Archive for the ‘Iowa’ Tag

Darby, Montana and Estherville, Iowa   8 comments

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Last night I camped out in Hamilton, Montana.  This morning I walked a few miles south of Hamilton and then got a ride to Darby.  I got dropped off in Darby and walked to the gas station.  I was getting too warm, so I took off my long-sleaved shirt.

As I was repacking my backpack, this guy walked out of the gas station and walked over to me.  He asked me where I was going.  I told him that I was headed toward Salmon, Idaho.  He asked me where I was from originally and I told him from Iowa.  He said that he was from Spirit Lake; I told him I was from Algona.

His name was Garrett and he went to high school in Estherville, class of 1985.  I told Garrett that I went to Garrigan High School in Algona—I finished in 1978.  We played Estherville in football every year.

I then asked Garrett if he knew Agnes Hood; I had dated Agnes once during my senior year—she went to school in Estherville.  Garrett said that he knew Agnes.  He said he remembered there were three Hood sisters and they were very beautiful.  I replied, yes, they were very beautiful.  I then asked Garrett if he knew Brian Sawyer.  Garrett knew Brian and his brother.  Brian was a cousin of Agnes’.  I first met Agnes and Brian while playing in a pickup basketball game at the Hood residence the summer before my senior year.

I then told Garrett that I once got a ride from Nebraska to Estherville [in 2002] and got dropped off at around 10 o’clock at night.  I was walking down the main street of Estherville when I noticed this car drive past, swing into this parking lot and pull up right next to me on the sidewalk.  This guy stuck his head out of the window and asked, “Are you Tim Shey?”

I replied, “Yes, I am.”  I was a bit flabbergasted.

We started talking and he had picked me up hitchhiking in Humboldt a few months ago and drove me to Algona.  He told me to get in his car and we drove to his apartment in Estherville.

In his apartment, he opened his Bible to the Book of Ezekiel.  He showed me Ezekiel 21: 27:  “I will overturn, overturn, overturn, it: and it shall be no more, until he come whose right it is; and I will give it him.”  He told me that the Lord wanted him to show me that Scripture.  He later gave me a ride to Algona.

I spoke with Garrett for a little while and then he said, “It’s a small world.”

I said, “It sure is.”

We shook hands and I walked south on U.S. 93 towards Salmon.

estherville_ia

It’s a Small World
Blaise Pascal
A Sword is Sharpened

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Posted May 1, 2016 by Tim Shey in Uncategorized

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A Library and a Restaurant   Leave a comment

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Dreams from the LORD 2011-2015
10 March 2015

Last night I had a dream where I was at this public library in Mason City, Iowa.  I met this young man at the library; his last name was Shey.  I told him that my last name was Shey, also (we may have been related).  I told him that my book, High Plains Drifter, was in that library.  I pointed out my book to him:  High Plains Drifter was put prominently on top of this shelf where everybody could see it.  There was even a colored, fold-out poster advertising my book.  The young man was happy to see my book.

The next scene:  I was in this restaurant.  I noticed a relative of mine walk through the restaurant.  He didn’t see me.  A while later, I walked up to this relative and we shook hands.  We made some small talk.  He told me that there were other relatives of mine in that same restaurant.

Author/Hitchhiker

Posted March 10, 2015 by Tim Shey in Uncategorized

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Another Dream with General George S. Patton   5 comments

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General George S. Patton

Dreams from the LORD 2011-2014
8 September 2014

Last night I had a dream where I was staying at a homeless shelter in Algona, Iowa.  I talked with some homeless guys for awhile and then I walked to this grocery store.  At the grocery store, I was walking down this aisle when I saw a relative of mine walking towards me—she was walking with a cane.  I walked by her and did not say hello.

I then walked towards this fast-food restaurant and there was General George S. Patton outside the restaurant; he was sitting down talking to several people  I listened to General Patton talk for awhile; some of the people were asking him a lot of questions.

It was a long dream; I don’t remember all of the details.  I have had three other dreams about General Patton, so I believe this dream has something to do with spiritual warfare:  exposing the devil and defeating the devil in Algona, Iowa (I was born and raised in Algona).

A Dream About General George S. Patton
Two Dreams:  General George Patton and Clint Eastwood
Wikipedia
The Jerry Shey Family
Strongholds

Walkin’ Joe and the Midnight Marauders   6 comments

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Cover Design by Gary Kelley

Walkin’ Joe and the Midnight Marauders 
By Dennis R. Waller

Page 241:  “Joseph Smith.  Born in Buffalo, Wisc. on Sept. 9, 1901.  Died in Cherokee, Ia. on Dec. 21, 1970.  Occupation, retired farmhand.  Relatives (living or dead), none known.  Activities, organizations, military service?  All blanks.  The newspaper obituary fact sheet is pretty bare for Joseph Smith, who is being put to rest today, Thursday, Dec. 24, after services at McCullough’s Funeral Chapel at 1: 30 p.m.

