By Bernie Hunhoff

The thermometer reads 10 degrees and it's New Year's Eve, so this is a good day for little other than pontificating and wondering what 2010 will bring to South Dakota.

We begin the year with South Dakota's very first 38-day legislative session. Voters allowed lawmakers to meet for up to 40 days in the 2008 election. But nobody said they had to meet for 40, so the cantankerous body opted for a frugal 38. Don't ask why.

Speaking of politics, at least seven people are running to succeed Mike Rounds as governor. All are white, middle-aged males — but they do have some policy and style differences so political junkies should enjoy the year.

With 20 inches of snow on the ground in most parts of South Dakota, farmers should start the growing season with plenty of moisture and the grass should green up nicely for cattle ranchers and sheep growers.

A lot of South Dakotans lost jobs in 2009. Hopefully, some of those positions will be re-opened in the New Year. For the rest, may they find new opportunities and directions . Most of the entrepreneurs we've met in our travels have admitted to us that they started their Big Idea because something else didn't work out for them. Oscar Austad, who built the world's biggest sports mailing list in Sioux Falls, started his company because he'd been fired from several sales jobs.

Our very own Division One South Dakota State Jackrabbits will play the powerful Nebraska Cornhuskers on Sept. 25. The game is something to look forward to. Who knows how the ball might bounce that autumn day in Lincoln.

U.S. Senator John Thune goes into his 2010 election bid with more cash-on-hand than Warren Buffet and nobody to run against. So the only question remaining is whether he'll donate it to the K-12 school system or bank it for a presidential race in 2012 or 2016.

The Sanford/Homestake Lab in Lead is truly becoming a research hole. It has also been a hole for state tax dollars thus far, but that will change when the National Science Foundation starts to kick in. And who knows? Once we figure out what those little neutrinos are all about we might strike gold again?

Of course, the "elephant in the room" when we talk about the year-ahead in South Dakota is cattle prices. Are they going up or down? if prices go up South Dakota will likely have a good year. Cattle are still that important to our state. And isn't it nice to live in a place where we are still greatly dependent on happy cows grazing on green grass?

The year 2010 is our 25th anniversary year, so we'll be thinking of how grateful we are for you, our faithful readers, the entire 365 days. Happy New Year.

Most public employees in South Dakota are drawing modest (at best) salaries, often-times for tough jobs like guarding prisoners, caring for the mentally ill, patrolling the highways and collecting taxes.

Last night while driving home, I saw a state worker who was finally getting around to shoveling his sidewalk. It was well after dark — and five days after the big snow. Why the delay? It wasn't hard to figure: he'd been working day and night for nearly a week, cleaning roads for the rest of us.

And is there a tougher job? A snow plow operator rises well before dawn — maybe while the wind and snow is still blowing — and climbs in the rig, not knowing what the day will bring. Cars and trucks will be mired in some of the drifts. An ambulance may need a route cleared in a hurry. The machinery will take a beating; hopefully it holds together. A big blizzard will bury fences and put cattle and horses in the roadways.

So if your friend or neighbor is a local or state plow operator give them a big "thank you" for all of us. Better yet, shovel some of their sidewalk if you see that they're not home enough to do it themselves.

State Rep. Martha Vanderlinde of Sioux Falls sent us this poem of winter in our favorite place. With 20 inches of snow on the ground and sub-zero temperatures coming later in the week, we thought you might be in the mood for it ....

WINTER Poem

It's winter in South Dakota
And the gentle breezes blow
Seventy miles an hour
At thirty-five below.

Oh, how I love South Dakota
When the snow's up to your butt
You take a breath of winter
And your nose gets frozen shut.

Yes, the weather here is wonderful
So I guess I'll hang around
I could never leave South Dakota
I'm frozen to the ground!

By Katie Hunhoff

On this day in 1890 over 300 Lakota were killed by federal troops in the valley of Wounded Knee Creek. A group of 350 Lakota, led by Chief Big Foot, were traveling from the Miniconjou village to the Pine Ridge Agency to join with Red Cloud, who had promised them food, horses and shelter. It is said that both Chief Big Foot and Red Cloud wanted peace despite mounting tensions and misunderstandings with the military.

At the bank of the creek, they were surrounded by the Seventh Cavalry. The soldiers seized the Lakota's weapons. It is believed that an accidental shot from a gun that was being seized prompted panicked soldiers to attack the unarmed Lakotas, mercilessly killing men, women and children of all ages.

Black Elk was 27 when he survived the Wounded Knee massacre. He spoke of it to John Neihardt, author of Black Elk Speaks in 1931 and we wrote about that visit in a cover story in 2001:

"I did not know then how much was ended. When I look back now from this high hill of my old age, I can still see the butchered women and children lying heaped and scattered all along the crooked gulch as plain as when I saw them with eyes young. And I can see that something else died there in the bloody mud, and was buried in the blizzard. A people's dream died there. It was a beautiful dream . . . . the nation's hoop is broken and scattered. There is no center any longer, and the sacred tree is dead."

How much was ended? No doubt, were Black Elk alive today, he would continue to see the hoop as broken and scattered. What can be done to restore the hoop ... the hope?

By Bernie Hunhoff

We've observed from our travels that the best small towns have a fellow (sometimes it's a lady) who unofficially represents the town to outsiders. He or she is nearly always the first to welcome visitors or newcomers. He or she is nearly always the first to patronize a new coffee shop or drop off a check for the latest "need."

