Army Medicine on the Eve of D-Day

In the Great House Clean Up the ratio of Trash to Treasure runs strongly to the former.  By about 1000:1.  But a few family treasures are being wrested from the attentions of the Mice.  And some things that just deserve a few minutes of thought.

My dad did an accelerated college-Med School program during WWII.  He graduated from the latter just after the war ended.  So this item would have been part of his reading material about half way through Medical School.

This is the June 1944 edition of THE BULLETIN of the U.S. Army Medical Department.  So, what was actually on their collective minds as the troops were heading onto Omaha Beach?

Well, its 119 pages long.

The first page covers this new fangled stuff called Penicillin, and various articles on this first of the real antibiotics total 14 pages including a delightful account by Dr. Fleming on its semi-accidental discovery.

But that takes a back seat to the various things that could go wrong with any army's most important bit of equipment, the feet of their soldiers!  Combing the totals for Trench Foot, fungal infections, injuries from obstacle courses and such, these add up to 30 pages, about a quarter of the publication.

Actual combat related material does appear, as US troops had been in action in the Pacific and North Africa.  But I got the sense that academic discussion of how to best debride and clean up wounds was a bit perfunctory.  Seems like one of those things you just have to do in real life to learn.

There are lots of little oddities to be found.  Three pages, with lots of illustrations, on how to construct a latrine system in an area where you can't dig pits.  A page on sting ray injuries.  And, given that this publication was created by merging Army medical, dental and veterinary publications, two pages devoted to "CORONARY OCCLUSION IN A RACE HORSE".

And how about ten pages on how to fumigate barracks with highly toxic cyanide gases?!

All pretty interesting stuff, but sometimes it just raises more questions.  For instance:

This was obviously another high priority subject for military medicine, but I always thought the concern was mostly that our boys in uniform - or actually out of same - would consort with  bimbos and perhaps the occasional Mata Hari type.  Indeed, one of my dad's few anecdotes on his military career involved doing what was called "short arm inspections" on the troop ship coming back from Europe!

That the Women's Army Corps were in need of similar moral education came as a surprise.  Were the Army docs worried about the gals consorting with himbos and Mata Harrys???

Things not to do in a Scary House/Sci Fi Movie

We've got a bit of a project going on these days.  It's going to take a fair chunk of my time, energy and sense of humor. 

My dad passed away some years back, and about six months ago my mom went into memory care.  My parent's house had gotten into a pretty bad state.  In the usual fashion of people struggling to hang in there, and with some extra challenges that need not be delved into for our story.  

Suffice to say there's a mess, and our family has to deal with it.

Now, the first rule of every movie featuring a Scary House is:  DON'T OPEN THAT DOOR!

Jars of pickles, long forgotten.  How long?  I think we helped move my folks into this home 25 years ago.  These jars of pickles made that trip.  How old were they at that time?  Well, there's probably some dates on the jar tops but this is as close as I got.  You'll notice that some of the jars are mostly empty.  To switch genres, in every sci fi movie where cryonic preservation chambers are used as a plot device...a few of them fail. 

Here too, some of those jars contain the desiccated, hideous mummies of pickles from the last century.  

Things were actually worse in other parts of the house.  A quarter inch of dust was everywhere.  As areas started to be cleared we of course wanted to vacuum a bit.  One of my brothers was sent to the basement where a vacuum cleaner had been sighted some time ago.  When he dragged it up the stairs I looked behind him.....and saw the corpses of several long dead mice that had fallen out when he moved it!

The vacuum sat in a room for a bit.  I even found the instruction manual.  It boasted that this was "The Machine of Tomorrow, Today". But before we got around to powering it up it became clear from the smell that there were more, probably many more, dead mice inside.

Out the door it got chucked.  Next session we bring in a shop vac and throw the rodent charnel house into the trash...

By the by, this is a "Rainbow" brand vacuum cleaner.  Although in recent years they've apparently been a staple of the sort of door to door salespersons that preferentially prey upon the elderly it is said to be a decent brand.

Out of curiosity I tried to figure out just what model it was, and just how old.

Unclear....might also be 25 years or so.

Ah, The Machine of Tomorrow.  It does look futuristic, and I'm thinking the mice mistook it for a cryonics pod.  Guess they should have watched a few more sci fi movies....

Memorium

My father in law passed away over the weekend.  He was 102, so as my Brit friends would put it "He had a good long innings".  

