By John Andrews

Is there anything South Dakotans won't race? We do all the mainstream stuff, like cars and horses. But people in Chamberlain race lawnmowers, and the residents of Volin race turtles. This weekend, the good citizens of Nemo will race outhouses.

Competitors build their own privy, mount it on something that will traverse snowpack well and race around a track, one at a time. One team member rides inside while the others push and pull.

The races are the focal point, but it's really an all-day extravaganza that benefits the local fire department. Here's a look at the schedule for Saturday, Feb. 27:

8 to 10 AM — Check in of Outhouses
9 to Noon — Toilet paper toss and outhouse horseshoes
10 AM — Deadline for outhouse check in and inspection
10:30 AM — Outhouse inspections – following inspection there will be a parade with Chinese fire drill practice
11 AM — Shovel races for kids (bring your own shovels)
11: AM – 1 PM — Chili Tasting
11:30 AM to Noon — Voting for people’s choice award
High Noon — Gun Fight at the Nemo Corral
12:35 PM — Captains meeting (MANDATORY)
1 PM — Outhouse Races start

It's either really poor planning or sheer genius to schedule the outhouse races after two hours of eating chili. And note they also recruit children to race with shovels.

Maybe with enough publicity this can become a winter Olympic event in 2014. There's already one event in which contestants ski for a while and then shoot things. And then there's curling. So why not outhouse racing?

For more information call the Nemo Guest Ranch at (605) 578-2708.

By John Andrews

It had to happen sooner or later. With all the snow and cold we've received, people are starting to compare the winter of 2009-10 to the doozy of 1996-97.

I get little sympathy around here when I talk about the winter of 1996-97. It's clearly the worst winter I can remember. I recall snow piled high, power outages, no school for days and wind chills of -70 to -80. (Scientists have changed the way they calculate wind chill since then, so we don't see numbers that dramatic any more).

When I bring it up, folks here look at me strangely and mutter something about how it wasn't that bad. Well, it wasn't. A quick search of the Internet reminds me that we got the brunt of it in north-central and northeastern South Dakota. Some places up that way got more than 100 inches of snow. Here's a map showing the moisture content of that snow. Notice the really dark swath through Hamlin County, where I grew up. Many more people were affected in the spring, when it all began to melt. Some places experienced "once in 500 years" flooding. Here's a synopsis from the USGS.

People in the Glacial Lakes country think this winter is comparable to '96-'97. Here's an article from the Webster Reporter & Farmer about the troubles school bus drivers are having. And here's a forum started last week at the Watertown Public Opinion for people to share memories.

State leaders are already preparing for massive flooding this spring, but let's hope it's none of that 500-year variety. After all, it's only been 13 years since the last one.

By Bernie Hunhoff

Some of South Dakota's best-known bloggers showed up in the State Capitol today to argue for and against a proposal by Rep. Noel Hamiel, a longtime South Dakota newspaperman, that sought ways to identify people who defame others anonymously on the Web.

Noel's bill would have required bloggers and Web site publishers to main Internet Protocol information. The logs could then be accessed through court order to help a plaintiff in a libel case identify the accused.

By coincidence, the bills were heard just days after nearly all state legislators received a libelous and pornographic photo in a plain, brown unmarked envelope via snail mail.

While I appreciate Noel's effort to restrict libelous online comments, it seemed his bill would be parallel to requiring that the mailman figure out exactly where every envelope came from. Obviously, it would be an impossible task and it would stifle the exchange of mail. No longer could you dump your letters and plain brown envelopes in the nearest blue box by the street.

The online libel bills died in House State Affairs Committee. Hopefully, the Web community will find a way to police itself. As Rep. Bob Faehn, the committee chair, noted, we live in a global community so it's difficult to pass a law in Pierre that would have much effect.

Legislators — even those opposed to the death penalty — would like to hang the fellow who mailed the plain brown envelope. But we don't blame the mailman.

We received a note last week about the death of Frank Base in Fort Lauderdale, Fla. Base was a South Dakotan and one of the last survivors of World War II's hellish Bataan Death March.

Base grew up in Tyndall and worked as a clerk in a drug store. He enrolled at South Dakota State College in Brookings but left in 1942 to join the Army Air Corps as a medic. He was serving in the Philippines when the Japanese overran American and Filipino defenders on the Bataan Peninsula. They forced 75,000 prisoners of war on a 60-mile march in sweltering tropical heat, often denying them food or water. Stumbling, falling down or even vocal protests were death sentences. Japanese trucks were known to drive over marchers who had fallen. Japanese soldiers sometimes drove past those who were still walking and cut their throats. Base told family members he got smashed in the side with a rifle butt when he misunderstood a Japanese command while planting rice.

By the time Base was freed in 1945 he weighed 85 pounds. He returned to the U.S., got married, and went back to SDSC. He earned a degree in pharmacy and then moved to Hot Springs, where he ran a drug store until 1955 when they moved to Fort Lauderdale.