He or she nearly always says the right thing in those awkward moments when everyone else is looking at their boots. He or she nearly always praises all the good things in people and places, and has a way of over-looking the bad — unless he or she can do something to better them.

Such folks probably exist in larger towns, but they are harder to identify. Not so in Sioux Falls. There it has been Al Shock for a half-century or so. We've been the "newcomer" and the "visitor" that he has supported and greeted. Just a few weeks ago, I spoke at the Downtown Rotary Club. After I was finished, Al stood and spoke beautifully about the magazine, and after the program he hurried up to greet me and presented me with two coupons for free malts at Dairy Queen. It was just another day for Mr. Hospitality, who died Sunday from complications with cancer.

There'll be countless anecdotes told of Al Shock this week as family and friends say their goodbyes (the funeral is Saturday). Many of us remember his 1974 campaign for the U.S. Senate. He ran a spirited race — but not a partisan one. He handled all the ups and downs with such grace that it was hard to figure out that he lost — and how he lost.

He survived the Battle of Normandy in WWII, came home to South Dakota and made a fortune in the dairy industry (see the Argus Leader article for a good bio by Jon Walker), and raised a big family that will continue to have positive effects on Sioux Falls for generations.

Among Al's many surviving relatives is Sarah Mannes Homstad, a Yankton architect. She just emailed us this bit about Uncle Al:

He was my dad’s uncle and the patriarch of an extended family. This morning my dad was remembering how Uncle Al, together with his own dad, would come to visit him when he was in the children’s hospital as a kid. My dad was in a large hospital room with 20+ kids, all with polio, and Al would come visit and tell jokes and perform tricks and get the entire room laughing.

We will remember Al — not for wealth or politics or even family — but rather for being the fellow who made everyone feel welcome. That's a rare gift, and Al Shock used it well.

Then you'll want to be in Delmont on Thursday for the little town's ninth annual end-of-year parade. We just got the news from Sam Grosz, a popular local newswoman and all-around busy lady.

Sam says about 30 parade floats will line up at the Zion Lutheran Church and start rolling down Main Street at 2 p.m. Later, everyone will adjourn to the Community Building for a South Dakota tasting event that continues until 5 p.m.

Featured foods will come from the Straw Bale Winery, Renner; honey from Hollmann Apiaries, Dante; coffee from Cherrybean Coffee Company, Parker; and appetizers made from Dimock Cheese, Dimock; Midwest Cheese, Corsica; and Delmont’s Blue Bird Locker, as well as local kuchen and dill pickles. Some vendors will sell products.

The donation, as well as raffle proceeds, are directed to the town's new spring project, Paint Delmont Proud.

Delmont is mid-way between Mitchell and Yankton.

With snow and wind everywhere in the West, we figured this might be a good day for a Christmas Where-izzit Contest. Guess the town where this statue of Mary (or is it the Infant of Prague?) stands and you'll win a special prize — a Christmas ornament of Yankton's historic Pennington House, home of South Dakota Magazine.

We'll offer a few clues as the storm progresses. Just click on the comments below to enter your guess. Don't worry if it doesn't instantly appear. It will be recorded. Click on the photo for a bigger view.

8 AM clue: It is in a very small town. There isn't even a town council.

9:30 AM clue: It is definitely not a Czech heritage town.

10:30 AM clue: It is on an Indian reservation.

Noon clue: The reservation town is north of I-90. And it's probably a stretch to call it a town. It's just a tiny place with a church and a school.

WE HAVE A WINNER (SEE COMMENTS)

By John Andrews

Fancy radars and weather predicting equipment beyond my comprehension have been warning us of a coming blizzard for the last week. Our ancestors had no such capabilities in 1888, which is why people like John Jensen, who left his Aurora County farm house to clear snow from a well so his cattle could drink, became lost in an instant.

His great-grandson, Richard Jensen, tells the story in his book The Comets of Aurora, which explores his family's complex roots in Norway, Denmark, Greece and South Dakota.

It was a balmy morning when John Jensen left his house, but the storm descended upon him as he dug. He tried to retrace his steps to the house, but his tracks quickly filled with snow. He walked toward a neighbor's house, and soon became disoriented. He recited the Lord's Prayer in Danish.

Finally after 10 hours he found a farmhouse. He sat by the fire as his frozen clothes were cut off. He was relieved to have survived the deadly Blizzard of 1888. He was glad he hadn't left his young wife and two daughters without a husband and father. The next day was clear with biting, subzero temperatures. Jensen walked home.

"John knew something was wrong when he approached the farmhouse. There was no smoke coming from the chimney. He ran now and stumbled over the body of his wife Nikoline who lay frozen to death halfway between the stable and the farmhouse.

"John was in shock as he began pulling her body out from its snowy grave. He had almost finished the task when he thought he heard crying coming from the house. His heart rose in his throat as he ran to the door, but something was preventing it from opening. He pushed several times and then, to his horror, discovered it was being blocked by the body of his older daughter Alvilda, frozen to death on the floor of the house. His panic turned to a glimmer of hope, when he found his infant daughter Anna Nikoline, still alive."

Jensen buried his wife and daughter and gave Anna Nikoline to his brother's family. He went to Illinois to start his life again. He remarried and had seven children, including Richard Jensen's grandfather Clifford, but kept the details of his life hidden from them until adulthood. Jensen didn't return to Aurora County until 1921 when he visited Clifford, who moved to rural Storla upon hearing his father's story.