The family reunion I mentioned last time was from that side of the tree.  The schedule was complex, some of us had already gone home when we got the news.  But others remained.  I'm sure stories, tears and a few toasts were on order.

When you live that long your grandchildren get to know you.  And not as "grandpa", that silly mix of performance art and vague authority.  They know you as a person.

Various legacy stuff came to them when the old gent moved.  First from Indiana to Pennsylvania, then to Michigan, then to an apartment, and finally for the last few months of his life, to a nursing home.

This is Major Hoople.  It's a vintage lawn tractor that one of my sons trailered all the way back from the east coast.  When he got word of the Passing, my son took it out to the back yard and fired it up for a lap around the acreage.  It still runs, still has various warranty voiding modifications done back in the day.  It still has the dates of oil changes written inside the hood!

Major Hoople, incidentally, was a character from a comic strip called Our Boarding House.  It started in 1921 and kept going until 1984.  Not bad, but a short run indeed by the standards of my father in law.

Godspeed, George.

Reunion

Every year or so we have a reunion of the American and Canadian branches of the family.  Long story, involves a bit of draft dodging back in the 60's.  Anyway, in times past I was pretty involved in amusing small people.  Lots of games, silly treasure hunts, frog races.  That sort of thing.

Well, they are not so little these days.  They show up with their attendant devices and their chargers.  My own internet access slows to a trickle.  Seriously, I've not seen things load so slowly since the late 80's when I had a dial up modem!

But its all good fun.  The grandparent gen gets to sit back and take things easy.  The parent types just have to keep the teens from being too "teeny".  The youngest generation just gets to play.  They amuse each other pretty well.

The interactions from top generation to bottom are less now.  Less important too.  I think the most precious connections are of the "half generation" variety.

Anyway, stuff happened.  Most of it not of general interest.  There were for some reason a batch of quail.  

And potato chips.  This is part of a long running "taste test" between US and Canadian products.  Who knew that Pringles made what looks to me to be "Assassin" chips.   Actually pretty tasty.

There were additional chips in bags, all of which popped due to airline pressure changes.

And breakfast cereal.  There was supposed to be a detailed survey of these comparing the variants, but everyone stayed up too late and was groggy when they stumbled down at what might be a very late breakfast hour in their time zone, but closer to lunch here in the Midwest.

Well guess that's Mass Confusion Family Time for this year.  Back to a quieter life with 21st century internet availability.

One of the Heroes of this Country...

I think of myself as essentially optimistic.  Life is good, and I have accomplished a lot.  But sometimes you also have to be realistic.  Reality sneaks up in your peripheral vision.  Maybe its because both my wife and I have one remaining parent, who in each case is fading/failing.  Maybe its just going to the doctor.  Hey, even retired MDs do this once in a while.  On paper I'm in great shape.  But.....70 is not far off, and they seemed most insistent on giving me the paperwork for Directives of Care.  This is a nice way of saying they want to know what to do when, and by implication not if, I turn up in a bad way.  I get it, but it is sobering nonetheless.  

It got me to thinking.  How are we "remembered"?

It won't be in flowery obituaries.  Print Media is in approximately the same state of health as my 102 year old father in law.

I doubt it will be via the things we write and do in the nebulous world of the internet.   Everything on line is ephemeral, and on the day when I have the same physical substance as my alter ego Badger Trowelsworthy I'll be approximately as relevant.

I suppose how our spouses and children remember us counts for something, but they of course know all.  The good, the bad, the moments of both victory and disappointment.  No, I think the only satisfactory way to be remembered is by your grand children.

I've been fortunate.  All the grandkids are geographically close.  And regards the older two, the one positive of Covid lockdown was we spent lots of time with them.  Their world contained a handful of people and I was one of them.

Sometimes a song from your youth takes on new meaning at the other end of your years.  Back in the mid 1970's I had more hair, drank more beer, and had lots of years ahead of me.  I was a fan of Jerry Jeff Walker, a genuine talent.  

"Desperados waiting for a Train" is a song actually written by someone else, but Jerry Jeff did it best.  He said it was just how he'd gotten on with his grandpa.....

"Soon as I could walk he'd take me with him"

"To a place called the Green Frog Cafe."

"There was old men with beer guts n' dominoes"

"Lyin' 'bout their lives while they played."

"Yeh I was just a kid, they all called me side kick..."

The story of course goes on, finishing on "The Day before he died...."

Worth a listen, link below.

