Dennis Sommers

The Minot Lions Club will soon celebrate its 100th year of service in Minot and the surrounding area. One of two distinguished former members of the club includes Alf Fuegelso (b. 1903, d. 2003).

Alf became a charter member of the Minot Lions Club in 1926. At age 98 he became the first Lions member worldwide to be recognized by Lions Clubs International for 75 years of membership.

Another long-time Lions member, Olger Barsness (b. 1912, D. 2009), joined Lions in 1954. Olger also served as club president as Alf had done, and later as Zone Chairman. He purchased Minot’s City Bakery in 1950 and operated the downtown business for 25 years, often bringing one of his fresh-from-the-oven delicacies to meetings for a high-stakes auction that strengthened the club’s coffers. His enthusiasm for community service helped establish eight additional North Dakota Lions Clubs as well as two more in Arizona. Near April 1st one year, he shared the following recollection of a Lions gathering he once attended.

During a regional Lions meeting near Parshall, N.D., years earlier, a new Zone President would be determined by an election between two members seeking the position. Prior to this event, one of the candidates had declared that as part of his campaign, he would sky dive from a plane before landing to deliver an inspirational speech to the crowd gathered below. Sure enough, the plane appeared overhead at the scheduled time.

With a multitude of others, Olger watched as someone exited the plane and began tumbling toward Terra Ferma. To the astonishment of everyone, the jumper’s parachute failed to open. This led to a rather harsh landing, you might say. Folks on the ground gasped in shock and became understandably emotional. Shortly, the candidate involved stepped to a microphone and declared “April Fools!” It had been a dummy pushed out of the plane. It turned out folks didn’t see any humor in the stunt and promptly elected his opponent.

It was probably in the 1980s when Lion Gary Price and I served as Tale Twisters — responsible for assuring comradery and fun during meetings. Part of this effort often involved assessing fines (a maximum of 10 cents at the time). We hatched a plan with help from Lion Roy Doerr.

While circling the room in search of someone to fine, we accused Roy of a significant infraction (likely an ugly necktie) and assessed his 10-cent fine. Roy claimed there was nothing wrong with the tie and refused to ante up. Matters escalated as banter persisted over the nonpayment. Finally, Gary and I extracted Roy from his chair and drug him head-first toward the back of the room, then pinned him to the floor and against the wall with our backs to a crowd of 75 members.

I removed a pair of dentist’s forceps from a hip pocket, raised them high overhead for all to see, then turned back to pull one of Roy’s teeth. Hidden from view of onlookers, an old tooth was placed in the forceps as Gary doused it and Roy’s face with ketchup from a small pouch. With the ketchup-laden forceps and tooth held high once more and Roy holding hands to his face, Gary asked if there was anyone else who wished not to pay a fine.

Tomorrow we might each be in search of a prank to pull on friends or family. It’s all in good fun — or should be. But, as happened in Parshall, or when I once heaved a paper plate loaded with whipped cream toward Lion Tom Probst and instead hit Sheriff Olaf Haaland preparing to speak to the group, things don’t always go as planned. Dependent on the hijinks you choose, it might be a while before you can show your face again or be elected for anything other than dog catcher.

Sommers is a retired Minot orthodontist, violinist with the Minot Symphony and author of the book, “Retirement? You Can’t HANDLE the Truth!”