“To many of Algona residents over 25, Joseph Smith was a colorful character known as ‘Walkin’ Joe’.  Many people can tell a tale or two about this big man who walked the streets of Algona for some 30 years.  That Joe could ‘work like any two men’ is an often-heard remark.  Some farmers in the area can vouch for his strength, endurance and appetite by first hand experience.

“But the black and white facts that should fill in a normal obituary form are missing from Joseph Smith’s 69-year term on earth.  According to that cold sheet of paper the only things that ever really happened to Walkin’ Joe were his birth and death.

“He was mysterious as he was colorful, but not by his own choice.  He talked to very few people and when he did he said very little.

“He’d spend his hours walking and resting at various locations near downtown when he couldn’t get work as a farmhand.  For the past few years, he spent a lot of his time dreaming and napping on a bench in front of the courthouse.

“Residents  in Algona during World War II recall that Joe used to work with the crews of German prisoners-of-war around town.  He evidently was of German descent and could speak a little of his native language.

“Working with the POW’s led to nicknames like ‘Dutch’ or ‘Kraut’ and were yelled at him for years after the War by local youth.  The tradition of teasing this grumbling, big man (6’2′ and 260 lbs. in his prime, he told one man) was passed from kid to kid by the bicycle generation.  Tormenting taunts led to rock throwing and even shooting with BB guns by youths with an ignorant impression of how to have a good time.  He became a real source of amusement because he would chase his tormentors.

“It must have been out of fear and wonder that young boys bothered this mysterious, powerful man, who only wanted to be left alone.”

Page 243:  “He was taken to Cherokee, where he died.  Leo Cassel last visited him six months ago in Cherokee.  He was confused and having some leg trouble, but seemed happy.

“Exactly where Joe came from and what he did for his estimated 69 years is unclear.  By talking to those who knew him casually, you can pick up tiny pieces of what seems to be a sad giant puzzle.

“He must have gone through life with only the clothes on his back.  When his body was shipped here from Cherokee, his personal property included work clothes, underwear and shoes.  No papers, pictures, identification or mementos.

“Holidays probably didn’t mean much to him, since he didn’t have a family with which to spend them, but he’ll be buried at Riverview Cemetery on Christmas Eve.  I’ll be there, because I owe him for some rocks and name-calling.

“In the years I knew of him, I never once saw a grin on that weathered old face.  I would hope he’d smile if he knew how sad his blank obituary form makes me.”

Page 245:  “So that’s the end of ol’ Joe, right?” he asked.  “Guess you have some interesting recollections, now don’t you?”  He showed a sly smile.  “I know you do for sure, Skag.  Probably all of you.  Wish I’d known about your story, Mr. Waller.  There was something about Joe’s background that you didn’t mention.  He was on one of those orphan trains as a kid.  I was never able to find out anything more on that.  He always clammed up.”

Larry recalled the time guys were bellied up at the bar, talking about the old days, when passenger trains were a new big thing.  “Heck, we’d take Marykay and Judy down to the depot just to see the big locomotive come chugging in.  Kids screamed at the big, loud monster coming right at us, but they loved it.

“Anyhow, Joe came walking up to the bar for his glass of beer and he’d been listening.  Never did that before.  He stood back, but I could tell he was interested.  When the topic changed and I turned to leave, Joe tugged at my sleeve—something he’d never done.  He was a man of few words, but that day he said, very plainly—with his German accent—‘I come on orphan train.  Mean Wisconsin farmer.  No pay.'”  Larry said he had tried to ask Joe a few questions but Joe had said all he cared to and the subject never came up again.  “My assumption is that some Wisconsin farmer needed a hired man, but Joe wasn’t yet big and strong enough to do the work, so got bounced and either was on an orphan train or simply hopped freights.  Eventually landed in Algona.  But hey, I really don’t know.”

Page 268:  Even now, many years later and at unexpected times, my mind often travels back to the bittersweet memories of our childhood days seeking adventure.  They always trail off to the snowy vision upon leaving the pauper’s gravesite on the Christmas Eve of 1970.

We drove away from the chill at Riverview Cemetery and returned to the snug security of our families, warm homes, hot meals and the fruits of love and labor.  But if I think back upon my life, the earliest regrets are there.  They’re in the deep part of my conscience, where I am unable to wish away poor decisions of my youth.

And it is there, in the recesses, where Walkin’ Joe trods silently.

Walkin’ Joe website
A Man’s Foes Shall Be They Of His Own Household
A Conversation with a Vietnam Veteran
The Jerry Shey Family
Algona Upper Des Moines Newspaper

Escape from a Possible Robbery   Leave a comment

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Dreams from the LORD 2011-2014
8 February 2014

Last night I had a dream where I was at a relative’s place.  I talked with my cousin and I told him that I had to take a bus to Denver.