Jerry Jeff caught that train in 2020, dying of throat cancer.  Probably his hard living days did him in.  He was 78 years old.  That's how old I'll - presumably - be in ten years, when the oldest grandson will be the age at which "Viva Terlingua" was the soundtrack of my college days. 

"One day I looked up, he's pushin' 80"

"Got brown tobacco stains all down his chin"

"To me he's one of the heroes of this country,"

"So why's he all dressed up like them old men?"

Order and Chaos - Robotics 2025/26

Same room.  Sort of the same mission.  Two very different vibes.

Wednesday, 5pm.  End of season pizza with the robotics team.  A time to say good bye to our seniors.  I've known some of them since they were runty 6th graders.

Monday.  Morning and on into noon hour.  As part of our long range recruiting I gave a quick presentation on robotics to a bunch of tech ed classes.  And for good measure, set up the robot in the cafeteria.  It was not running, but could still hold its own lunch tray.

This was a quiet moment.  Then the bell rang announcing 6th grade lunch.  Egads......

Bedlam.  But I remind myself, some of those highly accomplished graduating seniors are kids I met when they were goofy 6th graders.  It's a lot of work to get from point A to point B.  

A bit of time off from robots now, but there is plenty coming up in the supposed "off season".

As I suspected...........

Last week, "Monkey" my current Nemesis when doing grandchild watching duty had unexpectedly popped his shifty self into Cryonic Storage.  I wondered what he was up to.  Nothing good I figured....

I've been doing this sort of thing for many long years, and my instincts are usually spot on.  Here's what turned up at my most recent session.

Devolution from mammal to dinosaur.  This looks like trouble.

Cryonic Monkey

As each of the grandkids has come along I've had a chance to spend time with them.  It's great.  My interactions with them tend to be on the silly side.  They'll get enough of the serious side of life by and by.  Around age 3, give or take a bit, each of them has had a toy that took on a life of its own.  With a little help from Grandpa they became tricksters, rascals, magicians.  Am I projecting aspects of my own personality?  Maybe.

First up, Possum.  He was actually a dog toy that GK#1 took a liking to.  Goofy lookin'.  Has two different "squeakers" that can actually play simple tunes.  A penchant for pushing things off shelves and laughing.  Sang some rather amusing songs.  Ultimate fate?  A visiting dog chewed him up.

Doll Baby.  Now this one's a real stinker.  Known for making insulting raspberry noises and pretending to be a punk teenager.  This was the best one to pose caught in various sketchy activities.  Ultimate fate?  Last seen at the bottom of a toy box.  Little girls move on from dolls.  And Doll Baby remembers this affront.  Oh yes, she remembers......

And for the latest addition we have Monkey.  Oddly enough Monkey does not speak.  What he likes to do is hide places.  I've gotten quite good at distracting the small human, tucking Monkey under my shirt and getting him repositioned somewhere on the sly.  His favorite hiding place is on the of the blades of the ceiling fan.  When you turn it on he goes flying off squealing.

Now, of the three of them Monkey is easily the least villainous.  He just wants to have fun.  So I was very surprised to find him looking like this on my latest visit.

I suppose the likely explanation is that he unwisely chose to hide in the vacuum packing machine.  But maybe....

Having yourself cryogenically frozen is a very Villain move.  Various B-grade sci fi movies have used this theme.  Khan from Star Trek, Dr. Evil from Austin Powers.  I'm seeing a trend.

Is Monkey just biding his time, waiting for a chance to cause more mischief?? 

Early Thaw

It's been a few years since I made a snowman with grand kids.  In a warm stretch a couple weeks ago the latest addition to the family and I got out and built one in the front yard.  An odd late January thaw hit it hard.  Seasons.  They come and go unpredictably.

 This guy is now lurching forward, parts falling off.  Sort of a Snow Zombie.  It reminds me of the demented snow creatures that used to show up in Calvin and Hobbes!

Christmas Comes Early

"Christmas came early" is a phrase usually used when a bit of unexpected good fortune comes along.  A windfall of some sort.  In actuality having your Christmas occur before December 25th is usually a matter of logistics, and is sort of a mixed affair.

We have three kids, each with their own families.  So we share them with other fams around the hols, and sometimes it works out that we don't get to see them on the 25th.  So, how about on the 21st then?

Stockings hung.  More of them than in years past...

Dog knew something was up, he was extra vigilent.

