The holiday season is approaching, so you might see Henry "Tub" Rath of Wasta at the store, stocking up on boxes of chocolate covered cherries.

Tub treats every lady in his town on Valentines Day, Mother’s Day, Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas. He figures there are about 30 women in Wasta, pop. 72 (midway between Rapid City and Wall).

His routine might be looked at suspiciously in some cities, but in Wasta they know it’s Tub being Tub – meaning, a nice neighbor. For years the retired state highway worker has been doing sweet things – like shoveling walks, fixing up the park or running a barbecue. He lights his little house and yard on the east edge of town with over 4,000 bulbs — just another way to brighten others’ lives. He has all sorts of decorative oddities in his yard, including deer made of horseshoes and this little wedding chapel (above).

I stopped to visit with Tub a few weeks back. Now in his seventies and hooked to an oxygen tank, he is not so quick on his feet. But he can still spread cheer. On holidays, he drives his brown and tan Ford pickup down each street; at every stop, he honks the horn and the lady of the house goes to the curb for her treat.

Dan Gorman and his chrome bull

Don Gorman, while building an auto salvage yard in Rapid City, dreamed of having a museum of collectible autos and motorcycles in which everything actually worked. That’s just what A&Ak Salvage has grown to become, with their help of his wife, Marsha and their sons, Dan and Mike. I'd heard about the place, so I drove over for a look on my last trip to the Hills.

Autos and motorcycles dating to WWI are on display, along with toys, bikes, farm tractors and other collectibles. They’re parked around old-fashion gas stations and shops. Don takes one of the museum’s vintage vehicles for a spin around town every day to make sure there aren’t any funny squeaks or tings. The boss can choose his duties.

Visitors are greeted in A&A’s front yard by thousands of neatly arranged hub caps, car seats, grilles and other auto parts; and by a big shiny bull made of Cadillac bumpers. Dan, a metal sculptor, says it took a year to create. He’s been welding on a bumper elephant for three years.

How many Cadillacs does it take to make a bull? “I didn’t count,” he admits. But he may have a ‘guess the number’ contest for the pachyderm.

A&A’s first mission remains used auto parts, but they’ve happily made room for dad’s dream. Youll find it all at 1525 Seger Drive, northeast of the Rushmore Mall along I-90 (Exit 59).

Expect more cowboy hats in the Hobo Day parade this weekend. South Dakota State U's homecoming parade theme is "Hobos on the Prairie," so college enthusiasts are expecting more flannel shirts, big belt buckles, long skirts and the like.

Here's a report from the Brookings Daily Register. I haven't been to a Hobo Day parade for a few years; it's always a fun autumn tradition.

But aren't all cowboys really hobos in a sense, especially if they can't afford a horse?

Good luck to the Jackrabbits on Saturday!

Ed Goss sent this picture of the remains of a mill from the Golden Crest Mine. He says it was east of Deadwood. The mountains are a wilderness, but it's amazing how much development took place there a century ago -- ranching, farming, logging, mining.

Omaha World Herald columnist Michael Kelly has a cute story on native South Dakotan Tom Brokaw, the now-retired NBC news anchorman. Brokaw was touring Omaha's Lied Transplant Center when a female patient saw him. Her eyes widened as she saw the famous visitor.

"Do you know who that was?" asked one of the hospital staff.

She thought for a moment and said, "Yeah. Wasn't that Tom Rather?"

The Klauss Archives on Parkston's main street.

I was in Parkston a few weeks ago, and found a bit of Los Angeles culture exhibited on main street, thanks to a human condition called roots.

Ken Klauss grew up in that little town south of Mitchell, the son of a German immigrant blacksmith. Known as “Mr. Music” in high school, he graduated in 1940 and left for California to work in the defense industry during WWII.

He was gay, an agnostic and hungry for a career in the music industry so it wasn’t a surprise that he felt comfortable there. After studying at the University of Southern California, he became a successful classical songwriter, musician and choreographer. One of his scores, “The Dedication to Jose Clemente Orozco,” is now in the Library of Congress. The 1990s had highs and lows for Klauss. He was invited to Washington, D.C., to perform the Orozco music. His longtime partner, Bernard James, died. And in 1994, he bought an old, abandoned block building on Parkston’s main street. His South Dakota roots were pulling him home.

James left him $100,000. Using that and assistance from his sister, he spent about $300,000 to restore the two-story structure into what’s now the Klauss Archives and James Art Museum. Klauss’ career notes, writings and tapes are stored in the bank vault. A concert piano, family pictures and other memorabilia are exhibited on the main floor. Many of his partner’s best paintings hang in a second story gallery that also offers a picturesque view of the little city.

He spends Aprils and Septembers there, giving tours and an occasional South Dakota performance. The blacksmith’s son, who still speaks fluent German, enjoys talking about his boyhood days in Parkston. Soft-spoken and talkative — with a brush of white hair and a blacksmith’s modest grin — he hopes he doesn’t come off as pompous to South Dakotans. “I try not to because those are the people that bug me!”

Klauss gave me a CD of his piano music. Though I'm no critic, it is as easy to listen to as a mountain stream or the birds of spring. The University of South Dakota plans to feature his songs in a concert next spring.

Visitors are welcome to tour the museum, whether Klauss is there or not. But he’s as interesting as the paintings and pictures, so try to visit in April or September. Call (605) 928-3833 for an appointment.

A horse from the Korkow Ranch south of Blunt is the nation's top saddle bronc. Slippery was already well known in cowboy circles, but now his fame will spread far and wide. The Korkows helped pioneer the sport of rodeo. This is the first time one of their broncs have been so honored. A story in the Pierre Capitol Journal has more info.

The Korkows are a friendly bunch who live on a modest spread in the valley that stretches south of Blunt. I spent a full day there awhile back, watching them run a rodeo school for kids (something they still do). Some animal rights activists have a problem with the way rodeo stock are treated. Maybe some are mistreated; I don't know. But the Korkows truly treat their horses and bulls like big, rough pets.

When their prize bucking bull, Hell Cat, died some years ago the family dug a huge hole in the ranch's main arena and buried him there.

Who says we don't have a sense of humor in this stoic, conservative and laid-back land of South Dakota. We can even make a hay bale look funny. So don’t call for an ambulance or hearse if you see legs stuck in a hay bale — most likely, it’s a rancher’s idea of a joke.

Hay bale humor is alive and kicking. We’ve seen 1,000-pound rolls of hay gussied up like turkeys, strung together like gigantic centipedes and painted like pumpkins.
The West Motel in Kadoka maintains a roadside rest stop made of a few hay bales, a toilet stool and some recliners. The plumbing is poor and the privacy nil, but those minor inconveniences are more than overcome by a view of the Badlands and the excellent ventilation.

Near Platte, the Nachtigals built a man of steel and placed a big round bale on his outstretched arms. The "Help Us!" photo above is on Parkston's main street.