CLITHERALL, MINN. - I am devoting this column to a very special birthday/anniversary.
This year, turning 75, is … my in-laws’ 1950 International Harvester refrigerator, which still works, gusting out frosty air every time you open its door, just as it did the day it first arrived at my father-in-law’s home in the rolling hills of Inspiration Peak a lifetime ago.
My father-in-law, Ron Nelson, remembers that day. He was about 9 years old then. He’s almost 84 now. Their farm had just gotten electricity, and as if an overhead light wasn’t enough, his parents splurged on the refrigerator.
“That was a big thing,” he remembers. They had been storing milk and cream in the well pit, an outdoor cement-lined square that sometimes got water in the bottom. Now they could retrieve it right from inside their home. Later, they got a TV, too, which brought one channel into their home, in the age of “Gunsmoke” and “Bonanza.”
Those were heady days, heralding times of great change for rural America. On a hot summer day you could get a moment’s relief by standing in front of the open refrigerator door or drink a cold pop from its icy recesses.
International Harvester, or IH, was better known for its red tractors and agricultural equipment that revolutionized farming. But as electricity lit up more and more farms, the American manufacturer was in a good place to make and sell refrigerators to rural Americans, building on its experience producing blood plasma coolers during World War II. The venture didn’t pay off for IH, and it sold its refrigeration division to Whirlpool in the 1950s. International Harvester continued to make tractors, which have a sort of cult following among tractor buffs.
My in-laws’ refrigerator didn’t travel far once it arrived in Otter Tail County. Replaced by a newer, more spacious upstart with a frost-free freezer, it was relegated to the pumphouse, where it chilled pitchers of Kool-Aid for thirsty grandchildren. It fell into disuse and in the 1990s, my in-laws snagged it for their granary where they stored extra garden produce and pop. Now it runs in the back room behind their garage, primarily in the summer, when they need extra space for produce and beverages. Come winter, they unplug it.
Its existence is a reminder of how much can change in the span of one person’s life and how much later it was that rural areas caught up to the technology of the metro. Born days after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, my father-in-law attended a nearby one-room school and traveled there, in the winter, by horse-drawn sleigh because the roads weren’t plowed.