All visitors piled in within ten minutes of each other.  Dog went crazy.  Piles of boots and such by front and back doors.

Also large quantities of beans.  Ah, it would take a bit of explaining.....

There were plenty of presents which were tuned into happily received new possessions and bags full of torn off wrapping paper.

Unexpected highlight of the afternoon was The Great Dog Escape 2.0.  One of the visiting mutts is always plotting ways to break out of the yard/house, and got a chance when a gate was left ajar.  Off she went at top speed, with full intent to evade all pursuit.  Every able bodied adult suited up and joined the chase, which went on until the dog made the mistake of running into a yard with a partial chain link fence.  This is the same trick she pulled a few years ago and is a good way to run off those Christmas eating calories.

I guess one good thing about the off date celebration is that things are open.  So while some elements of the family have dispersed (one branch has a Solstice Bonfire to attend!) others went bowling before we all sat down to Indian curry.

Yes, some of these are odd family traditions but we are an odd family.

Some Days Nothing Much Happens

It snowed.  Not as much as predicted, but already at morning coffee time everything local had been cancelled due to alarmist reports.  Or heck, maybe the schools all wanted to trim a day off of the minimal learning days that lead up to a major holiday. 

So robotics practice off, and an evening social occasion also cancelled.

Didn't even have enough snow to make a proper job clearing it.  Those eager beaver neighbors got their snow blower out first and did the out front sidewalk.

So, boring day.

Ah well, for logistic reasons our "Christmas" will be over the weekend, so there's that.

That's not today, but from a previous snowfall.  It's more fun when the grandkids are around.

All Robots are Buddhists

I've mentioned before that I think all robots are Buddhists.  They are clearly reincarnated time and time again as their parts are recycled into other robots.  In years past we've even had the occasional "Robot Funeral" prior to a machine being dismantled.  The words of institution being:  "Bolts to bolts, widgets to widgets...."  When the world went insane due to Covid we were a bit less enthused about this, as death seemed a poor subject for humor.  And to be more practically sensitive we often have kids on the team who have parents, grandparents etc facing health challenges.

I think this was our last Robot Funeral back in 2021

But the principle remains.  A robot is born, lives its (?) life, then its components are scattered, not like ashes over a body of water, but to the recycling bin, the electronics cart, the far reaches of the various storage spaces....

Sometimes things come back in unexpected ways.  This year there are new rules for the protective bumpers that competition robots must have.  We are being encouraged to experiment with different materials.  This was rather good fun, and we put together a series of videos for other teams to consider.  Worth a minute or two of amusing time spent, and some things you'll see have "histories". 

After figuring out how much squishing various foam types could take and still recover, we got even meaner....

I especially like the unscripted moment where the obsolete "pool noodle" sample went flying off into oblivion.  A suitable exit for this no longer to be used foam.  But a couple of things made "comebacks" in these videos.  In the first one there is a curiously shaped piece of light grey foam lying on the table waiting to be crushed.  We actually found a stash of this when we cleaned out one of the storage closets.  It dates back to when I ran "Machines Behaving Badly", the madcap 3 pound combat robot class where the entire rule set was "No flame throwers, no hand grenades and no live animals".  This foam was stuff I got at Axman Surplus many years ago.  It was used quite a bit for little robot wheels.  It also turns out to be the ideal material for big robot bumpers!

Ah, the good times......  Several of the occupants of Robot Cemetery used the grey foam, and we also had a chunk we made into a tombstone with the traditional Rest in Pieces caption.

And the Hammer of Persuasion seen in the second video?  That is the most ancient robot artifact of all.  Long, long ago, when my second son was 3 years old, he wanted a sledgehammer for his birthday.  Of course we got him one, scaled down to the size he could wield.  He used it for projects of both constructive and destructive nature, and it was gifted to the FIRST team when it was formed in the fall of 2015.  Hey, this was the kid who got me into Robot World!  In our first year we used it not only to hammer recalcitrant parts into alignment, but to actually stress test our initial robot.  We had never built a FIRST robot before and wanted to make sure it was strong enough!

Eventually the team outgrew its initial home, and the H.of.P. was used to knock apart our storage shelves and such.  It then became a ceremonial object which is presented to our student build lead at the start of his or her tenure.  It is only for the persuasion of mechanical objects, and has been used less as a test of mechanical integrity.  We have enthusiastic robot drivers for that now...

