deposit Photos

Iowa has it's own charm. The rolling plains of NW Iowa lead to wind farms, larger cities, corn and soybean farms, and now many vineyards and wineries. Iowa is best known for the Amana Colonies and the Amana (now Whirlpool) appliances headquarters.

copyright: Grace Augustine

The point to my post today is that there are so many things around us to be seen and appreciated when we open our eyes and look. Traveling by vehicle or on foot, one can find joy in the colors of the flowers and trees, sculptures that are in the oddest of places, and national monuments that trigger lessons from history.

What will you see today?

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The Heart of the Working People Part 2~by John Brown

The Book of John Chapter 1 ~ by John Brown

photo courtesy of John Brown

I began my career in the oil industry in 1977 at age 21, working for an Alberta, Canada-based oilfield service company. We worked mostly in northern Montana but were transferred to the northern Canadian Provinces in the wintertime when the swampy muskeg, or peat bogs, froze. The freezing temperatures, which often reached below -50 degrees Fahrenheit, allowed drilling rigs and other heavy equipment access to the remote areas.

February 1978 found us contracted to work on several oil wells

near the village of Rainbow Lake, Alberta. A long, rutted, rough gravel road from the main highway led to the hamlet deep in the Canadian bush country. The town itself consisted of very few permanent buildings and many pre-fab, temporary camp-like structures that are common in remote boom towns. Our “hotel” was essentially trailers slid together with a common hallway and bathroom, where cots sufficed for beds, but it was a warm, welcome respite from the brutal cold. After stowing our bags in our room, we headed out to a drilling rig, where we worked most of the night.

At morning’s light, we moved down the road to the next well site.

The drilling rig we left to go to the H2S well

The wells in this area were notoriously known as having high concentrations of hydrogen sulfide, or H2S, an extremely poisonous gas that is deadly in small concentrations. Seven hundred parts per million in the air will render a person unconscious at once, with immediate death if not rescued. We had not been supplied with self-contained breathing gear as all available units were needed at the drilling rig.

We rigged up on the well to complete our work as a general work crew, known as roustabouts, prepared the wellhead for us. The well had more pressure than was anticipated and had to be bled down so our operations could commence. They were blowing the well’s tubing down via a flare pipe downwind from us. Something went horribly wrong and the gas diverted to an open tank directly upwind from us.

I was near the wellhead and had a sensation of suffocation, so tried to warn my co-worker. I yelled, “Gas!” as my knees buckled. I do not remember hitting the ground.

My parents always had a big Sunday dinner for as long as I can remember. Suddenly, I was transported home to that dinner table. Home… with Mom, Dad, and my older brother, Rob; eating roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans and apple pie for dessert. Home and safe. I started to take a bite of food and felt violently ill.

The roar of our work truck’s power plant was my next sensation, followed by intense cold and inability to see. I tried to rise, but kept falling back. I knew I had to get away, but could not. I heard my co-worker, Ted, ask me if I was alright. He had been throwing snow in my face and was pulling me back down each time I tried to rise. Ted had heard my warning yell and saw me go down. He was overcome when he came to help me, but had regained consciousness before me.

We saw two more people down and tended to them as the people who evacuated the site returned to help. One man had stopped breathing and Ted administered CPR and rescue breathing to revive him.

We radioed in to Rainbow Lake that we were coming in with four H2S victims; thankfully they had a medical clinic. After we spent several hours on oxygen, the other two men were flown out to a hospital for overnight observation.

Later, we found out that the roustabout who was bleeding the well down saw what was happening and somehow shut the well valve before he was overcome. We also found out that this particular well had been tested at 350,000 parts per million of hydrogen sulfide!

photo courtesy of Pexels.com

Apparently, God had a plan for me and it was not my time. We should have all died that day on that frigid, remote well-site.

John Brown continues working in oilfields on the rigs. He and his wife reside in Northern Montana.

A Much Kinder Time Part 2~ by Grace Augustine

   

Oh my goodness, the antics and stories these halls could tell if only they could talk! See that second window, first floor, on the right side of the main door? That was my Sophomore English class room...where a male student (who shall remain nameless) dropped another male student out the window for "continuously bugging" him. The dropped student suffered a broken arm. Just last year it was revealed to me, by the culprit, the real reason for the incident as well as who did the dropping...yet the accused still takes the blame today. I'm sworn to secrecy.

Not having kids or grands in high school, I'm not sure of the current protocol of classes. In the 70's we had a class president, vice-president, secretary, and treasurer. We built amazing floats from chicken wire over vehicles and spent the week of homecoming, at secret locations, stuffing colored napkins into said chicken wire, hoping our float would win. The Homecoming King and Queen nominees rode on the class floats and winners were announced at half-time of the football game. It was an honor to win. My class won a couple years in a row because of a team of architecturally minded builders who created marvelous floats. (This was one of the winners.)

Upon graduation, any left over class funds were transferred to the next class. Our president and staff decided that wasn't going to be a happening thing...so, our class purchased this...which still stands on the grounds today. Our mascot...the CBHS Wolf. My class graduated over 100 students.

One of the most unfortunate circumstances for my class, the class of 1974, was the fact that many of our classes were held in army trailers due to the fire that destroyed the beautiful glass and all wood interior gymnasium.  Classrooms, trophies and other memorabilia were gone in the blink of an eye. We were the only class in CBHS history to go all 4 years without a gymnasium.

This structure held many district and state basketball championship games as well as state wrestling matches. I lived 3 blocks from the school and stood in the alley-way, along with all of the neighborhood, weeping over this loss. The fire was so intense it was seen 25 miles away. Fire departments from all of the surrounding communities fought this blaze.

In the dead of the winter months, our Physical Education classes consisted of playing table tennis in the Army trailers or walking to the bowling alley to spend 45 minutes bowling, only to walk back in the sub-zero temperatures and knee-deep snow. You can see a couple of the trailers in this photo.

We had yearbooks...or annuals...that outlined sport successes, FFA, Spanish Club, Home Ec, Shop, Band, Choir, and many other school organizations. It also had photos of every person in each class as well as photos of all the teachers.  It was fun to ask classmates and teachers to "sign" your annual.  It's even more fun reading what was written now, some 44 years later. I smile and wonder where some classmates are, and fondly remember those who've already passed on.

To say it was a much kinder time is an understatement. Cut Bank was an oil and gas rich community with good, hardworking people raising families. In 1974, approximately 6,300 people lived in this thriving town that is the gateway to the Blackfeet Indian Reservation and Glacier National Park, as well as being only a hop away from Canada...literally. 

Today, nearly 3,000 call Cut Bank home. Many of the businesses I knew and frequented are no longer there, but many new ones have taken their places. I encourage you to take a trip West on Highway 2 (it's the Main Street of Cut Bank) and experience all the state of Montana has to offer. And visit the amazing Glacier National Park. I guarantee it is one place you will never forget.

You can read part 1 Here.