Here's a link to a larger story on Base that appeared in the Miami Herald.

Photos from celebrity weddings show up all over television and in newspapers and magazines, but there probably won't be a single paparazzo in Redfield this weekend for the wedding of the century.

Congregants at Our Savior's Lutheran Church are staging an interactive play called "Ole and Lena's Wedding." The play is an actual wedding ceremony with one hiccup - the father of the bride is missing. By the end of the evening, the audience discovers his whereabouts. It's interactive in that there is an open microphone, so those attending the wedding can get up and tell their favorite stories about Ole, Lena, Sven, Lars and any of the other Norwegian characters.

After the wedding is a reception complete with hot dishes, but no lutefisk (church leaders had to draw the line somewhere).

There's an old joke courtesy of our Norsk funny man Red Stangeland (featured in our January/February issue) about the day Ole and Lena got married. They left the church and headed west for their honeymoon. As they approached their cabin in the Black Hills Ole put his hand on Lena's knee. Giggling, Lena said, "Ole, you can go farder if ya vant to." So Ole drove to Wyoming.

Maybe someone in attendance can enlighten poor Ole.

Performances are Saturday at 6:30 and Sunday at 4:30. A few tickets remain for each session. Order by calling the church at (605) 472-2640.

About a year ago we did a story on preserving the Lakota language. It was eye-opening to see how rapidly the language is being lost. According to 2000 census figures only 14 percent of Indians living on reservations in North Dakota and South Dakota could speak Lakota or Dakota. And indications are the number has decreased significantly in the last 10 years.

The Lakota Language Consortium, based in Indiana, made a significant advancement with the publishing of its Lakota Language dictionary. It contains 20,000 words and definitions, including 6,000 that have never appeared in a dictionary. Scholars worked on the dictionary for over 20 years and sought the advice of 300-plus tribal elders.

Today we learn the Consortium has a new tool designed to reach young children. A new CD of children's songs, sung in Lakota, is now available. It includes standards like Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, Itsy Bitsy Spider and songs to help with counting and the alphabet. We've heard languages are best learned at a young age, so hopefully this development helps to create a new generation of fluent speakers.

We're hearing more and more South Dakotans say this winter has gone on long enough. They are longing for summer, but spring will do. Even a temperature above freezing will satisfy some.

Today we thought we'd share a summertime poem sent to us from Denton Morrison in Florida. Morrison and his wife grew up in eastern South Dakota before embarking on college teaching careers in Minnesota and Michigan. Now they are retired in Florida, but Denton stays busy writing poems and Bonnie continues to do illustrations. Here's a poetic memory of a hot summer day in Brookings called The Iceman 1937:

Another 100 degree day in South Dakota.
Mechanical refrigerators are far from common.
The iceman makes his rounds
with his Model A pickup.
He stops at each house that shows its need:
25, 50, 75 or 100 pounds
on a square, rotated sign in the window.

My friend and I follow his truck
picking up the small pieces of ice
that fly off when he uses his pick
to cut the size he needs
from the big piece that came from the ice plant.

Sometimes he will chip off some small chunks
just for the kids that follow him.
You hold the ice in your hand for a moment,
shake off the debris,
then suck the piece of crystal clear ice
or maybe hold it up
so the cold water runs down your arm,
defeating the South Dakota heat
for a few delicious seconds.

With his tongs he picks up the piece he has cut
and carries it to the house.
He will put it in your icebox if you want
but most customers meet him at the door
with big enamel dishpans to carry the ice
so it doesn’t drip all the way to the kitchen

They hand him some coins or a coupon
And he’s on his way to the next house.

Imagine reading a story in your daily paper about two legislative leaders duking it out over differences in school funding at the Hopscotch in Fort Pierre. Thankfully our lawmakers have devised more civilized ways to address differences since early territorial days. When a brawl like that happened in 1862 no one batted an eye.

Sioux Falls lawyer and historian Wayne Fanebust writes about the encounter in his new book Cavaliers of the Dakota Frontier, a history of the territory's early settlers. According to Fanebust, John Boyle, a legislator from Vermillion, and Enos Stutsman from Yankton, fought at a saloon in Yankton, presumably over the issue of where to locate Dakota Territory's permanent capital.

"After some words, both men threw bottles and glasses at each other," Fanebust writes. "Then Stutsman, ignoring his obvious physical impairments, lunged across the table at Boyle's throat, seeming determined to throttle his opponent to death. After a brief struggle, they were separated by their companions.

"This incident was conceded...as appropriate behavior for Dakota's first lawmakers, and no apology was needed. After all, this was the raw frontier."

That's probably why legislators today drink water in plastic bottles.

Photo: Our first lawmakers on a calm day outside the first capital building in Yankton.