I often start to write something silly and find that the Real World is stranger than I imagined it to be.  So....what do actual Buddhists do for Robot Funerals?  Well, as it happens, in Japan they really do have ceremonies for decommissioned Companion Robots.  Who knew?

Deer....

 The youngest hunter in the family gets his second deer!

Those not in the hunting community might wonder how this is possible.  Well, without explaining the byzantine rules in detail, you can basically always get a permit to take a buck, as seen above.  There is an over supply of these harem collecting guys, especially during gun season when The Party is Over regards next year's fawns.  I guess it makes sense from a "don't have babies during the short rations season", but there's only about two weeks where bucks and does have much interest in each other.  As mentioned in my bow hunting reports, this is the brief spell of time where they act with the decorum and sense of college students on spring break.

Also, the DNR keeps a close eye on deer numbers, and issues greater or lesser numbers of "antlerless" permits - does and this year's punk teens - with an eye to reducing winter starvation, car-deer interactions and crop loss.  The deer seen above was taken on an "Ag-Tag", but honestly the DNR wants new hunters badly and youth hunters get a whole bunch of extra opportunities.

Writing on Thanksgiving morning there are still a few days of gun season left.  Oh, and you can still hunt with a bow until the end of the year.  And, there is a short second chance gun season for any unfilled anterless tags.  But if you are keeping score at home here's the tally since we started a family hunt in 2020.

2020 3 Hunters 3 deer

2021 5 Hunters, 3 deer

2022 4 Hunters 5 deer (see above regards multiple opportunities)

2023 4 Hunters 1 deer.  This was a bad year after a punishing winter

2024 (so far) 6 Hunters, 3 deer.

We have gained hunters over the years despite one early regular having a new baby and staying close to home the last two seasons.  This year we have all three of our boys hunting, plus a grandson and one of the daughter in laws.

Our overall "success rate" is 15/22 or 68%.  This compares favorably to the state wide 50% rate.  To be fair some hunters, both in our group and in the larger community, are more serious than others.  Last year our dtr in law had a perfect shot at a doe with two cute fawns.  The deer knew she was a sitting duck, so she just looked up and made cute/guilt inducing eyes....so of course she and her brood were allowed to pass in safety.

I'll update the numbers if necessary when final reports from our "satellite locations" drift in.   

But there will be venison in at least most of our freezers for the long winter ahead.

Opening Weekend 2024

Slow start to opening weekend of deer hunting.  The family takes a while to collect itself from various locations, and there is a general shortage of tags for our immediate around the cabin area.  Two hunters out at first light.  Some deer seen, none brought home.

Having gotten a deer earlier I stayed behind.  When it got light enough I did take Hank out for a walk.  As he is a small brown creature who likes to carry big branches around he had to be decked out for the occasion.

I heard exactly one gunshot in our 45 minute walk.  He might have heard a few more distant ones because he was pulling like crazy to get back to the safety of the cabin by the end of the walk.  He fears the Great Thunder Dogs.....

We started the Family Deer Camp four years ago.  In the first year it was just three of us gathering in a dreary Covid limited time.  One of our party in fact shot a deer but was too fatigued by a recent bout to drag it out unassisted.  But we went 3-3 with enough time and effort, all within walking distance of home base.

Fast forward.  No longer just guys eating junk food, the gathering is now our defacto Thanksgiving with all the kids, their wives, their dogs.  We eat better.  But the area around the cabin yielded zero deer.  In fact I was the only one who even tried to hunt in walking distance.  A tough winter two years ago clobbered the herd, so "antlerless" tags were cut way back.  But that does not seem to have deterred others, and areas we had all to ourselves until recently now have multiple hunters working them.  Hey, public land, so its fine.  But less productive and not conducive to doing the occasional drive to move deer along.

The two deer bagged thus far were:  my grandson getting one on a friend's property an hour south of here during Youth Hunt weekend, and my bow hunting success far to the south.  No deer hanging in the garage.

When I went out for a few hours on Saturday evening I encountered pleasant weather but saw nothing larger than a squirrel.*

Oh well.  Lots of good family time which is tastier than venison.  And as the weekend concludes various branches of the tribe head out to other places, in some of which there are still deer and permits.......

---------------------------------------

* peculiar highlight of the weekend:  Somehow a flying squirrel made it inside and drowned in a toilet.  Zombie Toilet Squirrel.  Nobody had that on their bingo card.  Now Family Lore....

Up in the Air. Also, straight down.