I took a bus to Denver and I had a large stack of manuscripts with me—it looked like there were 20 or 30 manuscripts.  I got off the bus and walked to this photocopy store and sold my manuscripts for a lot of money.  The guy at the cash register paid me in cash and I put the money in a small backpack.

As I attempted to walk out of the store, these two guys bumped into me and walked quickly outside.  I knew something was wrong:  they wanted to steal my money.

So I walked back to the cash register and asked if I could phone a taxi.  I didn’t want to walk back to the bus station with all of this money.  The two guys walked back into the store and crawled up to my backpack (it was sitting on the floor next to my feet):  they were staring at the backpack.

Then I noticed someone I used to work with years ago at Pike Construction in Ames, Iowa.  He was leaving the store.  I asked him if I could get a ride.  He said it wasn’t company policy for him to give someone a ride in the truck (he was driving a dump truck).  So I asked him if I could ride in the back of the truck.  He said that that would be all right.  So as the truck pulled away from the store, I climbed in the back of the truck and escaped a possible robbery.

My interpretation of the dream:

In the dream, I noticed that I didn’t hitchhike to Denver—I took a bus.  Maybe my hitchhiking days are coming to an end.

The photocopy store represents a publishing company.  The stack of manuscripts being sold for a lot of money means that my books will sell a lot of copies (or one of my books will sell well).

The photocopy store was in Denver, Colorado.  Maybe this means my books will sell well in the Rocky Mountain states or in the western United States.  I have done most of my hitchhiking west of the Missouri River.

The two guys who try to rob me is the devil.  The devil is always trying to steal, kill and destroy the works of God.  The Lord told me to write my two books (High Plains Drifter and The First Time I Rode a Freight Train).  My two books are a God-work:  it was not my will to write those books.

A former co-worker from Pike Construction helps me escape a possible robbery.  I think this is very interesting, because the last time I worked at Pike Construction was in February of 2001.  I have not kept in contact  with anyone from Pike Construction since I left.  Out of the blue, someone from my past helps me evade an ambush from the devil.

Interesting little detail:  the dump truck that I escaped in looked like the dump truck I used to drive for Pike Construction.

Algona Upper Des Moines Newspaper   8 comments

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Algona Upper Des Moines Newspaper
Algona, Iowa

Back in May of 2011, I sent an email to the Algona Upper Des Moines newspaper.  In the email, I told them that I had a book published in 2008 entitled High Plains Drifter:  A Hitchhiking Journey Across America.  Since I was a native of Algona, I thought that they would want to run a story about my book and hitchhiking travels.  There was no response.

I was born and raised in Algona, Iowa.  I went to grade school, middle school (St. Joe, Iowa) and high school (Bishop Garrigan High School, 1974-1977) in Algona.  I was involved in Cub Scouts, little league baseball and 4-H in my youth.  I lived most of my first 26 years in Algona or rural Algona.

And the Algona Upper Des Moines newspaper had absolutely no interest in my book whatsoever.  I find that a bit odd.

Author
The Jerry Shey Family
Algona, Iowa

Matthew 13: 57:  “And they were offended in him. But Jesus said unto them, A prophet is not without honour, save in his own country, and in his own house.”

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Posted September 14, 2013 by Tim Shey in Uncategorized

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Iowa Blackie   3 comments

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Iowa Blackie

25 May 2013

Just in the past half hour, I was hitchhiking on U.S. 395 several miles south of John Day, Oregon.  This jeep pulled over to give me a ride.  It was a man and his wife; they lived in Seneca.

I told them that I had been hitchhiking for a number of years and that I was originally from Iowa.

He told me that twenty years ago, he and his wife were living in Britt, Iowa (Britt is close to where I grew up in north central Iowa [Algona]).  They met this old hobo named Iowa Blackie.  They let him stay at their place one night.  Iowa Blackie was the Hobo King at the Hobo Convention in Britt back in 1993.

When he mentioned Iowa Blackie’s name, I exclaimed, “It’s a small world!”

I told them that I had a pickup for a few months back in 2000.  I was driving through Boone, Iowa on U.S. 30.  I picked up this hitchhiker; his name was Iowa Blackie.  I drove him to Atlantic where he was going to stay with some friends.  I bought a copy of his book of poetry.  I told them that Iowa Blackie passed away a while back [2011].

The man and his wife dropped me off at this public cabin at the top of this mountain just seven miles north of Seneca.  I’ll stay here for the night and continue to head south on U.S. 395 tomorrow.

Iowa Blackie Obituary
Books by Iowa Blackie
Walkin’ Joe and the Midnight Marauders
The Jerry Shey Family
Hobo Shoestring–King of the Rails
The life of a hobo

Posted September 5, 2013 by Tim Shey in Uncategorized

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