Tree stands going up.  The younger hunter on the right has already gotten the family "on the board" with a nice deer during the special youth hunt weekend.  He may be the best shot in the crew, as one might expect from a kid who can make a soccer ball, baseball or hockey puck go where ever he directs it.

That stand is for the gun season that starts 8 days from now.  After my misadventures with getting deer tags I had to switch tactics this year.  I've been down on The Homestead with a crossbow.  It is a different sort of hunting.  It takes time and patience.  You see deer that you can't reach, given the roughly 40 yard range of my bow.  Well, 30 given my skill level.  And....when a deer unexpectedly steps out from behind a bush and walks directly UNDER your tree stand, well, that's an impossible shot, leaning over the railing and twisting up and over.  I think the grand kids will have some new works of taunting art for the fridge over that one.

Eventually a deer did turn up in the right spot, and I will have venison for the year ahead.

Fifty Years in the Dirt

 Recently I changed my facebook photo to this:

I rather like the image....as several have pointed out there is clearly something interesting going on off camera to the right!  But it did prompt some old friends to point out just how long I've been messing around in the dirt, digging things up.

One sent this gem, purporting to be me and in 1985.

Uh, the guy in front, not the guy in back.

I've been digging around looking for things for a long time, probably going back not 50 years but 60, to when as a kid I would dig holes in the back yard of our house and find odd things.  Broken plates, marbles, that sort of stuff.

Still digging.  Guess I'll keep throwing the dirt out of the hole until somebody decides I'm Done and shovels it back in on me.

Cake, Candles, Crying Dog

Just a few days until October, and summer lingers on.  A last warm weekend at the lake.

There's firewood to stack up, 'cause this won't last forever....

Probably the most pleasant dock out session in our long tenure.....water levels had dropped so our crew of capable next generation workers had warm water and not that much of it to contend with.  I always wait until dock out to snap a pic of the fall colors.

And of course other stuff going on.  A birthday party for instance.

It was all a bit over stimulating for my dog Hank.  Hank loves many things.  Kids, grilled meat, the smells of the lake.  He hates other things....lawn mowers for instance, and he decided that the ATV was a great big one.   He tried to be everywhere at once.  Cadging food, getting attention from kids, guarding us from the Lawn Mower.  He can easily be both happy and sad at once.....

The Insufferable Insolence of Deer

I think I've shown you my fridge art before.  Birthday and Father's day messages from my adorbs grand children.  They seem to make much of my intermittent success at deer hunting.  A gigantic deer with rude emanations seems to amuse them.  Well, it amuses me too.

Life imitates art.  On the front lawn of our in town place deer are wandering in and, well, see for yourself.

Hmmff.  They grow bold.  Sure, they have hearing, vision and a sense of smell that can detect me a mile away.  Sure, they are fast, can jump high and are basically find safety by just stepping behind a tree.  Ah, but I am more determined than they are.  Very determined.  They shall pay for their insolence.

Swamp Wedding

Well, they went and did it.  Got married, as advertised, in a swamp.

Oh, not Shrek and Mrs. Shrek, my youngest son and his decidedly non ogre-ish lady.  You remember, the ones building a house from scratch at the end of a dead end road...

The dad did not begin in auspicious fashion.....

Rain, hail, zero visibility.  Admittedly this was six hours before the ceremony and a bit further north where we were picking up supplies.

But perhaps a decent metaphor for married life.  There will be storms but they will pass.  

Friends and family turned up.  Assorted games were pursued.  The earlier downpour just made it safer to have bonfires going most of the night.   

The groom looking dapper and barefoot.  House they built by hand in the background.

And of course the bride.  That dance floor is made of leftover plywood.

It's all just a little implausible.  An off grid house.  Music that goes from a phone, bluetoothed to a sound mixer, to a speaker set in the bed of an electric vehicle that powered the entire event, lights, cooking, etc.

People played "hammerschlag" until way after dark.  I'm not very good at this btw, despite being a designated non imbibing driver.

And of course, dancing.

A good time was evidently had until way past Oldster bed times.  On returning for breakfast the next morning.....

Some of the pumpkin decorations were considerably the worse for wear....so what happened?

Over by the keg of beer a hatchet and the sabre used earlier for opening champagne.  Yes, perhaps just as well I missed that part of the evening.  I'm told my athletic grandson is a particularly accurate hatchet thrower.  We took the tasty debris off to park near a bow hunting stand on the far end of the swamp.